CHAPTER XIV. THE STORM.
The expected storm arrived the next day, although not in its usual fury.However, as there was no real need for Muriel or her grandfather to crossthe bay, which was wind-lashed into white-capped, choppy waves, theyremained in the house.
"Queer the way our reg'lar crasher of a storm is delayin' this year,"Captain Ezra said on the third night after the rains began. Muriel, whowas washing cups at the time, suddenly whirled, and throwing her armsabout the old man, regardless of her soapy hands, she cried passionately:
"I'd be glad if they never came, Grand-dad. I don't know why 'tis, butwhen the lightning zigzags all aroun' like a sword of fire, the thunderseems to roar, 'Some day I'll crash yer light that's tryin' to defy me.'"
The old captain looked truly distressed. "Rilly gal," he said, "I wishyo' didn't take such queer notions. You're jest like yer mother wasbefore yo'. She used to come singing down from the top o' the cliff andtell me yarns 'bout what the wind and the waves had been tellin' her. Lemused to say she'd ought to be sent somewhar's an' taught to writestories. That'd be a good channel, he opinioned, to let out the notionsthat was cooped up in her head, an' here yo' are jest like her."
The old man looked so truly distressed that the girl exclaimedcontritely: "Yo' dear ol' Grand-dad, if it's worryin' yo', I'll try to bediff'rent. I might be like Lindy Wixon now. She don't have any queernotions.
"I asked her once if she wouldn't like to visit the star that's so brightin the evenin', an' she stared like she thought I was loony, honest shedid." Then, stooping, the girl laughingly peered into the troubled eyesbeneath the shaggy grey brows. "How would yo' like to change gals,Grand-dad? I kin----"
"Belay there, fust mate. That tack's crazier than the fust." Then liftinga listening ear, he added: "The wind's rising. I reckon the big storm iscrusin' this way arter all." But Captain Ezra was wrong, for, althoughthe wind blew a gale and the leaden clouds were hurled low above thelight and the rain now and then fell in wind-driven sheets, changing attimes to hail that rattled against the windows, still the tempest thatoften came in the fall was delayed. Perhaps, indeed, as the captain beganto hope, it was not coming at all that year, for, whenever it had passed,it had taken its toll of lives and boats, however faithfully the warninglight flashed its beacon rays out through the storm.
There was a week of inclement weather, and Muriel often stood in the warmkitchen looking out across the waters of the bay that were sometimesblack under the sudden squalls and sometimes livid green when the sun andrain were struggling together for mastery, but the girl's thoughts werenot of the weather but of what might be happening in Tunkett.
In fancy she looked into the newly adorned cabin where Captain Barney hadlived alone for so many years, but, try as she might, she could notpicture there the old "mither" he had so yearned to see.
Then in imagination she visited the glassed-in veranda of DoctorWinslow's home, but it was empty and the windows of the house werecovered with heavy wooden blinds.
Shuddering, she turned back into the room to find that the fire in thestove was dying down. It was cold; that was why she was shivering, shedecided. Maybe her grand-dad was right. She was becoming too fanciful.
Putting on an armful of dry driftwood, she began to sing as she preparedthe evening meal, and her old grandfather, who came down the spiralstairs, having set the light to whirling, felt cheered when he heard themusical voice of his "gal."
The next morning, to the joy of Muriel, there were only a few vagrantclouds in the sky and the stars were shining when she arose.
It seemed as though never before had there been such a glory in the eastas there was when Apollo drove his flaming chariot, the sun, high abovethe horizon, once more triumphing over Jupiter Pluvius, the God of Rain,but of mythology Muriel, as yet, knew nothing.
What she did know, and it set her heart and voice to singing an anthem ofgladness, was that the storm was over and that she might sail to Tunkettand inquire after her dear friends, the old and the new.
Her grandfather, too, wished to visit the store of Mrs. Sol, for thesupply of oil must be replenished. It would never do to let it get belowa certain depth in the great tank which contained it, for there mightcome a storm of unusual length and fury and the light must be keptburning.
Muriel felt more optimistic, for we are all somewhat mercurial fortemperament, and it is much easier to believe that all is well when thesun is shining, and yet, is not the sun always shining just behind theclouds that never last?
At the wharf they parted, the old sea captain going at once to the store,while Muriel hastened up the main road toward the home of Dr. Winslow. Asshe neared it she suddenly stood still and gazed her dismay, hardly ableto believe what she saw. "Arter all, 'twa'n't queer notions," she said ina low voice. "'Twas true!" And indeed it was. The physician's blinds werebarred over the windows. Doctor Winslow had received word from thehospital in New York over which he presided that if he would shorten hisvacation this year it would be greatly appreciated, and as Gene Beavershad gained strength enough to travel, he had accompanied the physician.
Miss Brazilla Mullet, from a window of her cottage on the other side ofthe low evergreen hedge, saw Muriel standing as though stunned and shehurried out with a letter. "Gene Beavers left it for you, Rilly," shesaid, "an' he wanted me to tell you that he's gettin' stronger, an' assoon's he's able to travel alone he's comin' back, if only for a day, tobe tellin' you goodbye; but like's not he's told you all that in theletter." Then, as the air was nippy with frost, Miss Brazilla hurriedindoors again. Rilla placed the letter in the pocket of her coat andwalked back to meet her grandfather.
Together they had planned to visit the cabin on the dunes and see CaptainBarney, but they did not go, for, when Muriel beheld her grand-dademerging from the store, she knew by his expression that he, too, had sadnews to tell her.
"No need to go to Barney's, fust mate," he said. "He's not there an' thecabin's shut up tight's a clam. 'Pears that when he got to Boston and metthe incomin' steamer the young priest that was comin' over with his ol'mither tol' him as how she'd been all ready to start, an' then wa'n'tstrong enough to make the v'yage. 'Twas best, the priest said, it bein'stormy all the way, but she'd sent word that she'd come in the spring."
"That's how it's been for years," the girl declared. "But where is UncleBarney? What did he do?" Rilla's voice was tremulous and eager.
"He signed articles to sail back on the same boat as steward, an' he hadthe young priest write to Mrs. Sol to shut up his cabin but to leavethings shipshape as he'd cruise back in the spring and bring his ol'mither."
There were tears in the eyes of the girl, and, as she held close to hisarm, Captain Ezra felt her tremble. "Grand-dad, we'd better be hurryin'home," she said. "The sky's cloudin' fast an' it's gettin' colder."
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