"A TRAITOR'S DEED"
It was one of those May evenings that promise that summer is close at
hand. The air was soft and warm; there was no wind, and in the clear
starlight Rebecca could see the shadows of the tall elm tree near the
blacksmith shop, and the silvery line of the softly flowing river. As
she stood waiting for Lucia she looked up into the clear skies and
traced the stars forming the Big Dipper, nearly over her head. Low down
in the west Jupiter shone brightly, and the broad band of shimmering
stars that formed the Milky Way stretched like a jeweled necklace across
the heavens. The little village slept peacefully along the river's bank;
not a light was to be seen in any of the shadowy houses. A chorus of
frogs from the marshes sounded shrilly through the quiet. In years to
come, when Rebecca heard the first frogs sounding their call to spring,
she was to recall that beautiful night when she stole out to try and
save the town, as she believed, from being fired on by a British
gunboat.
She had made so early a start that she had to wait what seemed a very
long time for Lucia, who approached so quietly that not until she
touched Rebby's arm did Rebby know of her coming.
"I am late, and I nearly had to give up coming because Mother did not
get to sleep," Lucia explained, as the two girls hurried down to the
river. "She is so worried about Father," continued Lucia; "she says that
since the Americans defeated the English at Lexington they may drive
them out of Boston as well."
"Of course they will," declared Rebecca, surprised that anyone could
imagine the righteous cause of America defeated. "And if the English
gunboat comes in here the Machias men will capture it," she added.
"Well, I don't know," responded Lucia despondently. "But if it destroyed
the town there wouldn't be anyone left to capture it; and that is why we
must push that liberty tree offshore."
The girls were both strong, and Lucia had brought a sharp knife with
which to cut the rope holding the tree to a stake on the bank, so it
did not take them long to push the tree clear of the shore. They found
a long pole near by, and with this they were able to swing the liberty
tree out until the current of the river came to their aid and carried it
slowly along.
"How slowly it moves," said Rebecca impatiently, as they stood watching
it move steadily downstream.
"But it will be well down the bay before morning," said Lucia, "and we
must get home as quickly as we can. I wish my father could know that
there will not be a liberty pole set up in Machias."
Rebecca stopped short. "No liberty pole, Lucia Horton? Indeed there will
be. Why, my father says that all the loyal settlements along the Maine
coast are setting up one; and as soon as the old British gunboat is out
of sight Machias will put up a liberty tree. Perhaps 'twill even be set
up while the gunboat lies in this harbor."
"Well, come on! We have tried to do what we could to save the town,
anyway," responded Lucia, who began to be sadly puzzled. If a liberty
tree was so fine a thing why should her father not wish Machias to have
one, she wondered. Lucia did not know that her father was even then
bargaining with the British in Boston to bring them a cargo of lumber on
his next trip from Machias, in return for permission to load the _Polly_
with provisions to sell to the people of the settlement, and that,
exactly as Lucia had heard him predict, an armed British gunboat would
accompany the sloops _Polly_ and _Unity_ when they should appear in
Machias harbor.
The two friends whispered a hasty "good-night," and each ran in the
direction of home. Rebby pushed the big door open noiselessly, but she
did not try to replace the bar. As she crept up the stairs she could
hear the even breathing of her father and mother, and she slid into bed
without waking Anna, and was too sleepy herself to lie long awake.
The unfastened door puzzled Mr. Weston when he came down-stairs at
daybreak the next morning. "I was sure I put the bar up," he thought,
but he had no time to think much about trifles that morning, for, as he
stood for a moment in the doorway, he saw Paul Foster running toward the
house.
"Mr. Weston, sir, the liberty pole is gone," gasped the boy, out of
breath. "The rope that held it to the stake was cut," he continued.
"Father says 'tis some Tory's work."
Mr. Weston did not stop for breakfast. He told Mrs. Weston that he would
come up later on, as soon as he had found out more about the missing
liberty tree; and with Paul beside him, now talking eagerly of how his
father had gone with him to take a look at the pine sapling and found no
trace of it, Mr. Weston hurried toward the shore where a number of men
were now gathered.
Anna had hard work to awaken Rebby that morning, and when she came
slowly down-stairs she felt cross and tired; but her mother's first
words made her forget everything else.
"We will eat our porridge without your father," Mrs. Weston said
gravely. "A terrible thing has happened. Some traitor has made way with
the liberty tree that your father and Paul selected yesterday."
"Traitor?" gasped Rebby, who knew well that such a word meant the lowest
and most to be despised person on earth, and could hardly believe that
what she had supposed to be a fine and brave action could be a traitor's
deed.
"Who else but a traitor would make way with our liberty pole?"
responded Mrs. Weston. "But do not look so frightened, Rebby. Sit up to
the table; when your father comes home he will tell us who did the base
act. And we may be sure Machias men will deal with him as he deserves."
But Rebecca could not eat the excellent porridge; and when her mother
questioned her anxiously she owned that her head ached, and that she did
not feel well.
"I'll steep up some thoroughwort; a good cup of herb tea will soon send
off your headache," said Mrs. Weston, "and you had best go back to bed.
Maybe 'tis because of the birthday cake."
Rebecca made no response; she was glad to go back to her room, where she
buried her face in the pillow, hardly daring to think what would become
of her. Supposing Lucia should tell, she thought despairingly, saying
over and over to herself, "Traitor! Traitor!" So that when Anna came
softly into the room a little later she found her sister with flushed
face and tear-stained eyes, and ran back to the kitchen to tell her
mother that Rebby was very ill.
It was an anxious and unhappy morning for Rebby and for her mother, for
Mrs. Weston became worried at the sight of her daughter's flushed
cheeks and frightened eyes. She decided that it was best for Rebecca to
remain in bed; and, had it not been for the frequent doses of bitter
herb tea which her mother insisted on her drinking, Rebby would have
been well satisfied to hide herself away from everyone.
Anna helped her mother about the household work, thinking to herself
that probably Melvina Lyon was doing the same. After the dishes had been
washed and set away Mrs. Weston suggested that Anna should run down to
Luretta Foster's.
"'Twill be best to keep the house quiet this morning, and you can see
the rabbits," she added.
"But, Mother! I am not noisy. Do I not step quietly, and more softly?"
pleaded Anna. She was quite ready to run off to her friend's, but she
was sure her mother must notice that she was no longer the noisy girl
who ran in and out of the house singing and laughing.
"Well, my dear child, you have been 'Anna,' not 'Dan,' for a week past.
And I know not what has turned you into so quiet and well-behaved a
girl," responded her mother. "But run along, and be sure and inquire if
there be any news of the rascal who made way with the liberty tree."
Anna started off very sedately, measuring her steps and holding her head
a little on one side as she had noticed that Melvina sometimes did. She
was thinking of Rebby, and what a pity it was to have to stay indoors
when the sun was so warm, and when there were so many pleasant things to
do. "I will go over on the hill and get her some young checkerberry
leaves," resolved Anna, remembering how Rebby liked their sharp flavor.
Then she remembered that the rabbits were to be named that morning; and,
forgetting all about Melvina, she ran swiftly along the path, beginning
to sing in her old-time manner.
Luretta was watching for her, and smiled happily when she heard Anna's
voice. "Oh! She's going to stay 'Danna,' and not be like that stuck-up
Melvina Lyon," she thought with delight; for Luretta did not think Anna
would make a satisfactory playmate if she were going to change into a
quiet, well-behaved girl like the minister's little daughter.
In a few minutes the girls were beside the box that held the captive
rabbits, who looked up at them with startled eyes. Paul had brought a
basket of fresh grass, and some bits of tender bark and roots on which
the little creatures were nibbling.
"I do wish they were not exactly alike," said Anna.
But Luretta declared that she thought it was much better that way.
"Because I should want you to have the prettiest one, and you would want
me to have the prettiest one, and how could we ever choose?" she
explained; and Anna acknowledged that perhaps it was better that the
rabbits should be alike in every way. After much discussion of names
they decided that the rabbits must be called as nearly alike as
possible; and so the new pets were named "Trit" and "Trot."
Every little child in the neighborhood enjoyed a visit at Luretta's
home. In the first place because of Mrs. Foster's pleasant smile and
kind welcome, and also because of the wonderful treasures it contained.
There was a great round ostrich egg, which Mr. Foster's brother had
brought from far-off Africa. This egg was carefully kept in a wooden box
on the high mantel shelf; but Mrs. Foster was never too busy to take it
down and let the little visitor gaze at it with admiring eyes. Then
there was a model of a water-mill, with its tiny wheels, as complete as
if it could begin work at once. This stood on a table in the corner of
the sitting-room, where anyone might stand and admire it, and hear
Luretta or Paul tell that their father had made every bit of it himself.
Besides these treasures Mrs. Foster, with a pair of scissors and a bit
of paper, could make the most beautiful paper dolls that any little girl
could wish to possess; and whenever Luretta's friends came for a visit
they usually took home a paper doll, or perhaps a bird cut from paper,
or a horse. So Anna was ready to leave even the beautiful rabbits and go
indoors. But this morning Mrs. Foster did not seem her usual cheerful
self.
"This is sad news about our liberty tree; but the men have set out in
boats to search for it, and 'twill be a good omen indeed if they find
and bring it back," she said.
"My father says 'twill be a great day for the settlement when 'tis put
up," said Anna, looking longingly toward the box on the high mantel, and
hoping she might have a look at the wonderful egg.
"And so it will be. With Boston in the hands of the British, and no
safety on land or sea 'tis time each town showed some mark of loyalty,"
declared Mrs. Foster. "I will put on my sunbonnet and we will walk to
the wharves, and perhaps hear some news of the traitor who made way with
it. I said at first maybe 'twas the mischief of some boy who did not
realize what the tree stood for; but Paul flared up at once and said
there was no boy on the coast of Maine who would do such a thing, unless
'twas a young Tory; and we know of no Tory here."
As they neared the wharf they heard a loud cheer from a group of men,
and could see that a boat, rowed by Mr. Weston and Mr. Foster, was
coming rapidly toward the shore and behind it trailed the fine pine
sapling.
"And there comes Parson Lyon with his little daughter," said Mrs.
Foster. "He is as good a patriot as General Washington himself," she
added admiringly.
As Mr. Lyon came near the little group he stopped for a moment.
"May I leave my daughter with you?" he asked. "I wish to be one of those
who lift that sacred tree to safety." And he hurried on to the wharf,
leaving Melvina, who stood smiling delightedly at this unexpected
meeting with Anna.