MOLLIE IN COMMAND
"And the waters covered their enemies; there was not one of them
left."--Ps. cvi, 11
As the second man sprang overboard from the launch on which the
children had taken refuge Mollie came from her hiding place. She was
back again, at last, in her proper sphere in life. The faint
recollections of her early childhood when she had made a "play-house"
in her father's discarded boat came suddenly before her with
startling vividness. The intervening years seemed more like a bad
dream--a night-mare.
She did not realize that she had grown considerably in the interval,
that the little, fragile creature of the long ago was now almost a
young woman, that she had missed much of her childhood by having
responsibilities heaped upon her and by the farm work she had done.
She only knew that she was free at last to play again, to have a good
time, to laugh and make the children laugh and to actually sail in a
boat instead of make believe.
She called the children to come out from where they had been
concealed and rushed, herself, to grasp that crazily acting wheel.
She had watched the man just long enough to have an idea it was an
easy task and one which she would much enjoy performing. But it was
not so easy as it looked. My, but she had to hold on, with all her
might. Well, her arms were strong. She was equal to the tugging.
But which way ought it to go?
She gave it a whirl to the left. The boat veered so suddenly that
the assembled children, watching her movements with curious, excited
eyes, went tumbling like nine-pins to the deck. They scrambled up
laughing. Mollie whirled the big wheel to the right. Again the
children went down. This time two of them received bumps.
"Cain't yo' make hit stand still?" asked one of the older boys.
"Lemme help."
Mollie declined assistance.
"Hit's all right," she assured them. "Thet's th' way boats act up.
You-uns set down in a row an' watch me. We'll git some place ef thet
boat'll only git outten th' way. Whut's thet man holler'n 'bout,
Willie?"
"He's flingin' sumpin' over ter them fellers whut jumped off'n this
boat. An' now--look but, Mollie! He's shootin' at 'em."
As he spoke, two shots rang out in rapid succession. The black
mustached man who was swimming toward shore was seen to throw up his
firms and go down under water. The other man was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly he came up some distance ahead, looked about wildly, flung
his arms above his head and shrieked for aid. Then he, too,
disappeared.
"I reckon he hed a cramp," said Willie.
But the man with the revolver who stood in the front of the other
boat was now leveling it at Mollie. He shouted to her to stop the
boat.
Mollie's cheeks were crimson from her exertions. Her eyes were
dancing with their old-time roguishness. Her voice sounded across
the water as clear and resonant as a bell when she called her reply:
"I cain't stop hit. I dunno whut ter do with hit. This dum wheel
keeps right on a-goin'."
"How'd you get on that boat? Who is with you?" the man called, as
his own boat was being maneuvered to get along side of Mollie's
erratic craft.
"Hide, chil'un, hide," whispered Mollie, now suddenly fearful that
this troublesome person might turn her and the children back to the
ogre from whom they had just escaped. There was a patter of little
bare-feet, a momentary flurry, then all was deserted. That little
bevy of sea-going sparrows was experienced in darting to cover.
When the captain of the police boat and his assistants managed to get
aboard Mollie's careening vessel she confronted them bravely.
"Nobody brung me hyar," she told them. "I brung m'self. I wanted
ter ride in a boat. I war on hit when them two men come a-runnin' in
an' set hit a-goin'. No sir. I dunno who they war. I never seed
'em afore. Leastways I doan think I did, but I mought ha' seed thet
thar feller with the mustache--"
Mollie paused abruptly, with her mouth open. Enlightenment came
suddenly upon her. "Shore, I hev," she exclaimed, her eyes dilated
with excitement and her slight frame almost trembling at the
recollection. "Hit war thet man th' lady give me to when my Daddy
tol' me ter go with her. But she didn't let me stay with her. She
tol' me to go with him. An' he giv' me ter Pete."
The river police captain and his companions looked at Mollie and then
at each other. They were completely mystified.
"Crazy in the head, ain't she?" said one.
Mollie flared up. This was an insult. "I hain't no crazier then
what yo' be," she retorted. "Ef yo' doan know whut I'm a-talkin'
erbout yo'-all kin jist go ast Splutters. He's up yan, some'ers I
reckon, with thet man what fotched away one o' Pete's hawgs."
This time there was a flicker of intelligence in the river captain's
eyes. "D'y suppose she means that fellow Pete Grimes?" he said.
"That's the one the Chief's got his eye on in connection with the
Wayne kidnapping."
Mollie caught the words. It was out, now. In her excitement she had
been foolish enough to mention Grimes. They would know, now, that
she had run away and would, without doubt, send her and the children
back again. But that must never be. She would tell them about Pete
and how he treated the children. They looked like kind men. They'd
certainly believe her.
"Shore, hit's Pete Grimes," she explained.
The police sought to question her further but the sudden recollection
that she did not know who these men were nor whether they were
friends of Pete's or not, caused her to shut her lips tight together
and refuse to say another word.
"Well, I reckon we'd best get her down to the Chief as soon as
possible," said the captain. He was staring directly at the swaying
curtains under a berth. Surely that was a child's hand that he saw,
palm downward on the floor. "What's that?" he exclaimed, turning to
the man beside him. He, too, looked.
Then, without another word, he strode over and pulled the curtain
aside. Jimmie was flat on his stomach, small hands extended, palm
downward, while he elevated his head sufficiently to peer through the
curtains at the men who were talking with Mollie. And Jimmie there
was instantly dragged forth from a variety of hiding places Leathy
and Leon, Johnnie, Willie and all the rest of the "sparrows."
But the child upon whom all eyes were focused and which sent the
captain into a great state of excitement was the beautiful,
well-dressed, curly-haired, laughing baby which Mollie now grasped
and held tightly in her arms.
"Whose is that?" they asked her.
"Mine," she declared with such vehemence that they all laughed.
"And whose are all these?" the captain asked, indicating the ragged
group assembled for police inspection.
"Mine," snapped Mollie, again. No tigress fighting for her young
could have exceeded Mollie's fervor, though she might have manifested
it in a less gentle manner.
Again the policemen laughed.
"Now listen, little girl," said the captain, addressing Mollie in a
tone that compelled her undivided attention. "There's something not
right about all this and it has got to be straightened out. You
needn't talk to me if you don't want to, but I'm going to tow this
boat, with you and all these children, right down to town. Then
we'll go up to see the Chief and you can talk to him."
And even then poor Mollie had no idea who he was nor who a chief was.
She had never seen nor heard of a policeman before she was brought to
the Grimes farm and certainly she had never seen nor heard of one
since. To her and to all the half-starved little ones with her, they
were merely men with shiny buttons on their coats. But somehow,
Mollie liked them, despite their big voices and stern eyes. They
were so good to the children. And during the cruise down the river
to the town they allowed the children to look over the rail at
everything along the bank. But not once did one of the children
speak. Mollie had signalled them to be silent.
That the hot, sultry day developed suddenly into a one of storm, that
lightning flashed and thunder roared seemed only to increase the
pleasurable excitement of the young mariners. They were accustomed
to rain. They had worked many a day in the rain. They were not
afraid of thunder and lightning when they were outside the barn loft.
Only once did there seem to be anything unusual about this storm
which crashed over their heads on that memorable day. That was when
one excessively vivid flash of lightning swept across the sky and
seemed to dart downward back toward the point at which they had
entered the boat. With it came a thunder clap more violent, more
furious than anything they had ever heard.
"Golly!" exclaimed Johnnie, "Thet war a whopper. I reckon ef thet
hit somebody, he war a gonner."
"He shore war," echoed Willie.
A great wave of pity suddenly swept over Mollie. She shivered as if
cold. "I feel es ef sumpin' had happened," she said to herself.
"Thet seemed 'most es ef God hed spoke. I reckon Pete's dead."