<SPAN name="chap39"></SPAN>
<h3> CHAPTER 39 </h3>
<h3> CAPTAIN JIM CROSSES THE BAR </h3>
<p>One day in late September Owen Ford's book came at last. Captain Jim
had gone faithfully to the Glen post office every day for a month,
expecting it. This day he had not gone, and Leslie brought his copy
home with hers and Anne's.</p>
<p>"We'll take it down to him this evening," said Anne, excited as a
schoolgirl.</p>
<p>The long walk to the Point on that clear, beguiling evening along the
red harbor road was very pleasant. Then the sun dropped down behind
the western hills into some valley that must have been full of lost
sunsets, and at the same instant the big light flashed out on the white
tower of the point.</p>
<p>"Captain Jim is never late by the fraction of a second," said Leslie.</p>
<p>Neither Anne nor Leslie ever forgot Captain Jim's face when they gave
him the book—HIS book, transfigured and glorified. The cheeks that
had been blanched of late suddenly flamed with the color of boyhood;
his eyes glowed with all the fire of youth; but his hands trembled as
he opened it.</p>
<p>It was called simply The Life-Book of Captain Jim, and on the title
page the names of Owen Ford and James Boyd were printed as
collaborators. The frontispiece was a photograph of Captain Jim
himself, standing at the door of the lighthouse, looking across the
gulf. Owen Ford had "snapped" him one day while the book was being
written. Captain Jim had known this, but he had not known that the
picture was to be in the book.</p>
<p>"Just think of it," he said, "the old sailor right there in a real
printed book. This is the proudest day of my life. I'm like to bust,
girls. There'll be no sleep for me tonight. I'll read my book clean
through before sun-up."</p>
<p>"We'll go right away and leave you free to begin it," said Anne.</p>
<p>Captain Jim had been handling the book in a kind of reverent rapture.
Now he decidedly closed it and laid it aside.</p>
<p>"No, no, you're not going away before you take a cup of tea with the
old man," he protested. "I couldn't hear to that—could you, Matey?
The life-book will keep, I reckon. I've waited for it this many a
year. I can wait a little longer while I'm enjoying my friends."</p>
<p>Captain Jim moved about getting his kettle on to boil, and setting out
his bread and butter. Despite his excitement he did not move with his
old briskness. His movements were slow and halting. But the girls did
not offer to help him. They knew it would hurt his feelings.</p>
<p>"You just picked the right evening to visit me," he said, producing a
cake from his cupboard. "Leetle Joe's mother sent me down a big basket
full of cakes and pies today. A blessing on all good cooks, says I.
Look at this purty cake, all frosting and nuts. 'Tain't often I can
entertain in such style. Set in, girls, set in! We'll 'tak a cup o'
kindness yet for auld lang syne.'"</p>
<p>The girls "set in" right merrily. The tea was up to Captain Jim's best
brewing. Little Joe's mother's cake was the last word in cakes;
Captain Jim was the prince of gracious hosts, never even permitting his
eyes to wander to the corner where the life-book lay, in all its
bravery of green and gold. But when his door finally closed behind
Anne and Leslie they knew that he went straight to it, and as they
walked home they pictured the delight of the old man poring over the
printed pages wherein his own life was portrayed with all the charm and
color of reality itself.</p>
<p>"I wonder how he will like the ending—the ending I suggested," said
Leslie.</p>
<p>She was never to know. Early the next morning Anne awakened to find
Gilbert bending over her, fully dressed, and with an expression of
anxiety on his face.</p>
<p>"Are you called out?" she asked drowsily.</p>
<p>"No. Anne, I'm afraid there's something wrong at the Point. It's an
hour after sunrise now, and the light is still burning. You know it
has always been a matter of pride with Captain Jim to start the light
the moment the sun sets, and put it out the moment it rises."</p>
<p>Anne sat up in dismay. Through her window she saw the light blinking
palely against the blue skies of dawn.</p>
<p>"Perhaps he has fallen asleep over his life-book," she said anxiously,
"or become so absorbed in it that he has forgotten the light."</p>
<p>Gilbert shook his head.</p>
<p>"That wouldn't be like Captain Jim. Anyway, I'm going down to see."</p>
<p>"Wait a minute and I'll go with you," exclaimed Anne. "Oh, yes, I
must—Little Jem will sleep for an hour yet, and I'll call Susan. You
may need a woman's help if Captain Jim is ill."</p>
<p>It was an exquisite morning, full of tints and sounds at once ripe and
delicate. The harbor was sparkling and dimpling like a girl; white
gulls were soaring over the dunes; beyond the bar was a shining,
wonderful sea. The long fields by the shore were dewy and fresh in
that first fine, purely-tinted light. The wind came dancing and
whistling up the channel to replace the beautiful silence with a music
more beautiful still. Had it not been for the baleful star on the
white tower that early walk would have been a delight to Anne and
Gilbert. But they went softly with fear.</p>
<p>Their knock was not responded to. Gilbert opened the door and they
went in.</p>
<p>The old room was very quiet. On the table were the remnants of the
little evening feast. The lamp still burned on the corner stand. The
First Mate was asleep in a square of sunshine by the sofa.</p>
<p>Captain Jim lay on the sofa, with his hands clasped over the life-book,
open at the last page, lying on his breast. His eyes were closed and
on his face was a look of the most perfect peace and happiness—the
look of one who has long sought and found at last.</p>
<p>"He is asleep?" whispered Anne tremulously.</p>
<p>Gilbert went to the sofa and bent over him for a few moments. Then he
straightened up.</p>
<p>"Yes, he sleeps—well," he added quietly. "Anne, Captain Jim has
crossed the bar."</p>
<p>They could not know precisely at what hour he had died, but Anne always
believed that he had had his wish, and went out when the morning came
across the gulf. Out on that shining tide his spirit drifted, over the
sunrise sea of pearl and silver, to the haven where lost Margaret
waited, beyond the storms and calms.</p>
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