Myra was ecstatic. For the first time in years she acted like herself and seemed to continually rejoice that she was to have her mother again.
“When will you go? Can you be ready by day after tomorrow?”
Hannah considered.
“Yes, I guess so,” she said with a sigh, looking around on her beloved home. It seemed ruthless to leave it this way so soon after Charles was gone. There was little tender sweet things she wanted to do, his things to put away. Things that nobody else could do but herself. “Yes, I’ll go, day after tomorrow.”
So Myra went happily to Mark to tell him that Mother had given in and was going to do as he wanted her to.
Mark was cheerful at supper. He ate a great deal of the yellow tomato preserve and said he guessed he’d have to see about boxing what she had of it, that it went right to the spot, and would save putting up much else. Hannah shut her lips and tried to make the line of them look pleasant, but she didn’t say anything, except that she was glad he liked it.
After supper Mark came in from wandering around the place again and said, “Mother, suppose you let me see what of Father’s clothes are worth taking to town. I might be able to wear some of them myself, though I’m not so tall as he was. Pity Olllie wasn’t a boy and Myra could cut the pants down for her. But I’ll take the best of them back to town and see what I can sell them for. You get good prices, sometimes, for clothes if you know how to go about it. Are his clothes up in his closet? Shall I go up and look at them?”
“No,” said Hannah, speaking sharply for the first time. “I would rather you would not go up. I do not wish to dispose of Charles’s things. I have other plans. And Rowan will want some of them, of course. I will look after all that.”
“Well, but Mother, that’s being sentimental, you know. And as for Rowan, he won’t be back. You might as well make up your mind right now about that. Rowan knows good and well what he’d be coming back to, and you needn’t think he doesn’t. Rowan doesn’t deserve consideration!”
Hannah turned with dignity and faced her son-in-law.
“Mark, though you are my son-in-law, if you speak that way again about Rowan I shall have to ask you to leave the house. Rowan is my son, and I understand a lot of things that you don’t know about. Let us leave Rowan out of the conversation until he returns!”
Mark laughed. “Until he returns! I like that! All righty! We’ll leave him out till he returns, and that’ll be never. Well, it suits me. I never did care to talk about him anyway. It was you who brought the subject up, remember! And as for your knowing more than I do about Rowan and his pranks, don’t let ’em kid you. You don’t know the half and it’s just as well you don’t. But how about those clothes of Father’s? I’m only trying to be helpful and it’s always best to get such things out of the house as quickly as possible. We don’t want any sob-stuff around.”
But Hannah had walked silently upstairs and closed and locked her door, and before she slept she had put every one of Charles’s precious garments away most carefully under lock and key, where Mark would never find them. Mark did not know of the secret closet Charles had made to hold the valuables. Its sliding panel was behind the bureau in their room. Charles’s garments were not silver nor gold, but she did not want Mark’s irreverent hands handling them and disposing of them.
So when Mark took advantage next morning of her being down in the cellar and went into the room to look over Charles’s things in spite of her, he found not so much as a trace of anything in closet or drawer. Vexed again he came out of the room and slammed the door with a bang. Then he went up in the attic and looked around, but every chest was locked. He could not find a thing. While he was up there he gave a casual glance around and decided the old cradle would probably bring a neat sum. He’d remember that when he got back to the city and see where he could sell it to the best advantage. But this time he would keep his mouth shut until the sale was sure.
Hannah went around silently all day putting things away and getting ready to go. Myra came to her once with troubled eyes. “Mother, Mark says it is foolish for you to plan to spend money coming back here to pack up when the house is sold. He says you’d better do now what you have to do, once for all, even if you have to stay another day, and then he can come up with a van and bring away whatever he thinks is worthwhile to be sold.”
Hannah faced her child almost majestically.
“Myra!” she said, and the sternness in her voice made the younger woman stop in wonder. “It is time you understood that I am not to be managed by Mark! You may be under his thumb and in terror of what he thinks and says, but I am not and never could be. Now, understand this, too. This house is not going to be sold, and I am not going to let Mark come back here and pack up or manage my things at any time. If you say anymore I will not go with you tomorrow. I am only going because you look sick and I think you need me for a while, but I’ll stop right now planning to go unless you give up all this nonsense.”
Myra resorted to tears again and left her, and sorrowfully, silently, Hannah toiled on through the day. She was ready to go with them in the morning as she had promised.
“You don’t mean to say this is all the baggage you have,” asked Mark unpleasantly, the next morning, when he saw the one large suitcase Hannah had brought down, and a small hand satchel. “Now, Mother, do be reasonable. If you don’t’ take everything you need you’ll be wanting to trot back all the time to get things.”
“This is all I need,” said Hannah with finality and climbed into the backseat of the car.
Mark was disagreeable about it all the way home. He told her several times that she was just bound to make all the trouble she could for them, and Myra was distressed and silent. Several times Hannah felt as if she would like to get out and walk back. She was sorry she had come. If Myra wanted her so badly she could have stayed with her awhile. She could have sent for Olive and stayed. That would have been nice. Without Mark around underfoot perhaps in time Myra would calm down and be like her old self.
But the journey at length was ended and Hannah went up to the alien bedroom and unpacked her few neat things that she had brought with her. A Sunday dress, an afternoon dress, four clean cotton working dresses, because she expected to spend the most of her time in the kitchen relieving Myra, some warm undergarments. There were no ruffles nor frills to take up the room.
She hung up her two best dresses on the two hooks that were not filled with Ollie’s clothes.
“There isn’t any closet in Ollie’s room,” explained Myra, “so I put them in here. I thought of putting up a shelf over there with a curtain around it for her, but Mark has got it in his head that he wants Ollie’s room for a kind of office so he can work at home nights. Would you mind so very much, Mother, if I put Olive’s little bed in here? She’d be company for you. I know I used to love it when you let me sleep in your room when I was sick some nights. I know she’d enjoy it to be with you.”
Hannah doubted it, but thought perhaps it would make a better feeling between herself and her grandchild if she could win her, and besides, she was going to stay only a few days anyway, so she said, “Why, of course, put her in here if you want to. I’m sure we can move things around and make it quite comfortable.”
Olive, however, was of another mind two or three days later when the change was inaugurated. She set up a terrible to-do about it. “I want my own room. I don’t wanta go with her. I don’t like my grandmother!”
Hannah slipped away down to the kitchen so Myra wouldn’t be mortified by her child, and prepared a nice supper, making Myra’s favorite, graham gems. But unfortunately it happened that they were not Mark’s favorite. Mark expressed his dislike at once. Said they were not fit to put in the human stomach and told Myra he wished she would not eat them, that she would be sure to be sick in the night. Incidentally he remarked: “Mother, you better ask next time before you plan to make things whether we like them or not. It’s a pity to have good food wasted making up things that nobody will
eat.”
Then Olive, who had been enjoying her gem and had demanded a second, suddenly flung it, butter and all, across the table almost into Hannah’s face, spattering hot butter down the front of Hannah’s gray traveling dress.
“It’s nasty!” she yelled. “I won’t eat it!”
Mark chuckled.
“Smart, isn’t she, Mother?” he said. “She gets on to a thing right away.” But Myra, coming into the room from the kitchen just then where she had gone to cut more bread for Mark who wouldn’t eat the graham gems, turned white and walked her child away from the table into the sitting room.
“Now, Myra, don’t be too mad. She was only rubbing it in!” And he gave his disagreeable little laugh again and picked up his evening paper, which he habitually read through all meals whenever possible.
Hannah was glad when she lay at last in her bed upstairs, with the little rebel Olive sleeping sweetly in her bed on the other side of the somewhat small room. It wasn’t going to be a bed of roses, her visit here, she could see that. but if she could in any way lighten Myra’s load and help her to get a little rest in her strenuous life she was glad to sacrifice herself for a little while. Anyway, it would all be over soon, and Charles was now in the glory he had talked about, and pretty soon the Morning would come, sunrise and the glory of the Lord. Morning glory!
Dear Lord, send Rowan home before long! Please, if it by Thy will.
Chapter 14
When Rowan awoke the daylight was stealing over a gray sky and meeting at the edges with as steely a sea as had rolled between him and the boat the night before.
He was still lying on the dirty bags and their stench filled his nostrils. Someone stood above him looking down. Perhaps it had been a familiar voice that had wakened him, he could not tell.
“Rowan! Rowan Parsons! How did you get here?” He thought he heard the echo of such words hovering in the air around him.
He came to himself quickly, out of the mist of dreams that his weariness had gathered.
“Oh, I’ve found you, Jason!” he exclaimed. “And it was really you I saw when I jumped. I was afraid I had been dreaming. I was afraid I was off on a wild goose chase, but you are really here!”
“You’re right I’m here, Rowan,” said the boy with a grave voice, “but it’s not so hot as you may think, and I’m all kinds of sorry that you’re here, too. I never thought of their sending you after me! Oh Rowan! I’ve been an awful fool, I suppose. I found that out last night. But I never thought I’d get you into a mess, too.”
“Don’t worry about that, Jason; let’s talk about how we can get back the quickest way possible. Your sister is breaking her heart about you, and I can’t say what my mother and father think about me by this time. I hadn’t time to explain. I just left and said I’d be back as soon as I could. I didn’t even tell them what I was going for. So it’s necessary to get back at once. How do we make it, kid? I tried to get something done about it last night, but the only man I could find put up such a bluff about noise and danger that I thought perhaps I might do you some harm if I went ahead and disobeyed his orders, so I kept quiet. He shoved me down here, and I was so all in that I just stayed. I never meant to go to sleep. I was going to steal out when all was quiet and hunt for you. Now, what’s next, boy? It’s too far to swim home, and it’s not exactly a nice-looking sea either. How do we get back?”
“I’m afraid swim is the only answer,” said Jason solemnly. “This is an awful place. I never knew what I was getting into or I would have swung off and risked getting picked up near shore. I’d only been on board a few minutes before we sailed. I couldn’t seem to find the captain. I heard they wanted a hand and I didn’t know any other way of getting away, hadn’t enough money to go far enough, so I took the job. But I wish it was yesterday and I wasn’t here.”
“Oh, kid, it probably isn’t so bad as it seems. Cheer up, we’ll find a way out. There’ll be a port somewhere and we’ll get off. Where is this boat bound for?”
“That’s it,” said Jason, with troubled eyes. “Someone on land told me they thought it was going to South America and I like a fool took it for granted and got on board. But I can’t find out where we are going. No one will tell me. That is, no one who can speak English; the rest are all Portuguese or something. There’s something phony about this boat, Rowan, and I’m not kidding. I saw and heard a lot of things last night, but I don’t dare tell them now. Someone might overhear, and the mischief would be to pay.”
“Well, that’s bad, but we’re both here, so that helps. We can think a way out somehow, I’m sure.”
“I wish we could, but—I’m afraid. I saw enough last night to make me plenty sorry I came. There’s a guy on board who came for his health. He’s poor and has the TB and some fool doctor sent him for a sea voyage—and he got stung here, too. He didn’t have money, but he heard they wanted a man to help and he took the job. Don’t look fit to stand up, but he’s got all kinds of courage. He put me onto a few things, all he dared. It was plenty.”
“All right!” said Rowan with a fir set to his lips that made him look like his mother. “Then tell me, what do we do now? Where do I fit into the picture so I won’t do harm to you and the other fellow?”
“Well, I guess you’d better just sail in and tell ’em you are the other man they were waiting for. Nobody hired you, but you are. So am I. They’ll tell you your duties. Maybe we’ll get different hours and can share the same bunk turnabout. They’re lousy dirty and that’s the truth, but I guess between us we could keep one fairly decent. It’s going to be rather unbearable, you know. This isn’t a regular boat. It’s weird. But—you’ll find that out soon enough.”
“Don’t you know what the first port of call is?”
“Isn’t any as far as I can find out. Looks like they were playing hide and seek with some pretty powerful party, and they won’t tell what they’re doing.”
“Well then, brother, we’ll just sit tight and wait for developments, and don’t get blue. Perhaps we’d better not be seen too much together till we get things straightened out. How about it?”
“Good idea!” said Jason. “When you get a chance you go aft and look for the sick guy. You can’t miss him. He looks as if a breath would blow him away. He’ll give you a lot of lowdown, and then perhaps there’ll be another chance for us to talk. The first mate jabbers Portuguese. I’ve got to get on with the job they gave me. So long!”
Rowan walked to meet the second mate, trying to put on an assured air.
The second mate watched him as if he had been a reptile and, pausing before him, said with an ugly challenge in his eye, “Who in hell are you?”
“Is this hell?” said Rowan. “I was just wondering.”
The second mate looked at him narrowly a minute and then laughed a hard bitter laugh. “Smart, ain’t ya? Well, who are ya?”
“Why, I’m just a new man. You wanted men on your crew, didn’t you? Well, I’m here now!” laughed Rowan good naturedly. “I’m reporting for service, sir. Do I report to you?”
“You report to the captain when he wakes up. He’s pretty well stewed just now, but he’ll be around before night. He better be.”
“Well then, what shall I do till I can see him?”
“Mind your own business. That’s the first lesson they have to learn on this tub. Mind your own business!”
“Yes, well, is that all? You see, I don’t have much of it with me at the present time. Is there anything else that I can do?”
“Well, ya might swab this deck if yer spilling’ fer work—that’s what they used ta do with greenies when I was young—but don’t go no further than the hatch there!”
“Yes, sir. Where do I get the tools?”
“Find ’em in the locker if there is any. If there ain’t you’ll havta use yer necktie,” he said leering at Rowan’s neat attire.
“Oh, that’s all right by me,” said Rowan, yanking off his tie. “You see, I didn’t have time to stop for my working clothes,
but these will soon season down to the surroundings, I imagine.”
“Smart guy!” said the second mate. “But you’ll get took down all right, I expect. Get along there to work, an’ ef ya need anything, go find Softy. He’s below. You’ll mostly find him layin’ down, but he’s all right, what there is of him!”
So Rowan sauntered nonchalantly about as if he owned the boat, feeling that a certain amount of assurance would carry him a longer way than an attitude of uncertainly.
He found a dilapidated mop and a bucket for water, but there remained much to be desired in the way of working paraphernalia, and Rowan finally found the person designated as Softy.
He found him on the after deck mending a sail.
He was slim as a splinter with a face that looked ethereal and a body that was active like a live wire in spite of his frailty. He had eyes that burned deep with a spirit fire that was almost luminous. He looked up alertly as Rowan came near. There were spots of color on his lean white face that might have been fever. He looked at Rowan keenly, almost startled to find one like him on the boat. He thought he knew the whole population.
“I’m Rowan Parsons, and I was told to find you and ask you what it’s all about,” Rowan introduced himself.
The other cast a quick wary look around.
“Not so loud, my friend, when you say things like that,” he warned quietly. “I’m Carl Kinder. Glad to see you. What do you mean, ‘it’s all about’? Who told you to come?”
“My friend, Jason Whitney.”
“Oh, he didn’t tell me he had a friend on board.” Kinder looked him over cautiously.
“He didn’t know it till a few minutes ago. You see, his family felt pretty badly at his going, and I came after him to stop him and bring him home. I didn’t get here quite in time. I just made it. The water got too wide for us to walk back, and I haven’t been able to make other arrangements yet.” Rowan grinned.
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