Edward Barron

“ Without another word or look he turned and sought his room in the forecastle.
Half an hour later, as he lay staring into the darkness, he heard a muffled beat, as of a drum. Betty was playing her guitar in her room.
Gradually the drum-beat increased and quickened until it grew into a continuous roll, a throbbing cadence that thrilled through and through him. The roar of the wind and the mutter of the sea were in the shattering roll of the drum.
At the very height of its clamor—while he strove in vain to catch its meaning—it passed abruptly into silence. He was left staring into the dark. ”

“ Little red glints flashed from the surface of the water and seemed to be reflected in the depths of Miss Yarnell’s sombre eyes.
She stood with her hands behind her, her head turned a little from him, but held very proudly. A strong woman, evidently; a passionate one, perhaps; a devoted one, if the right man were found. Fessenden, studying her covertly, realized that for the second time that day he had encountered a girl who stirred in him an interest novel and delightful. ”

“ Fessenden laughed. “I ran across Danton in Baltimore. Blame it all on him.”
“Charlie Danton? Oh, isn’t he most exasperating! Now, come up and meet everybody. Boys and girls, this is Mr. Fessenden—Mrs. Randall and Dick Randall, over there. And Pinckney—Pinck, do get out of that chair long enough to be polite!—my lord and master, Tom. That’s my cousin, May Belle—May Belle Cresap—and Harry Cleborne; and this is Miss Yarnell, the celebrated Miss Madge Yarnell; and—and that’s all. How funny! I do believe I’m the only one of us you’ve ever met before.” ”

“ She clucked to her steed, and the old mare, disdainfully obedient, conveyed them straight through the brook—the water rising to the hub—and up the windings of a wood-road beyond.
“The first thing a man wants to know on a picnic,” affirmed Betty sagely, “is whether or not there’s enough to eat. There isn’t, but there will be.” ”

“ The bracing air and the dancing yacht, if not the conversation, held Fessenden’s interest for an hour or two. As he headed toward home, the glory of the day put a happy idea into his head. He would return Betty’s picnic of yesterday by a day’s sail on the Wisp. Somehow he would manage to elude his Sandywood responsibilities again.
Darkness always fell long before dinner was served at Sandywood. Therefore, Fessenden, going for a stroll in the wilderness of a garden, ostensibly to indulge in an ante-prandial cigar, found in the dusk no difficulty in extending his walk to White Cottage. ”

“ Before she could carry out her evident purpose of forcing her uneasy horse to the very dashboard, Fessenden slipped from the landau, ducked under the mare’s head, and, seizing the sorrel by the bit, forced him back.
“What’s up, Miss Yarnell?” he said, with stern jocularity. “You mustn’t ride into people’s laps, you know.”
“Oh, I don’t want you,” she said. “I want her.” Again the silver-mounted whip was brandished toward the calash-top.
Betty’s piquant face emerged from its depths. “Are you looking for me?” she asked very sweetly. ”

“ Betty serenely assumed command. “I’ll take the wheel, Boatswain Bob,” she said, “and you get up sail.”
He cast off from the float, and set jib, flying jib, and mainsail in a trice. As the sloop gathered headway, the helmswoman stood under the stern of the larger yacht.
“Good-by, good-by, children,” called Danton patronizingly.
“Bon voyage, children,” chorused Madge. “Be sure to love each other.”
“Good-by, old married people,” retorted Fessenden.
The Wisp stood wing-and-wing down the sound. Fessenden lounged at his ease beside the charming captain. ”

“ He braced the wheel against his knee and began to haul in the sheet.
“You’re going back?”
“Yes.”
“To put me ashore?”
“Right, my lady.”
“Then you intend to sail off again to—to do what you like?”
“Humanly speaking, yes.”
In spite of the heeling deck she rose abruptly, her eyes wide and resolute.
“Mr. Fessenden, I’m going with you this afternoon, wherever you go. If you take me back to the landing, I won’t go on shore. You’ll have to use force, and I warn you I’ll resist, and I’m strong for a woman. I solemnly vow I’ll make a dreadful scene. And I’ll scream, and I can scream hideously!” ”

“ Fessenden could not respond to the other’s mood. “All very well. But what will Betty say?”
“Ask her.”
“I intend to. But is she old enough—is she in a position—to understand?”
“I tell you, yes.”
“And I tell you I’m very doubtful. A mere child, a country girl, ignorant of the world, ignorant, perhaps, of what marriage means! It’s a hard position for me, and it may be worse—it may be horrible—for her.”
“Ask her,” repeated Danton. “Look there!” He levelled his walking-stick. “Do you see the dunes there—the second hill? Somewhere beyond that you’ll find Madge and Betty.” ”

“ Betty isn’t much more than a child—a very charming one, I admit.”
“Who?” demanded Cleborne, “Betty?”
“Betty Landis, man. Aren’t you talking about her?”
“Never heard of her,” returned the other shortly. “I’m talking about you know whom, Mr. Fessenden. I’m sorry I spoke. I wanted to give you a friendly hint that you should let another man look after his—his own himself. I don’t care to be laughed at in this way.”
“What the devil do you mean?”
Cleborne pushed back his chair savagely. “I’m through,” he snapped.
As good as his word, he stalked off to join May Belle. ”

“ In a moment the cabin-hatch was opened wide enough to let a sleepy voice be heard. “Did you call me, Bob White?”
“I didn’t mean to wake you, child, but land’s in sight.”
“Land? Oh, that’s good! But I must have been sleeping for hours. You oughtn’t to have let me be so selfish.”
“Not at all. You can do your trick at the wheel whenever you’re ready, and I’ll turn in a while.”
“I’ll be out in ten minutes—no, twenty, for I’m going to get breakfast for you.”
“Breakfast!”
“Certainly. Do you think you can drink a cup of hot coffee?”
“Jupiter Pluvius! Hot coffee? Alas, I must be mad.” ”

“ The color in her cheeks deepened a little. “Not at all. It’s my own fault. This afternoon—just for an hour or two—I’ve been dreaming—pretending I wasn’t grown up. It’s so sad to be grown up.”
His eyes sparkled with instant sympathy. “After all, are you so very old?”
She was seventeen or thereabouts, he guessed—a girl lately arrived at womanhood. Her hair was arranged in a bewildering fashion, requiring a ribbon here and there to keep its blonde glory within bounds. Beneath the dark brows and darker lashes blue eyes showed in sudden flashes—like the glint of bayonets from an ambush. ”

“ The course was set southeast for Rincoteague Island. After a dubious phrase or two about the weather, Aunty Landis ensconced herself just within the opened doors of the little cabin. Here she produced an infinite number of gigantic stockings (male) from a work-bag, and proceeded to darn them.
“I hope both you and your aunt are good sailors,” said Fessenden. “It promises to be a bit rough before we get back.”
“Oh, yes. I hope it does blow. To be wet and cold, and to see the water boiling up ready to drown us—that would be living!”
“You strange child! You have a philosophy all your own. ”

“ He smiled soberly at Fessenden’s interested face. “Tom,” he said, “every word I’m telling you is for your soul’s good. It’s all the truth, but it’s a parable, too—for you. Well, as I reached the doorway between the two rooms, somebody seized both my elbows from behind. By George! She’s as strong as a man.” ”

“ The sailor suit of yesterday had given place to a simple white frock—Fessenden noticed that it came fairly to her ankles, now discreetly slippered and stockinged.
At the moment of seating themselves at table, they were joined by Uncle Landis, a middle-aged farmer whose preternaturally-shining face and plastered hair, not to mention a silence unbroken throughout the meal, gave plain proof of recent rigorous social instruction on the part of his help-meet.
The memory of that supper has always been a delight to Fessenden. The omelet was all golden foam ”

“ At dusk they lowered all sail, let go the anchor, and made the sloop secure for the night.
Then, with his respectful help, Betty cooked the dinner, and served it on a camp-table in the cockpit.
That dinner was Olympian. A sirloin steak, deliciously broiled—“I intend to give you a man’s dinner,” she had declared; French fried potatoes, as hot as the flames they came hissing from; coffee, as clear as amber; and fresh tea-biscuits which one was allowed to dip in Kitty Hawk honey. ”

“ Accordingly, Betty took the wheel and skilfully put the sloop alongside a smaller pier—rather rotted and insecure, to be sure—on the lee or ocean side of the island.
While Fessenden was making the Wisp fast, Mrs. Landis and Betty explored the larder, with highly satisfactory results. Potted slices of chicken, strawberry jam, boxed crackers, pickles, and aerated waters of several sorts, furnished “eatin’ stuff enough for anybody,” as Mrs. Landis avowed. She herself had thought to bring half a dozen wooden picnic plates and a complement of knives, forks, and spoons. ”

“ Guess I heard of Puddin’ Tame before you was born.”
“I believe your guess is incorrect, James.”
“No, ’tain’t neither. Say, here’s the letter for you. There ain’t no answer.” He thrust an envelope into Fessenden’s fingers, and disappeared around the corner of the house with a derisive whoop.
The sound served to divert the tea-drinkers from their chatter.
“What! A billet doux already?” said Mrs. Dick Randall. “This is rushing matters, Mr. Fessenden. I think it’s only fair you should let us know who she is.” A chorus of exclamations followed, in which, however, Miss Yarnell did not join. ”

“ Betty, look here! I’m staying at Sandywood only until Tuesday, and to-day’s Friday. H-i-n-t!”
She rose and made him an adorable curtsy. “Bob White, Esquire, I respectfully invite you to come to my picnic to-morrow.”
“Will there be a picnic, really?”
“Yes—for you and me.”
“Great! I’ll come, and humbly thank you.”
“Then you must be at the foot of the lane by the brook at ten o’clock to-morrow morning. And it’s another secret, remember. Do you think you can get away?”
“I will get away. Perhaps I can invent a business letter that will call me to Baltimore.” ”

“ Before the hour of the wedding came, certain matters had been attended to. Letters had been written in time to catch the launch which would return with the minister from Kitty Hawk to the mainland. The clothing stock of the “Bazaar” had been materially reduced by the demands both Betty and Fessenden had made upon it. The Wisp had been loaded with everything in the way of food, water, and utensils, that could be needed for a fortnight’s cruise.
“Why bother with the sloop?” Danton had demanded. “There’s plenty of room on the West Wind. We can all go honeymooning together, eh, Madge? ”

“ And hyah’s some milk. Yo’ ’member Jersey Molly, Miss Betty? Yas’m, this is her milk. None o’ yo’ pastorilized stuff neither—this is jes’ plain milk.”
“Betty,” said Fessenden, when Jim George had left them to themselves, “allow me to drink your health in Jersey Molly wine.”
“BETTY, ALLOW ME TO DRINK YOUR HEALTH IN JERSEY MOLLY WINE”
She touched her tumbler laughingly to his. “Skoal! Bob White, do you know it was only the day before yesterday you picked me out of the brook?”
“I was just thinking of that. At any rate, we’re better acquainted than people ordinarily are in months.” ”

“ He overtook her in half a dozen strides, and throwing his arm about her shoulders, fairly swept her along with himself. She came no higher than his shoulders as she ran. Her eyes laughed up at him, and her shining hair brushed his lips. Aunty Landis was left hopelessly in the rear.
At the old pier, the waves, running far in beneath the flooring, were breaking against the ancient piles, while the structure complained in every joint. ”

“ I’ve always called her Aunty Landis.”
“Roland Cary that they all talked about! Not a man, but you?”
“Are you awfully disappointed? I was named after my great-uncle, General Roland Cary.”
“Great Scott! Polly Cresap said Roland Cary was charming. Mrs. Dick Randall told me that he—no, that Roland Cary was a ‘dee-vil.’ Cresap quite raved over—over Roland Cary. I’ve been as blind as an owl!” ”

“ He would have attempted to recover the ironed-out sail by reaching for it with a boat-hook—a foolhardy undertaking at any time—but Betty, divining his intention as he showed black against the whitening crest of the waves, screamed so shrilly that he desisted. There was nothing left for him to do but to make his way back to the wheel.
“Child,” he said, “you’re wet through, and I’m afraid we’ve a wetter time before us. There’s no use in your staying out here to get soaked every other minute. Go in the cabin, out of harm’s way.”
“But you’re being soaked, too.”
“I’m a man.” ”

“ Leaving the helm in her charge, Fessenden literally crawled forward. Ordinarily, the jib was handled by means of the sheet led aft through a couple of small blocks to the helmsman, so that one man could both sail and steer without moving from his place. Now, however, the fierceness of the wind impelled Fessenden to extra precautions in his endeavor to make sail.
He took care to wrap the sheet twice about a cleat before hoisting away, but as soon as the jib rose above the low gunwale, the wind tore it from the lower bolt-ropes, and it blew straight out, held only by the bowsprit halliard. ”

“ The Wisp, tied stem and stern to a string-piece, was plunging furiously.
“She seems to be all right,” said Fessenden, “but I think I’ll put an extra half-hitch in each of those lines.” He still steadied Betty against the wind as he spoke. “It wouldn’t be pleasant to be forced to go home in that excursion boat.”
Releasing his companion, reluctantly enough, he made his way out on the wharf. She promptly followed.
“Go back, child. The wind will blow you away.” ”