Cape Cod (Mass.) -- Fiction; Short stories, American
“But, busy as I was, I see enough to make me worried. There was a good
deal of whispering over the Saunders back gate after supper, and once,
when I come up over the bluff from the shore sudden, they was sitting
together on a rock and he had his arm round her waist. I dropped a hint
to Phoebe Ann, but she shut me up quicker'n a snap-hinge match-box.
Allie had charmed 'auntie' all right. And so it drifted along till
September.
“One Monday evening about the middle of the month I went over to Phoebe
Ann's to borrow some matches. Barbara wasn't in--gone out to lock up
the hens, or some such fool excuse. But Phoebe was busting full of joy.
Cap'n Eben had arrived in New York a good deal sooner'n was expected and
would be home on Thursday morning.
“'He's going from Boston to Provincetown on the steamer, Wednesday,'
says Phoebe. 'He's got some business over there. Then he's coming home
from Provincetown on the early train. Ain't that splendid?'
“I thought 'twas splendid for more reasons than one, and I went out
feeling good. But as I come round the corner of the house there was
somebody by the back gate, and I heard a girl's voice sayin': 'Oh, no,
no! I can't! I can't!'
“If I hadn't trod on a stick maybe I'd have heard more, but the racket
broke up the party. Barbara come hurrying past me into the house, and
by the light from the back door, I see her face. 'Twas white as a
clam-shell, and she looked frightened to death.
“Thinks I: 'That's funny! It's a providence Eben's coming home so soon.'
“And the next day I saw her again, and she was just as white and
wouldn't look me in the eye. Wednesday, though, I felt better, for the
servants on the Davidson place told me that Allie had gone to Boston on
the morning train to be gone for good, and that they was going to shut
up the house and haul up the launch in a day or so.
“Early that afternoon, as I was coming from my shanty to the bluff on
my way to the shore after dinner, I noticed a steam-yacht at anchor two
mile or so off the bar. She must have come there sence I got in, and I
wondered whose she was. Then I see a dingey with three men aboard rowing
in, and I walked down the beach to meet 'em.
“Sometimes I think there is such things as what old Parson Danvers used
to call 'dispensations.' This was one of 'em. There was a feller in
a uniform cap steering the dingey, and, b'lieve it or not, I'll be
everlastingly keelhauled if he didn't turn out to be Ben Henry, who was
second mate with me on the old Seafoam. He was surprised enough to see
me, and glad, too, but he looked sort of worried.
“'Well, Ben,' says I, after we had shook hands, 'well, Ben,' I says, 'my
shanty ain't exactly the United States Hotel for gilt paint and bill of
fare, but I HAVE got eight or ten gallons of home-made cherry rum and
some terbacker and an extry pipe. You fall into my wake.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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