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Little Maid of Province Town, A

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<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> <h3>THE SLOOP, “PEGGY”</h3> The sloop, “Peggy,” was becalmed. Anne, Amanda and Amos looked over the smooth stretch of water, but there was not a ripple to be seen. Since sunrise, the boat had not moved. They had made the start at midnight, as they had planned, and had sailed away under a fair wind; but before the sun rose the wind had died away, and the mainsail now swung back and forth and the boat drifted slowly with the current. None of the children had thought of bringing a jug of fresh water, and the salt fish and corn bread which they had brought along for food made them very thirsty. “We’re off Barnstable now,” said Amos. “I’ve a mind to let the boat drift in nearer shore and anchor, and then row ashore in the tender and get some water.” <div class='figcenter'> 196 <ANTIMG src='images/illus-199.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 309px; height: 461px;' /> THE BOAT BEGAN TO TIP </div> <div>197</div> “How far is Barnstable from Boston?” asked Anne. “Miles and miles,” answered Amos. “’Tis only about half-way up the cape from Province Town.” “Then we could not walk to Boston from there?” “No,” said Amos; “why should we walk? There’ll be a good breeze come sunset. All we need is a good drink of water, and there’s a water-jug in the cabin. I can take it ashore and fill it at some spring.” As the children talked, the current had carried the boat steadily toward shore, but now it did not move. “She’s stuck on a sand-bar,” exclaimed Amos, “and the tide’s turning. Perhaps I can walk ashore.” It was not long before the boat began to tip to one side, and as the tide went out, they found themselves on a sand-bar, a full half mile from shore. The water seemed to flow in little channels, like wide brooks, here and there, between the boat and the land, and Amos wondered if he could either jump or wade those channels. The hot July sun beat down upon them, they were 198 very thirsty and uncomfortable, and Amanda began to wish herself at home. “We ought not to have started,” she said, ready to cry. “I know my mother won’t like it, and Mistress Stoddard will not like it, either.” Anne was very quiet. She was thirsty, hot and uncomfortable, and being run aground on a sand-bar near a strange shore was a very different thing from her other prosperous voyage with Captain Enos. What if they should never reach Boston at all? “They will all think that we have run away this time,” said Amos, who had stepped over the side of the boat onto the sand-bar. “Oh, no, they won’t,” said Anne. “I wrote on a smooth chip, ‘Amanda and Amos and I have gone to Boston to find my father,’ and put it on the kitchen table.” “I believe I could get across those channels some way,” declared Amos, “and I am so thirsty that I’m going to try it.” Amanda brought him the small stone jug from the cabin, and telling the girls not even to step out of the boat until he came back, Amos started for the shore. They saw him wade the 199 first channel, run across a long stretch of wet sand, cross the other channel and reach the shore safely. “Goody!” exclaimed Amanda; “now he will find a spring, fill the jug and hurry back, and we can have a good drink of water,” and she turned smilingly to Anne. But Anne was looking very sober. She had been thinking over her other trip, and now remembered what Mrs. Stoddard had said when she returned from Boston. “Oh, Amanda!” she said, looking ready to cry, “when I ran off before with Uncle Enos, Aunt Martha did tell me that I must never do so again. Now I have disobeyed her, and perhaps she will not want me to live with her any more.” “Then you can live with your father,” answered Amanda cheerfully. “But my father was to live with us,” said Anne. “He was to have the big, pleasant loft that looks toward the water, and was to help Uncle Enos with the fishing. Perhaps they will not want either of us since I have been so unruly and disobedient.” Amanda longed to tell Anne that she should 200 have a home with her, but she remembered that the white kitten had to be given away because they could not afford to keep it, and so kept silent. “I hope Amos will not linger,” she said, after a little silence. “He forgets that we are as thirsty as he is.” The little girls watched the shore anxiously, expecting every minute to see Amos hurrying back with a jug full of fresh water, but time passed and he did not come. “I think the tide has turned,” said Amanda. “See, the channels are widening every minute. If Amos does not come soon the water will be too deep. Oh, dear! I am afraid something has befallen him.” “What could befall him?” questioned Anne. “’Tis a smooth and pleasant shore, with much taller trees than grow about Province Town. He is just playing about and has forgotten us.” Anne was nearly right, for after Amos had found a fine boiling spring and had drunk all he wanted and then filled his jug, he had sat down to rest under a wide-spreading oak tree. The day was hot, he was very tired and sleepy, having been awake all the night before, and 201 without forgetting the “Peggy” or her crew, he dropped gently off to sleep. The tide came in, lifted the “Peggy” from the sand-bar and a gentle breeze carried her steadily out from shore, and Amos slept on, knowing nothing of what had happened. The sun was very low in the western sky when he awoke. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, snatched up the jug and ran to the shore, but there was no boat to be seen. Amos was now thoroughly frightened. He ran up and down the quiet shore, calling the name of his boat and shouting, “Amanda!” “Anne!” at the top of his voice. The shadows of the summer night deepened, a little haze rose over the water, and Amos, crouching down near the water’s edge, waited for night to come. “I know I shall never sleep any more,” he whispered to himself, hardly daring to think of what might happen to the little girls. He wished that he had lowered the mainsail before coming ashore. “I ought to have dropped anchor, anyway,” he said aloud, and almost forgot to be hungry in his anxiety. The shadows grew deeper, night settled down 202 on land and sea and Amos went fast asleep again, with his bare feet almost within reach of the waves that rolled so softly up over the smooth sand. Anne and Amanda watched the tide come in about the “Peggy,” and soon felt the boat move under them. Then the mainsail filled and swung out, as the breeze came up. “Try and steer ashore, Amanda,” exclaimed Anne. “I dare not touch the rudder,” said Amanda. “Whenever I have been in a boat, my father has told me to sit still; and I do think it is the best thing we can do now, Anne.” “Mayhap the wind will take us home again,” said Anne, “and then your father will come back and find Amos.” “More like ’twill take us straight out to sea,” said Amanda. “’Tis all my fault,” said Anne; “I did prevail on you and Amos to come.” “We both liked well to come,” answered Amanda stoutly. “Amos should have known better, for he is older. But he likes a risk over well, and now he can play shipwrecked to his heart’s desire.” 203 “My eyes are heavy with sleep,” said Anne. “Let us say the small prayer that Elder Haven taught us and sleep a little. ’Tis dark and foggy; we can see nothing.” Amanda reached out her sunburned little hand and clasped Anne’s, and they repeated aloud the prayer, asking for help and protection, which Elder Haven had taught them; then, curling themselves up in the bottom of the boat, they went fast asleep. But the “Peggy” did not sail far. The wind died away, and the boat drifted with the tide. When the little girls awoke it was bright sunshine, and a big ship was coming slowly down upon them. “’Tis a Britisher!” Amanda exclaimed; “like as not she’s bound for England and will carry us straight off,” and Amanda began crying bitterly. Before Anne could answer there came a hail from the ship, and Anne and Amanda called back, “Sloop ‘Peggy’! Sloop ‘Peggy’!” as loudly as they could, as they had heard Province Town captains do in answer to hails from harbor boats. It was not long before the big vessel was near 204 enough for the sailors to distinguish that there were only two little girls on board the drifting sloop, and a man was ready with a stout boat-hook, which he grappled about the “Peggy’s” mast, and a big man with reddish hair and blue eyes slid down a rope and swung himself on board the sloop. “Zounds!” exclaimed the sailor, “if ’Tis not the little Province Town maid again! And adrift like this. I’ll have to take you to England and let Betsey and Harriet take care of you!” Before he had finished both Anne and Amanda had begun to cry. They were sure now that they should never see home again, and William Trull had some trouble in convincing them that he did not mean to take them to England. But the captain had small patience with the delay, and called out that ’twas best to sink the sloop rather than lose a fair wind out of harbor. “I cannot be leaving two helpless maids adrift,” William Trull called back. “They are from the Province Town settlement.” “Take them back to it, if you like, and find your way across the Atlantic as best you may,” 205 retorted the English captain angrily. “We can’t stand by for such folly.” Poor William Trull looked at the little girls in dismay. To be left stranded on American territory was the last thing he desired. “Can’t you tow our boat down to Province Town?” pleaded Anne. “We won’t hurt you.” “Ha! ha!” laughed the captain, and even William Trull joined in the laughter of the crew, while Anne and Amanda wondered why the sailors laughed. “Well,” and the captain’s voice was more friendly as he leaned over his ship’s railing and gazed down at the little girls, “if you won’t run us down we’ll take you along that far. You can stay on the sloop, Trull, till we get near the tip of the cape. ’Tis plain American children are not easily frighted.” The sloop was now taken in tow, and although the little girls pleaded that a boat be sent to find Amos, William Trull shook his head. “’twill not do,” he declared, “to ask it of the captain; and if the boy be a smart boy he’ll make his way home, never fear.” It was some comfort to Amanda to declare that Amos was the smartest boy in the settlement; 206 that he could make fire as Indians did, and that he knew many ways of snaring birds and fish. “Never fear for a boy like that,” said the sailor. Anne was eager to ask him if he knew anything of her father, and William Trull owned that he did. “’twas your father who some way got word to Newburyport and Portsmouth men to be ready to fight,” he said. “’twas cleverly done, they tell me, but no one has found out how.” “I know,” said Anne, “because I helped.” Then remembering Captain Stoddard’s caution, she put her hand over her mouth. “I must not tell,” she said. The sailor looked at her in astonishment. “Even the children are ‘rebels,’” he declared, “and helping when chance comes. ’Tis a great country. I’ll not question you, child, but I’ll tell my little girls about you, and that you helped to send the English home. Your own father will soon be telling you how the Americans drove the English; but you must keep a kind thought for me.” “Oh, I do wish you would stay and be an 207 American, Mr. William Trull, and bring your little girls to live in Province Town,” said Anne. “Who knows?” said the sailor. “It may be I’ll be coming back with my family. I like this country well. Your father will be coming to Province Town soon, never fear,” he added, “for now Boston port is open to all, and the fishermen are going in and out as they please.” Amanda had not been much interested in what the sailor had to say. She was thinking that Amos must be very hungry; and when William Trull climbed aboard the big vessel and the sloop dropped behind near the Province Town shore, she was greatly rejoiced. It was not long that the “Peggy” was alone. Men on shore had been watching and were quick to recognize the sloop, and a boat was sent out. Amanda recognized that her father was in it, as well as Captain Enos and Jimmie Starkweather, and called out in delight. There was an anxious crowd on the beach, and Mrs. Stoddard and Amanda’s mother ran eagerly forward to greet the little girls, and to ask what had become of Amos. It was soon evident that Jimmie Starkweather 208 and the other boys were inclined to be envious of Amos’s good fortune; and when Mr. Cary made his own boat ready to sail for Barnstable to bring Amos home Jimmie was very proud to be selected to accompany him. “How shall we ever feel safe about thee, child?” said Mrs. Stoddard, as she and Anne walked toward home. “Are you always to be seeking your father without telling us? If you had but waited you would have saved us all this worry, and Amos would now be safe at home.” “But I have news, Aunt Martha,” pleaded Anne. “Mr. William Trull told me my father might soon be with us. I will not leave you again, unless, indeed, you no longer want me.” “Of course we want you, Anne. But I have better news than the English sailor gave you. Look! Here comes some one whom you will be glad to see,” but before she had finished speaking Anne had sprung forward with an exclamation of delight, for her father was coming down the path to the shore. “I came down in one of Mr. Freeman’s fishing-boats,” he explained, as, hand in hand, he and Anne walked back to join Mrs. Stoddard. 209 Anne danced along happily, and Mrs. Stoddard smiled as she looked at the little girl. “And now I hope for peace,” declared the good woman. “Anne will not let you go again, John Nelson. You will have to be content to stay in Province Town.” The next day Elder Haven came to see John Nelson to hear more about the great triumphs of the Americans; and when Anne’s father told him of Captain Stoddard’s trip to Newburyport, with Anne carrying the important message for the Newburyport patriots, the good clergyman held up his hands in wonder. “She is a brave little maid,” he said. “It should be put on record that a maid of Province Town helped the Americans to win their just cause against King George. Indeed it should.” “She is a brave child,” agreed Captain Enos. “I was sure of it when I heard her defend her father at the spring,” and the good captain chuckled at the remembrance of Anne’s battle with the Cary children, who were now her staunchest friends. “Amos is safe home, and proud enough; he is lording it well over his mates,” said Elder Haven. “You must not run away again, 210 Anne,” he added more gravely, resting a gentle hand on the dark head. “No, oh, no!” replied Anne, “not unless my father and Aunt Martha and Uncle Enos go with me.” <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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