THE COMING-OUT PARTY
As Captain Ichabod left the physician's house after having made his
confession, Doctor Hudson stood watching him while he walked briskly
away.
"See how that old devil is stepping it off down the street like a
four-year-old," was the observer's comment. "He really has taken on a
new lease of life, and materia medica didn't have a finger in the pie,
either. If it had happened a few years earlier that he had a chance to
tell Sandy Mason what he thought of him, and to save a woman from
drowning, likely as not there'd have been a wife and children on the
Island to-day to cheer the old fellow's declining years. It's a shame
that cat of a woman ever crossed his path, for he's one of the
best-meaning, greatest-hearted men in the county."
Suddenly, the Doctor chuckled.
"By George, I have an idea, and I'll get busy on it. Yes, sir, I'll take
the old rascal at his word." With that, Doctor Hudson disappeared inside
his house and shut the door after him.
The government wireless station at Beaufort is built upon an island,
which is separated from the mainland by the narrow channel of New Port
River just before it empties into the sea. Now, Captain Jones went at
once to the government wharf, where he secured the services of a small
boy to row him to the island. On his arrival, he was warmly welcomed,
for he was as popular there as with the men of the coast guard. As he
entered the small receiving-room, the instruments were spitting out dots
and dashes, with all kinds of sparks for accompaniment. The principal
operator was taking down a message. As soon as the task was ended, he
whirled about and greeted the old fisherman enthusiastically.
"Why, howdy, Captain Ichabod--glad to see you. It's sure fine of you to
come over. I understand there've been some exciting times up in your
neck of the woods. By the way, what was the name of the yacht that went
on the rock?"
"It was _The Isabel_, of New York," replied Ichabod.
"Is that so!" exclaimed the operator. "If that's the case, I reckon this
message I just yanked out of the air will be of interest to you."
He handed the paper to the Captain, who, after finding his spectacles
and adjusting them carefully, read aloud the following:
"To all port officers:
"Motor-driven yacht _Isabel_ of New York, put to sea without
clearance papers. Investigation shows she was probably stolen.
Daughter of owner a prisoner on board. If located in your vicinity
arrest boat and all members of crew. Make diligent search for young
woman and release her."
The bulletin was signed by an officer of the Treasury Department.
"Well I'll be doggoned!" cried the Captain, in great astonishment. "I
knowed that feller was some kind o' a bad egg, but now I believe to
goodness he was plumb sp'ilt. That poor little brown-eyed gal! What a
pity! I wish I'd a held right smack onto her--that I do."
"I suppose," the operator rejoined, "that bulletin has been picked up by
all of the stations, so that the boys are keepin' a sharp lookout to
overhaul the yacht and pinch the bunch, an' especially to save the girl.
I'll get this over to the Collector of Customs right away. He'll want to
report the escape of the man and woman and to give the direction they
went."
"Ye'd better tell him to mention the dead feller, an' that he was tied
down."
"That's right, Uncle Ichabod. Say, but there's a lot of mystery about
this affair. I'll bet my boots you haven't heard the last of it."
"Maybe not," the fisherman admitted. "But, by cracky, since what I've
been through a'ready they can't skeer Ichabod. No, not by a damned
sight!"
It was very seldom that Captain Jones used a profane expression. When he
did, it was with deliberate intention.
Upon this island where the wireless outfit is stationed, the government
has another institution--a laboratory where studies are made in sea
life. It includes a remarkable museum, which is visited by students from
far and near. There are power boats equipped for dredging at
considerable depth in order to bring to light the secret things of the
sea. Many of the curios are contributed by the fishermen, who are
continually dragging forth in their nets objects strange to them. When a
thing of real rarity is brought to the laboratory, a snug sum is paid to
the finder. The Captain himself had always a ready eye for anything that
might prove of value, and his finds from time to time netted him a tidy
profit. To-day he had with him a variety of sea porcupine new to him,
which he had found in his net a few days before. So now, on leaving the
wireless station, Ichabod visited the laboratory, where the sea
porcupine was duly delivered and brought in return a satisfactory sum of
money. Here, too, he retold once again all his experiences in connection
with the wreck of _The Isabel_. By the time this was done, the afternoon
was well spent. The old man was rowed back to the mainland, where he
entered the red skiff and set sail homeward.
As he passed up the bay, the tide was low, so that in many places the
shoals and rocks were exposed. Captain Ichabod, reclining lazily in the
stern sheets of the skiff, tiller in hand, listened to the noisy clatter
of the gulls, which in vast swarms were feeding on their favorite
scallops.
Ages ago, the gulls discovered that the fluted shell must be broken ere
the luscious morsel within could be obtained. It was wholly impossible
for them to crush the stonelike casing with their bills. So the birds
devised another means. This was to carry the shell high aloft, then drop
it on the shoals. If it fell on a hard surface, it would be broken open,
and the scallop within would be promptly devoured by the gull following.
When the shell fell in a soft place, and remained unbroken the bird
would merely continue its efforts until finally crowned with success.
Ichabod, idly watching such repeated trials, was induced to meditation
on the lesson thus taught.
"It shore is a pity that arter Roxana Lee"--the name came easily
now--"arter a-stabbin' o' me in the back--yes, it's a pity that I didn't
do sort o' like that Scotch feller that watched the spider try an' try
an' try ag'in till at last he spun his web whar he aimed to. Why, when
he saw what that-thar crab-lookin' son-of-a-gun could do, he jumped
right up, an', a-bucklin' himself around a leetle tighter, went out and
cleaned up a whole mess that was arter him. By cracky! all I had to do
was to come right out to these sand shoals an' oyster rocks an' watch
them noisy gulls a-tryin' an' a-tryin', an' at last bustin' a scallop. I
jest believe, if I'd done that, then I'd have got right square up an'
licked Sandy Mason, an' told Roxana what I thought o' her no-'countness,
an' then I might have married the best-lookin' woman in Cartaret County.
"But, then, what's the use?" he continued, as he drew the sheet in a
little closer, so holding the skiff more into the wind, in order to
round a point of marsh land. "That's ancient history, an' I ain't
a-goin' to study it. I've done turned over a new leaf. I hope, Ichabod,
ye'll live right an' die happy."
The skiff was nearing the home port. Captain Ichabod's attention was
called to a sound of happy voices--women's notes, as he expressed it.
Unless he was much mistaken, it came from his own Island.
The old fisherman, true to his instinct of fear in reference to
womankind, loosened the sheet, so that the skiff might slide by and let
him learn more definitely what might be the meaning of this invasion.
The matter was not long in doubt. As he rounded a point, he saw them. It
seemed to him there were a dozen or more of women. They were not only
upon the Island: the shack door stood open. There were women actually
going in and out through the entrance--busy as bees.... Upon the shore,
a great fire was burning.
Ichabod, who had been brave for three days, now began to be afraid of
this influx of feminine furbelows--this show of skirts. Twice Ichabod
tacked with a desire to take a running look at his own Island; and twice
he dared not make a landing because of the feminine contingent on shore.
But, when he sailed the red skiff by his homeland for the third time, he
recognized a pudgy figure on the shore, which was waving frantically
toward him.
"Oh, hell!" Ichabod spoke, with great indignation. "If it ain't Hudson!
Consarn him, he has took me at my word an' if he hain't brought a flock
o' 'em! I didn't aim to run away, nohow. I jest forgot fer a minute thet
I had reformed. I wonder what the fire means? It's mighty early yet for
an oyster roast, but they are a-gittin' fat."
The Doctor met the old fellow at the landing. Ichabod wore a sheepish
look, while, on the contrary, the physician's good-natured face was
wreathed in smiles.
"Throw me your painter, Captain!" shouted the medical man. "When I get
that in hand I'll feel sure that you are really here!"
Old Icky went forward, wound the sail neatly around the mast, removed
the rudder, pulled up the center-board, and then tossed to Hudson a line
to be turned around the piling. Ichabod stepped ashore, nonplused. His
expression was stern and forbidding as he advanced on his friend, the
Doctor, and demanded the meaning of all this.
"Why, Captain Ichabod," came the answer, "the women folks up there have
named this meeting Ichabod Jones' coming-out party. You know in great
cities where there's a heap of society, when a girl reaches an age that
they think it is time for her to be setting her cap, they arrange a
swell party to let the fellows know that the young lady is eligible. So,
you see, that's the case to-day. Only, this time, it's a man that has
come out of his shell, and you can believe me that shell was the hardest
one I ever tried to crack!"
"Say, Hudson, did I tell ye I was a-lookin' fer a woman? No, sir; I only
said as how they was welcome to come to the Island. This how-dy-do o'
your'n I call a-rubbin' it in pretty hard. If it's a joke with you, it
hain't with me."
"Now, old friend, don't get peeved. I'll tell you just how it came
about. After you left my house, I went out to pay some professional
calls. Ichabod, your name's in everybody's mouth. They all asked
questions about you, knowing how close friends we are. What could I do
but just up and tell how you had seen the light and had hit the trail
for happiness; how all women were to be welcome at the Island from now
on, and how the latch-string would be hanging always on the outside of
the shack door? I had no sooner arrived home than one of these good
ladies called me up and asked me if I would mind escorting a few of them
to the Island to congratulate you on your quitting playing Rip Van
Winkle as far as women were concerned. I just told the pretty creatures
I'd be only too glad to go with them.... Shake hands, Ichabod. Let your
family physician be the first to welcome you back."
Realizing that the whole trouble had been caused by his talking too much
and that no one was to blame save himself, the old man smiled somewhat
wryly as he grasped his friend's extended hand.
"Say, Doc," he declared, "I always did like a joke where it didn't hurt
none. So, I ain't a-goin' to make ye out untruthful to that passal o'
women."
With that, the fisherman slipped his arm within the Doctor's, and walked
forward spiritedly toward his doom--as he mentally termed this social
ordeal. It was indeed his coming-out party, and never a debutante so
secretly tremulous and shy as Captain Icky.