Between one happy time and another the summer passed on at Little
Homespun. Not that there was not occasionally an unhappy time--if
everything had moved perfectly smoothly for three whole months together,
in a house where there were four irrepressible children, with many of
the faults common to the average child the world over, it simply would
have been a miracle outright. No, indeed; there were times now and then
when Courage quite lost her patience and would have liked to box and
ship those four little Bennetts straight back to their mother, and there
were days when even good-natured Mary Duff lost her patience completely,
and declared she would chastise the first one of them that dared to
cross the threshold of the kitchen; but then, to be quite fair, I have
more than a glimmering notion that Courage and Mary Duff had their
naughty moods too, as well as the children. You can’t feel perfectly
right, you know, and always behave just as {078}you should every minute
simply because you happen to be grown up. It would be very fine if you
could, and there is no doubt that with both grown-ups and children,
trying hard to get the best of the naughty moods will in time accomplish
wonders.
But taken as a whole the unhappy times at Homespun were nothing more
than motes in the Homespun sunshine. Most of the time merry, happy
voices rang through and about the house from dawn till sunset. Peals
of happy laughter, that made any one laugh who heard them, echoed
everywhere. Bits of childish song floated down stairs and up stairs or
came in at the open windows--“I’se a little Alabama Coon” always the
burden of the refrain when Brevet was down for the day. Then, toward
twilight, or more often a little later, when it had really grown quite
dark, the same dear childish voices blended in a sweet evening hymn
would float out at the open windows, and the little people whose whole
minds had been given to play the long summer day through, would quiet
down and then go contentedly off to bed, their childish hearts full of
a sweet peace that they hardly understood, and which was not strange
at all, for it was simply the peace that “passeth all understanding.”
{079}But not all the days by any manner of means were spent in or about
Little Homespun. Joe’s Fourth of July dinner had been a great success,
and there had followed several all-day excursions carefully planned in
all their details by Uncle Harry, and every one of them voted a great
success. The fall that had broken Uncle Harry’s arm had proved a
veritable “windfall” for the children, if a windfall means something
very pleasant that comes in your way quite by accident, like apples
strewn by the wind unexpectedly at your feet. It had not been altogether
an unpleasant experience for Uncle Harry either, notwithstanding, though
it was now late in August, the arm was still in a sling. Twice it had
had to be reset, and that had of course been very trying; and yet but
for that arm he would have been delving away the whole summer through
in a hot office up at Washington, and the children, without knowing
of course what they were missing, would in fact have foregone half the
delight of the summer. In Uncle Harry’s profession, no right arm to use
meant nothing to do whatever, and so he was thankful enough that Courage
and the Bennetts had found their way down to old Virginia, and that
he had been able to plan and carry out so many delightful excursions
{080}for their enjoyment. But the summer’s crown of pleasure, as far as
the Bennetts were concerned, had been the days spent at Ellismere with
Brevet on his island.
I half believe I have not mentioned this island before, for which
omission I am perfectly confident Brevet would never forgive me. The
idea of trying to write anything whatever about him and not tell about
that island the very first thing! It was altogether a wonderful place,
I assure you. It lay about a hundred feet out from the shore, just in
front of the Ellismere homestead; and as there was not another island
within sight of it, Brevet always gratefully cherished the belief that
it had been placed there just for him. It was about seventy feet long,
and almost as wide, and it boasted a steep little ledge of rock on the
side near the shore and two very respectable little pine trees. But it
was what the hand of man had achieved upon this little island that made
it the wonderful place it was, and that hand none other than old black
Joe’s. It was he who had said one sunshiny May morning: “Brevet, I’ll
build a camp for you over on that island,” and true to his word Joe had
driven up to Ellismere every day that summer that he could spare from
his not very arduous duties at Arlington, and he had worked {081}away as
zealously as though he had assumed the work under contract.
As a result it had been finished the October previous, and Brevet had
had several weeks to enjoy it before the cold weather obliged him to
break camp for the winter. Grandma Ellis’s contribution to the scheme
had been a cedar row-boat and a pair of spoon oars, by which to have
communication with the island, but for everything else Joe was to be
thanked. He had cut and sewed the tent, to say nothing of a canvas
cot. He had manufactured tables and chairs, and best of all a soldier’s
chest, with
HOWARD STANHOPE ELLIS
BREVET-CAPTAIN
burned in clear-cut letters upon the lid. There was even a little desk
of rude contrivance upon which Brevet, after the successful conclusion
of most exciting battles, would write cheering letters home to his
grandmother. Outside of the tent hung a good-sized kettle over a bed of
ashes, that bore witness to many a good meal cooked within it, while on
the rocky ledge above, a toy brass cannon commanded the harbour, making
the island quite invulnerable from any assault that might be attempted
from the side near the shore. {082}Was it strange then that to the
Bennetts, and especially to the boys Teddy and Allan, this unique little
spot, with its perfect equipment, offered more possibilities of
good times than anything they themselves could in any way concoct or
invent?--and they had lived up to their possibilities, though that had
involved living at Ellismere most of the time. However, Grandma Ellis
assured Courage they were not a bit of trouble, and Courage took her at
her word, for the sake of what it meant to the children.
But, of all the wildly-exciting and happy days, none had seemed quite so
exciting and happy as the day to which we have now come in this story.
Perhaps the fact that there could not by any chance be many more of
these times, lent its own specially brightening charm to the blessings
that must soon take their flight; for it was the 27th of August by
the calendar, and by the middle of September Little Homespun would be
closed, and Courage and the Bennetts have taken their departure. Joe
had been with the children all day, and he was the one to be thanked
for most of its wildly exciting features. Single-handed, but supposed to
represent a whole regiment, he had tried in a score of ways to effect
a landing on the island; but by dint of unceasing vigi{083}lance the
children had succeeded in keeping him at bay, until at last, despairing
and exhausted, he had beaten a retreat to the main land. Indeed, so hard
and unremitting had been the labours of the children, that about the
middle of the afternoon Courage, who had been having an all-day
chat with Grandma Ellis and was afraid the children would quite wear
themselves out, succeeded in coaxing them to the shore, under promise
of a story, and it was not to be any ordinary, made-up story either.
Naturally in her daily contact with the children, Courage had alluded
now and then to her own childhood, and with the result that they had
extracted from her the pledge that she would tell them all about it some
day. But as yet Courage’s “some day” never had dawned, although they had
repeatedly begged for the story--now they concluded the time had come to
take a stand.
“Will you tell us the story about yourself if we come over?” Teddy
called from the island. “We are all agreed we cannot think of laying
down our arms unless you will.”
“Agreed,” Courage called back, glad to commit them to an hour of quiet
at any cost; and so the children embarked and rowed over, and Grandma
entreated so hard that she might be allowed to listen too, that Courage
{084}yielded, and the little group gathered itself about her big
rocking-chair on the gallery. Joe was also permitted to form one of the
party; but there was another listener, who would not have been tolerated
for a moment if his whereabouts had been known. He was stretched
full length on the hair-cloth sofa just between the windows in the
living-room, and, knowing it would be quite impossible for him to gain
permission to be a hearer, he was just sufficiently unprincipled to
listen without so much as saying “by your leave.”
You know the story that Courage told--if not you may read it if you have
a mind, in the little book to which this is a sequel. At the outset,
of course, she told how she had come by her unusual name, which was the
greatest relief to Joe and Brevet. They had wanted so much to have that
explained the whole summer through and yet had not quite liked to
ask. The remainder of the story was new to all save Grandma Ellis, and
Courage, now that she had really started, tried to be faithful to
every detail that could possibly have any interest, from the day of her
christening to the night when the draw was open and she took her wild
leap in the darkness. When she had finished every one sat perfectly
still for a minute. Courage told her own story much better {085}than
any one else has told or could tell it, and her great absorbing love
for Miss Julia shone out like a golden thread all through the telling.
Grandma Ellis was the first to draw a long breath and break the silence.
“Oh, but I wish I might have known your Miss Julia,” she said.
“You know somebody who is just exactly like her,” said Mary Bennett,
putting her arm about Courage; “_just exactly!_” and this she said very
slowly and firmly, as though she thought Courage might be inclined to
differ with her, but Courage only said, “Dear child,” in a low whisper,
so grateful was she for the most blessed praise that could possibly come
to her.
“Let us see Miss Julia’s picture now, please,” urged the children, and
Courage drew from her dress an exquisite miniature, set in pearls, and
attached to a violet ribbon worn about her neck. They had all seen it
many a time before, but it seemed to take on a new beauty in the light
of all they had been hearing. It was when the picture had been passed
slowly from hand to hand, and the natural thing seemed to be for the
little party to break up, that Allan was the first to discover that one
of the party had disappeared.
“Why, where is Brevet?” he exclaimed, as {086}though part of his
personal belongings had given him the slip.
“Why, sure ‘nuff, where is dat chile?” queried Joe, getting up from his
chair a little stiffly and peering up to the gallery roof and to the
branches of the trees, as though the most unlikely spot imaginable was
precisely the spot in which to expect to find his little Captain. “Seems
to me it looks a little ugly over there toward Fort Meyer,” he added,
stepping to the end of the porch and shading his eyes with his hand.
At these words Harry, who had been thinking over all he had heard, rose
noiselessly from the lounge and slipped away to the rear of the house.
There he saw at a glance that it did indeed look more than “a little
ugly” over toward Fort Meyer. A large, funnel-shaped cloud of a dark
brown color loomed high on the horizon and Harry’s heart sank within
him. He had seen and known during a summer’s surveying in the West, the
wreck and ruin that may follow in the train of such a cloud, and he
knew that everything should be gotten into shape as quickly as possible.
Hurrying quickly to the front porch he said, with as much composure as
he could muster:
“You would better go directly into the house, Grandma, we may be going
to have {087}quite a storm. Send the children through all the rooms and
have every shutter drawn to, and every window closed and fastened.”
“But Brevet,” said Grandma, trying her best to keep her voice steady,
“no one knows where Brevet is. No one saw him go, or has any idea where
he went.”
“Oh, he can’t be far away,” Harry answered, cheerily. “Joe and I will
find him in a jiffy. Now you do as I say, Grandma,” gently pushing her
toward the door, “and, children, whisk these chairs into the house, and
then make for the doors and windows and close them tightly. Don’t stop
to look, or lose a single minute.”
Harry succeeded in speaking calmly, but his manner showed how urgent
he deemed the need of haste, and try as she would Grandma found herself
unequal to the occasion. Her limbs refused to support her, and once
inside the house she sank into the nearest chair, and, burying her face
in her hands, broke into an agony of sobs and tears. To have little
Brevet missing at such an anxious moment was more than her over-strained
nerves could bear. Courage saw instantly it was for her to take command
of the situation, and sending the children hither and thither through
the house as Harry had directed, she herself hurried {088}away for the
stimulant of which Grandma Ellis so sorely stood in need.
Meanwhile poor old Joe, who in his alarm for Brevet’s safety had lost
his head completely, had been wasting precious moments in looking in the
most impossible places.
“Oh, Mars Harry, whar can dat blessed child be?” he said, coming up to
Harry with the tears streaming down his face.
“Have you looked over on the island, Joe?”
“Oh, I never thought of dat, Mars Harry,” but the misery that was
in Joe’s voice showed that he took in instantly all the dreadful
possibilities, if the storm should break with Brevet alone on the
island. They hurried as fast as they could to the shore, and there, sure
enough! was Brevet, hard at work, getting his little camp into shape for
the coming storm he had evidently been the first to discover. At that
precise moment he was busy hauling down the little camp flag, but that
he was not in the least disconcerted was perfectly evident. In the awful
ominous hush preceding the storm, they could even catch the familiar
strain of “I’se a little Alabama Coon.”
“We must not frighten him, Joe,” Harry said, his breath coming short and
fast, “we must just call to him to come right back. {089}But where is
the boat, Joe? _Where_ is the boat?”
“Oh, Mars Harry! Mars Harry! look dere,” and now the fear in Joe’s voice
had turned to veriest anguish; and Harry looking, saw the precious boat
in mid-river, the oars still resting in the oar-locks, but as hopelessly
beyond reach as though in mid-ocean.
“Oh, Joe!” cried Harry, looking down at the helpless arm bound firmly
in the splints. Then, crying, “I will get a man from the stables;
stay right where you are, Joe,” he was gone in a flash. A man from the
stables! Joe knew how long that must take. No, there was just one thing
to be done, and stripping off boots and jacket, in the next second he
was breast deep in the water, and in the next striking out bravely
for the island. It was a hard tug for the old man, for the current was
strong; but Brevet, still unmindful of his danger, sang away with a
will, and the words came distinctly over the water,--
“I’se a little Alabama Coon,
I hasn’t been born very long.”
“Bless your heart, no you hasn’t,” muttered Joe, keeping his head well
above water. “You hasn’t been born long ‘nuff ter go out dis worl’
yet awhile, I’m thinkin’,” and nerved by {090}the little fellow’s
unconscious calmness, Joe put all his strength in four or five more good
strokes, and reached the camp, but he had no breath left with which to
speak when he reached it. It was dreadful to waste the precious moments,
but his breath was still too laboured from the strenuous effort he had
been making for him to voice a single Word. Just at that moment Brevet
turned to hurry down from the camp, and then stood riveted to the spot,
his face white with terror. He did not see Joe in the dismay of his
discovery.
“Oh, my boat is gone!” he cried, lifting his two little clenched hands
in helpless consternation.
[Illustration: 0121]
“But here’s your Cap’ll,” rang out a dear familiar voice, and Joe
thanked God that he was able to instantly dispel the little fellow’s
fears. One bound, and Brevet was at Joe’s side.
“Did you swim over for me, Captain?” his two arms locked about Joe’s
neck in his joy.
“Yes, I done swim ober for you Honey, an’ now we done goin’ ter swim
back again. Des get on my ole back, dis a-way, Honey, only have a care
not ter choke me an’ don’ be a-feared for a moment.”
It was hardly necessary for Joe to have added that, for on Joe’s back
Brevet felt as {091}safe as any of the rest of us on the deck of an
ocean steamer. Besides, it was such fun to be carried ashore in that
fashion. Only once it seemed to cross his little mind that it might
perhaps be rather hard work for Joe.
“If I’m too heavy, I think I could swim all right. Shall I leave go?”
“No,” gasped Joe, fearing the dauntless little fellow might put his
suggestion immediately into practice, “for Heben’s sake, no, Brevet!”
and then Brevet tightened his hold as though realising there might be
some danger. How great the danger only Joe himself knew, and he feared
more than once that he would have to give up--that he could not save
Brevet after all.
Harry’s search for help had been futile, and, rushing back to the shore,
what was his joy to discover that Joe had dared to disobey orders and
had safely crossed to the island! But what a terrible risk the old man
was running, and, oh, the chagrin, young man that he was, of not being
able himself to attempt the rescue! With bated breath he watched Joe’s
start for the mainland, and then saw instantly how even the first return
strokes taxed his strength to the full. At the point for which he was
making the far-spreading limbs of two old live-oaks extended out over
the river, and Harry, plung{092}ing into the water and clinging by his
good arm to the heavier of two parallel branches, was able to make his
way to its extreme end, quite a distance from the shore.
“Steer right for me, Joe,” he called, in a voice of earnest entreaty.
“See where I am, Joe, I can help you from here.” But a sudden blackness
had come before Joe’s eyes, and he could see nothing.
[Illustration: 0129]
Meantime Courage had hurried from the house the first moment she could
be spared; had reached the river’s edge and instantly took in the
situation. It would be little enough Harry could do even if poor Joe
succeeded in reaching him--it was for her to gain some point as near him
as possible, and be ready to lend a hand as well. Throwing aside a cloak
she had caught up for protection, she strode into the water, and by aid
of the same strong limb to which Harry was clinging, was able to take
her place close behind him. Meantime not for one instant did Harry
intermit his calls of encouragement, until at last the overhanging
branch was almost reached.
“Joe,” he then called, in a voice of commanding entreaty, “one stroke
more! Now lay hold of me and you’re safe.” Joe had hardly consciousness
enough left to obey, but he made one stroke more, and then his arms
{093}grasped something, he hardly knew what, with an iron grip, and
barely keeping his head above water, his body dragged helplessly down
the river with the current.
“And what shall I do?” gasped Brevet quickly, for he had at last fully
realised the struggle of the crossing and knew that Joe’s strength was
all but gone.
“You lay hold of my arm, Brevet,” cried Courage; “now let go of Joe;
now cling to me and pull yourself up here on this limb. Quick, quick,
Brevet, don’t lose a moment--there--now lie flat down and keep perfectly
still with your arms firm around the branch under you. Now what?” in a
voice of bewildered appeal to Harry.
“Can you shift yourself to that other limb and bend it within Joe’s
reach? I am helpless.” Harry spoke through teeth clenched with the
effort of supporting Joe and his own dead weight by that one arm’s hold
on the branch beside him.
It was not an easy thing that Harry asked, but retreating toward the
shore a little way, to a point where the branches came more closely
together, she safely swung to the other limb, but in making her way out
into the water again, she felt the ground fall gradually away beneath
her feet, {094}"Careful, careful,” called Harry; “don’t get beyond your
depth.”
“I am all right,” Courage answered calmly, though she knew for a
certainty that she was already beyond her depth--but what did that
matter in the imperative need of the moment? All this while Joe, with
closed eyes, still realised that the one thing for him to do was to hold
on. Notwithstanding the deeper water Courage succeeded in working out
along the branch until near enough to Joe to bend it by her weight
within his reach. Then she cried peremptorily, with what little breath
was left her:
“Joe, open your eyes.” Joe mechanically obeyed. “Now see this branch,
Joe; reach for it and get upon your feet. The water is not deep.”
Harry felt Joe’s grasp relaxing from his body, but at the same time
it was apparent that he was too weak and dazed to fully take in the
situation, and was not about to make the effort necessary to seize the
overhanging limb.
“Brevet,” cried Harry, under his breath, “speak to Joe. He is not going
to try to save himself----”
“Joe! Joe!” called Brevet, an agony of appeal in his voice. Joe’s eyes
opened again. {095}"Reach for that branch, Joe, and try to get ashore. I
want you, Joe, I want you------”
Brevet’s dearly loved voice, with its deep sob of entreaty, seemed to
reach some inner consciousness of Joe’s. If Brevet needed him, he must
make one last effort; and, letting go his relaxed hold of Harry, he
reached for the branch; struggled to his feet, stumbling heavily against
Courage; took the necessary steps to reach the shore, and then fell
utterly unconscious.
Meantime the storm had broken in all its fury. A great yellow whirl of
dust and sand came sweeping down upon them, carrying broken twigs
and larger branches, in a twinkling, past them; then came the rain in
torrents, and vivid flashes of lightning. Brevet clung terrified to the
limb, but, manly little fellow that he was, made no outcry. Harry, with
but one arm at his service, hung where he was; the water serving to buoy
his body up, and to sustain his weight, but he was powerless to alter
his position. Courage, by the aid of the limb, made her way to the
shore. Then calling back to Harry, “I will bring help at once,” she
dropped on to her hands and knees, for it was impossible to stand
against the wind and rain, and began creeping up the embankment. But
fortunately for them all, help was {096}at hand. Teddy Bennett, fairly
blown along by the wind, appeared on the ledge above her. Courage,
leaning heavily upon one hand, pointed down the river, and Teddy in
another minute was in the water and close at Harry’s side. It was the
work of but a moment, strong young swimmer that he proved himself, to
help Harry ashore, and then throwing themselves flat upon the ground and
calling out every minute to Brevet to “Hold on and keep a brave heart!”
they waited for the terrible storm to pass over.
{097}