I lay against the bank above my clam beds, with my hands clasped behind my head, and I gazed up at the whitish blue of the sky, and at the little floating clouds flecking the blue, and at an occasional herring gull flying across my field of vision with moderate wing-beats and with no apparent object, and at the procession of screaming terns busy at their fishing. For the terns have come, which always marks the change of season for me, but the winter gulls have not all gone. And I looked at the tree over my head, and I cast back over the years. I could see the tree merely by raising my eyes, without raising my head.
That tree has associations and a history: for under that tree Eve stood the fifth time that I saw her,—I remember each time,—and it was raining, a hard drizzle from the southeast, and the water dripped from her wide felt hat, and shone upon her long coat, and she was smiling. So that tree has associations for me—and for Eve as well, I believe. And sundry pairs of rubber boots have been hung in a crotch of it, both Eve's, and at a somewhat later time, Old Goodwin's; wherefore it has a history. And here, too, just where my head was pillowed, Eve had sat but a scant two hours after I had found her out,—I had thought she was a governess in Old Goodwin's house,—and she had set us both right for ever. And now there were many happy yearsbehind us, and more happy years ahead of us, and there were Pukkie and Tidda; but most of all there was Eve.
So I lay and drank in the sunshine, and basked in its warmth, and my mind was a blank save for these pleasant musings. My poor little son! All of the Sunday that he was here—two days ago—it rained hard. He did not seem to mind it, but dragged me out in it—he had not such hard work to get me out. I like the wet well enough, but we have had a long stretch of cold and wet. But he got me out, and wandered the shore, clad in his rubber coat, and his rubber boots, and his little sou'wester, and he watched the white schooner; but on the schooner there was no sign of life save some sailors standing likestatues in their dripping oilskins, and a man in a pea-jacket and faded old blue cap, who paced back and forth at the stern, or stood still by the rail for long periods, and then took up his pacing again. And Pukkie looked up at me and asked whether I thought he was the captain or the mate, and would have gone out there in one of Old Goodwin's boats, with me to help him row. But I refused. It is wet and uncomfortable rowing in a pouring rain; better standing.
And he would go up to his grandfather's in the hope of finding Bobby Leverett. So we went, and we found Bobby sitting on the piazza with the telescope and Miss Radnor; and Pukkie bearded Bobby in his chair, and asked him point-blank what he had been doing in that schooner. Wehad told Pukkie about the Rattlesnake, and Jimmy Wales and Ogilvie.
And Bobby grinned at my son, and answered him, if you call it an answer.
"Sorry not to be able to tell you, Puk, old chap," he said, "but you know we are enjoined not to publish information of the movements of vessels, and the plans of the navy are a dead secret. It might give information to the enemy." And he pointed at me.
"Do you know the plans of the navy?" asked Pukkie.
Bobby laughed, and so did Miss Radnor. "I refuse to answer," said Bobby, "on the ground that it would incriminate me. We may have been out baiting our traps. Ask your father about it."
"I don't believe the navy has anyplans," I said, "so far as you are concerned. They just want to make you think that you are busy."
"Treason!" Bobby cried loudly. "Treason! I'm afraid it's my duty to lay charges against you, Adam."
"And I," I retorted, "will expel you from membership in the Clam Beds Protective Company—if you persist."
"There!" said Miss Radnor. "How will you like that, Mr. Leverett?"
"I'll have to give in," Bobby replied. "It's a cruel and unusual punishment, and therefore unconstitutional, but Adam wouldn't mind a little thing like that. I am moved by the thought of Eve's grief, although you wouldn't think that a good sport like Eve would object to a traitor's taking off. I surrender, Adam. Be merciful."
Our noise had attracted Old Goodwin, and he joined us. And, thinking that Bobby might as well be left to the society of the telescope and Miss Radnor, we left him, we three, and betook ourselves to the shore. On the white schooner the man in the pea-jacket and old faded blue cap was still pacing back and forth by the rail, and Pukkie turned to his grandfather and asked him the question which I could not answer.
At that moment the man caught sight of Old Goodwin, and waved his arm, and Old Goodwin answered the wave.
"That is Captain Fergus, Pukkie. He's the captain. Some years ago he was captain of vessels that sailed the deep oceans."
My son was astonished. Captainswho sail the deep oceans command his unbounded respect. I inferred from his reply that skippers of yachts, even of great white schooner yachts, do not.
"Was he?" he said. "How does it happen that he is skippering a yacht then?"
Old Goodwin laughed his pleasant, quiet laugh.
"He owns the yacht—or he did. I think it likely that he gave up going to sea on account of his wife. He was married four or five years ago."
"Oh, his wife!" my son replied in accents of deep scorn. It was evidently incomprehensible to him that a man should give up such a delightful occupation for a mere wife.
Old Goodwin laughed again. "I'd take you out there if it weren't sowet. But never mind. She'll be in here again some time when you're at home."
Then we wandered the shores until the rain stopped and the sky was a mass of heavy gray clouds, but the sun did not come out; and Pukkie had to go in.
The next morning Pukkie found that the yacht had gone, and Old Goodwin took him back to school, alone with him in the great car. Pukkie did not mind going back. He has become acclimated at school, and he likes to ride with his grandfather, sitting in the front seat with all the clocks and meters and switches and the little lamps like eyes and the levers and pedals spread out before him. There is reason to suppose that Old Goodwin gets some pleasure outof it. That is why neither Eve nor I went. There is more pleasure for him when they two are alone. Old Goodwin and his grandson are great chums.
When I had got to this point in my ruminations, I realized that the great pebbles under me, although partly cushioned by sand and by the dried seaweed which had washed up among them, had been getting harder and harder. I moved, and groaned involuntarily, and sat up—and rubbed my eyes. There was the white schooner lying quietly at anchor, her sails all furled and covered, and no movement on her decks. She lay so still that she seemed immovable; as firmly fixed as the breakwater itself, or as the Long Stone, or as one of the distant islands, which swam high in a bluish haze and flickered in mirage.
I got up slowly, and heard a noise of a rolling pebble; and I turned, and there was Eve coming along the shore. I went to meet her, and we came back and sat upon the bank. And Eve looked up at me and smiled, and her hand went out slowly, and mine met it, and we put our clasped hands down between us.
"Nowthey can't see," said Eve. "Can they?"
I smiled and shook my head.
"And it wouldn't make any difference," Eve pursued, "if they could. Would it? Say quickly, Adam," she cried, shaking our clasped hands in mid air. "You are too slow. Would it?"
"No, Eve," I answered, smiling again. Indeed I had not stopped smiling. "But we might excite envyin their breasts, which is a sin we pray to be delivered from."
"Oh, well," she said, "there is nobody to see but Captain Fergus, and he has not been married long. I love this place, Adam. Do you remember—here were your pebbles, in the sod just here. And here I sat when you warned me not to spot my dress,—when I took you for a fisherman,—and you took me for a governess."
"Did you think I could forget?"
And we fell silent, and presently Eve would have me row her out upon the water, for it was as warm as summer. And, that pleasing me,—although it would have been enough for me that I was pleasing Eve,—we wandered to Old Goodwin's stone pier, and took one of his boats, and rowed out. And I paddled about,having nowhere in particular to go, and we found ourselves near the great white schooner, almost under her stern; and I looked up, and read her name, Arcadia, and there was Captain Fergus, in his faded old blue cap, looking down at us over the rail. His face was bronzed by sun and wind and rain, and there were little wrinkles about his eyes after the manner of your seafaring men, and his eyes were of a deep blue—the blue of the deep sea. They made me think of Old Goodwin's eyes, although Old Goodwin's eyes are not blue.
He touched his cap. "Won't you come aboard?" he asked in a deep voice which made one think of rolling seas and fresh winds and bellying sails.
"Thank you." I hesitated, and looked at Eve, but she did not wait for me.
"We shall be glad to," she said. And she turned to me. "Hurry, Adam, and row around to the ladder."
So I got us around to the steps, and there was a sailor with a boat-hook to hold the boat for us and to take charge of it, and Captain Fergus waiting at the gangway. And I introduced myself, but Eve did not wait for introductions, but smiled at him, and said that she thought he knew her father.
The wrinkles about Captain Fergus's pleasant eyes deepened.
"You are very like him," he said. And he led us over to the port side, toward some chairs from one of whichhad risen a slender woman, with a pleasant face and hair beginning to be well streaked with gray, but not many years older than Eve. Mrs. Fergus, I found, had been Marian Wafer; had been Miss Wafer for so long that she had become confirmed in the habit of spinsterhood, and did not find it easy to get out of that habit now that she was married.
We settled ourselves in the chairs, and had some pleasant, desultory talk; and the sun shone, not too brightly, through a bluish haze; there was hardly a breath of wind to ruffle the calm surface of the bay, and peace was on the face of the waters. The stillness almost seemed to drowse and to make a soft noise, like the distant sound of locusts in August. It soothed us, and the talk died, and wesat motionless and in silence, gazing out at the distant islands in their misty blue veils, or at two tiny sails, motionless too, two or three miles away, or, nearer yet, at an empty expanse of glassy water.
Suddenly a cat's-paw swept over the surface like a breath over a mirror, and the shining launch of the Arcadia shot out from Old Goodwin's landing, and came toward us at great speed; not at forty miles an hour, for the landing was not far off. She was towing an aquaplane, which stood very nearly perpendicular in the water, and I saw one man standing up and steering, and the heads of three or four people showing occasionally above the deck. The launch itself was at a pretty angle, with daylight showing under ten feet of herkeel, and throwing cataracts out from either side like a fire engine; and she hid her passengers until she swerved. She was not bringing her passengers aboard the Arcadia, for she slackened speed and curved prettily, and drifted before us, almost within reach, and I saw that the people aboard of her, besides an officer and a sailor, were Old Goodwin and Elizabeth Radnor and another girl, a stranger. Miss Radnor and the stranger were clad in bathing-suits.
Eve did not seem as much surprised as I should have expected, and she smiled and spoke to her father and Miss Radnor, and he waved his hand; and the strange girl arose, stood poised for a moment on the rail, tossed her arms high above her head, dived overboard and struck outfor the aquaplane. Miss Radnor instantly arose and followed, without bothering to poise, and they had a race for it. The strange girl swam well, but Miss Radnor had more power, and she gained.
Captain Fergus's great voice rang out. "Go it, Olivia! You're almost there. Once more and more power to you!"
And Olivia spurted, but got to laughing and lost a stroke; and Elizabeth Radnor caught her, but she got to laughing too, so that both seized their goal at the same instant. They drew themselves partly upon it, but the aquaplane sank under their weight, and the water swirled about their knees, for the launch was barely moving. But it began to surge ahead, faster and faster, so that the two girlsfound a firm support beneath their feet as they rose carefully. Olivia held two ropes fastened at the forward corners, and Miss Radnor steadied herself behind, with a hand on Olivia.
The launch twisted and turned, and made loops and circles and spirals, and Olivia still stood straight, like a Greek charioteer, holding the lines with hands and rigid arms that were beginning to ache; but Miss Radnor's knees were bending more and more, and she was swaying. And she laughed.
"Good-bye, Olivia," she said; and she dived sidewise, and came up again, and was swimming easily.
The launch stood in nearer to the schooner, and Olivia staggered as they turned; but she got her balance, and once more stood straight. Andthe launch began to twist and double and turn in loops and circles, faster and faster. Olivia stood upright for two or three turns, then she began to sway; and she saw that it was the beginning of the end, and she stooped quickly, and swung her arms low, then high above her head, and she gave a spring backward, and turned a half-somersault—and a little more.
"Good!" cried Captain Fergus. "A pretty backward dive! Olivia's a good swimmer—capital. Almost as good as Elizabeth." He turned to us. "Just wait until you see Elizabeth do some of her stunts. Have you ever seen her?"
I smiled and shook my head. "Miss Radnor seems an extremely competent person—in many ways."
Captain Fergus looked sharply atme for an instant, then he chuckled as though there was a good joke somewhere within hail.
"So she is," he said; "so she is, very competent. She's an able seaman. Elizabeth's a great favorite of mine, rather more of a favorite than—"
"Dick!" said Mrs. Fergus warningly.
"Eh?" He turned to Mrs. Fergus, and smiled the smile that crinkled all about his pleasant eyes. His eyes smiled too, those eyes of deepest blue. "I wasn't going to say anything imprudent, Marian, only that Elizabeth is rather more of a favorite than some others that I could name. Oh, I'm not going to call any names, Marian. You needn't be scared. Marian's always afraid," he said to Eve and me, "that I'm going to be indiscreet,and I've never in my life been indiscreet. Have I, Marian?"
Mrs. Fergus laughed. "How should I know? I've no doubt that you have been, many times. You aren't politic, Dick."
"Heaven save us!" said Captain Fergus under his breath. "I hope not. Neither are you, Marian. I don't know of anybody less politic than you."
Mrs. Fergus laughed again, merrily. "Richard was a sailor for so many years," she said, "that he can't get out of his sailor's ways."
"They are good ways," I said. "Don't you think so, Mrs. Fergus?"
"They are good ways," Mrs. Fergus repeated, looking at her husband, "and I like them." And Eve smiled across at me.
The launch had stopped her engine, and was waiting for the two girls. Elizabeth Radnor reached her first, a white arm shot out of the water and the hand grasped the gunwale, and Old Goodwin helped her aboard, and she stood on the deck and dripped. And Olivia came up on the other side, and Old Goodwin helped her aboard, but she did not stand on the deck to drip. She jumped into the cockpit, and dripped on the cushions.
"There!" Mrs. Fergus exclaimed. "If that isn't just like her to run streams of water on the cushions. Why couldn't she do as Elizabeth does, and—"
"Doesn't matter," Captain Fergus growled. "Cushions waterproof, and the sun'll dry the top in five minutes."
Mrs. Fergus made a motion ofimpatience, and there was a slight compression of her lips.
"I know that it doesn't really matter," she said, "a little thing like wetting the cushions—when they could have been kept dry just as easily. Elizabeth—"
"It really isn't any matter about the cushions," Captain Fergus interrupted gently. "Big crew doing nothing—they'll be set to work presently scrubbing the launch inside and out. What's a little water? Doesn't hurt anything."
Mrs. Fergus laughed softly. "You'd let them do anything, Dick,—stick pins into you—"
"If it would be any fun for them," said Captain Fergus gruffly, "I guess I could stand it. What's a pin anyway?"
Mrs. Fergus laughed again. "You'd find out. But I was really thinking of the difference in the girls. Elizabeth is naturally considerate, Olivia is not. Olivia is a good swimmer, of course, and she is pretty and sweet and attractive, but she has done some outrageous things in the last three years. Nothing bad, but absolutely inconsiderate." She was talking to us now more than to her husband. "She swims so well that she jumps in—or she used to—whenever she feels like it, clothes and all. Why, she even took her mother's parasol in with her one day. It ruined the parasol, of course. She was all dressed up for a party, and had on a lovely dress, with a beautiful old ribbon sash, which was spoiled. Luckily her dress was a wash dress, but it had to bedone up again, and the Greshams had no money to waste." She broke out in sudden laughter. "But it was funny, Dick, to see her swimming about, holding the parasol. Do you remember? At sixteen Olivia Gresham was just a pirate, and she is more or less of one at eighteen. Look at Jack Ogilvie and the way she treats him, and he as nice a boy as ever lived."
"You may look at Jack Ogilvie now," said Captain Fergus quietly, "if you will raise your eyes. There he comes."
Accordingly we raised our eyes, all of us, and we saw nothing but those two tiny sails that I have mentioned, almost in the same place in which they had been for the last half hour; and a motor-boat, almost hidden inthe haze and very difficult to make out, seeming to be soaring over the tops of the waves toward us. It must have been five miles away.
"But, Dick," said Mrs. Fergus, "where is Jack? Is he—"
"In that motor-boat. Don't you see it? Head on."
He whistled shrilly. The launch had been lying idly before us, her engine stopped, and Miss Radnor sat upon the deck with her feet dangling over the side. At the whistle she glanced down the bay, then looked around at us and waved her hand. Then she simply straightened out and slipped into the water feet first, and disappeared.
"Captain Fergus," asked Eve, "how can you possibly tell who is in that boat? I can hardly see the boat."
He laughed. "I can't tell," he said, "of course, because I can't see any of her crew; but I know the boat, and Ogilvie should be in it."
"But how can you know the boat? One motor-boat looks much like another at that distance—to me."
"I don't know how, but I know the boat. How do you know your friends as far off as you can see them?"
And Eve laughed, and she went on marvelling. But Miss Radnor, who had disappeared so quietly, had not reappeared, and Mrs. Fergus seemed to be getting anxious. She looked at her husband.
"Dick," she began, "I wish Elizabeth wouldn't stay under so long. Where—"
At that moment a red cap bobbed up on the surface of the glassy wateralmost at the side of the yacht, and Miss Radnor laughed up at us. She swam to a boat swinging at the boom, climbed in and up the little rope ladder to the boom, and so on deck.
"Sorry," she called, "to drip on your deck, but I want to dive."
And she went up the rigging as far as she could go, which was not far—was not far enough, it seemed.
"You should have the mainsail up," she said. "I could go up on the rings. It is such a disappointment! I wanted to try it from the spreaders."
"I'll send you up in a sling." And forthwith two sailors came running, and unhooked a halliard from somewhere, and got out a boatswain's chair, and hooked it on, and she put her legs through, and they hoisted her up to the spreaders. She looked verysmall up there, as she held on to the spreader, and gingerly got herself out of the chair, and stood up, holding by the stay. And, still holding on carefully, she pulled on the halliard with her free hand, until the boatswain's chair was far enough down again to go down of its own weight. Then she edged out to the end of the spreader, and got her feet clear of the stay, though how she did it I could not imagine, holding on to the stay behind her back. But she did it, and I could see her moving her feet ever so slightly, to get the right grip. Then, suddenly she let go, and swung her arms up slowly, and shot outward in a beautiful swan dive that rivalled Annette Kellerman at her best; and she struck the water as straight as a pikestaff. There was not much spraywhen she struck. It reminded me of scaling stones in the way we used to call "cutting the devil's throat." Her slender body entered the water with much the same kind of a noise.
There was nothing shallow about that dive, for she did not come up for a long time. At last I saw a shadow in the water shooting slowly toward the launch, and the red cap came floating to the surface as if it were only a red rubber balloon; and a white arm shot out, and the hand grasped the gunwale, and again Old Goodwin helped her aboard, and she sat on the deck and dabbled her feet in the water, as she had before, but this time she sat beside Olivia. And Jack Ogilvie—if it was he—in his motor-boat was almost in. I could see the crew of the boat pretty well, andthere was none among them who looked like Ogilvie, except the one in an ensign's uniform, and Ogilvie was not an ensign. Then the boat was abreast of the launch, and Elizabeth Radnor turned her head, and waved and called, and beckoned.
"Hello, Elizabeth!" the ensign called in return, and the boat began to turn. "Sorry I wasn't nearer to see your dive, but I saw it pretty well. You couldn't repeat it for my benefit, I suppose?"
Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. "Not to-day, Jack."
So Ogilvie was an ensign. Eve had noted that too.
"He must be twenty-one, Adam," she whispered, "and he must have had a birthday. I wish we had known it. I would have had a party for him."
"Is it too late?" I asked.
"I'll see about it," she answered, smiling. Eve likes Ogilvie.
But the motor-boat had stopped not far from the launch. They were near enough for us to hear pretty well over that quiet water. Ogilvie's crew tried not to show undue interest.
"Hello, Olivia," said Ogilvie, standing very straight. He looked rather wistful, I thought.
"Hello," she said, neither turning her head nor lifting her eyes. It was the essence of indifference. "What are you doing here?"
It was more than indifference. It was as if Ogilvie bored her. My gorge began to rise, and my color rose a little, I am afraid, and I moved my chair, so that Eve looked over at me.I felt, I suppose, much as Captain Fergus did, when he said that Elizabeth was more of a favorite of his than some others.
Ogilvie seemed to be familiar with that attitude of Olivia's, for he smiled faintly, and stepped back.
"Nothing much," he said; "just cruising—cursing about the bay. Like Captain Cook, who went cursing about the Pacific Ocean. That's what you said in school, Olivia. Remember?"
"If I don't," Olivia flung back petulantly, "it isn't because I haven't been reminded of it."
Elizabeth raised her head and sent forth a merry peal of laughter.
"Oh, Olivia, did you really? When was it? Oh, that's too good to keep."
Olivia was picking at the deck ofthe launch. There may have been a speck of dust there.
"I suppose I did. It was when I was very small, and the teacher asked me what Captain Cook did, and 'cruise' looked like 'curse' to me. But if you ever tell, Elizabeth," she flared out, "I'll never forgive you."
Once more Elizabeth's laughter rang out.
"Oh, Olivia! It won't be necessary for me to tell, but I'd almost be willing to be never forgiven." Then she heard Ogilvie give orders to start. "Wait, Jack. I can't do my dive over again, but Olivia and I will show you some aquaplaning. Won't we, Olivia?"
Olivia shook her head. "I don't believe I want to."
"Very well, then. I'll do it all bymyself. I see you've got it, Jack. Congratulations!"
At that Olivia looked up. "Got what? Oh, a new uniform. Captain Ogilvie, I suppose."
But Elizabeth had slid into the water, and Olivia slid in from the other side of the launch, and Ogilvie waited, but the launch did not. Elizabeth was swimming under water, as seemed to be her habit, and the launch had quite a little way on before the red cap emerged. She had heard it, of course, and had calculated very nicely, and came to the surface just as the aquaplane was going by; and she seized it and swung herself upon it, and landed standing on her feet. It was like the centre ring in a circus; and it made me think more and more of that centre ring, and of great whitehorses cantering around it, as Elizabeth went through the most extraordinary feats of agility and skill, diving off and jumping on again as it seemed with but a quirk of her wrist, making the aquaplane do the work for her. And to end the exhibition the launch, which had been doing a modest ten miles an hour, went up to twenty-five, and the aquaplane stood nearly straight, and bounced around, with sudden sidewise jumps and swerves and jerks. It was no longer the great white horse cantering around the ring, but a balky, bucking horse that gave Elizabeth some trouble. I could see how carefully she was balancing with bent knees that gave to every jump, and brought it back again. But when the launch began to twist and turn and loop shecould not keep her balance for very long. She knew she could not, and before she had more than begun to lose it she laughed aloud, and she gave a spring straight up, and turned backward in the air, and entered the water behind the aquaplane, straight and true. As a backward dive it surpassed Olivia's as you would expect the finished performance of a professional acrobat to surpass the best attempts of an amateur.
In watching Elizabeth's performance I had entirely forgotten Olivia, and so had all the others, unless Ogilvie had not. I cannot speak for him. If he had forgotten he was quickly to be reminded, for suddenly about half a bucket of water shot up and drenched his cap and his new uniform.
He smiled quietly, and bent forward and looked into the mocking eyes of Olivia.
"Thank you, Olivia," he said, the water dripping from his cap and his coat. "Was that intended as a christening?"
Olivia made no reply, but turned and swam to the launch. Elizabeth was climbing aboard, and sat in her old place on the deck, her feet dangling.
"Was it a good show, Jack?"
"It was worthy of you, Elizabeth. I can't give any higher praise. Thank you very much. You have given me a great deal of pleasure. You are always giving other people pleasure. Good-bye."
And he waved his hand to the launch and then to us, and hismotor-boat went on her business up the harbor, whatever that business was.
Captain Fergus looked after him thoughtfully.
"Now, I wonder," he remarked, "why he didn't come aboard. He ought to want to see me."
I had got up with him, and we were standing at the gangway. The launch came nosing around, with the two girls enveloped in raincoats. Olivia had recovered her spirits. She stood up, and saluted with a stiff finger.
"Here's a load of lumber for you, Captain Fergus," she said. "Will you have it aboard? Where will you have it stowed?"
Captain Fergus looked grimly at her, and shook his head slowly, but his eyes, looking out from the shadow of the shiny visor of his old bluecap, were pleasant and smiling and humorous. The little wrinkles about them deepened.
"Don't you know better," he growled sternly, "than to bring me wet lumber? I can't take it. You'll have to take it ashore and dry it."
"Aye, aye, sir," said Olivia; and she sat down, and I regret to say that she giggled.
I had gone down the steps, and I was regarding a red rubber cap and a dun-colored raincoat. The red cap was pulled well down over the ears, concealing entirely the colors of Eve's great beaver muff. I spoke.
"Miss Radnor," I said, "what have you done with Bobby?"
She looked up quickly, and her eyes met mine frankly. They—hers, not mine, my eyes being nothing tolook at, only to see with; but hers—they were hazel, I should guess, and they were veiled mischief as they looked into mine.
"Bobby?" she asked. "Mr. Leverett? Oh, we transferred him yesterday. We took him down in the Arcadia. We'll take you some day soon."
I have no wish to be transferred. But I do not wonder that Bobby is much taken with Elizabeth Radnor.
Tilling the soil, if the man who tills be working alone, tends to reflection,—provided that man possesseth wherewith to reflect,—and it promotes straight and simple thinking, thoughts which may be straight and true or they may not; but the thoughts of the tiller of the soil are more likely to be straight and true than the thoughts of the same man riding in a motor-car or working on the twenty-fifth floor of an office building. If such a man be the president of the company it is one thing; he may be puffed up with the pride of a little brief authority or he may be the simple, true man that Old Goodwin is. His sense of the valuesof things must be warped and distorted unless he tills the soil at times or does something that is equivalent, like sailing the deep blue oceans, where there is so very little between him and the workings of nature; and I do not mean sailing as a passenger in an ocean steamer or a yacht, in which he will have as little to do with the workings of nature as he would in a great hotel.
In such a man the sense of values must be distorted nearly as much, though in a different way, as that of a man who sits at one of an interminable row of desks, on another floor of the same office building, from eight-thirty in the morning until five in the afternoon, with an hour for luncheon; and knows himself to be but a cog in a huge machine, a cog which can andwill be replaced as soon as it gives a sign of running unsmoothly. What a dreadful thought that you are but a cog in a machine! How very dreadful it must be to realize that you are growing old and are still nothing but a cog! How pregnant of rebellions, little futile rebellions! And how it must tear the very soul of that man to know beforehand that his rebellions must be little and futile! I can understand that a man in that state would welcome death; that he would be stood up against a wall and shot rather than go back to that desk of the interminable row—number thirteen, it might be. But there is nobody to stand him up against a wall. They will have none of him. He is too old. Too old to be shot, although he may have fighting instincts stirring fiercely withinhim. So they take his son, it may be, and he goes back to his desk. There is no escape for him. They will not even let him die as a man should in these times. Life is a series of disappointments, and the last is the most bitter. Hope takes herself away until he can hardly see her through the fog.
I was thinking such thoughts as these, leaning on my hoe. I had come out early to work in my garden, and I would start the planting of a row, and the next thing I knew I would find myself standing—or squatting, in accordance with my most recent activity—and gazing out over the waters of the bay, dreaming and musing of the bitterness of disappointment, or of little souls clothed with authority, or of OldGoodwin, and of men like him—if there are such. Old Goodwin's is not a little soul. The first time that I thought on such things and lost myself in thinking, I was using my wheel hoe on the ground between the rows of corn and peas and beans. A wheel hoe is not a thing to lean on, but it fails you when you most need its support, and gives way under you and brings your thoughts to earth with a thump—and you as well, if you are not used to its vagaries and careful. So I took my hand hoe. It is friendly and will bear me up.
It was the twenty-sixth of May, and I had much planting to do, but I did not do it. I thought upon what had happened in the past few days, and I worked my wheel hoe. Wheel-hoeing does not interfere with mythinking. I believe I could do it in my sleep. I have only to walk along slowly, and to work my arms back and forth at every step, and unless the ground is very hard I can think perfectly. My corn showed as little yellowish-green tubes about an inch and a half long, just poked through a couple of days before, it was so cold early in the month; and it has not come up well. As I ran the hoe along beside the row, it was a rank of soldiers—soldiers of the first line. There were great gaps in the line. There have been many gaps, and there will be many more. It has not chanced to hit any friends of mine yet, but it will.
Then I thought upon the report of ten days before, that seven German submarines had been destroyed atsea on their way over here. It was gratifying to know that they had been destroyed, but the report was strangely disquieting to me. If they had sent a fleet of seven, they might send as many more. There was food for thought in that. I had seen no further mention of the matter in the papers, and most probably the report was untrue, but it set me thinking, and I wondered whether the information would not be considered of value to the enemy. If no report of their destruction had been published, Germany might not have known of it for weeks. Weeks of freedom for us knocked in the head by the newspapers.
And I was through with the corn, and had come to the beans, strange grotesque, misshapen things, pushingout of the ground like toads. Some of them were not through yet, but were raising great clods of earth, leaving holes which looked for all the world like toad-holes. There were two that looked like sinking ships. And I thought upon the report of a great naval battle, with many of our ships sunk. I do not believe it. In fact, I have heard vaguely of a denial by our Navy Department. And my eye was caught by a flash of scarlet near some trees by my wall, and there was a tanager. I stopped my hoeing and stood still and watched. It is some years since I have seen a tanager. He flew about in little short flights, aimlessly it seemed, from one low branch to another, then upon the ground, then back to a tree again, paying no attention to me standing like ascarecrow in my garden. Then he perched high and sang his cheerful song, very like a robin's. If I were not noticing nor thinking about it, I might think it a robin's—if I gave it a thought. I have heard that tanagers have been seen this spring in places where they have never been seen before. I have never seen one here, and I hoped this one would stay.
And then that talking machine of my neighbor's began reciting something in a loud voice—"Cohen at the telephone" or some such thing—and my tanager flew away, and I went savagely to my hoeing again. And I thought again of that obsolescent man who is too old to be shot, but not too old to be condemned to a ball and chain; and whose son they have taken while they have scornfullyrejected him. And he would fight if they would let him. How he would fight! For there is nothing left for him but to choose the best death he can get. He may not be free even to do that. The father of Jack Ogilvie may be just such a man. I stopped again, and stood holding the handles of my hoe and looking off to sea, and thought of Ogilvie and Bobby and Jimmy Wales going to and fro upon the waters seeking that which is not.
I grasped my hoe handles more tightly, and turned my head, and looked at the dirt before me, and pushed my hoe savagely. What care I how they go to and fro upon the waters? I wander the shores, and I dig my clams, and I am content. But am I? And as I had got to this pointin my meditations, from my neighbor's window came the rich voice of Harry Lauder singing "Breakfast in bed on Sunday morning." I smiled to myself—there was nobody to see me if I chose to smile at an absurdity—and my hoe went more and more slowly, for there was no power behind it. And I listened shamelessly to Harry Lauder's last whisper and his last mellow laugh, so that I did not hear the light steps behind me; but I heard the voice that I loved.
"Adam! Adam!" said the voice, chiding. "Listening to Harry Lauder—and enjoying it! Take shame to yourself."
And I turned, and saw Eve, and Tidda with her. Eve was smiling, and I smiled back at her.
"Surely, Eve," I said, "a man mayrest when he is weary. And if my neighbor choose to have a talking machine spouting out of his window, I cannot stop him. I wish I could. Imagine Judson with a talking machine!"
"I can imagine it very easily. The dear old man would have enjoyed it, I am sure. And if it gives them pleasure, Adam—why, some of the things give you pleasure. You needn't try to deny it."
"I don't, Eve. I deny nothing. But some of the things are—"
Eve nodded. "Yes," she said, "some of them certainly are. But they needn't bother you much."
At that moment we heard a giggle from somewhere on the other side of the wall, and something came whizzing. It was nothing but an old rottenpiece of wood, and it fell short, but it stirred Tidda.
"I'm going after that Sands girl," she cried. "She shan't fire old pieces of wood at us." And she set off at top speed straight for the wall. Tidda is not becoming obsolescent.
I would have stopped her.
"No," Eve said. "Let her go. It can't do any harm." She dismissed the matter from her mind. "Tell me, Adam, what made you so savage as we were coming up. What were you thinking about?"
I laughed rather shamefacedly. "It was of no consequence, Eve. I was thinking that life, for some people, is just one disappointment after another." I must remember that Eve has pacifist tendencies.
Eve looked up at me with sober eyes.
"Were you thinking of anything in particular?"
"Of the unimportant men in a great office with long rows of desks and endless routine; especially of men who are growing old in it and can see no escape. I was thinking of the same thing, I remember, on Wednesday, down on the shore. It was a driving drizzle from the northeast, and gray, with rolling seas. It made the round of an office seem so futile and so useless. I envied Jimmy and Bobby and Ogilvie, off on patrol. I would have liked to be on patrol myself."
"Would you?" asked Eve. There was speculation in her eyes—and something else that I had seen there before. I could not fathom it. "How many of the men in the office—themen who are growing old—would exchange the comforts of the office for a driving drizzle out of the northeast, and gray and rolling seas—and a motor-boat? Not one in ten."
"It was that one I was thinking of."
Eve looked away from me and nodded slowly.
"Can't you leave your gardening? Come and sit down."
So I left my tools in the field, as a poor farmer leaves his tools where he has last used them in the fall, the plough beside the furrow, and the mowing-machine and the horserake at the edge of the meadow; and in the spring he is sorrowful, and wonders and bemoans the winter. And Eve took my hand in hers, and we went to my great pine and sat us down upon the bench. And, behind us,came Tidda over the wall, dragging the reluctant Sands girl, who giggled and held back; and they sat by the hole that is scooped in the ground and lined with great stones, for they would play at having a clambake. The chatter of our daughter's tongue was like an accompaniment; and nobody pays any attention to an accompaniment.
"Now, Adam," said Eve, "for the important business. You know we decided that Jack Ogilvie must have had a birthday, or he would not have got his commission. I have been making inquiries. He did; and I find that everybody can come next Saturday, probably,—a week from to-day."
Eve looked thoughtful and counted up on her fingers, which I released for the purpose—"the second of June.Do you think, Adam," she went on, "that clams will be ripe on the second of June?"
I laughed. "We can see. But many things will be lacking which belong to a clambake. Do you want me to issue a call to the Clam Beds Protective Company?"
"Oh, yes, Adam. How will it run? To assemble, at their armory,—that is the bank above the clam beds,—in uniform, with arms and accoutrements, an hour before low tide. When will that be? But never mind. And shall I tell father?" She glanced toward the hole scooped in the ground. "He will be glad to—but mercy on us, Adam, where is Tidda?"
She sighed and started to her feet. I laughed, and pointed along the shore.
"Stole away," I said. Tidda and the Sands girl were picking their way among the great pebbles of the shore, Tidda with light feet skipping from pebble to pebble, the Sands girl going more cautiously and clumsily.
Eve sighed again. "We may as well follow. There is no knowing what they will be up to next."
So I rose and we turned to follow, and there was Elizabeth Radnor not ten steps away, smiling and regarding us with friendly eyes. As she drew near her eyes looked gray-green, not hazel, calm and humorous and knowing. Perhaps they are of the changeable kind. I have seen changeable eyes before. I would like to know what thoughts lie behind those eyes to give them their peculiar light. And at a guess I think that Bobby wouldgive something to know. But they were friendly eyes, and they gave you a look that was straight and true.
"Oh, Elizabeth,"—Eve has got that far with her, which is in her favor. I have never yet known Eve to be deceived in people—"Oh, Elizabeth, we have to go after Tidda, just along the shore. Will you come? Tidda leads us a chase. Her spirit of adventure will lead her into trouble."
Elizabeth laughed. We were descending the steep path to the shore.
"I'm afraid I had a spirit of adventure as great as Tidda's," she said; "fortunately no disaster happened to me, although I must have been rather a trial to my mother. And as to going into the water when I shouldn't—why, I was in the water all the time—whenever I could get in. Yousee the unhappy result. We were poor, you know; in what is called straitened circumstances. My father died when I was a little tot, and we never had a maid until a few years ago. You go on in your own way. It is pretty sure to be right."
I do not know whether Eve thought Elizabeth was referring to the path, but she turned and began to descend again.
"I'm glad you think so," she flung back over her shoulder, "but I am not so sure. I really think that it would be better for Tidda if she were left more to her own devices—she has plenty—but I just can't do it."
We had got down to the shore, and Elizabeth turned to me.
"I am always saying things," she said, "that I don't mean. It is oneof the results of too much freedom."
"So am I," I replied, "and this is one of them."
And Elizabeth looked at me queerly, and laughed suddenly, and looked away. I wondered if she understood. I wondered further about her. A reputation for unconsidered speech is the best of protections for secrets. I did not believe that she was generally guilty of unconsidered speech. And we had come to the clam beds, but the bank was too wet to sit on, and we stood around until I found some stones that were dry, and we sat on the stones in a row, like three crows. Eve said nothing to Tidda and the Sands girl, but watched them as they pulled off their stockings. And, Tidda having trouble with hers,as usual, Eve got up from her stone and helped her.
While Eve was busy with stockings, I spoke.
"Miss Radnor," I said, "what—"
She was gazing fixedly at the water over the clam beds—there was about a foot of it—and her thoughts were far away. But at the sound of her name she started almost imperceptibly, and looked at me, and smiled.
"My name is Elizabeth," she said, interrupting. "Perhaps you didn't know it. Yes, that is a hint."
Her eyes were like deep pools under a summer sun, and all sorts of colors played over them, flashing and sparkling gently and merrily, so that there was no telling what depths lay beneath, or what in the depths—except humor. They seemed to belooking always for a joke, and usually finding one too good to tell. What else they were looking for I did not know, but there was something.
"Thank you," I replied. "I take hints on occasion. And my name is Adam. That is a hint too. If you can reconcile the use of it with the respect due to age,—to a man too old to fight,—I shall be glad. It is a very old name and quite respectable."
She nodded and laughed. "Thank you, Adam. But you were going to ask me something."
"I was going to ask you, Elizabeth, if you know what has become of Bobby. We haven't seen him for a long time."
The pools flashed and sparkled once more. "Why do you ask me? Am I Bobby's keeper?"
"You seemed to be. And you transferred him, and we haven't seen him since."
"Captain Fergus transferred him. I have no doubt that he will turn up in time."
Eve had finished with the stockings, and she came and sat down again upon her stone, while the children splashed noisily into that foot of water. Tidda had a stout stick, and she began immediately to poke about with it.
"Who will turn up in time?" asked Eve. "What are you talking about?"
"Bobby," I answered. "I wish I could share Elizabeth's faith. I must notify Bobby."
"I think you will have an opportunity," said Elizabeth, "if you have a little patience."
"I will notify you meanwhile, Elizabeth. The Clam Beds Protective Company meets here next Saturday at nine o'clock. In uniform, with arms and equipment. If you lack anything, speak to Eve. I'm sorry to make it quite so early, but the tide, you know—and Eve has set the day."
"I'm going to have a birthday party for Jack Ogilvie, Elizabeth. It's a little late, but I didn't know in time, and Jimmy and Bobby and Ogilvie can come then, I think. I wish you'd tell me something more about him."
"About Jack? What shall I tell you? I've known him always, since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. He's as good as there is made. His family are nice people, with a verymoderate income, just about enough to keep them going, and not enough to put him through college, although they would be willing to sacrifice a good deal to do it. But Jack prefers to put himself through, and he was doing it very well until he went into the navy. He has been preparing for that for a year or more. He doesn't make nearly as much in the navy, even as an ensign—but I don't know about that. I guess he does. An ensign's pay is pretty good for a boy of twenty-one."
"And his father," Eve pursued; "what does he do? Is he in some great office, grinding away for Jack?"
Elizabeth smiled again. "No. He is a country doctor, and a very good one. I don't know what the town would do without him. But acountry doctor, you know, can't make much."
"I'm glad," said Eve.
"Why? Because he can't make much?"
Eve laughed. "Glad that he's a doctor. I wish I could manage to swell his income."
Tidda and the Sands girl had been pursuing the elusive clam with some success. Tidda's hands were full of clams which she had dug out with the stick and her hands, burrowing into the sand and mud under the water, and her skirt was wet, and her sleeves were wet nearly to the shoulder. I called Eve's attention to that fact as she splashed out, ran to the bank, and deposited her clams in an old rusty tin can with jagged edges, which she drew from some hidingplace evidently in familiar use. She must have done that same thing many times, and this was the first that we knew of it.
Eve glanced up and smiled.
"Never mind, Adam. Let them have their fun. I'll put dry clothes on her when we get home." Then she turned again to Elizabeth. "And Olivia," she said, "is—"
"I think," said Elizabeth, interrupting, "that Olivia is coming now."
As she spoke there was a slight rustling in the path through the greenery, and Olivia emerged upon the edge of the bank. She was stepping lightly, diffident and hesitating, a hand over her heart. It was like a young doe coming out of the woods.
"Oh!" she said. "I beg your pardon."
And Elizabeth laughed silently, mostly with her eyes; but Eve rose and went to meet Olivia.
"What's the joke, Elizabeth?" I asked in her ear. "Tell me, won't you?"
She turned merry eyes to mine. "Olivia's the joke," she said. "I can't explain, but if you knew her as well as I do—"
She did not finish, for Eve was speaking.
"We were just thinking of you, Olivia."
"How very nice of you! May I come?"
She advanced—still with that diffident and hesitating step like a doe's. I got up and offered her my stone.
Olivia looked startled; but Oliviahad a way of looking startled, so it seemed.
"Oh," she protested, "oh, I don't want to take your seat."
"Don't feel that you are putting me to an inconvenience," I said. "That stone is harder than it was. I am sorry that we can offer you nothing better than a stone, but it is all we have."
And Olivia laughed politely, and took my stone, and looked about.
"Clams!" she cried. "I have dug clams."
"Many?" I asked.
Olivia looked up at me and laughed again. "Oh, a good many," she replied, "in all sorts of places; and baked them too."
"A recruit for our company," I said, looking at Elizabeth and Eve."Will you join the company?" I asked Olivia.
"I shall be glad to," she answered. "What is it?"
And Eve laughed, and I explained, and Olivia seemed delighted. But Elizabeth was more amused than ever.
"What is it now, Elizabeth?"
"Olivia knows," said she.
"Elizabeth!" Olivia cried from her stone. "I didn't either come for—"
She stopped suddenly, her hand over her mouth.
"If she came for that purpose, Elizabeth," I said, "she is to be commended. Do you think that Captain Fergus and Mrs. Fergus would join? Would you speak to them about it?"
And Elizabeth signified that shewould, and there was other noise in the path through the greenery, a noise which was something more than a rustling, and Old Goodwin appeared, and behind him came Bobby. When Bobby appeared, I looked hard at Elizabeth, but I could detect no sign of confusion. She is so sunburned and tanned that a flush would not show anyway.
"What did you tell me about Bobby, Elizabeth?"
She looked up. "I don't remember. Nothing that wasn't true."
Her eyes were filled with light, but she veiled them quickly, and Bobby wandered over to us. Old Goodwin had sat him down on the bank, and Tidda had put into his hands some more clams dripping mud, and was asking his advice, her elbows on hisknees; and he listened soberly and with interest.
Eve told Bobby of the meeting of our company for the next week and the party.
He turned to me. "Doesn't that notice have to be in writing?" he asked.
I shook my head. "You'd better accept it. The whole company will turn out. It's to be a party for Ogilvie—birthday party."
And Olivia pricked up her ears at that, and listened shamelessly while Eve told Bobby about it.
"That's very good of you, Eve," he said, when she had finished. "I'll tell Jimmy, and I'll get word to Ogilvie. We can come unless something turns up. Something may turn up, you know, at any minute. We neverknow. If a fleet of submarines should get over here, and should start getting caught in our traps we'd have to go."
"Traps all set, Bobby?" I asked.
"Set but not baited," he replied. "I'm looking for bait now, likely-looking little pigs, Adam, and for somebody to feed 'em, and keep 'em squealing. It would be interesting work, and a pleasant sail every day. If you were really patriotic you'd be glad to do that much for your country. But you won't. I see it in your eye. I'll have to do it myself."
And he heaved a prodigious sigh, and turned to Elizabeth and Olivia, and he began to talk lightly with them; and Olivia's face was all eagerness and light and gentleness. She was beautiful so. Bobby noticed it, and smiled at her, and talked to herfor a minute or so, and she listened in a sort of silent rapture, which Elizabeth observed. And Bobby, glancing at Elizabeth, saw the changing light in those two deep pools, and saw her half-smile of amusement, and forgot what he was saying to Olivia, and stopped.
"You know, Miss Radnor," he said, forgetting the rest of us, "I have to go in half an hour." It was a sort of challenge.
She nodded, still smiling that half-smile of amusement. "I know."
"Well?"
Thereupon Eve rose quietly from her stone, and dragged Olivia up from hers, much against her will, and they wandered off to see the children at their clamming; but she gave me a significant look as she went. So Iobediently drifted off along the shore. I was sorry to go, for I would have liked to hear what followed. And I drifted back again, and to and fro, like a shadow, but always Bobby was talking earnestly to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth looked up at Bobby, and laughed and shook her head. And at last Elizabeth rose, and they two wandered off down the shore toward Old Goodwin's stone pier. I caught a word or two of Bobby's as they went. I thought he was asking her what she was. "What are you?" was all I heard; and she replied, very probably, that she was a teacher of swimming and dancing. And she turned and waved her hand to us, and they were gone.
Then Eve stirred, and called Tidda, who came hugging close her old tincan dripping mud down upon her dress. Olivia was already on the path to the great house, but Old Goodwin turned back.
"Adam," he said, smiling, "I have retired from business. I thought you might like to know. It seemed as good a time as any."
It was what I have been urging upon him these ten years.
"There will be enough to keep me occupied," he added, answering my unspoken question. "A matter that I have in mind. I will tell you about it soon."
And he turned again, and was gone up the path.
I walked with Eve along the shore, and I wondered. I must have been mistaken in those words of Bobby's. How could he have asked her that?