boyish little man with a laugh bigger than himself, but he always wore a
worried air the day before his paper, a weekly, went to press, and he
wore that worried look now. Touching his hand to his fur cap, he
informed Samuel and Abe that news was "as scarce as hens' teeth"; then
added: "What's doing?"
"Oh, nawthin', nawthin'," hastily replied Samuel, who believed that he
hated publicity, as he gave Abe's foot a sly kick. "We was jest a-gwine
ter take a leetle scooter sail." He adjusted the skirt of his coat in
an effort to hide Abe's carpet-bag, his own canvas satchel, and a huge
market-basket of good things which Blossy had cooked for the
life-savers. "Seen anythink of that air Eph Seaman?" Samuel added;
shading his eyes with his hand and peering out upon the gleaming surface
of the bay, over which the white sails of scooters were darting like a
flock of huge, single-winged birds.
"Eph's racing with Captain Bill Green," replied the newspaper man.
"Captain Bill's got an extra set of new runners at the side of his
scooter and wants to test them. Say, boys," looking from one to the
other of the old fellows, "so you're going scootering, eh? Lively sport!
Cold kind of sport for men of your age. Do you know, I've a good mind
to run in to-morrow an article on 'Long Island and Longevity,' Taking
head-line, eh? Captain Rose," turning to Abe as Samuel would do no more
than glower at him, "to what do you attribute your good health at your
time of life?"
Abe grinned all over his face and cleared his throat importantly, but
before he could answer, Samuel growled:
"Ter me! His health an' his life both. I dragged him up out of a
deathbed only a week ago."
The editor took out his note-book and began scribbling.
"What brought you so low, Captain Rose?" he inquired without glancing
up. Again, before Abe could answer, Samuel trod on his toe.
"Thirty mollycoddling women-folks."
Abe found his voice and slammed the fist of one hand against the palm of
the other.
"If you go an' put that in the paper, I'll--I'll--"
Words failed him. He could see the sisters fairly fighting for the
possession of the "Shoreville Herald" to-morrow evening, as they always
scrambled each for the first glance at the only copy taken at the Home,
and he could hear one reading his name aloud--reading of the black
ingratitude of their brother member.
"Jest say," he added eagerly, "that the time fer old folks ter stick
home under the cellar-door has passed, an' nobody is tew old ter go
a-gallivantin' nowadays. An' then yew might mention"--the old man's
face was shining now as he imagined Angy's pleasure--"that Mis' Rose is
gone deown ter Twin Coves ter visit Mis' Sam'l Darby fer a week, an'
Cap'n Darby an' Cap'n Abraham Rose," his breast swelling out, "is
a-goin' ter spend a week at Bleak Hill. Thar, hain't that Cap'n Eph
a-scootin' in naow? I guess them air new runners o' Bill Green's didn't
work. He hain't nowhere in sight. He--"
"Le' 's be a-gwine, Abe," interrupted Samuel, and leaving the editor
still scribbling, he led the way down the bank with a determined trudge,
his market-basket in one hand, his grip in the other, and his lips
muttering that "a feller couldn't dew nuthin' in Shoreville without
gittin' his name in the paper." But a moment later, when the two were
walking gingerly over the ice to the spot where Eph had drawn his
scooter to a standstill, Samuel fell into a self-congratulatory chuckle.
"He didn't find out though that I had my reasons fer leavin' home tew.
Women-folks, be it only one, hain't good all the time fer nobody. I come
ter see Blossy twict a year afore we was married reg'lar; an' naow, I
cak'late ter leave her twict a year fer a spell. A week onct every six
months separate an' apart," proceeded the recently made benedict, "is
what makes a man an' his wife learn haow ter put up with one another in
between-times."
"Why, me an' Angy," began Abe, "have lived tergether year in an' year
out fer--"
"All aboard!" interrupted Captain Eph with a shout. "It's a fair wind. I
bet on making it in five minutes and fifty seconds!"
Seven minutes had been the record time for the five-mile sail over the
ice to Bleak Hill, but Samuel and Abe, both vowing delightedly that the
skipper couldn't go too fast for them, stepped into the body of the boat
and squatted down on the hard boards. They grinned at each other as the
scooter started and Eph jumped aboard--grinned and waved to the people
on the shore, their proud old thoughts crying:
"I guess folks will see now that we're as young as we ever was!"
They continued to grin as the boat spun into full flight and went
whizzing over the ice, whizzing and bumping and bouncing. Both their
faces grew red, their two pairs of eyes began to water, their teeth
began to chatter; but Samuel shouted at the top of his voice in defiance
of the gale:
"Abe, we've cut the apron-strings!"
"Hy-guy!" Abe shouted in return, his heart flying as fast as the sail,
back to youth and manhood again, back to truant-days and the
vacation-time of boyhood. "Hy-guy, Sam'l! Hain't we a-gwine ter have a
reg'lar A No. 1 spree!"
XV
THE "HARDENING" PROCESS
The Life-saving Station was very still. Nos. 3 and 5 had gone out on the
eight-o'clock patrol. The seventh man was taking his twenty-four hours
off at his home on the shore. The keeper was working over his report in
the office. The other members of the crew were up-stairs asleep, and Abe
and Samuel were bearing each other company in the mess-room.
Abe lay asleep on the carpet-covered sofa which had been dragged out of
the captain's room for him, so that the old man need not spend the night
in the cold sleeping-loft above. He was fully dressed except for his
boots; for he was determined to conform to the rules of the Service, and
sleep with his clothes on ready for instant duty.
"Talk erbout him a-dyin'!" growled Samuel to himself, lounging wearily
in a chair beside the stove. "He's jest startin' his life. He's a
reg'lar hoss. I didn't think he had it in him."
Samuel's tone was resentful. He was a little jealous of the distinction
which had been made between him and Abe; and drawing closer to the fire,
he shivered in growing distaste for the cot assigned to him with the
crew up-stairs, where the white frost lay on the window-latches.
What uncomfortable chairs they had in this station! Samuel listened to
the mooing of the breakers, to the wind rattling at the casements,--and
wondered if Blossy had missed him. About this time, she must be sitting
in her chintz-covered rocker, combing out the ringlets of her
golden-white hair in the cheery firelight.
Now, that would be a sight worth seeing! Abe opened his mouth and began
to snore. What disgusting, hideous creatures men were, reflected Samuel.
Six months' living with an unusually high-bred woman had insensibly
raised his standards.
Why should he spend a week of his ever-shortening life with such
inferior beings, just for Abraham's sake--for Abraham's sake, and to
bear out a theory of his own, which he had already concluded a mistake?
Abe gave a snort, opened his eyes, and muttered sleepily: "This is what
I call a A No. 1 spree. Naow, ter-morrer--" But mumbling incoherently he
relapsed into slumber, puffing his lips out into a whistling sound.
Samuel reached for a newspaper on the table, folded it into a missile,
and started to fling it into the innocent face of the sleeper. But,
fortunately for Abraham, it was Captain Darby's custom to count ten
whenever seized by an exasperated impulse, and at the ninth number he
regretfully dropped the paper.
Then he began to count in another way. Using the forefinger of his right
hand as a marker, he counted under his breath, "one" on his left thumb,
then after a frowning interval, "two" on his left forefinger, "three" on
the middle digit, and so on, giving time for thought to each number,
until he had exhausted the fingers of his left hand and was ready to
start on the right.
Count, count, went Samuel, until thrice five was passed, and he began to
be confused.
Once more Abe awoke, and inquired if the other were trying to reckon the
number of new wigwags and signals which the Service had acquired since
they had worked for the government; but on being sharply told to "Shet
up!" went to sleep again.
What the projector of the trip was really trying to recall was how many
times that day he had regretted saving Abe from the devastating clutches
of the old ladies.
"Him need hardenin'?" muttered Samuel blackly. "Why, he's harder now 'n
nails an' hardtack!"
Again he ran over on his fingers the list of high crimes and
misdemeanors of which Abe had been guilty.
First,--thumb, left hand,--Abe had insisted on extending their scooter
sail until he, Samuel, had felt his toes freezing in his boots.
Second,--forefinger, left hand,--on being welcomed by the entire force
at Bleak Hill and asked how long they expected to stay, Abe had blurted
out, "A hull week," explaining that Samuel's rule requiring at least
seven days of exile from his wife every six months barred them from
returning in less time.
The keeper was a widower, all the other men bachelors. How could they
be expected to understand? They burst into a guffaw of laughter, and
Abe, not even conscious that he had betrayed a sacred confidence,
sputtered and laughed with the rest.
Samuel had half a mind to return to-morrow, "jest to spite 'em." Let's
see, how many days of this plagued week were left? Six. Six whole
twenty-four hours away from Blossy and his snug, warm, comfortable nest.
She wasn't used to keepin' house by herself, neither. Would she remember
to wind the clock on Thursday, and feed the canary, and water the
abutilon and begonias reg'lar?
Grimly Samuel took up offense No. 3. Abraham had further told the men
that he had been brought over here for a hardening process; but he was
willing to bet that if Samuel could keep up with him, he could keep up
with Samuel.
Then followed offense on offense. Was Samuel to be outdone on his own
one-time field of action by an old ladies' darling? No!
When Abe sat for a half-hour in the lookout, up in the freezing, cold
cupola, and did duty "jest to be smart," Samuel sat there on top of his
own feet, too.
When Abe helped drag out the apparatus-cart over the heavy sands for the
drill, Samuel helped, too. And how tugging at that rope brought back his
lumbago!
When Abe rode in the breeches-buoy, Samuel insisted on playing the sole
survivor of a shipwreck, too, and went climbing stiffly and lumberingly
up the practice-mast.
Abraham refused to take a nap after dinner; so did Samuel. Abe went down
to the out-door carpenter-shop in the grove, and planed a board just for
the love of exertion. Samuel planed two boards and drove a nail.
"We've got two schoolboys with us," said the keeper and the crew.
"Ef I'd a-knowed that yew had more lives 'n my Maltese cat," Samuel was
muttering over Abe by this time, "I'd--"
Count, count went Captain Darby's fingers. He heard the keeper rattling
papers in the office just across the threshold, heard him say he was
about to turn in, and guessed Samuel had better do likewise; but Samuel
kept on counting.
Count, count went the arraigning fingers. Gradually he grew drowsy, but
still he went over and over poor Abe's offenses, counting on until of a
sudden he realized that he was no longer numbering the sins of his
companion; he was measuring in minutes the time he must spend away from
Blossy and Twin Coves, and the begonias, and the canary, and the cat.
What would Blossy say if she could feel the temperature of the room in
which he was supposed to sleep? What would Blossy say if she knew how
his back ached? Whatever would Blossy do to Abe Rose if she could
suspect how he had tuckered out her "old man?"
"He's a reg'lar hoss," brooded Samuel. "Oh, my feet!" grabbing at his
right boot. "I'll bet yer all I got it's them air chilblains. That's
what," he added, unconsciously speaking aloud.
Abe's lids slowly lifted. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. He turned his
head on his hard, blue gingham-covered pillow, and stared sleepily at
the other.
"Yew been noddin', Sam'l? Ain't gittin' sleepy a'ready, are yer?" He
glanced at the clock. "Why, it's only half past nine. Say, what's the
matter with me an' yew goin' west ter meet No. 5? Leetle breath o' fresh
air 'll make us sleep splendid."
He started up from the couch, but dropped back, too heavy with weariness
to carry off his bravado. Samuel, however, not noticing the discrepancy
between speech and action, was already at the door leading up-stairs.
"Yew don't drag me out o' this station ter-night, Abe Rose. Yew 're a
reg'lar hoss; that 's what yew be. A reg'lar hoss! A reg'lar--a
reg'lar--"
He flung open the door and went trudging as fast as his smarting feet
could carry him up the steep and narrow steps, wherein the passing of
other feet for many years had worn little hollows on either side.
Abraham limped from the couch to the door himself, and called after him:
"Sam'l, don't yew want tew sleep by the fire? Yew seem a leetle softer
than I be. Let me come up-stairs."
There was no answer beyond the vicious slamming of Samuel's boots upon
the floor above.
Abe raised his voice again, and now came in answer a roar of wrath from
the cot next to Samuel's.
"Go to bed!" shouted No. 6, a burly, red-headed Irishman. "Go to bed,
wid ye! Th' young folks do be nadin' a little schlape!"
XVI
"A REG'LAR HOSS"
Abe flung himself back on his hard couch, drew the thick, gray blanket
over him, and straightway fell into a deep, childlike slumber from which
he was aroused by the rough but hearty inquiry:
"Say, Cap, like to have some oyster-stew and a cup of coffee?"
Abe sat up, rubbing his eyes, wondering since when they had begun to
serve oyster-stew for breakfast on the Beach; then he realized that he
had not overslept, and that it was not morning.
The clock was striking twelve, the midnight patrol was just going out,
and the returning "runners" were bidding him partake of the food they
had just prepared to cheer them after their cold tramp along the surf.
The old man whiffed the smell of the coffee, tempted, yet withheld by
the thought of Angy's horror, and the horror of the twenty-nine sisters.
"Cap'n Abe"--Clarence Havens, No. 5, with a big iron spoon in his hand
and a blue gingham apron tied around his bronzed neck, put him on his
mettle, however--"Cap'n Abe, I tell yew, we wouldn't have waked no other
fellow of your age out of a sound sleep. Cap'n Darby, he could snooze
till doomsday; but we knowed you wouldn't want to miss no fun a-going."
"Cap'n Sam'l does show his years," Abe admitted. "Much obliged fer yew
a-wakin' me up, boys," as he drew on his boots. "I was dreamin' I was
hungry. Law, I wish I had a dollar apiece fer all the eyester-stews I've
et on this here table 'twixt sunset an' sunrise."
Under the stimulus of the unaccustomed repast, Abe expanded and began to
tell yarns of the old days on the Beach--the good old days. His cheeks
grew red, his eyes sparkled. He smoked and leaned back from the table,
and ate and drank, smoked and ate again.
"A week amongst yew boys," he asserted gaily, "is a-goin' tew be the
makin' of me. Haow Sam'l kin waste so much time in sleep, I can't
understand."
"I don't think he is asleep," said No. 3. "When I was up-stairs jest
now fer my slippers, I heard him kind o' sniffin' inter his piller."
The laugh which followed brought the keeper out of the office in his
carpet slippers, a patchwork quilt over his shoulders. His quick eyes
took in the scene--the lamp sputtering above the table, the empty
dishes, the two members of the crew sleepily jocular, with their blue
flannel elbows spread over the board, the old man's rumpled bed, and his
brilliant cheeks and bright eyes.
"Boys, you shouldn't have woke up Cap'n Rose," he said reprovingly. "I'm
afraid, sir," turning to Abraham, "that you find our manners pretty
rough after your life among the old ladies."
Abe dropped his eyes in confusion. Was he never to be rid of those
apron-strings:
"Well, there's worse things than good women," proceeded the captain. "I
wish we had a few over here." He sighed with the quiet, dull manner of
the men who have lived long on the Beach. "Since they made the rule that
the men must eat and sleep in the station, it's been pretty lonely.
That's why there's so many young fellows in the Service nowadays;
married men with families won't take the job."
"Them empty cottages out thar," admitted Abe, pointing to the window,
"does look kind o' lonesome a-goin' ter rack an' ruin. Why, the winter I
was over here, every man had his wife an' young 'uns on the Beach,
'cept me an' Sam'l."
Again the keeper sighed, and drew his coverlid closer. "Now, it's just
men, men, nothing but men. Not a petticoat in five miles; and I tell
you, sometimes we get mad looking at one another, don't we, boys?"
The two young men had sobered, and their faces also had taken on that
look engendered by a life of dull routine among sand-hills at the edge
of a lonely sea, with seldom the sound of a woman's voice in their ears
or the prattle of little children.
"For two months last winter nobody came near us," said Havens, "and we
couldn't get off ourselves, either, half the time. The bay broke up into
porridge-ice after that big storm around New Year's; yew dasn't risk a
scooter on it or a cat-boat. Feels to me," he added, as he rose to his
feet, "as if it was blowin' up a genuwine old nor'-easter again."
The other man helped him clear the table. "I'm goin' to get married in
June," he said suddenly, "and give up this here blamed Service."
"A wife," pronounced Abe, carrying his own dishes into the kitchen, "is
dretful handy, onct yew git used to her."
The keeper went into the office with a somewhat hurried "Good-night,"
and soon Abe found himself alone again, the light in the kitchen beyond,
no sound in the room save that of the booming of the surf, the rattling
of the windows, and now and again the fall of a clinker in the stove.
The old man was surprised to find that he could not fall back into that
blissful slumber again. Not sleeping, he had to think. He thought and
thought,--sober night thoughts,--while the oysters "laid like a log in
his stummick" and the coffee seemed to stir his brain to greater
activity.
"Suppose," said the intoxicated brain, "another big storm should swoop
down upon you and the bay should break up, and you and Samuel should be
imprisoned on the beach for two or three months with a handful of
men-folks!"
"Moo! Moo!" roared the breakers on the shore. "Serve you right for
finding fault with the sisters!"
Come to think of it, if he had not been so ungracious of Miss Abigail's
concern for him, he would now be in possession of a hop pillow to lull
him back to sleep. Well, he had made his bed, and he would have to lie
on it, although it was a hard old carpet-covered lounge. Having no hop
pillow, he would count sheep--
One sheep going over the fence, two sheep, three--How tired he was! How
his bones ached! It's no use talking, you can't make an old dog do the
tricks of his puppy days. What an idiot he had been to climb that
practice-mast! If he had fallen and broken his leg?
Four sheep. Maybe he was too old for gallivanting, after all. Maybe he
was too old for anything except just to be "mollycoddled" by thoughtful
old ladies. Now, be honest with yourself, Abe. Did you enjoy yourself
to-day--no, yesterday? Did you? Well, yes and--no! Now, if Angy had been
along!
Angy! That was why he could not go to sleep! He had forgotten to kiss
her good-by! Wonder if she had noticed it? Wonder if she had missed him
more on account of that neglect? Pshaw! What nonsense! Angy knew he
wa'n't no hand at kissin', an' it was apt to give him rheumatism to bend
down so far as her sweet old mouth.
He turned to the wall at the side of the narrow lounge, to the emptiness
where her pillow should be. "Good-night, Mother," he muttered huskily.
Mother did not answer for the first time in nights beyond the counting.
Mother would not be there to answer for at least six nights to come. A
week, thought this old man, as the other old man had reflected a few
hours before, is a long time when one has passed his threescore years
and ten, and with each day sees the shadows growing longer.
Abraham put out his hard time-shrunken hand and touched in thought his
wife's pillow, as if to persuade himself that she was really there in
her place beside him. He remembered when first he had actually touched
her pillow to convince himself that she was really there, too awed and
too happy to believe that his youth's dream had come true; and he
remembered now how his gentle, strong hand had crept along the linen
until it cupped itself around her cheek; and he had felt the cheek grow
hot with blushes in the darkness. She had not been "Mother" then; she
had been "Dearest!" Would she think that he was growing childish if he
should call her "Dearest" now?
Smiling to himself, he concluded that he would try the effect of the
tender term when he reached home again. He drew his hand back,
whispering once more, "Good-night, Mother." Then he fancied he could
hear her say in her soft, reassuring tone, "Good-night, Father." Father
turned his back on the empty wall, praying with a sudden rush of
passionate love that when the last call should come for him, it would be
after he had said "Good-night, Mother," to Angy and after she had said
"Good-night, Father," to him, and that they might wake somewhere,
somehow, together with God, saying, "Good-morning, Mother,"
"Good-morning, Father!" And "Fair is the day!"
XVII
THE DESERTER
At dawn the Station was wide-awake and everybody out of bed. Samuel
crept down-stairs in his stocking-feet, his boots in his hand, his eyes
heavy with sleeplessness, and his wig awry. He shivered as he drew close
to the fire, and asked in one breath for a prescription for chilblains
and where might Abe be. Abe's lounge was empty and his blankets neatly
folded upon it.
The sunrise patrol from the east, who had just returned, made reply
that he had met Captain Abe walking along the surf to get up an
appetite for his griddle-cakes and salt pork. Samuel sat down suddenly
on the lounge and opened his mouth.
"Didn't he have enough exercise yist'day, for marcy's sake! Put' nigh
killed me. I was that tired las' night I couldn't sleep a wink. I
declar', ef 't wa'n't fer that fool newspaper a-comin' out ter-night,
I'd go home ter-day. Yer a-gwine acrost, hain't yer, Havens?"
Havens laughed in response. Samuel glowered at him.
"I want home comforts back," he vowed sullenly. "The Beach hain't what
it used ter be. Goin' on a picnic with Abe Rose is like settin' yer
teeth into a cast-iron stove lid covered with a thin layer o' puddin'.
I'm a-goin' home."
The keeper assured him that no one would attempt to detain him if he
found the Station uncomfortable, and that if he preferred to leave
Abraham behind, the whole force would take pleasure in entertaining the
more active old man.
"That old feller bates a phonograph," affirmed the Irishman. "It's good
ter hear that he'll be left anyhow for comp'ny with this storm a-comin'
up."
Samuel rushed to the window, for up-stairs the panes had been too frosty
for him to see out. A storm coming up? The beach did look gray and
desolate, dun-colored in the dull light of the early day, with the
winter-killed grass and the stunted green growth of cedar and holly and
pine only making splotches of darkness under a gray sky which was filled
with scurrying clouds. The wind, too, had risen during the night, and
the increased roar of the surf was telling of foul weather at sea.
A storm threatening! And the pleasant prospect of being shut in at the
beach with the cast-iron Abraham and these husky life-savers for the
remainder of the winter! No doubt Abe would insist upon helping the men
with the double duties imposed by thick weather, and drag Samuel out on
patrol.
"When dew yew start, Havens?" demanded Samuel in shaking tones. "Le' 's
get off afore Abe gits back an' tries ter hold me. He seems ter be so
plagued stuck on the life over here, he'll think I must be tew."
But, though Havens had to wait for the return of the man who had gone
off duty yesterday morning, still Abe had not put in an appearance when
Samuel and the life-saver trudged down the trail through the woods to
the bay. As he stepped into the scooter, Samuel's conscience at last
began to prick him.
"Yew sure the men will look arter the old fellow well an' not let him
over-dew?"