THE POWER OF MUSIC
It seemed as though luck favored Darry on this trip, for the wind veered
around during the night, and blew out of the southeast when he was ready
to start on his return voyage to the mainland.
Thus he was able to use his little sail to advantage both ways.
It was coming so hard off the ocean, however, that at the advice of
Abner he took a reef in the canvas before leaving--the life saver had
become so attached to his new boy by this time that he could not bear to
see him taking any unnecessary chances on that sheet of treacherous
water that had already deprived him of one son.
Darry was glad he had taken his friend's advice before half way across.
Where the wind had a full sweep of the bay the waves were quite heavy,
and it required all his skill as a sailor to keep his cranky little
craft head on.
As it was, he reached his haven with a rush, and his tactics in making a
landing aroused the admiration of several old fisherman who were
lounging at the dock.
He had only time to accomplish several little messages at the store and
get on the road for home when it began to drizzle.
Darry was sorry for this, for he had laid out to visit his traps again
during the afternoon, not wishing to leave any game that may have been
taken, too long in the water.
When later on at lunch he mentioned this to Mrs. Peake she said he would
find an old oilskin jacket of Abner's behind the closet door in the
hall, which Joe had been wont to don under similar circumstances.
So after all, he went forth, defying the elements, as a true sailor lad
always does; and was rewarded for his labor by taking three more
trophies from the firm-jawed traps.
Really it was beginning to look like business, with so many on the
stretching boards; and Mrs. Peake smiled to see how careful the boy was
in everything he undertook.
It spoke well for his future, if he carried the same principle into his
whole life.
Of course Darry knew full well that the skins he was taking thus early
in the fall were not as good in quality, and would not be apt to bring
as high prices in the fur marts as those to be captured when real cold
weather had set in; but there are times when one has to make hay while
the sun shines; and he could not be sure that he would have the
opportunity to do these things later.
Besides, the supply of rats seemed unlimited, so rapidly do they breed
all over the Eastern coast, from Maine to the Florida line.
The rain continued all that night and the better part of the following
day.
It was one of those easterly storms that generally last out portions of
three days, and are followed by a lengthy spell of good weather, with
touches of frost in the early mornings.
Darry made his regular pilgrimage to the marsh in spite of the rain, and
this time found only two prizes to reward his diligence.
From this he determined that it was time to make a change of base, and
set his traps in other places where the game might not be so wary.
At any rate he was having no further trouble with the Dilks crowd, and
in that he found more or less satisfaction.
Unconscious of the fact that he was being watched from time to time by
one of the cronies of which Jim boasted, Darry went about his business,
satisfied to do his daily duties, and each night count some progress
made.
Twice had he crossed the bay to the strip of sandy beach where the tides
of the mighty Atlantic pounded unceasingly, day and night.
His coming was always eagerly anticipated by the whole crew of the
life-saving station, and for a good reason.
It happened that on his visit just after the easterly storm had blown
out, while they were all gathered around just before dark, chatting and
joking, Darry cocked up his ear at the tweeking sound of a fiddle, which
one of the men had drawn out of its case, and was endeavoring to play.
Altogether he made a most doleful series of sounds, which upon analysis
might prove to be an attempt to play "Annie Laurie," though one would
need all his wits about him to settle whether this were the tune, or
"Home, Sweet Home."
The men looked daggers at the player, for the screeching sounds were
certainly anything but pleasant.
Darry sauntered over. He had played since a little lad, some Italian
having first taught him; and on the brigantine Captain Harley had a
violin of more than ordinary make, with which he had coaxed the cabin
boy to make melody by the hour.
"Sounds like a pretty good instrument?" suggested Darry to the would-be
performer.
"They tell me that, boy; but you see I ain't much of a judge. P'raps in
time I may get on to the racket, that is if the boys don't fire me and
the fiddle out before-hand," replied the surfman, grinning, for his
clumsy hands were really never intended by Nature to handle a violin
bow.
"Would you mind letting me try it? I used to play a little."
At the first sound of that bow crossing the strings, after Darry had
properly tuned the instrument every man sat up and took notice; and as
the boy bent down and lovingly drew the sweetest chords from the violin
that they had ever heard, they actually held their breath.
After that he was kept busy; indeed they would hardly let him have any
rest, and that was why those rough men looked forward eagerly to the
expected coming of Abner Peake's new boy.
It seemed as though he must know everything there was, and the music
would turn from riotous ragtime to the most tender chords, capable of
drawing tears from those eyes so unused to weeping.
It was a rare treat to Darry, too, for he dearly loved music, and the
absence of his fiddle had made a gap in his life.
The month was now passing, and closer drew the stormy period when, with
the advent of grim November, the duties of the beach patrol naturally
grow more and more laborious, since there are greater possibilities of
wrecks, with the strong winds and the fogs that bewilder mariners, and
allow them to run upon the reefs when they believe they are scores of
miles away from the danger zone.
The boom of guns could now be heard all day, and frequently Darry saw
Northern sportsmen in the village; though as a rule they kept on board
their yachts or else stayed at the various private clubs up or down the
sound.
Jim Dilks and his gang still lay low. They awaited a favorable
opportunity to carry out some evil scheme, whereby the boy they had come
to fear, as well as hate, might be injured.
Well, they knew that he made daily trips into the marsh, and it would
seem that they might find the chance they craved at such times; but
there was one thing to deter them, and this was the fact that Darry
never went to examine his traps without carrying that steady-shooting
old shotgun.
The burnt child dreads the fire, and Jim had hardly ceased to rub his
injured parts, so that the possibility of getting a second dose was not
at all alluring in his eyes.
He was a good waiter, and he felt that sooner or later fortune would
turn the trick for him, and the chance arise whereby he might pay back
the debt he owed the "interloper," as he chose to deem Darry.