Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at https://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: THE CREATURE SPRANG TO ITS FEET]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
A LITTLE MAID OF PROVINCE TOWN
By
ALICE TURNER CURTIS
Author Of
A Little Maid of Massachusetts Colony
A Little Maid of Narragansett Bay
A Little Maid of Bunker Hill
A Little Maid of Ticonderoga
A Little Maid of Old Connecticut
A Little Maid of Old Philadelphia
Illustrated by Wuanita Smith
THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
Philadelphia
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
COPYRIGHT
1913 BY
THE PENN
PUBLISHING
COMPANY
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Anne Nelson 1
II. Anne Wins a Friend 14
III. Anne's Secret 27
IV. Anne and the Wolf 39
V. Scarlet Stockings 51
VI. Captured by Indians 62
VII. Out to Sea 73
VIII. On the Island 86
IX. The Castaways 97
X. Safe at Home 107
XI. Captain Enos's Secrets 119
XII. An Unexpected Journey 129
XIII. Anne Finds Her Father 143
XIV. A Candy Party 157
XV. A Spring Picnic 177
XVI. The May Party 186
XVII. The Sloop, "Peggy" 195
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
The Creature Sprang to Its Feet 1
A Blanket Fell Over Her Head 65
She Worked Steadily 111
"This Is From Boston" 162
The Boat Began to Tip 194
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Little Maid of Province Town
CHAPTER I
ANNE NELSON
"I don't know what I can do with you, I'm sure!" declared Mistress
Stoddard, looking down at the small girl who stood on her door-step gazing
wistfully up at her.
"A man at the wharf said that you didn't have any little girls," responded
the child, "and so I thought----"
"'Twas Joe Starkweather told you, I'll be bound," said Mrs. Stoddard.
"Well, he's seven of his own to fend for."
"Seven little girls?" said Anne Nelson, in an almost terror-stricken
voice, her dark eyes looking earnestly into the stern face that frowned
down upon her. "And what would become of them if their mother should die,
and their father be lost at sea?"
"Sure enough. You have sense, child. But the Starkweathers are all boys.
Well, come in. You can take your bundle to the loft and leave it, and
we'll see what I can find for you to do. How old are you?"
"Eight last March," responded Anne.
"Well, a child of eight isn't much use in a house, but maybe you can save
me steps."
"Yes, indeed, Mistress Stoddard; I did a deal to help my father about the
house. He said I could do as much as a woman. I can sweep out for you, and
lay the table and wash the dishes, and bring in the wood and water,
and----" there came a break in the little girl's voice, and the woman
reached out a kindly hand and took the child's bundle.
"Come in," she said, and Anne instantly felt the tenderness of her voice.
"We are poor enough, but you'll be welcome to food and shelter, child,
till such time as some of your own kinsfolk send for thee."
"I have no kinsfolk," declared Anne; "my father told me that."
"Come you in; you'll have a bed and a crust while I have them to give
you," declared the woman, and Anne Nelson went across the threshold and up
to the bare loft, where she put her bundle down on a wooden stool and
looked about the room.
There was but a narrow bed in the corner, covered with a patchwork quilt,
and the wooden stool where Anne had put her bundle. The one narrow window
looked off across the sandy cart tracks which served as a road toward the
blue waters of Cape Cod Bay. It was early June, and the strong breath of
the sea filled the rough little house, bringing with it the fragrance of
the wild cherry blossoms and an odor of pine from the scrubby growths on
the low line of hills back of the little settlement.
It was just a year ago, Anne remembered, as she unwrapped her bundle, that
she and her father had sailed across the harbor from Ipswich, where her
mother had died.
"We will live here, at the very end of the world, where a man may think as
he pleases," her father had said, and had moved their few household
possessions into a three-roomed house near the shore. Then he had given
his time to fishing, leaving Anne alone in the little house to do as she
pleased.
She was a quiet child, and found entertainment in building sand houses on
the beach, in wandering along the shore searching for bright shells and
smooth pebbles, and in doing such simple household tasks as her youth
admitted. A week before her appearance at Mrs. Stoddard's door, John
Nelson had gone out in his fishing-boat, and now he had been given up as
lost. No sign of him had been seen by the other fishermen, and it was
generally believed by his neighbors that his sloop had foundered and that
John Nelson had perished.
Some there were, however, who declared John Nelson to be a British spy,
and hesitated not to say that he had sailed away to join some vessel of
the British fleet with information as to the convenience of the harbor of
Province Town, and with such other news as he had brought from Ipswich and
the settlements nearer Boston. For it was just before the war of the
American Revolution, when men were watched sharply and taken to task
speedily for any lack of loyalty to the American colonies. And John Nelson
had many a time declared that he believed England meant well by her
American possessions,--a statement which set many of his neighbors against
him.
"'Mean well,' indeed!" Joseph Starkweather had replied to his neighbor's
remark. "When they have closed the port of Boston, so that no ship but the
king's war-ships dare go in and out? Even our fishing-boats are closely
watched. Already the Boston people are beginning to need many things.
Americans are not going to submit to feeding British soldiers while their
own men go hungry."
But now Joseph Starkweather was the only man who interested himself in the
lonely child. Day after day of that first week of her father's absence
Anne had stayed close to the little house, looking hopefully out across
the harbor for a sight of his boat; and day after day Joseph Starkweather
had come lounging down the beach to speak with the child, to ask her what
she had for breakfast, and if she slept safe and unafraid.
"The meal is gone," she told him one morning, "and I do not sleep now--I
wait and listen for my father;" and then it was that he told her she must
seek another home.
"You are too young to stay alone," he said; "pick up a bundle of your
clothes and go to Mrs. Stoddard on the hill. She hasn't a chick or child
of her own. Like as not you'll be a blessing to her." And Anne, used to
obedience and sorrow, obeyed.
There was nothing of much value in the small house, but on the day after
Anne's entrance as a member of the Stoddard family, Captain Stoddard
loaded the poor sticks of furniture on a handcart, and pulled it through
the sandy tracks to his cottage door.
"It's the child of an English spy you're giving shelter to," he had said,
when Martha Stoddard had told him that Anne was to live with them, "and
she'll bring no luck to the house." But his wife had made no response; the
dark-eyed, elfish-looking child had already found a place in the woman's
heart.
"I don't eat so very much," Anne announced as Mrs. Stoddard gave her a
bowl of corn mush and milk when she came down-stairs.
"You'll eat what you want in this house, child," answered her new friend,
and Anne ate hungrily.
"Now come to the door, Anne, and I'll brush out this tangle of hair of
yours," said Mrs. Stoddard; "and after this you must keep it brushed and
braided neatly. And bring down your other frock. I'll be doing some
washing this afternoon, and I venture to say your frock is in need of
it."
The first few days in the Stoddard family seemed almost unreal to Anne.
She no longer watched for her father's boat, she no longer wandered about
the beach, playing in the sand and hunting for shells. Her dresses were
not now the soiled and ragged covering which had served as frocks, but
stout cotton gowns, made from a skirt of Mrs. Stoddard's, and covered with
a serviceable apron. A sunbonnet of striped cotton covered the dark head,
and Anne was as neat and well-dressed as the other children of the
settlement. To be sure her slender feet were bare and tanned, and hardened
by exposure; but there was not a child in the neighborhood who wore shoes
until the frost came, and Mrs. Stoddard was already making plans for
Anne's winter foot-gear.
"I'll trade off something for some moccasins for the child before fall,"
she had resolved; "some of the Chatham Indians will get down this way when
the beach plums begin to ripen, and will be glad of molasses, if I am
lucky enough to have it."
For those were the days when the little coast settlements had but few
luxuries, and on Cape Cod the settlers were in fear of the British.
Province Town was especially exposed, and at that time there were but
thirty houses; and the people had no established communication with the
outside world. The sea was their thoroughfare, as a journey over the sandy
country from Province Town to Boston was almost impossible. News was a
long time in reaching the little settlement of fishermen. But they knew
that King George III had resolved to punish Boston for destroying his
cargoes of tea, and had made Salem the seat of government in the place of
Boston. War-ships from England hovered about the coast, and the children
of Province Town were quick to recognize these unwelcome craft.
"Mistress Stoddard," said Anne one morning, when she had returned from
driving the cow to the enclosed pasturage at some little distance from the
house, "Jimmie Starkweather says there is a big ship off Race Point, and
that it is coming into harbor here. He says 'tis a British ship, and that
like as not the men will land and burn down the houses and kill all the
cows." Anne looked at Mrs. Stoddard questioningly.
"Nonsense!" responded the good woman. "Jimmie was but trying to make you
afraid. 'Twas he sent thee running home last week in fear of a wolf that
he told you was prowling about."
"But there is a ship, Mistress Stoddard. I went up the hill and looked,
and 'tis coming along like a great white bird."
"Like enough. The big ships go up toward Boston and Salem on every fair
day. You know that well, child."
"This seems a different kind," persisted Anne; and at last Mrs. Stoddard's
curiosity was aroused, and with Anne close beside her she walked briskly
up to the hill and looked anxiously across the blue waters.
"'Tis much nearer, now," said Anne. "See, it's coming to--'twill anchor."
"Sure enough," answered Mrs. Stoddard. "Jimmie Starkweather is a wise lad.
'Tis a British man-of-war. Trouble is near at hand, child."
"Will they kill our cow?" questioned Anne. "Jimmie said they would, and
eat her," and Anne's voice trembled; for the small brown cow was the
nearest approach to a pet that the little girl had. It seemed a loss
hardly to be borne if "Brownie" was to be sacrificed.
"It's like enough they will," replied Mrs. Stoddard. "They'll be sending
their boats ashore and taking what they can see. Run back to the pasture,
Anne, and drive Brownie down the further slope toward the salt-meadow.
There's good feed for her beyond the wood there, and she'll not wander far
before nightfall, and she will not be quickly seen there."
Anne needed no urging. With another look toward the big ship, she fled
back along the sandy road toward the pasture, and in a short time the
brown cow, much surprised and offended, was being driven at a run down the
pasture slope, around the grove of scrubby maples to the little valley
beyond.
Anne waited until Brownie had sufficiently recovered from her surprise to
begin feeding again, apparently well content with her new pasturage, and
then walked slowly back toward the harbor. The village seemed almost
deserted. The children were not playing about the boats; there was no one
bringing water from the spring near the shore, and as Anne looked out
toward the harbor, she saw two more big ships coming swiftly toward
anchorage.
"Poor Brownie!" she said aloud, for if there was danger in one ship she
was sure that three meant that there was no hope for the gentle brown cow
which she had just driven to a place of safety.
Before night a boatload of British sailors had landed, filled their
water-barrels at the spring, bought some young calves of Joseph
Starkweather and returned quietly to their ships.
"They seem civil enough," said Captain Stoddard that night as he talked
the newcomers over with his wife. "They know we could make no stand
against them, but they treated Joseph Starkweather fairly enough."
Anne listened eagerly. "Will they take Brownie?" she asked.
"Indeed they won't if I can help it," answered Mrs. Stoddard; "we'll not
drive the creature back and forth while the British are about. I can slip
over the hill with a bucket and milk her night and morning. She's gentle,
and there's no need of letting the pirates see how sleek and fat the
creature is."
"And may I go with you, Mistress Stoddard?" asked Anne.
"Of course, child," answered Mrs. Stoddard, smilingly.
After Anne had gone up to the loft to bed Captain Stoddard said slowly:
"She seems a good child."
"That she does, Enos. Good and careful of her clothes, and eager to be of
help to me. She saves me many a step."
"'Tis John Nelson, they say, who has brought the Britishers into harbor,"
responded Captain Enos slowly. "Joseph Starkweather swears that one of the
sailors told him so when he bargained for the calves."
"Anne's not to blame!" declared Mrs. Stoddard loyally, but there was a
note of anxiety in her voice; "as you said yourself, Enos, she's a good
child."
"I'll not be keeping her if it proves true," declared the man stubbornly.
"True it is that they ask no military duty of any man in Province Town,
but we're loyal folk just the same. We may have to barter with the British
to save our poor lives, instead of turning guns on them as we should; but
no man shall say that I took in a British spy's child and cared for it."
"They'd but say you did a Christian deed at the most," said his wife.
"You're not a hard man, Enos."
"I'll not harbor a traitor's child," he insisted, and Mrs. Stoddard went
sorrowfully to bed and lay sleepless through the long night, trying to
think of some plan to keep Anne Nelson safe and well cared for until
peaceful days should come again.
And Anne, too, lay long awake, wondering what she could do to protect the
little brown cow which now rested so securely on the further side of the
hill.