Rilla of the Lighthouse

by Grace May North

  CHAPTER XXXVIII. MURIEL VISITS WINDY ISLAND.

  Uncle Barney had done a good deal of thinking since he had returned tohis cabin in the sand dunes. He was recalling a visit he had receivedfrom Captain Ezra Bassett a short time before he set sail for Ireland. Itwas then that Muriel's grand-dad had told him all that he knew of thegirl's own father, and at the end of the story he had said: "If anythinghappens to me, Barney, like as not Rilla's own dad would be the right onefor her to go to. You can allays reach him by writin' to the addressthat's in the little iron box whar the tools 'r' kept for fixin' thelight."

  How well Barney remembered that little iron box. It had been on many asea voyage when Ezra had been in command of the two-masted schooner TheStormy Petrel, and the faithful Irishman had been first mate.

  Then, when the older man had settled on Windy Island, Barney had oftenseen the box in the small closet at the top of the tower where the oilcan, tools and cleaning rags were kept.

  What ought he to do about it? he ruminated as he sat near his glowingstove on the day following Muriel's visit and smoked pipe after pipe inthoughtful silence.

  Ought he to tell the girl, and yet, now that the tower was but a fallenheap of stones, would it be possible for them to find the little ironbox?

  "It's colleen herself as shall do the decidin'," he at last determined.Rising, he put on his heavy coat, cap and the scarlet muffler that Mollyhad knitted for him and telling his good wife that he might not be backuntil late, he started walking toward the home of Doctor Winslow.

  Muriel was out on the veranda sweeping away the light snow that hadfallen in the night. "Top o' the morning to you, Uncle Barney," shecalled as she waved the broom. "Have you come to invite me to take acruise with you?"

  The old man smiled up at her as he ascended the steps, and yet, so welldid the girl know him, that she at once sensed that something wastroubling him. However, it was in his usual cheerful manner that hereplied:

  "It's a mind reader that you are, Rilly gal, for 'twas that very thing Iwas after thinkin'. I cal'lated I'd cruise over to Windy Island, thismornin' and I was hopin' as how you'd like to go along as crew."

  There were sudden tears in the hazel eyes of the girl as she held the oldman's warmly mittened hand in a firm clasp.

  "Uncle Barney," she said with a suspicion of a sob in her voice, "I'drather be goin' there for the first time with you than with anyone elsein all the world, perhaps because my grand-dad loved you just as he wouldhad you been his brother."

  "I know, I know," the kind-hearted Irishman assured her. Then to hide hisown emotion he hurried on to say: "Bundle up warm, Rilly gal, for though'tis sunny, the air is powerful nippin'. I reckon you'd better be tellin'your folks as how you may be late comin' back to sort o' get 'em out ofthe notion o' worryin'. Tell 'em yer ol' Uncle Barney'll land you in thehome port safe an' sound along about sunset."

  Although Muriel was surprised to hear that they might remain so long onWindy Island, she made no comment but skipped into the house to put onher wraps and tell Miss Gordon of the planned voyage. Uncle Barney hadnot said that he wished only Muriel to accompany him, but the girl wassure that the captain had something that he wished to say to her alone.Perhaps her grand-dad had asked him to sometime tell her about themarriage of her girl-mother. How she hoped this might be so. But of herthoughts Muriel said nothing as they tramped together out on thesnow-covered wharf near which the captain's dory was anchored.

  It was not until they were sailing in the smoother waters on thesheltered side of the island that Ezra Bassett's old friend told the girlhe had so loved why he had brought her that day to visit the ruinedlighthouse.

  "Uncle Barney," the girl looked across at him hopefully, eagerly, "won'tyou be telling me all that you know about my girl-mother and my father."

  "Well, colleen dearie, thar ain't much to tell. Your pa, it 'peared liketo us as saw him, was a poor artist fellow as came one summer to thishere coast to make pictures. Yer ma, darlin', was jest like yo' are now;the two of yo' couldn't be told apart. That artist fellow met up wi' herin the store, Mrs. Sol tol' me, an' nothin' would do arter that but hemust make a paintin' of that other Rilla a-settin' up on the rocks. Hewas mighty takin' in his ways, I'll say that for him, an' upstandin',too. I'd a-sworn from the little I saw of him that he'd be a squaredealer, but like be I was wrong, for when your grand-dad got wind of himcourtin' his gal, fer that's what it had come to by the end of thesummer, ol' Ezra tol' him to clear out. Yo're ma pleaded pitiful-like,but yo' know that look yer grand-dad used to get when he was sot, an' sothard. That's the way he looked then. Wall, the next day that artistfellow was gone, but so, too, was the gal ol' Ezra Bassett had set sech astore by." The kindly Irishman dreaded telling the rest of the story asit reflected no credit to the honor of the lighthouse-keeper and he wasglad indeed to find that the dock had been reached. Nor did the girlquestion him.

  Even Captain Barney did not know how hard it was for Muriel to climb thesnow-covered flight of steps that led to the only home her girlhood hadever known, and then, when the top was reached, to see that home lyingone rock heaped upon another, the whole jagged mass covered with asparkling white blanket.

  "The little iron box that you were telling me about, Uncle Barney," Rillabegan as she smiled bravely up at her companion, "since it was kept nearthe lamp, don't you think that in falling they would lie near eachother?"

  The old man nodded. "I reckon so," he replied, "an' yet thar's notellin'. A reg'lar tornado 'twas a-racin' along the coast that day, andwhat with the lightnin' hitting the tower and the wind twistin' it,things that fell might o' got purty much scattered about, seems like."

  Going to the old shed at the foot of the steps, the captain procuredshovels and a broom and together they began to remove the snow from therocks that were nearest.

  "It's like looking for a needle in a haystack," the girl declared whenthey had worked for an hour and had not discovered the great lamp whichfor so many years had swung its circling light over the darkened sea.

  "Seems powerful quare to me whar that big lantern can be," the old mansaid at last, as he leaned on the handle of his shovel to rest. "'Pearslike it ought've fallen on top o' the heap, bein' as it was the highestup; but 'tisn't here, sure sartin."

  Muriel, standing on the uncovered rocks, looked down at him. "UncleBarney," she said, "do you suppose that someone has carried the lamp awayto sell for old iron?"

  The captain shook his head. "No, Rilly gal, I reckon not. It's governmentproperty and no one'd be likely to cart it away."

  At noon they went down to the little beach shed. The Irishman made a firein the rusty old stove and they sat near, appreciating its warmth whilethey ate the good lunch that Molly had prepared.

  "Oh, Uncle Barney," the girl exclaimed half an hour later, "it's me as isgoin' to take the crumbs and left-over bits to the top of the cliff andsee if I can coax the seagulls from the caves; that is, if they arethere."

  It was well that Brazilla Mullet had insisted that the girl wear herthick woolen leggins, for she had to wade through deep, unbroken driftsof snow to reach the spot where so often she had stood to feed her birdfriends; but though she called and called, the gulls that in formerwinters had appeared from the warm caves in the rocks did not respond;not even the lone pelican which she had hoped would come.

  Almost sadly the girl was turning away when she chanced to look over thesteep cliff and there, half way down, firmly wedged between an outjuttingledge and a small twisted pine, she saw something that sent her leapingback toward the fallen tower.

  "Uncle Barney," she called excitedly. "Come quick! I've found it! I'vefound the lamp!"

  The old Irishman was soon at her side. Rilla looked up with tears in hereyes as she said: "Poor thing, how forlorn it looks with the glass brokenand the sides crushed in." The old man held fast to the girl, for she wasperilously near the snow-hidden edge of the cliff.

  "I reckon we'd better not try to go down to it,"
he said, after a momentof silent observation. "Thar's nothin' to hold on to till ye get to thatledge an' it's plain to see that the box isn't alongside o' the lamp.Howsome-ever, it bears out my notion that things was hurled hither andyon when the tower fell so thar's no tellin' whar the little box landed."

  Then, drawing the girl back to a place of greater safety, he continued,as he glanced at the sky: "It's gettin' toward midafternoon, colleen, an'those blizzardy lookin' clouds over on the horizon ar' spreadin' fast. Ireckon as how we'd better put off huntin' for the box till arter thar'sbeen a thaw; then, likie's not, we'll find it easy when the snow's gone."

  "All right, Uncle Barney," the girl replied. "We will do just as youthink best, but how I do wish that, just for a moment, I might visit mydear old Treasure Cave. Don't you suppose that if we went along the beachI might be able to climb up to it? I've been there many a time in winterand I know just where my steps are even under the snow."

  The girl's eyes were so glowingly eager that the old man could notrefuse. "Wall, wall, Rilly gal," he said, "I reckon we'd have time topoke around a while longer if 'twould be pleasin' to you. The storm'slikely to hold off till nigh dark."

  "Oh, thank you, Uncle Barney." Muriel caught the old man's mittened handand led him along at a merry pace, breaking a path in the snow just aheadof him. At last they reached the very spot where many months beforeMuriel had stood when she had beheld a city lad for the first time.

  "D'ye ever hear from Gene Beavers nowadays?" the captain asked when Rillarecalled to him the incident of which she had been thinking.

  "Indeed I do, and, oh, Uncle Barney, such wonderful times as Gene ishaving. He has a new friend in England whom he calls Viscount ofWainwater."

  The old man gazed at his companion in uncomprehending amazement.

  "The Viscount of Wainwater is it? Rilly, can I be hearin' right? Why,gal, he's as big a man as thar is in all England barrin' the kinghimself. He's what folks call a philanthropist, though thar's them ascalls him an Irish sympathizer; but 'tisn't the Irish only that he'sbenefactin', but all as are down-trodden. Why, Rilly, he 'twas thatbought a whole township over in Connaught and tore down the mud huts andhad decent little cabins built for the old folks to be livin' in. Many'sthe time he's ridden by on that han'some brown horse of his an' stoppedat me mither's door for a bit of refreshment an' it was me ol' mitherthat couldn't talk of anything for days but of how foine a gintleman wasthe Viscount of Wainwater. It's curious now, ain't it, that Gene Beaversis arter knowin' him. It sartin is an honor to be a friend of theviscount."

  As the captain talked, Muriel, surefooted on the rocky paths that she hadfollowed since childhood, led him down to the beach, where the sand hadbeen swept clear of snow by the prevailing winds. They walked around theisland and stood just beneath the cave to which Muriel had carried everylittle treasure that had been given her by her few friends or that hadbeen tossed high on the beach by the sea. The trail looked very steep andslippery to the old man. "Rilla gal," he said, "I reckon I'll stay here abit and he waitin' for ye while ye do yer explorin'."

  The girl, her cheeks rosy, her eyes glowing, laughed back at him over hershoulder, for she was already half way up the trail.

  When Muriel reached the shelving rock in front of her cave she turned andwaved to the old man, who stood watching far below, then stooping, shedisappeared.

  To her amazement, she found that the place was flooded with light. Thereason she quickly discerned. Great rocks, hurled from the falling tower,had crashed through the roof of the cave and were piled high on itsfloor. Eagerly the girl began to search among them for the box.

  When fifteen minutes had passed and she did not reappear, the old captainbecame anxious and climbed to the opening.

  "Wall, I'll be gigger-switched!" he exclaimed, "if here ain't the door tothe closet whar the tools for the big lamp was kept."

  Muriel, with a delighted cry, sprang toward him, but stumbled over somesmall hard object which had been almost imbedded in crumbled sandstone.

  It was the long-sought little iron box, but it was locked.

  The old man was as excited as the girl. He took the small box whichMuriel lifted toward him and examined it. "The lock don't matter," hereplied. "Thar's tools in the cabin that'll open it soon enough. Comenow, 'twon't do to be delayin' any longer. Can't ye hear the threatenin'sound the wind is makin'? It's moanin' into the cave here like agraveyard full of ghosts let loose."

  When they were again on the beach the girl saw that the captain wasindeed a weather prophet, for the leaden-grey clouds were being hurledtoward them by a wind that was momentarily increasing in velocity.Luckily it came from over the sea and the water between the island andTunkett would still be sheltered.

  They were soon in the dory scudding toward the home port, but barely hadthey landed when the snow began to fall so thick and fast that they couldscarcely see each other.

  The wind from the sea fairly blew them up the street toward the home ofDoctor Winslow. For a moment the old Irishman drew the girl under theshelter of an evergreen tree while he said hurriedly:

  "Rilla gal, I reckon 'twould be best if I sent the letter, bein' as thatwas yer grand-dad's wish, an', like's not, ye'd better not be mentionin'it to anyone yet fer a spell, not knowin'----" The old man paused. He didnot want to hurt the girl's feelings by saying that after all these yearsher own father might not care to claim his daughter.

  "You are right, Uncle Barney," was the reply. "I'll not say a word, but,oh, how I do, do hope that my own father will love me."

  That evening the little iron box was opened, the address found and Molly,who at one time had been a school mistress in Connaught, penned theletter that was sent speeding to its destination on the midnight train.