CHAPTER XIIAN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY
“I have a fine dish of ink all ready,” said Captain Enos the next morning, “but ’Tis too clear a morning to sit in the house and write letters. There are good cod coming into the harbor, and I must row out and catch what I can while the weather is good.”
“Can we not write the letter to-night?” asked Anne. “Aunt Martha has some fine pitch knots to burn that will make the kitchen light as day.”
“We’ll see, come night,” replied Captain Enos.
The two were walking down the sandy path together,—Captain Enos bound for the shore, and Anne started for Mistress Starkweather’s to thank her for the coral beads.
“Be a good child,” said Captain Enos, as he turned from the path and left Anne to go on alone.
As the little girl came near the spring, she saw a man rolling a water cask toward it, and toward the shore she could see several other men, whom she knew came from the British ship. She looked closely at the man at the spring, and as she passed near him, noticed that his hair was red. He smiled and nodded as Anne went by, and then she saw that he had pleasant blue eyes, and she stopped and said: “Have you forgotten the little girl you saved from the Indians?”
“No, indeed!” replied the big man heartily; “and so you are John Nelson’s little girl. And you are not afraid of a Britisher?”
“Oh, no!” said Anne, in surprise; “you have two little maids in England.”
“That I have, safe with their mother. But I should like well to see their bright faces, and your father would like to see you, child. You do not forget him?”
“No,” said Anne soberly. “We plan to write him a letter for you to take.”
“Speak not so loud,” cautioned the man; “the other sailors may hear. And get your letter ready soon, for, come a fair wind, we’ll be off up the coast again to Boston Harbor.”
“Do your little girls write you letters?” asked Anne.
The big man shook his head. “No, they are not yet taught to write,” he said. “It may be I’ll be sailing back come spring, and then I’ll tell them about the little maid I saw in Province Town.”
“Tell them my name is Anne,” said she eagerly. “I wish I could go to Boston and find my father. I must hurry now, but I wish I knew the names of your little girls.”
“They have good names,” said the big man. “Each one is named for a grandmother. One is Betsey and the other Hannah.”
“I’ll remember,” said Anne, and she said “Good-bye” and went quickly on toward Mrs. Starkweather’s.
“I do wish I could go and find my father,” she thought as she walked along. “I know he’d like to see me better than a letter. I wish I had asked William Trull to take me in the big ship. But maybe Aunt Martha would not wish me to ask him.”
All day Anne thought about the letter that Captain Enos had promised to write for her; and when supper was over and the kitchenbegan to grow dusky with the shadows of the October evening, she ran out to the little shed and came tugging in a big root of pine.
“May I put this on the fire, Aunt Martha?” she asked, “that Uncle Enos may see to write?”
“Tis a pine knot,” said Mrs. Stoddard. “We shall need many such for light and heat before the long winter goes. But put it on, child. ’Tis a good plan to write thy father.”
The pine knot blazed up brightly, and Captain Enos drew the table near the open fire, and, with Anne perched on a high stool beside him, and Mrs. Stoddard busy with her knitting, while the white kitten purred happily from its comfortable place under her chair, the letter was begun. Word for word, just as Anne told him, Captain Enos wrote down about the stockings and shoes, the school and the kitten, the pink beads and William Trull, and at last Anne said: “That is all, only that I want to see him and that I love him well,” and Captain Enos finished the letter, and Anne went up-stairs to bed.
“I have a plan to take a cargo of fish to Boston, Martha,” said Captain Enos, as soon as Anne had gone. “The ‘Somerset’ will sail onthe first fair wind. I can fill the sloop with good cod by the time she is out of gunshot; and I’ll venture to say they will bring a good price in Boston Town.”
“But how can you make safe landing there, Enos?” asked his wife anxiously.
“I’ll manage,” replied the captain smilingly, “and it may be I can get some news of Anne’s father.”
“’Twould be a brave cruise,” said Mrs. Stoddard. “I should like well to go with thee, Enos.”
Captain Enos laughed heartily. “And so would Anne, I dare say,” he replied. “Maybe when spring comes and the British have been sent home I’ll take you and Anne to Boston on a pleasure trip. If I get a good price for my fish, I’ll bring you home a warm shawl, Martha.”
“Mind not about me, Enos, but get some good wool cloth, if you see the chance, to make Anne a dress. She likes bright colors, and the Freemans will tell you where to purchase, and you may see some plaid or figured stuff that has good wearing in it. Three yards of good width will be a plenty.”
“There’s but little trading in Boston these days,” replied Captain Enos; “there’s a blight on the land, until we can make England give us fairer treatment. I do believe ’twill come to open war in Boston.”
As they talked, Captain Enos was busy shaping the wooden doll which Anne was to give Amanda.
“I must finish this before I begin to plan for Boston,” he said. “What did we do for pleasure, Martha, before Anne came to live with us? Why, we had not even a white kitten. And ’twas little enough I thought of whittling out dolls.”
“Or I of knitting scarlet stockings,” answered his wife. “Anne knits her stint each day, and will soon have hers done, but her second pair I am knitting for the child. November is close at hand, and then she must be warmly clad.”
“Her leather shoes are ready,” said Captain Enos, with a satisfied nod.
The next morning Captain Enos gave the letter to William Trull, who promised to find a chance of forwarding it to John Nelson.
“What think you, Anne?” said Mrs. Stoddard when the little girl came home from schoolthat day. “The ‘Somerset’ is getting under way, and your Uncle Enos says ’Tis like enough that your father will have the letter before the week ends.”
“I wish I could see him read it,” said Anne.
“And your Uncle Enos has a bold plan, child. He is filling up his sloop with fine cod to take to the Boston market, and if this wind holds, he will go sailing up the coast to-morrow morning. Mayhap he’ll be in Boston before the ‘Somerset.’”
“But they will fire their big guns at him and sink the sloop!” said Anne fearfully.
“Your uncle will not give them a chance,” answered Mrs. Stoddard. “He will put in and out among the islands and keep out of their sight.”
“May I not go with him, Aunt Martha? I could see my father then.”
Mrs. Stoddard shook her head. “’Twould not be wise, child. Your uncle would not wish it. There would be but little chance of finding your father. Your uncle plans to make but a short stay and get home as soon as may be. It is no time to be coasting about, with British ships ready to sink any craft they see. Here, see!” and she held something up in her hand.
“Oh, Amanda’s doll!” exclaimed Anne, “and you have made a fine dress for her. Can I take it down now?” and the little girl took the wooden doll which Captain Enos had whittled out and looked at it admiringly.
“Yes, run along,” replied Mrs. Stoddard; “’twill be a great surprise for Amanda.”
Anne hurried down the hill and along the shore toward the Cary house, holding the doll carefully under the little shawl of gay plaid which Mrs. Stoddard had pinned about her shoulders. The sand no longer felt warm about her bare feet.
“I shall be wearing my new stockings and shoes soon,” she thought, as her feet felt the cold dampness.
Amanda saw her coming and ran out to meet her, a white kitten close at her heels.
“See, the British ship is going!” exclaimed Amanda, and the two little girls turned and watched the big ship under full sail moving off across the harbor.
“Amanda,” said Anne, “you know you gave me the nice white kitten?”
“Yes,” replied Amanda; “has it run away?”
“Oh, no; it is just as contented as can be,”said Anne; “only ever since you gave it to me I have wished I could give you something.”
Amanda’s face flushed and she dug her bare toes into the sand. She was remembering how unkind she and Amos had been to Anne, and was wishing that Anne would not thank her for the kitten.
“And now I have a present for you,” went on Anne, taking the wooden doll from beneath the little plaid shawl.
“Your doll!” exclaimed Amanda in surprise.
Anne shook her head smilingly.
“No,” she said, “your doll. See, it is new. And it is larger than mine. Take it,” for Amanda’s hands were behind her, as if she did not mean to take the gift.
“It’s yours. Uncle Enos made it, and Aunt Martha made the dress,” and Anne held the doll toward her friend.
Then Amanda’s hands unclasped and reached forward eagerly.
“It’s a fine doll,” she said. “I do think, Anne, it is full handsomer than yours. Come, that I may show it to my mother. I shall name it for you, Anne. I have already named it. I shall call it Lovely Anne Nelson. Indeed Ishall. I never had a gift before.” And Amanda held the doll tight and smiled happily at Anne, as she reached out to draw her into the house that Mrs. Cary might see the doll.
When Anne started for home, Amanda walked along beside her for a little way. When they neared the spring she put her arm about Anne’s neck and kissed her on the cheek.
“There!” she exclaimed; “now you know how dear you are. I was bad to you, Anne Nelson, right here at this very spring; and I set Amos on to tease you. And now you have given me a gift.”
“But you gave me the kitten,” answered Anne, “and I chased you away from the spring with sand and water.”
“But now we like each other well,” said Amanda. “You like me now, Anne?”
“Yes,” replied the little girl; “I would not give you a gift if I did not like you well,” and the two little girls smiled at each other happily and parted, Amanda to run home to her doll, while Anne went more slowly up the hill, thinking of the trip Uncle Enos was about to make and wishing that she could go with him.
“I could wear my scarlet stockings and newshoes for my father to see,” she thought, “and I would be no trouble to Uncle Enos. There are two bunks in the sloop’s cabin, and I would be company for him.”
The more Anne thought about this cruise to Boston the more she longed to go. Captain Enos was late to his supper that night.
“I have a fine cargo of fish,” he said, “and I shall go out on the morning tide, before you are awake, little maid,” with a nod to Anne. “Next spring you and Aunt Martha shall go with me and see the fine town of Boston, with its shops and great houses. The British soldiers will be gone by that time, and it may be we will have our own government. There will be good days for us all then.”
“I want to go now,” said Anne, and Captain Enos laughed and shook his head.
“Run away to bed now, child,” said Aunt Martha, as soon as the supper dishes were washed, “and take these stockings up-stairs with you. I toed off the last one while you were at Amanda Cary’s.”
So Anne said good-night, and Captain Enos gave her a good-bye kiss, telling her to take good care of her Aunt Martha while he wasaway, and went slowly up-stairs. But she did not undress and go to bed. She sat down on the little wooden stool, her mind full of a great resolve. She sat there quietly until she heard Captain Enos and Mrs. Stoddard go to bed. Then she moved softly to the little table under which stood her new shoes. Taking these and her scarlet stockings, she crept softly down the stairs. Crossing the kitchen gently, she slid back the bolt, and let herself out into the night.
There was a fresh wind from the southwest, and the little girl shivered a little as she ran toward the shore. The sloop was anchored some little distance from shore; Captain Enos would row out in his dory to her. As Anne reached the shore and looked out at the sloop she almost lost courage.
“I don’t see how I can ever get out there without a boat,” she exclaimed aloud.
“Out there?” the voice sounded close at her elbow, and Anne gave a jump and looked around.
“What do you want to get out to Captain Enos’s boat for?” asked Jimmie Starkweather.
“Oh, Jimmie!” exclaimed the little girl, “what are you doing down on the shore in the night?”
“Night! Why, it’s not much after dark,” answered the boy. “Father has been out fishing all day, and I have just pulled the dory up, and was going home when I heard you. What do you want to go out to the sloop for?”
“Jimmie, my father is in Boston and I do want to see him,” said Anne. “Captain Enos is going to sail early to-morrow morning for Boston, and I want to go out and sleep in the cabin to-night. Then I will keep as quiet as I can till he is nearly in Boston, and then I will tell him all about it, and he will take me to see my father.”
Jimmie shook his head.
“Doesn’t Captain Enos want you to go?” he asked.
“He says I may go next spring,” answered Anne, “but if you row me out to the sloop, Jimmie, ’twould be no harm. You could tell Aunt Martha to-morrow, and I would soon be home. But ’Tis a long time since I saw my father. You see yours every day.”
There was a little sob in Anne’s throat and Jimmie wondered if she was going to cry. He hoped she wouldn’t.
“Jump into the dory,” he said. “I’ll get agood lesson from my father, I’ll warrant, for this; but jump in. And mind you tell Captain Enos that I told you to go home, but that you would not.”
“Yes, Jimmie,” said Anne, putting her shoes and stockings into the boat, and then climbing in herself. The boy sprang in after her, pushed off the dory, and in a short time had reached the sloop.
“Now go straight to the cabin and shut the door,” cautioned Jimmie, and Anne obeyed, creeping into the top bunk and pulling a rough blanket over her.
She heard the sound of Jimmie’s oars, as he pulled toward shore, felt the motion of the tide, as the big sloop rose and fell, and soon was asleep and dreaming that her father and William Trull were calling her a brave little maid.
Jimmie had many misgivings after he reached shore, and made up his mind to go straight to Captain Stoddard and tell him of Anne’s plan. Then he remembered that Anne had trusted him with her secret. “I guess I’ll have to let her go,” he decided.
CHAPTER XIIIANNE FINDS HER FATHER
It was just daybreak when Captain Enos, carrying a basket of provisions for his cruise, made his way to the shore and pushed off his dory.
“Not a soul stirring,” he said, as he stepped aboard the sloop, fastened the dory, which he intended to tow, and then carried the basket of food to the little cabin.
As he pushed open the door Anne awoke, but she did not stir, and Captain Enos did not look in the direction of the upper bunk. She heard him hoisting the big mainsail, then came the rattle of the anchor chain, the sloop swung round, and Anne knew that at last she was really on her way to find her father.
“I must keep very still,” she whispered to herself, “or Uncle Enos might ’bout ship and sail straight back to Province Town,” so she did not move, though she wished very much that she might be out on deck with Captain Enos,feeling the salt breeze on her cheeks and enjoying the sail. She knew by the way the sloop tipped that they were going very fast. “Seems as if it was sailing right on its side,” thought Anne; “if it tips much more I do believe I’ll slide out of this berth.”
“A fine wind, a fine wind!” Captain Enos said with a satisfied nod, as his boat went flying along; “I’ll make Boston Harbor before nightfall at this rate, in time to get my fish ashore by dusk, if I can slide into a landing without the British stopping me. My cargo will be welcome,” and Captain Enos smiled to himself as he thought of the praise he would get from his friends and acquaintance for his brave venture in such troublous times.
Toward noon Anne carefully let herself down from the bunk, and peered out through the door, which Captain Enos had left open. She could see the low sandy shores of Cape Cod, and here and there a white-sailed boat. “I guess we must be ’most to Boston,” she thought; “the sun is way up in the middle of the sky, and I am so hungry.” She came a little nearer to the cabin door and put her head out. “Uncle Enos!” she said softly.
But the captain was singing to keep himself company, and did not hear the faint voice. His head was turned a little away from Anne, but just as she was about to call again his song came to an end and he turned his glance ahead.
“Bless my soul!” he exclaimed.
“It is I, Uncle Enos!” said Anne, stepping out of the cabin.
The captain was almost too surprised to speak. Anne clambered along the side of the sloop until she was close beside him, and reaching out took fast hold of his rough coat sleeve, and repeated:
“It is I, Uncle Enos.”
“Where on earth did you come from?” he exclaimed.
Anne pointed toward the cabin.
“How did you get there?” questioned Captain Enos. “Weren’t you abed and asleep when I left the house this morning?”
“No, Uncle Enos,” said Anne, creeping a little closer; “I slept in the top bunk in the sloop.”
“Well, this is a nice affair. I can’t take you back now. I’ll make Boston Harbor before dusk with this wind. But how came you in the sloop?”
“Jimmie Starkweather rowed me out last night after you were sound asleep. And he is going to tell Aunt Martha all about it this morning. He told me to tell you that he didn’t want me to go aboard, but that I would,” said Anne.
Captain Enos’s face was very sober, but he did not say any harsh word.
“What did you hide in the sloop for, child?” he asked.
“To go to Boston with you, Uncle Enos, and find my father,” said Anne.
Then the captain’s face grew even more sober.
“Then you do not like living with us?” he said; “but I thought you seemed happy, Anne. Your Aunt Martha will miss you, child. But if your heart is so set on being with your father I must do my best to find him for you. How a soldier can manage to care for a small girl like you is more than I can tell,” and the captain sighed.
“I brought my scarlet stockings and new shoes to show him,” said Anne.
Captain Enos nodded.
“And I can tell him about my kitten and the coral beads, and about going to school.”
“Did you not bring the coral beads?” asked the captain.
Anne shook her head.
“Oh, no,” she answered. “I heard you tell Aunt Martha that you would be away but a day or two, and I thought I could tell my father about the beads.”
“Then you mean to go home with me?” asked the captain, a little smile creeping about his mouth.
“Why, yes,” said Anne. “I do but want to see my father and tell him all the pleasant things that have befallen me.”
“Well, well,” said Captain Enos, “now I must scold you, Anne. Your Aunt Martha will not be pleased at this.”
“But you are not angry?” asked Anne. “I do see little wrinkles about your eyes that mean you will soon smile. And it is long since I have seen my father.”
“We must make the best of it now,” said the captain, “but I do blame the Starkweather boy for setting you out to the sloop. He should have sent you straight home, and let me know of your plan.”
Anne looked at Captain Enos in surprise.
“Jimmie could not help my coming,” she said. “I should have found some way to get to the sloop. And he would not tell a secret.”
“So you did not mean to run away from us?” said Captain Enos. “I am glad of that, but how I will manage with you in Boston I know not, nor if I can find your father.”
Captain Enos’s sloop ran safely in among the islands, sailed across Boston Harbor without being noticed, and made fast at a wharf well known to Captain Enos, and where he was welcomed by an old acquaintance. Before dusk he had sold his cargo of fish at a good price, and Anne, wearing her scarlet stockings and new shoes, and holding fast to the captain’s hand, walked with him up the street to the house of the man who had been at the wharf when the sloop came in.
“They are good people, born in Wellfleet,” said the captain to Anne, as they walked along, “and I shall ask them to keep you over night. I shall sleep in the sloop, and to-morrow we will find out all we can about your father.”
The Freemans, for that was the name of Captain Enos’s friends, gave Anne a warm welcomeTheir house seemed very large and grand to the little girl. There was a carpet on the sitting-room floor, the first Anne had ever seen, and pictures on the walls, and a high mantel with tall brass candlesticks.
The room in which she slept seemed very wonderful to Anne. The bed was so high that she had to step up from a footstool to get in it, and then down, down she went in billows of feathers. In the morning one of the Freeman girls came in to waken her. She was a girl of about fifteen, with pretty, light, curling hair and blue eyes. She smiled pleasantly at Anne, and told her that there was a basin of warm water for her to bathe her face and hands in.
“I will brush out your hair for you, if you wish,” she said kindly.
But Anne said she could brush her own hair. Rose Freeman waited till Anne was quite ready for breakfast and went down the broad flight of stairs with her. Anne watched her new friend admiringly.
“She looks just like her name, just like a rose,” she said to herself, and resolved that she would remember and walk just as Rose did, and try and speak in the same pleasant way.
Before breakfast was finished Captain Enos came up from the wharves. He smiled as he looked at Anne’s bright face and smooth hair, and nodded approvingly. Then he and Mr. Freeman began to talk about the soldiers, and the best way to find John Nelson.
“Come, Rose,” said Mr. Freeman; “the captain and I will walk up near King’s Chapel and see what we can find out, and you and the little maid can come with us.”
Rose went up-stairs and came down wearing a little brown jacket and a hat of brown silk with a green feather on it. In her hands she brought a blue cape and a blue hat with a broad ribbon bow.
“Mother says you are to wear these,” she said to Anne, with a little smile; “’Tis a cape and hat that I wore when I was a little girl, and I would like to have you wear them.”
“I never wore a hat before,” said Anne.
“It is very becoming,” said Rose, and the little party started out.
Mr. Freeman stopped here and there to ask questions, and Anne, holding fast to Rose Freeman’s hand, looked wonderingly at the houses and the people. They went into a shop, andCaptain Enos bought a fine warm brown shawl to take home to Mrs. Stoddard, and asked Rose Freeman to help Anne select a pretty stuff for a dress. The girls decided upon a small plaid of dark blue and brown, and the stuff was carefully wrapped up and Captain Enos took the package.
“I have news at last,” said Mr. Freeman, who had been talking with a man at the door of the shop. “We will walk up to the Common and see if we cannot get sight of your father. He was here yesterday.”
Anne listened eagerly, almost forgetting Rose Freeman, whose hand she still held tightly, in the thought that her dear father might be very near and that she would soon see him.
They walked toward the Common, and Mr. Freeman told the others to stand near the big elm while he went to make inquiries. He was gone but a few moments, when Rose Freeman felt Anne’s hand slip from her own, and saw the little girl running swiftly across the grass calling out, “Father! Father!”
John Nelson heard the voice and stopped.
“Anne, Anne!” he answered, and in a moment the little girl in scarlet stockings and bluecape and hat was gathered into the close clasp of the dark, slender man.
Then how much there was to say! How eagerly Anne told him all the pleasant news! How warmly Captain Enos shook his hand, and called him a brave fellow; and John Nelson tried to thank the captain for all his kindness to Anne.
Anne held fast to his hand as they walked together to the wharf where the sloop lay. Captain Enos said that he must start for home the next morning, and there was a great deal for them all to talk about. Rose Freeman and her father left them at the wharf, after Captain Enos had promised that he would bring Anne to their house in time for supper.
“I have a plan, John,” said Captain Enos; “when we have settled with the British, and that must be soon now, you must come to Province Town and live with us. How would you like that, Anne?”
Anne smiled happily.
“Best of anything!” she declared.
“I need help with my fishing,” went on Captain Enos, “and there’s an empty loft next to Anne’s room, where you can sleep. So thinkof Anne’s home as yours, John. You’d not break Mistress Stoddard’s heart by taking away the child?”
“It was good fortune led her to your door,” said John Nelson gratefully. “I can see for myself that she is content and happy. And I’ll be a fortunate man to come into your house, Enos Stoddard.”
“How soon will you come, father?” asked Anne, hopefully.
“I think ’twill not be longer than another spring before the British leave us in peace,” replied her father. “But we need more soldiers to let them know we are ready for war.”
Captain Enos nodded. “There’s a half dozen good Province Town men ready to come, and as many more from Truro, if a dozen would help,” he found a chance to whisper.
“We’ll talk of this later,” said Anne’s father. “I only hope you’ll get safe back to Province Town harbor from this trip.”
“No fear,” laughed Captain Enos. “General Gage is doing his best to starve Boston out. Maybe we Province Town men can do the cause of Liberty good service if we can bring in loads of fish for the people.”
“It’s hard to have British troops quartered on us,” replied Nelson. “General Gage is taking rough measures with everybody who opposes him. Dr. Joseph Warren tried to stop the fortifications on Boston Neck, but ’twas no use. And word is being sent to settlements to be ready to furnish men. We’ve got supplies in Concord, and Americans have been drilling for some time. We’ll be ready for war if war comes. I’ve a message for the Newburyport men to be ready to join us, but I see no way of getting out of Boston. You’re a brave man, Captain Stoddard, to come into harbor.”
Captain Enos’s face brightened as he listened to John Nelson.
“I’d find no trouble in slipping down the coast to Newburyport,” he said eagerly.
“Maybe,” responded Nelson, “tho’ there’s no need for my telling you that there’s British craft cruising all about, and a man caught with a message to ‘rebels,’ as they call us, stands no chance.”
“I’d keep my message to myself,” answered Captain Enos.
“So you could, a message by word of mouth; but this is written, and has a drawing as well.I have it under the lining of my coat. But there’s no way for me to get out of the town. I’m well known by many of the English.”
“Let me take it.” Captain Stoddard’s voice was eager. “’Tis ill-luck that we Province Town men are to have no part in this affair. I’ll get the paper safe to Newburyport. Tell me to whom I am to give it.”
But John Nelson shook his head. “You’d be caught, and maybe sent to England,” he answered.
“I’ll not be caught. And if they catch me they’d not find the papers,” he promised, and before they parted Nelson had agreed to deliver the package that day. “I’ll give it to Anne,” he promised. “It will not do for me to meet you again. There are too many eyes about. Let Anne walk along, with that tall girl yonder, about sunset toward the South Meeting House, and I’ll give it to her.”
Captain Stoddard nodded, and walked away.
“Anne,” he said when they met in the Freemans’ sitting-room just before dinner, “you can be of great help to your father and to me. But you must be wise and silent. When you walk with Rose this afternoon your father will meetyou and hand you a flat package. Thrust it inside your frock, and say nothing of it to Rose, or to any one, and bring it safe to me.”
“Yes, indeed, Uncle Enos,” the little girl answered. “Am I to ask Rose to walk with me?”
“Yes, toward the South Meeting House,” answered Captain Enos, “about an hour before sunset.”
“If I keep silent and bring the package safely, will you forgive me for hiding in the boat?” pleaded Anne.
“Indeed I will, child, and take you for a brave girl as well,” he replied.
Anne was joyful at the thought of another word from her father, and Rose was quite ready to go for another walk.
They had just turned into King Street when John Nelson met them. Anne wore the pretty cape Rose had given her and her father slipped the packet into her hand without Rose seeing it. She grasped it tightly, and held it under the cape. “Be a good child, Anne, and do whatever Captain Stoddard may bid thee,” her father said as he bade her good-bye.
CHAPTER XIVA CANDY PARTY
The next morning proved warm and pleasant with only a light breeze, but Captain Enos had his sloop ready at an early hour, and when Anne, with Mr. Freeman and Rose, came down to the wharf he was anxious to start at once.
Anne still wore the blue cape, which Mrs. Freeman had insisted on giving her, and the hat was in a round pasteboard box, which Anne carried carefully, and which was put away in the cabin with Aunt Martha’s new shawl and the cloth for Anne’s new dress.
As the sloop sailed away from the wharf Anne waved her hand to Rose Freeman until she could no longer see her. Captain Enos watched the little girl anxiously; he was half afraid that Anne might be disappointed because she could not stay with her father, but her face was bright and smiling.
“Where is the packet your father handedyou?” Captain Enos questioned eagerly, as soon as his sloop was clear of the wharf.
“I have it pinned safe inside my frock,” she answered. “Shall I give it to you now, Uncle Enos?”
“Maybe ’Tis safer with you, Anne,” replied the captain. “It may be that some British boat will overhaul us, and question us. I’m doing an errand, Anne, for your father. If this boat is taken and I am made a prisoner, you are to say that you want to go to Newburyport. That and no more. Mayhap they’ll set you ashore there. Then make your way to Squire Coffin’s house as best you may. Give him the packet. Tell him the story, and he’ll find a way to reach your father. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Uncle Enos,” said Anne very soberly.
“Repeat what I have told you, that I may be sure,” said Captain Enos, and Anne obeyed.
“But I do not want to be set ashore in a strange place,” she said soberly. “How should I get back to Province Town?”
“You will be taken care of, never fear,” responded Captain Enos, “and you’ll be doing a good service to the cause of liberty, Anne, if you carry the papers safely. Your Aunt Marthawill indeed be proud of you. Remember what I have told you. But I hope to slip in behind Plum Island and make a landing without being seen. The wind is favoring us. You have had a fine visit, Anne?”
“Yes, indeed!” agreed the little girl, “and I have a present for Aunt Martha,” she said, as the sloop ran out among the islands. “See, my father gave me this for her,” and she held up a gold coin. “Will she not be pleased?”
“But she will be better pleased to have you safe home again,” said Captain Enos. “What do you think Amanda Cary will say when she hears of your voyage to Boston and of all the fine things you have seen there? ’Tis not many of the children in Province Town have ever taken such a journey.”
“She will think it a better voyage than the one we took to House Point Island,” answered Anne. “I have something for Amanda, too. Rose Freeman gave me a package of barley sugar, and I said to myself I would take it home to Amanda.”
Captain Enos kept a watchful eye for suspicious looking craft. But his course lay well inshore, and he was apparently not noticed by anyof the vessels. Before noon he was cruising along the Ipswich shore, and made his landing at Newburyport without having been spoken.
“The worst part of the business is before us,” he said to Anne, as he made the boat fast. “If I leave the boat here, I may come back and find no trace of her, but leave her I must, or Squire Coffin will wait in vain for the papers.”
“But I can carry them,” said Anne. “Tell me where to go, and I’ll come straight back and say no word of my errand.”
“’Tis the best possible way. Did I not say that you were a wise child!” declared Captain Enos, his face beaming with delight. “Put on your pretty hat and cape, and follow that lane up to the main road. Then ask for Squire Coffin’s house of the first person you meet.”
In a few moments Anne was ready to start. As she walked up the lane Captain Enos’s eyes followed her anxiously. “I can see no danger in it for the child,” he said aloud, and then, sailor fashion, set about putting his boat in order.
“’twill be a cold night, but the cabin will be snug and warm,” he thought. “I’ll get out of here before sunset and maybe make Province Town by daybreak.”
Anne walked up the pleasant lane. Her feet sank deep in the leaves from the overarching trees, and made a cheerful, crackling sound. She could see the roofs of houses not far away, and as she turned from the lane into a road she met two girls not much larger than herself. They looked at her curiously, and when Anne stopped they smiled in a friendly way.
“Would you please to tell me where I can find Squire Coffin?” Anne asked, feeling very brave and a little important.
“Squire Coffin is my uncle,” the larger of the two girls replied. “I’m going there now.”
“I have an errand,” Anne explained.
“Oh!” responded both the little girls, but Anne could see that they wondered who this strange little girl could be, and what her errand was.
“You may come with us if you want to,” Squire Coffin’s niece said, and Anne was very glad to walk with these silent little girls, for neither of them spoke again until they stopped in front of a tall, square white house very near the street. As Anne looked up at it she thought that she had never seen so many windows beforein one house. “That’s Uncle Coffin on the porch,” explained his niece.
“Thank you,” said Anne, and as the two little girls politely curtseyed she endeavored to imitate them, and with apparent success. Then she went up the stone steps toward the dignified looking gentleman who stood in the doorway.
She held the packet under her cape, and as she came near him she whispered, as Captain Enos had told her to do, “This is from Boston.”
“Great George!” he exclaimed grabbing the package, in what seemed a very rude manner to Anne, and putting it quickly in his pocket, “and how came you by it?”
But Anne remembered her promise to keep quiet, and she also remembered that the squire’s niece had made the queer little curtsey on saying good-bye. So Anne bobbed very prettily to the squire, and said “good-bye,” and ran down the steps, leaving the squire standing amazed. It was many weeks before he learned the name of the little maid, and that her home was in Province Town.
“THIS IS FROM BOSTON”
“THIS IS FROM BOSTON”
It was an easy matter to find her way back to the lane. There was an orchard just at the corner of the road, and a man was gathering apples. “Want an apple?” he called.
“Yes, sir,” answered Anne, and now, being rather proud of her new accomplishment, she curtseyed very politely.
“Well, well, you are a young lady, miss. Come up to the fence and I’ll hand you the apples.” Anne obeyed, and the good-natured man gave her two big red-cheeked apples. They seemed very wonderful to the little girl from the sandy shore village, where apples were not often to be seen, and she thanked him delightedly.
Captain Enos was watching for her, and as soon as she was on board he swung the sloop clear of the wharf, ran up his mainsail and headed toward the outer channel. As they looked back at the little wharf they saw a tall man come running down the lane.
“I reckon that’s the squire,” chuckled Captain Enos.
“Yes, it is,” said Anne.
“Well, now for Province Town. I guess we’ve helped a little bit, Anne. At least you have.”
Anne was eating one of the big red apples, and thinking about Squire Coffin’s big house and small niece.
“We’ll tell Aunt Martha all that’s happened,” went on Captain Enos, “but do not speak to any one else of it, Anne. ’Twould make trouble for your father and for me if our trip to Newburyport was known.”
“I’ll not speak of it,” Anne promised.
“It has been a good trip,” said Captain Enos. “Mr. Freeman paid me well for the fish. I have a keg of molasses in the cabin, which will be welcome news for Martha.”
As they came into harbor at sunrise next morning and Captain Enos dropped anchor and lowered the big mainsail, Anne looked eagerly toward the shore. She could see Jimmie Starkweather and his father watching them. After Captain Enos had lowered the keg of molasses into the dory, and put in the box that held Anne’s hat, and the other packages, he helped Anne over the side of the sloop to a seat in the bow of the dory.
As soon as the boat touched the shore Jimmie and his father ran down to help draw it up on the beach. Jimmie looked at Captain Enos asif he half expected a scolding, but as soon as Captain Enos landed he patted the boy’s shoulder kindly, and said:
“The little maid has told me all about it. You were not greatly to blame, Jimmie. And the trip turned out all right.”
“I saw my father,” said Anne, and then ran away toward home, leaving Captain Enos to tell of the visit to Boston.
Aunt Martha had seen the sloop come to anchor, and was waiting at the door to welcome Anne.
“Uncle Enos and I have a secret with my father,” Anne whispered to Mrs. Stoddard, “and we have been to Newburyport.” And then the story of the wonderful trip was told, and Anne showed Mrs. Stoddard how she had curtseyed to the squire.
“Well! Well!” exclaimed the good woman in amazement. “It does seem as if you had all sorts of adventures, Anne. To think of Enos undertaking such a thing. I’m proud of you both. ’twill be a fine story to tell your grandchildren, Anne. How you carried news from Boston patriots to Newburyport. But do not speak of it till we are through with all thesetroublous days.” And again Anne promised to keep silent.
“To think you should run off like that, child,” continued Aunt Martha. “When Jimmie Starkweather came up and told me you were gone I could scarce believe him till I had climbed the stairs to the loft and found no trace of you. But I am right glad you wore your shoes and stockings. Where did the blue cape come from?”
By this time they were in the kitchen, and Anne had put down the box that held her hat.
“Mrs. Freeman gave it to me,” she replied, “and see! I have a new hat!” and she opened the box and took out the pretty hat.
“I thought thy uncle would take thee straight to Mistress Freeman,” said Mrs. Stoddard.
“And we found my father,” went on Anne happily, “and he sent thee this,” and she drew the gold piece from her pocket and gave it to Mrs. Stoddard.
“Well, well,” said Aunt Martha, “’Tis a fine piece of money, and your father is kind to send it. I will use it well.”
“And Uncle Enos has fetched you a fine shawl and a keg of molasses,” said Anne.“You do not think there was great harm in my hiding in the sloop, Aunt Martha?” The little girl’s face was so troubled that Aunt Martha gave her another kiss, and said:
“It has turned out well, but thee must never do so again. Suppose a great storm had come up and swept the sloop from her moorings that night?”
“Rose Freeman looks just like a rose,” said Anne, feeling quite sure that Aunt Martha was not displeased; “and she walks so softly that you can hardly hear her, and she speaks softly, too. I am going to walk and speak just as she does.”
“That is right,” agreed Mrs. Stoddard. “I am sure that she is a well-spoken girl.”
When Captain Enos came up the hill toward home Anne had already put her blue cape and hat carefully away, and was sitting near the fire with the white kitten curled up in her lap.
“The Freemans do not eat in their kitchen,” said Anne, as they sat down to supper; “they eat in a square room with a shining floor, and where there is a high mantel-shelf with china images.”
“’Tis a fine house,” agreed Captain Enos,“well built of brick. ’twas a great thing for Anne to see it.”
“’Tis not so pleasant a house as this,” said Anne. “I could not see the harbor from any window, and the shore is not smooth and sandy like the shores of our harbor.”
Captain Enos smiled and nodded.
“That’s right, Anne,” he said; “Boston houses may do for town people, but we sailor-folk like our own best.”
“Yes, indeed!” replied Anne, “and I do not believe a beach-plum grows on their shore. And nothing I tasted there was so good as Aunt Martha’s meal bread.”
The next morning Anne started for school, wearing the new shoes and scarlet stockings and the little plaid shawl. The children were all anxious to hear about what she saw in Boston, and she told them of the soldiers on the Common, and of the shops, and of the houses made of brick and stone, and she showed Amanda how to make the wonderful curtsey. But Elder Haven soon called them to take their seats, and it was not until the noon recess that she found a chance to speak alone with Amanda.
The two little girls sat down on the frontdoor-step of Elder Haven’s house, and Anne told of the wonderful sail to Boston, and had just begun to describe Rose Freeman when the teacher’s voice was heard calling them in.
As soon as school closed for the day, Amanda said that she could walk home with Anne and see the new cape and hat, and hear more about Rose Freeman.
“Would you like better to live in Boston than here?” asked Amanda, as they walked along.
Anne looked at her in surprise.
“Why, Amanda!” she said; “of course I wouldn’t. It is not seemly there to go out-of-doors without a hat; and Rose Freeman said that she had never been barefooted in her life. She has fine white stockings knit of cotton yarn for summer, and low shiny shoes that she called ‘slippers.’”
“’Twould be hard to wear shoes all the year,” agreed Amanda, looking down at her own stout leather shoes, “but I like them well now.”
“I brought you a present from Boston,” said Anne just as they reached the Stoddards’ door. “Rose Freeman gave it to me, and I saved it for you.”
“Well, Amanda,” said Mrs. Stoddard, as the two girls came into the kitchen, “are you not glad to have Anne safe home again? ’twas quite a journey to take.”
“She likes Province Town better than Boston,” answered Amanda smilingly.
“To be sure she does, and why not?” replied Mrs. Stoddard. “There are few places where there is so much salt water to be seen as here, and no better place for fishing. Now, Anne, I have a little surprise for you. I have asked Mr. and Mrs. Starkweather and their six boys to come up this evening, and your father and mother, Amanda, and you and Amos. The evenings are getting fine and long now and we must begin to be neighborly.”
“Then I mustn’t stay long now,” said Amanda; “it will be pleasant to come up here again in the evening.”
Amanda tried on Anne’s blue cape and hat, looked admiringly at Mrs. Stoddard’s shining gold piece and brown shawl, and then Anne handed her the package of barley sugar.
“I will keep it,” said Amanda, gratefully; “’twould seem ungrateful to eat a present.”
Mrs. Stoddard nodded. “Keep it until Sunday,Amanda,” she said, “but then it will be well to eat a part of it.”
“But can she not taste it now?” asked Anne. “I am sure it is good. It came out of a big glass jar in a shop.”
“I see I must tell you two little girls a secret,” said Mrs. Stoddard, “but Amanda must not tell Amos.”
“No, indeed,” said Amanda quickly.
“It is about this evening,” said Mrs. Stoddard; “I am going to make a fine dish of molasses candy!”
“Oh, Aunt Martha!” “Oh, Mistress Stoddard!” exclaimed the little girls together.
“It has been years since I tasted any myself,” went on Mrs. Stoddard, “but I remember well how it is made; and I do not believe one of you children has ever tasted it.”
“My mother has told us about it,” said Amanda, “and said that when times were better she would make us some.”
“We all need cheering up,” said Mrs. Stoddard, “and I am glad I can give you children a treat to remember. Now, Amanda, you see why it will be best not to eat your barley sugar until Sunday.”
“I have good times every day since I gave you the white kitten,” said Amanda, as she bade Anne good-bye, and started for home.
“We must bring all our chairs into the kitchen to-night, Anne,” said Aunt Martha, as soon as supper was finished, “for even then I doubt if there be seats enough for our company.”
“I had best bring in my long bench from the shed,” said Captain Enos; “’twill be just the thing to put a row of Starkweather boys on.”
“The youngest is but two years old,” said Mrs. Stoddard; “’Tis like he will find our bed a good resting place.”
Mr. and Mrs. Cary with Amos and Amanda were the first to arrive, and as they came in Captain Enos put two big pieces of pitch pine on the fire. In a moment it blazed up making the kitchen as light as day.
The Starkweathers, climbing up the sandy hill, saw the bright light shining through the windows of the little house, and Mrs. Starkweather exclaimed:
“Does it not look cheerful? To think of us all coming to a merrymaking! It was surely a kind thought of Mistress Stoddard’s.”
“Shall we play games?” asked Daniel, the boy next younger than Jimmie.
“It may be,” answered his mother, “and you boys must be quiet and not rough in your play. Remember there is a little girl in the house.”
The youngest Starkweather boy, carried carefully by his father, was sound asleep when they reached the Stoddards’, and was put comfortably down on Mrs. Stoddard’s big bed, while the others gathered around the fire.
“Sit you here, boys,” directed Captain Enos, pointing to the long bench, “and you girls can bring your stools beside me. I have a fine game for you to play. Do you see this shining brass button? ’twas given me in Boston, and came from the coat of a British soldier. Now we will play ‘Button’ with it,” and the captain, with a few whispered words to Jimmie Starkweather, slid the shining button into his hand, and “Button, button! who’s got the button?” was soon being laughingly asked from one to another as the brass button went from Jimmie to Amos, passed into Anne’s hand and swiftly on to Amanda, and back to Jimmie before Captain Enos could locate it.
“Look!” exclaimed one of the younger Starkweatherboys. “Mistress Stoddard is pouring syrup into a kettle!”
“Yes, my boy,” said Captain Enos laughingly, “and now you will all be glad that I had a good trip to Boston, for I brought home a keg of fine molasses, and now you will have some first-class candy!”
There were many exclamations of surprise and pleasure, even the older members of the party declaring that it would indeed be a fine treat; and Mrs. Starkweather said that it reminded her of the times when she was a little girl like Anne, and her mother made candy for her.
The molasses boiled and bubbled in the big kettle hung over the fire, and Mrs. Stoddard and Mrs. Cary took turns in stirring it. The children brought dippers of cold water for spoonfuls of the hot molasses to be dropped in to see if it had begun to candy; and when Amanda lifted a stringy bit from her tin cup and held it up for Mrs. Stoddard to see, it was decided that it was cooked enough, and the kettle was lifted from the fire and the steaming, fragrant mass turned into carefully buttered pans.
“We must set these out-of-doors to cool,” said Mrs. Stoddard; so Jimmie, Amos and Danielwere each entrusted with a pan to carry out on the broad step.
“When it is cool we will all work it,” said Mrs. Stoddard; “that means pull and twist it into sticks.”
It did not take long for the candy to cool, and then under Mrs. Stoddard’s directions each child was given a piece to work into shape. But the candy proved too tempting to work over, and in a few minutes the long bench was filled with a row of boys, each one happily chewing away upon a clumsy piece of molasses candy.