CHAPTER IV. A SHIPWRECKED MARINER.
Cap'n Ezra Bassett was removing his rubber boots when Rilla entered theroom. The tea kettle was singing cheerily on the stove. She had refilledit when she had made tea for Gene.
Again the old man noticed the flushed, excited appearance of the girl."Rilla gal," he said as he tugged at one boot, "what in tarnation haveyou got stowed away in that cave o' yourn that you're so plumb interestedin? I swan I can't figger it out. Maybe I'd better take a cruise downthat way and be inspectin' below decks."
Luckily Rilla's back was turned as she hurriedly pared potatoes for thefrying. If her grand-dad had seen her face at that moment his suspicionswould indeed have been aroused. When she did turn with the black ironspider to put upon the stove, she was greatly relieved to see that theold captain was removing his second boot and that he did not mean tocarry out his threat to visit the cave.
"Grand-dad," she began, hoping to lead his thoughts into other channels,"was thar anythin' new as yo' heard of in town?"
One might have supposed by his sudden explosive ejaculation that the newchannel into which his thoughts had turned was not a pleasant one.
"Ye-ah, by thunder!" he said. "One of those good-for-nothin' city fellarslanded in Tunkett last night, so Mis' Sol was sayin', though what he'sdoin' 'round here at this time o' the year nobody knows. I sure sartinwas plaguey glad yo'd stayed anchored here on Windy Island. I don't wantyo' to run afoul of any city folks--gals neither--with hifalutin'notions; they're all a parcel o'----" The old man's speech wasinterrupted by a crash. Rilla had dropped a dish, an unheard-ofproceeding, for she was as sure-fingered as she was sure-footed usually.Luckily the china was thick and apparently unbreakable.
"The grub's ready, Grand-dad," she said, as she poured into his cup thestrong, steaming tea. The old man was pleased to note how little interesthis "gal" took in the despised city folks, and he beamed across the tableat her as he continued: "Sho now, Rilly, here's some news on a dif'renttack. Cap'n Barney's laid up in drydock with rheumatics. Like's not hewon't be able to navigate that craft o' his for a week or two."
The girl's face paled. "Oh, Grand-dad, I'm that sorry," she said, but herthought was inquired: "How can that city chap get to the mainland ifCap'n Barney don' take him?"
Rilla had no other intimate friends among the fishermen who would bepassing that evening on their homeward way from the Outer Ledge wherethey went at dawn each day after cod.
Captain Barney she loved next to her grand-dad, for had he not helpedbring her up? One of her earliest recollections was of that kindlyIrishman holding her on his knee and telling her wonderful tales of fairyfolk who lived on that far away and dearly loved Emerald Isle where hisboyhood had been spent. Never had the girl wearied of listening to talesof the mermaids who dwelt in caves under the cliffs and of the "LittleFolk" who went about among the peat cabins helping the peasants.
"But thar's nothin' the loike of thim over here," old Cap'n Barney wouldend, with a sigh, "lest be it's you, Rilly lass."
When the noon meal was over, Captain Ezra pushed back his chair. "Wall,fust mate, I reckon I'll cruise down to the shanty for a spell an'overhaul the kit. Holler if ye need me." Rilla, with rapidly beatingheart, stood in the open door and watched her grand-dad as he slowlydescended the steep stairs leading to the little wharf near which bobbedthe anchored dory. About twenty feet up the beach was the shanty in whichCap'n Ezra kept his fishing tackle and the supplies for the lighthouse.
It was hard indeed for the girl, who was as honest as old Cap'n Ezrahimself, to be doing something of which her grand-dad would disapprove,and yet she couldn't let a boy starve even if he had come from the city.
Quickly she filled a basket with food and tied it firmly to one end of along rope. Going to the edge of the cliff, back of the lighthouse, shecalled "Yo-o!"
The boy appeared and stood on the ledge looking up. He waved his cap ingreeting and then, catching the swinging basket, he untied it.
Rilla drew up the rope and let down a pail of tea; then she knelt andleaning over as far as she could with safety she called: "Like's notyou'll have to bunk thar all night. Cap'n Barney didn't go fishin'today."
Then, before Gene could question her concerning some other manner ofreaching the mainland, the girl disappeared.
The boy laughed as he re-entered the cave. "Robinson Crusoe's island wasnot half as interesting as this one," he thought as he ate with a relishthe homely fare which the basket contained. He had not realized that hewas ravenously hungry. When the feast was over, the lad rose and lookedlong out at sea, trying to discover the approach of a boat that might besignaled.
He knew that if he did not soon return to Tunkett his host, DoctorWinslow, would become alarmed. Too, he was constantly on the alert forthe possible approach of Rilla's grandfather. "What an old ogre he mustbe," the lad thought, "if his grand-daughter is afraid to tell him of thenear presence of a shipwrecked mariner."
As the hours slipped by and no boat came within signaling distance, Genewas tempted to walk boldly out from his hiding place and tell the keeperof the light that he wished to be taken to town, but the "storm maiden"had seemed so truly distressed at the mere thought that her grandfathermight learn of the presence of a "city boy" on Windy Island that, out ofchivalry, he decided to heed her wishes.
Muriel had just replaced the rope in the toolhouse when she heard hergrandfather's voice booming from the foot of the steep stairway.
"Ye-ah, Grand-dad, I'm comin'," the girl replied, wondering what waswanted of her. Could he have seen her taking the basket of food to thecave, she questioned. But, since he was still on the lower shore farthestfrom the cliff, this was not possible. She found the old man busilymending a net which was stretched out on the sand in front of the shanty.
"Rilly gal," he said, smiling up at her, "thar's a tarnation lot o' tearsin this ol' net. Have you time, fust mate, to be helpin' with the mendin'of it?"
"Indeed I have, Grand-dad. All the time there is till sundown," Murielreplied, almost eagerly. The girl's conscience had been making her veryunhappy. It was the first time in the fifteen years they had spenttogether that Muriel had kept anything from her grandfather. Everylittle, unimportant thing which had occurred during the almost uneventfuldays had been talked over with him and the old man would not havebelieved it possible for his "gal" to have been secretive, and yet,during the three hours that followed while these two sat on low stoolsmending the many tears in the net, Cap'n Ezra glanced often across at thegirl, who, with bent head and flushed cheeks, was working industriously.Never before had he known his "gal" to be so silent. Usually her happychatter was constant when they were working together. The shaggy greybrows were almost unconsciously contracted and the heart of the old manwas troubled. At last, rising, he went around and stood beside hisgrand-daughter. Placing a hand upon her bent head, he asked kindly, "Fustmate, tell me all about it. Tell your ol' grand-dad what's troublin' yo'.Have yo' run afoul, Rilly gal, of anything that's hurt yo'?"
The hazel eyes that were lifted were clear in their gaze. "No, Grand-dad,not that," she replied. Then, as she said no more, but bent again overher task, the old man, with folded arms, stood, gazing long across theshimmering waters and toward the town. When he spoke there was almost awistful note in his voice. "Barney's been tellin' me that I'm not doin'right by yo', Rilly gal," the old man began. "He was sayin' that I shouldbe sendin' yo' away to school to educate yo', like other gals. Is thatwhat's a-troublin' yo', fust mate? Are yo' hankerin' to leave yer ol'grand-dad and----"
He could say no more, for the girl, having leaped to her feet, claspedher hands over his mouth. "Grand-dad," she lovingly rebuked him, "how canyo' be askin' that? Didn't I promise I'd never be leavin' yo'? I don'twant to go. I'd be skeered, like's not, all alone in the big world. Iwant to allays stay anchored here in the safe harbor of yer love,Grand-dad."
The girl had slipped around and nestled in the arms of the old man,lifting eyes tha
t were brimmed with unshed tears.
There she was held so close, so sheltered, and when at last Cap'n Ezraspoke he said, "I don't know what set me to thinkin' of all this, lest'twas that Barney said that gals had a natural hankerin' for young folks,an' I s'pose maybe they have. It's like pairin' off a gay little pleasureyacht with an ol' weather-stained hulk that's most ready to sink,an'----"
"Oh, Grand-dad, don't be talkin' that way," the girl implored. "Yo'regoin' to live as long as I do. I couldn't be livin' without yo.'"
The old man tried to laugh naturally. "What a pair of loons we be," hesaid, "trying to sink a ship afore it strikes a shoal, seems like." Hewas rebuking himself for having made his "gal" cry.
They were soon busy again at the mending, but, although Rilla tried tochatter as was her wont, the old man often found his thoughts wandering.At last he said, "Most sundown, fust mate. Time for mess, I'm thinkin'."
All that evening Rilla's thoughts were with Gene Beavers. She had notfound another opportunity to slip away to take food to him and yet thebasket she had taken at noon had contained enough for the day.
That night, when she knelt by her open window, her prayer was not onlyfor her grand-dad, and for the father who never came, but also for herold friend, Cap'n Barney, and for her new friend, Gene Beavers.
Her last waking thought was that in the morning she would go to hergrand-dad and tell him all that had happened and that never, just neveragain, would she deceive him. Then with a happier heart she fell asleep.
Rilla of the Lighthouse Page 5
