CHAPTER IV
THE RED OAR
"This way, Cora. The sand is so heavy out there it is better to keepnear the edge," said Freda, as the two girls tramped along in the deepsand of the seashore that banded Crystal Bay.
"But isn't it perfectly beautiful along here?" exclaimed Cora, in raptdelight. "I had no idea the little place could be so charming."
"Oh, yes," returned Freda, with a suspicion of a sigh. "Over there,just in that splendid green stretch is, or was, grandfather's place.It runs all along to the island, and on the other side there is astream that has been used for a mill race."
"Over there!" Cora repeated. "Why, that looks like the very best partof the bay. And that house on the hill?"
"Grandfather's own home and--mother's," finished Freda.
"Is it rented now?"
"Yes, we have rented it for three years, and it has brought us quite alittle income," said Freda.
"But you see that is cut off now. I am sure I do not know who collectsthe rents."
"What a shame!" cried Cora. "And all because there is some technicalproof of ownership missing. I should think that when your family hadundisputed possession for years it ought to be sufficient to establishyour rights."
"Yes, we never dreamed we could lose it," Freda explained. "Mother andI have lived there in the Winter since father died, and we have rentedit in Summer, as I said. Of course the Summer is the desirable timehere. And we had some of the loveliest old furniture. But when we hadto break up we sold most of it."
"Look out! There's a hole there," Cora warned just in time, for in theheavy sand little rivulets were creeping from some rollers tossed inby a passing boat. The bay was dotted with many craft, and the pictureit presented gave Cora keen delight, for it forecasted a merry Summerfor the motor girls.
"We only have a little farther to go," Freda said. "I hope old Dennyhas kept his word and stayed in. He is the queerest old fellow--youwill be amused at him, I am sure. But he was always such a staunchfriend of grandfather."
"I am anxious to meet him," rejoined Cora. "Somehow I feel we girlsought to get at the bottom of this. Wouldn't it be fine if we could?"
"More than fine, it would be glorious!" Freda replied. "If we lose itall now, I will have to look for work. Not that I mind that," sheadded, "but I intend to take a course in nursing. I have always longedto be a nurse."
"And that would be a splendid profession for you," Cora agreed. "I dohope you will not have to go to work in some office."
"Oh, there's Denny! Denny!" called Freda, leaving Cora without furtherceremony, and hurrying ahead as fast as the soft sand would allow."See, there he is! Just going out in his fishing boat."
Cora ran after her, and soon they overtook the old fisherman, who wasdeaf. Freda didn't mind getting her shoes wet in order to approach thewater's edge.
"Good morning, Denny," she called, "come in here. We want to talk toyou."
He took his pipe from his mouth, in order that his mind should not bedistracted. Then he pushed his cap back, and dropped an oar.
"Freddie, is that you?" he asked. "Sure I thought you was comin' up tothe shack, and I've bin waitin' for you."
"We are on our way up there now. You are not going out, are you?"pleaded Freda.
"No, Freddie," (he always called her Freddie), "I'll come right in. Iwas only goin' acrost to get a few little things; but they can wait."
Cora now had a chance to see this quaint old fellow. He was Irish,with many fine humorous wrinkles about his eyes and mouth. He seemedto breathe through his pipe, so constantly did he inhale it, and justhow he kept his sailor's blouse so clean, and his worn clothes soneat, was a trick he had learned in his younger days in the navy.
"Isn't this a fine day?" he commented, with a nod to Cora.
"Simply perfect," she answered, seeing there was no need for a formalintroduction. "I have been telling Freda how surprised I was at thebeauty of this place."
"Surprised, is it? Sure, there ain't another spot this side of CapeCod with as many fine points to it. I wouldn't leave this little bayfor a berth on any ocean liner."
"My friend, Cora Kimball, is from Chelton, Uncle Denny. Do you knowwhere that is?" asked Freda.
"Chelton? Chelton? Sure, I do. I went through there once in a paradewagon. We were out with the G. A. R. and I guess the parade got lost,for I remember at Chelton we had to put up for the night in an oldchurch they were using for a fire house. But we had a fine time," andhe chuckled at the recollection. "And next day we finished up withoutthe need of a wagon. It was like camp days to scatter ourselves aboutthe big ramshackle place."
"Oh, yes, that's out in the East End," Cora said. "We have quite anup-to-date fire house in Chelton Center."
"Well, that was good enough for me," he asserted. "But come along andI'll show you my shack. Freddie will be surprised at my new decorations."
Up the little board walk to a path through the woods the three tramped.Denny Shane was popular with young folks; even the mischievous boys whowould occasionally untie his boat before a storm had no reason to fearhis wrath, for such pranks were quickly forgotten.
"And the mother, Freddie?" he asked. "How's she gettin' on?"
"Well, she worries a good deal," the girl replied. "But I keep tellingher it must come right in time."
"Sure it will. The rascals that would do wrong to a widder couldn'tprosper. 'Taint lucky. But they're foxy. Did you hear anything new?"
"Yes, but not much that is substantial. My friend and I want to seeyou to find out all that you may know about it. Perhaps there is someclue we have been overlooking, that you could give us."
"Well, you're welcome to all I know. But here we are. No need tounlock my door," he said as he saw Cora smile at his unceremoniousentrance to the shack. "Them that has nothin' has nothin' to fear."
A surprising little place, indeed, the girls were shown into. Neat andorderly, yet convenient and practical, was Denny Shane's home. Therewas a stove and a mantel, a table, two chairs and a long bench. Piecesof rag carpet indicated the most favored spots--those to be lived on.
"And now, Freddie," began Denny, drawing out two chairs, "what do youthink of my housekeeping?"
"Why, you are just as comfortable and neat as possible," she replied."But I notice one thing has not lost its place--your red oar."
"No--indeed!" he said almost solemnly. "That oar will stay with mewhile Denny Shane has eyes to see it. It has a story, Freddie, and Ioften promised to tell it to you. This is as good a time as another."
He put his pipe down, brought a big chair up to the window, opened aback door to allow the salt air to sweep in; then, while Cora lookedwith quickening interest at the old red oar, that hung over thefireplace, Denny shook his head reflectively and started with hisstory.
"That oar," he said, "seems like a link between me and LeonardLewis--your grandpa, Freddie. And, too, it is a reminder of the nightwhen I nearly went over the other sea, and would have, but for LeonardLewis and his strong red oar."
A light flashed into the old eyes. Plainly the recollections broughtup by his story were sacred. He left his chair and went over to themantel, climbed up on a box and touched the oar that had sagged alittle from its position.
"The wind rocks this shanty so," he explained, "the oar thinks it'sout on the waves again, I guess. I don't like to spoil it with nailsor strings."
"It looks very artistic," Cora declared; "but how curious that an oarshould be painted red."
"Yes, there was only one pair of them, that I know of. One went withthe wreck, and this one Len Lewis held on to. Now I'll tell you aboutit."
Again he seated himself and this time started off briskly with thetale.
"It was a raw January night--in fact, it seemed as if it had beennight all day for all the chance the sun had to get out. A howlingwind whistled and fairly shrieked at everything that didn't fly fastenough to suit it. Len and me had been puttin' in a lot of timetogether at his house, just chinnin'--there wasn't much else to do butto
keep warm. Well, along about five o'clock, we heard a rocket! Thewind died away for a minute or so, and we dashed out to the beach toget the lay of that distress signal. Talk about big city fires!" hedigressed. "A fire on land ain't what it is on sea. It always seemslike as if death has a double power with the fire and the deep andnothing but the sky above to fan the flame.
"We soon saw the smoke. It was from a point just over the turn, wherethe clouds dip down and touch the waves. A little tail of smokecrawled up and hung black and dirty, not gettin' any bigger norspreadin' much. When we sighted her, we went to work in the way men ofthe sea have of working together and never sayin' a word. Up the beachwe chased, and dragged out the boat we called our 'Lifer.' It was agood, strong fishin' boat, and we kept her ready in the rough weather.
"'Wait!' yelled Len to me, just as I was pushin' off. 'I've got alucky pair of oars. They're bigger and heavier than ours, and I'lltoss 'em in. We might need 'em.'
"Little I thought of the need we would have! And I always laughed atLen's idea of luck--and me an Irishman, too."
"Mother always said grandfather was queer about such things," Fredaremarked. "I remember we had an old jug that he found on one of hisbirthdays. He would never allow that jug to be thrown out; he said itmeant a jug full of good luck."
"And it, of course, was an empty jug," Cora said, with a smile."Perhaps that is, after all, the luckiest kind."
Denny chuckled over that remark, and added he had not much use forjugs of any kind.
"But I'm gettin' away from my yarn," he said, presently. "We took thebig thick oars and pulled out against the wind. By this time the hailwas comin' down in chunks that would cut the face off you. Sometimesthere are a lot of stragglers around here, but when we need a man, ofcourse, there is not one in sight. But we rowed away and somehowmanaged to get close to the wreck. It was a little steamer, not muchbigger than a tug, and it was burning faster than the smoke told us.
"'You throw the rope and I'll stick to the oars!' shouted Len, hisvoice sounding like a wheeze in the wind. There were three men on thesteamer and they were just about tuckered out. They were clingin' tothe rail, their hands blisterin' from the flames that were sweepin' upclose to them even as they touched the water's edge.
"It's an awful thing to see sufferin' like that," he put in. "I won'tever forget how those fellows tumbled into our boat. They just rolledin like dead men. But my rope got caught in the rudder of the steamer,and I tugged and tugged, but it looked as if we would have to let herburn off before we could free ourselves. Just when I decided to make abig haul at it I came near my end. I stood up, gave the rope a yank,and with that--rip! She let go! And I went with it over into thewater!"
"Goodness!" Cora exclaimed. "It was bad enough to have to rescue theother men, but for you to go into that roaring ocean!"
"It was bad, Miss," agreed the narrator. "And the feel of that wateras I struck it! It was like a bath of sword-points. Well, that's wherethe oar comes in! Bless the bit of wood it was cut from, it sure was agood, strong stick.
"When I flopped into the water, like a fish dumped out of a net, yourgrandpop, Freddie, took nary a chance at reachin' me with the rope. Hedropped the regular oars and took one of the pair he called lucky.
"'Here,' he yelled, 'grab to that!'
"I can see the red flash now as it nearly hit me on the head, butthough I did make a stab at it the water was that cold and the ice sothick on me hands that I couldn't hold on.
"It's pretty bad to be floppin' around like that, I can tell you. ButLen kept shoutin' and when one of the other fellows got enough breathto stand up with, he took a hand at the rescuin'.
"It was him who dropped the mate to that oar overboard. Mad! I couldhear Len yell through the thick of it all. But he held the last redoar.
"With the effort to keep up me blood heated some, and the next time Isaw the flash of red I grabbed it good an' proper. It took three ofthem to haul me up, but I clung to the red oar and that's how I'm herethis minute. Likewise, it's why the oar is here with me."
There was a long pause. The girls had been thrilled with the simplerecital, so void of anything like conceit in the part that Dennyhimself had played in the work of rescue.
The Motor Girls on Crystal Bay; or, The Secret of the Red Oar Page 4
