THE RED OAR
"This way, Cora. The sand is so heavy out there it is better to keep
near the edge," said Freda, as the two girls tramped along in the deep
sand of the seashore that banded Crystal Bay.
"But isn't it perfectly beautiful along here?" exclaimed Cora, in rapt
delight. "I had no idea the little place could be so charming."
"Oh, yes," returned Freda, with a suspicion of a sigh. "Over there,
just in that splendid green stretch is, or was, grandfather's place.
It runs all along to the island, and on the other side there is a
stream that has been used for a mill race."
"Over there!" Cora repeated. "Why, that looks like the very best part
of the bay. And that house on the hill?"
"Grandfather's own home and--mother's," finished Freda.
"Is it rented now?"
"Yes, we have rented it for three years, and it has brought us quite a
little income," said Freda.
"But you see that is cut off now. I am sure I do not know who collects
the rents."
"What a shame!" cried Cora. "And all because there is some technical
proof of ownership missing. I should think that when your family had
undisputed possession for years it ought to be sufficient to establish
your rights."
"Yes, we never dreamed we could lose it," Freda explained. "Mother and
I have lived there in the Winter since father died, and we have rented
it in Summer, as I said. Of course the Summer is the desirable time
here. And we had some of the loveliest old furniture. But when we had
to break up we sold most of it."
"Look out! There's a hole there," Cora warned just in time, for in the
heavy sand little rivulets were creeping from some rollers tossed in
by a passing boat. The bay was dotted with many craft, and the picture
it presented gave Cora keen delight, for it forecasted a merry Summer
for the motor girls.
"We only have a little farther to go," Freda said. "I hope old Denny
has kept his word and stayed in. He is the queerest old fellow--you
will be amused at him, I am sure. But he was always such a staunch
friend of grandfather."
"I am anxious to meet him," rejoined Cora. "Somehow I feel we girls
ought to get at the bottom of this. Wouldn't it be fine if we could?"
"More than fine, it would be glorious!" Freda replied. "If we lose it
all now, I will have to look for work. Not that I mind that," she
added, "but I intend to take a course in nursing. I have always longed
to be a nurse."
"And that would be a splendid profession for you," Cora agreed. "I do
hope you will not have to go to work in some office."
"Oh, there's Denny! Denny!" called Freda, leaving Cora without further
ceremony, and hurrying ahead as fast as the soft sand would allow.
"See, there he is! Just going out in his fishing boat."
Cora ran after her, and soon they overtook the old fisherman, who was
deaf. Freda didn't mind getting her shoes wet in order to approach the
water's edge.
"Good morning, Denny," she called, "come in here. We want to talk to
you."
He took his pipe from his mouth, in order that his mind should not be
distracted. Then he pushed his cap back, and dropped an oar.
"Freddie, is that you?" he asked. "Sure I thought you was comin' up to
the shack, and I've bin waitin' for you."
"We are on our way up there now. You are not going out, are you?"
pleaded Freda.
"No, Freddie," (he always called her Freddie), "I'll come right in. I
was only goin' acrost to get a few little things; but they can wait."
Cora now had a chance to see this quaint old fellow. He was Irish,
with many fine humorous wrinkles about his eyes and mouth. He seemed
to breathe through his pipe, so constantly did he inhale it, and just
how he kept his sailor's blouse so clean, and his worn clothes so
neat, was a trick he had learned in his younger days in the navy.
"Isn't this a fine day?" he commented, with a nod to Cora.
"Simply perfect," she answered, seeing there was no need for a formal
introduction. "I have been telling Freda how surprised I was at the
beauty of this place."
"Surprised, is it? Sure, there ain't another spot this side of Cape
Cod with as many fine points to it. I wouldn't leave this little bay
for a berth on any ocean liner."
"My friend, Cora Kimball, is from Chelton, Uncle Denny. Do you know
where that is?" asked Freda.
"Chelton? Chelton? Sure, I do. I went through there once in a parade
wagon. We were out with the G. A. R. and I guess the parade got lost,
for I remember at Chelton we had to put up for the night in an old
church they were using for a fire house. But we had a fine time," and
he chuckled at the recollection. "And next day we finished up without
the need of a wagon. It was like camp days to scatter ourselves about
the big ramshackle place."
"Oh, yes, that's out in the East End," Cora said. "We have quite an
up-to-date fire house in Chelton Center."
"Well, that was good enough for me," he asserted. "But come along and
I'll show you my shack. Freddie will be surprised at my new decorations."
Up the little board walk to a path through the woods the three tramped.
Denny Shane was popular with young folks; even the mischievous boys who
would occasionally untie his boat before a storm had no reason to fear
his wrath, for such pranks were quickly forgotten.
"And the mother, Freddie?" he asked. "How's she gettin' on?"
"Well, she worries a good deal," the girl replied. "But I keep telling
her it must come right in time."
"Sure it will. The rascals that would do wrong to a widder couldn't
prosper. 'Taint lucky. But they're foxy. Did you hear anything new?"
"Yes, but not much that is substantial. My friend and I want to see
you to find out all that you may know about it. Perhaps there is some
clue we have been overlooking, that you could give us."
"Well, you're welcome to all I know. But here we are. No need to
unlock my door," he said as he saw Cora smile at his unceremonious
entrance to the shack. "Them that has nothin' has nothin' to fear."
A surprising little place, indeed, the girls were shown into. Neat and
orderly, yet convenient and practical, was Denny Shane's home. There
was a stove and a mantel, a table, two chairs and a long bench. Pieces
of rag carpet indicated the most favored spots--those to be lived on.
"And now, Freddie," began Denny, drawing out two chairs, "what do you
think of my housekeeping?"
"Why, you are just as comfortable and neat as possible," she replied.
"But I notice one thing has not lost its place--your red oar."
"No--indeed!" he said almost solemnly. "That oar will stay with me
while Denny Shane has eyes to see it. It has a story, Freddie, and I
often promised to tell it to you. This is as good a time as another."
He put his pipe down, brought a big chair up to the window, opened a
back door to allow the salt air to sweep in; then, while Cora looked
with quickening interest at the old red oar, that hung over the
fireplace, Denny shook his head reflectively and started with his
story.
"That oar," he said, "seems like a link between me and Leonard
Lewis--your grandpa, Freddie. And, too, it is a reminder of the night
when I nearly went over the other sea, and would have, but for Leonard
Lewis and his strong red oar."
A light flashed into the old eyes. Plainly the recollections brought
up by his story were sacred. He left his chair and went over to the
mantel, climbed up on a box and touched the oar that had sagged a
little from its position.
"The wind rocks this shanty so," he explained, "the oar thinks it's
out on the waves again, I guess. I don't like to spoil it with nails
or strings."
"It looks very artistic," Cora declared; "but how curious that an oar
should be painted red."
"Yes, there was only one pair of them, that I know of. One went with
the wreck, and this one Len Lewis held on to. Now I'll tell you about
it."
Again he seated himself and this time started off briskly with the
tale.
"It was a raw January night--in fact, it seemed as if it had been
night all day for all the chance the sun had to get out. A howling
wind whistled and fairly shrieked at everything that didn't fly fast
enough to suit it. Len and me had been puttin' in a lot of time
together at his house, just chinnin'--there wasn't much else to do but
to keep warm. Well, along about five o'clock, we heard a rocket! The
wind died away for a minute or so, and we dashed out to the beach to
get the lay of that distress signal. Talk about big city fires!" he
digressed. "A fire on land ain't what it is on sea. It always seems
like as if death has a double power with the fire and the deep and
nothing but the sky above to fan the flame.
"We soon saw the smoke. It was from a point just over the turn, where
the clouds dip down and touch the waves. A little tail of smoke
crawled up and hung black and dirty, not gettin' any bigger nor
spreadin' much. When we sighted her, we went to work in the way men of
the sea have of working together and never sayin' a word. Up the beach
we chased, and dragged out the boat we called our 'Lifer.' It was a
good, strong fishin' boat, and we kept her ready in the rough weather.
"'Wait!' yelled Len to me, just as I was pushin' off. 'I've got a
lucky pair of oars. They're bigger and heavier than ours, and I'll
toss 'em in. We might need 'em.'
"Little I thought of the need we would have! And I always laughed at
Len's idea of luck--and me an Irishman, too."
"Mother always said grandfather was queer about such things," Freda
remarked. "I remember we had an old jug that he found on one of his
birthdays. He would never allow that jug to be thrown out; he said it
meant a jug full of good luck."
"And it, of course, was an empty jug," Cora said, with a smile.
"Perhaps that is, after all, the luckiest kind."
Denny chuckled over that remark, and added he had not much use for
jugs of any kind.
"But I'm gettin' away from my yarn," he said, presently. "We took the
big thick oars and pulled out against the wind. By this time the hail
was comin' down in chunks that would cut the face off you. Sometimes
there are a lot of stragglers around here, but when we need a man, of
course, there is not one in sight. But we rowed away and somehow
managed to get close to the wreck. It was a little steamer, not much
bigger than a tug, and it was burning faster than the smoke told us.
"'You throw the rope and I'll stick to the oars!' shouted Len, his
voice sounding like a wheeze in the wind. There were three men on the
steamer and they were just about tuckered out. They were clingin' to
the rail, their hands blisterin' from the flames that were sweepin' up
close to them even as they touched the water's edge.
"It's an awful thing to see sufferin' like that," he put in. "I won't
ever forget how those fellows tumbled into our boat. They just rolled
in like dead men. But my rope got caught in the rudder of the steamer,
and I tugged and tugged, but it looked as if we would have to let her
burn off before we could free ourselves. Just when I decided to make a
big haul at it I came near my end. I stood up, gave the rope a yank,
and with that--rip! She let go! And I went with it over into the
water!"
"Goodness!" Cora exclaimed. "It was bad enough to have to rescue the
other men, but for you to go into that roaring ocean!"
"It was bad, Miss," agreed the narrator. "And the feel of that water
as I struck it! It was like a bath of sword-points. Well, that's where
the oar comes in! Bless the bit of wood it was cut from, it sure was a
good, strong stick.
"When I flopped into the water, like a fish dumped out of a net, your
grandpop, Freddie, took nary a chance at reachin' me with the rope. He
dropped the regular oars and took one of the pair he called lucky.
"'Here,' he yelled, 'grab to that!'
"I can see the red flash now as it nearly hit me on the head, but
though I did make a stab at it the water was that cold and the ice so
thick on me hands that I couldn't hold on.
"It's pretty bad to be floppin' around like that, I can tell you. But
Len kept shoutin' and when one of the other fellows got enough breath
to stand up with, he took a hand at the rescuin'.
"It was him who dropped the mate to that oar overboard. Mad! I could
hear Len yell through the thick of it all. But he held the last red
oar.
"With the effort to keep up me blood heated some, and the next time I
saw the flash of red I grabbed it good an' proper. It took three of
them to haul me up, but I clung to the red oar and that's how I'm here
this minute. Likewise, it's why the oar is here with me."
There was a long pause. The girls had been thrilled with the simple
recital, so void of anything like conceit in the part that Denny
himself had played in the work of rescue.