It was the day after the big storm that had made havoc even in the
sheltered harbor of Beach Cliff, and so damaged "The Polly" in her safe
moorings that six men were busy putting her into shipshape again. And
dad's other Polly was in an equally doleful mood.
It was to have been a day of jollification with Marraine. They were to
have gone voyaging together over the summer seas, that were smiling as
joyously to-day as if they had never known a storm. They were to have
stopped at the college camp in Shelter Cove, where Marraine had some girl
friends; they were to have kept on their sunlit way to Killykinick, for so
dad had agreed; they were to have looked in on the Life-Saving Station,
which Marraine had never seen; in fact, they were to have done more
pleasant things than Polly could count,--and now the storm had fallen on
her namesake and spoiled all.
"Never mind, Pollykins!" comforted Marraine, who could find stars in the
darkest sky. "We'll each take a dollar and go shopping."
"Only a dollar, Marraine? That won't buy much," said Polly, who had walked
in ways where dollars seem very small indeed.
"Oh, yes, it will! There's no telling what it can buy in Jonah's junk
shop," laughed Marraine. "I got a rusted tea tray that polished into
silver plate, a blackened vase that rubbed into burnished copper. I should
not wonder if he had an Aladdin's lamp hidden somewhere in his dusty
shelves."
"Let us go look for it," said Polly, roused into gleeful interest. "Oh,
I'd love to have Aladdin's lamp! Wouldn't you, Marraine?"
"What would you wish for, Pollykins?" asked Marraine, softly.
"Oh, lots of things!" said Polly, perching in her lap. "First--first of
all, I wish that I could keep you here forever and forever, darling
Marraine!"
"Well, you have me for six weeks every summer," laughed Marraine.
"But that isn't forever and forever," sighed Polly. "And mamma and dad and
grandmamma and everybody else want you, too."
"Are you sure of that?" asked the lady, kissing the upturned face.
"Oh, very sure!" replied Polly, positively. "They say it's all nonsense
for you to go to the hospital and take care of sick people. It's--it's
something--I don't remember what."
"Stubborn pride?" suggested Marraine, with a merry sparkle in her eyes.
"Yes," said Polly, "that's just what grandmamma said. And stubborn pride
is something bad; isn't it, Marraine?"
"Well, yes, it is," agreed Marraine,--"when it _is_ stubborn pride,
Pollykins. But when one has empty hands and empty purse and--well, an
empty life, too, Pollykins, it is not stubborn pride to try to fill them
with work and care and pity and help."
"And that is what you do at the hospital, Marraine?"
"It is what I try to do, Pollykins. When my dear father died, and I found
all his money gone, this beautiful home of yours opened its doors wide for
me; dad, mamma, grandma, everybody begged me to come here. But--but it
wasn't my real home or my real place."
"Oh, wasn't it, Marraine?" said Polly, sadly.
"No, dear. In our real home, our real place, God gives us work to
do,--some work, even though it be only to bless and love. But there was no
work for me here; and so I looked around, Pollykins, for my work and my
place. If I had been very, _very_ good, I might have folded my butterfly
wings under a veil and habit, and been a nice little nun, like Sister
Claudine."
"Oh, I wouldn't have liked that at all!" said Polly, with a shiver.
"I'm afraid I wouldn't either," was the laughing answer. "Still, it's a
lovely, useful, beautiful life, little girl. And the next--the very
next--best place and best work seemed to me the hospital, with the white
gown and cap I can put off when I please; with sickness and sorrow and
suffering to soothe and help; with little children holding out their arms
to me, and old people calling to me in their pain, and dying eyes turning
to me for hope and help. So I am nurse in a hospital, and out of it, too,
when there is need. And it's not for stubborn pride, as grandma says, and
no doubt thinks; but because I believe it to be my real work and my real
place. Now get your dollar, and we'll be off to Jonah's junk shop to look
for Aladdin's lamp."
And Polly danced off for her flower-wreathed hat, and the two were soon on
their way down the narrow streets to the dull, dingy little shop near the
water, where several customers were already looking over the curiously
assorted stock, that on weekdays was spread far out on the sidewalk to
attract passers-by. Among these was a big, burly grey-haired man, whose
bronzed face and easy-fitting clothes proclaimed the sailor.
"Why, Captain Carleton!" greeted Miss Stella, in some surprise.
"God bless my heart and soul!" was the hearty response, and the Captain
held out both hands to the speaker. "This is sailor's luck, indeed! From
what star of hope did you drop, Miss Stella?"
"Oh, I drop here for a holiday every summer!" she answered gaily. "I am
glad to see you looking so well and strong again, Captain."
"Thanks to you, my dear lady! Under the great Master of life and death,
thanks to you! I was about as far on the rocks as an old craft could be
without going to pieces entirely. How that soft little hand of yours
steered me into safe water I'll never forget, dear lady,--never forget.
And I was a tough patient, too; wasn't I?"
"Well, you did say things sometimes that were not--prayers," was the
laughing answer.
And, chatting on pleasantly of the Captain's last winter in the hospital,
they glanced over old Jonah's stock until something of interest caught the
sailor's eye.
"By George! How in thunder did this get here?"
"A find,--a real find, Captain?" asked Miss Stella. "What is it?"
"A medal," he answered,--"a medal awarded for 'Brave and faithful service
on the "Reina Maria" sixty years ago.'" (He was scanning the bronze disc
as he spoke),--"'Juan Farley.' Good Lord! Yes, poor old Jack! I wonder how
he lived and died? And what in Heaven's name is his medal doing here?"
"Perhaps Jonah can tell you," suggested Miss Stella; while Polly, whose
bright eyes were searching for Aladdin's lamp, paused to listen.
"That ar medal?" said Jonah in answer to the Captain's questioning. "Let
me think now! That ar medal--ticketed nineteen, isn't it?--was left here
by a youngster. Now, what in thunder was his name? I'll have to look in my
books to see."
And while he looked Captain Carleton explained his interest in his find.
"You see, my father was master and half owner of the 'Reina Maria,' though
she was Spanish built and manned. But, luckily, Jack Farley, a first-class
sailor, was second mate. There was a mutiny aboard, and it would have been
all up with my father and his chief officer if brave Jack had not smelled
mischief in time, and put down the hatches on the scoundrels at the risk
of his own life. Ship and cargo (it was a pretty valuable ship) were
saved; and this medal, that bears the stamp of her then Spanish Majesty,
was Jack's reward. My father always felt that he ought to have had
something more; but the Spanish owners were close-fisted, so my old man
had to content himself with helping Jack (who was a rather reckless sort
of chap ashore) in his own way. He got him out of many a tight place on
the strength of that medal; and he would have looked out for him until the
last, but he shipped on an East Indian, and drifted out of our reach. And
this medal was left here by a boy, you say, my man?"
"Yes, sir" (Jonah had found his entry now),--"by a boy who said it was
his: that it had been given him by an old sailor man who was dead; and
he'd like to sell the medal now, for he wanted some money bad."
"Good!" said the old Captain, eagerly. "I'll give him his price. Who and
where is the boy?"
"His name is Dan Dolan and he lives at Killykinick."
"Dan Dolan!" exclaimed Miss Stella.
"Oh, does he mean my--_my_ Dan, Marraine?" chirped Polly, breathlessly.
"What! You know the boy?" cried the old sailor, in amazement. "God bless
me,--you!"
"Why, yes, we know him,--don't we, Pollykins?" said Miss Stella. "But what
he is doing with the medal we can't say. We're certain he has it
rightfully and honestly; and as soon as 'The Polly' (my cousin's yacht)
can spread her broken wings, we are going to Killykinick. Suppose you come
with us, and see the owner of the medal, and strike a bargain yourself?"
"By George, I will,--I will! A sail with you, Miss Stella, is a temptation
I can not resist. And I must have the medal. I must see the boy, and hear
how he got it. I'll buy it from him at his own price; and you shall
negotiate the sale, dear lady!"
"Take care," said Miss Stella, with a merry sparkle in her eyes,--"take
care how you do business with me, Captain! Remember how I drew upon you
for the babies' ward last winter! I can fleece without mercy, as you
know."
"Fleece as you please," was the hearty answer. "I can stand it, for that
soft little hand of yours did work for this old man that he can never
repay."
So the agreement was made; and Miss Stella, having invested in a queer,
twisted candlestick, which she declared was quite equal to Aladdin's lamp,
and Polly having decided to reserve her dollar for a neighboring candy
store, the party at Jonah's junk shop separated, with the promise of
meeting as soon as "The Polly" should be ready for a flight to
Killykinick.
But that pleasant excursion was indefinitely postponed; for when Miss
Stella reached Polly's home it was to find two priestly visitors awaiting
her. One was an old friend, the present pastor of St. Mary's Church, near
the Foresters' home; the other, tall, pale even through his bronze,
anxious-eyed, she had never met.
"Father Rayburn, Miss Allen," was the pastor's brief introduction. "We
have come to throw ourselves on your mercy, my dear young lady. You are
here for your summer holiday, I know; and I hesitate to interrupt it. But
Father Rayburn is in sore need of experienced service that you alone can
give."
"You need a nurse?" asked Miss Stella.
"Yes." (It was Father Rayburn who answered.) "My brother--or perhaps I
should say my brother-in-law, as that is really our relationship,--is
lying very ill at Killykinick. While still prostrated with fever, he was
exposed to the storm of yesterday, in which he nearly lost his life.
Between the shock, the excitement of his rescue by the life-savers, he is
very, very ill,--too ill to be removed to a hospital; and he is at
Killykinick with only boys and men to care for him," continued Father
Rayburn. "The doctors tell me an experienced nurse is necessary, and we
can find none willing to take so serious a case in such a rude, remote
place. But my good friend Father John seems to think that you would take
pity on our great need."
"Oh, I will,--I will!" was the eager answer. "I already have friends at
Killykinick among those fine boys from St. Andrew's. My little goddaughter
and I were to make an excursion there to-day, but the storm disabled Mr.
Forester's yacht. I am so glad to be of service to you, Father! I will get
ready at once."
* * * * *
In spite of the joyful return of laddie yesterday, there was gloom this
morning at Killykinick. Daddy, who had been brought over at his own
request from the Life-Saving Station, lay in the old Captain's room, which
Brother Bart had resigned to him, very, very sick indeed.
"Sinking fast, I'm afraid," the doctor said. "The fever has broken, but
the shock of yesterday's danger and rescue has been too much for a man in
his weakened state. Still there's a chance for him--a fighting chance. But
it will take very careful and experienced nursing to pull him through."
So Father Tom had gone in search of a nurse, leaving Freddy and Brother
Bart watching by the sick bed; while Dan, who as second mate was assisting
his chief officers to right and repair the "Sary Ann," listened with a
heavy heart to the old salt's prognostications.
"He won't last the day out," declared Captain Jeb. "Blue about the gills
already! But, Lord, what could you expect, doused and drenched and shaken
up like he was yesterday? It will be hard on the little chap, who was so
glad to get his father back. It's sort of a pity, 'cording to my notion,
that, being adrift so long, he didn't go down in deep-sea soundings, and
not come ashore to break up like this."
"O Captain Jeb, no, no!" Dan looked up from his hammering on the "Sary
Ann" in quick protest against such false doctrine. "A man isn't like a
ship: he has a soul. And that's the main thing, after all. If you save
your soul, it doesn't make much difference about your body. And drifting
ashore right here has saved the soul of Mr. Wirt (or Mr. Neville, as we
must call him now); for he was lying over on Last Island, feeling that
there was no hope for him in heaven or on earth. And then Freddy came to
him, and Father Tom, and he turned to God for pardon and mercy; and now
his dying is all right,--though I haven't given him up yet," concluded
Dan, more cheerfully. "Poor little Freddy has been praying so hard all
night, I feel he is going to be heard somehow. And I've seen Mick
Mulligan, that had typhoid last summer, looking a great deal worse than
Mr. Neville, and before Thanksgiving there wasn't a boy on the hill he
couldn't throw. Here comes Father Tom back with--with--" Dan dropped his
hammer entirely, and stood up to stare in amazement at the little motor
boat making its way to the broken wharf. "Jing! Jerusalem! if--if it isn't
that pretty lady from Beach Cliff that Polly calls Marraine!"