Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Teamat https://www.pgdp.net
THE CREATURE SPRANG TO ITS FEET]
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A LITTLE MAID OF PROVINCE TOWN
ByALICE TURNER CURTIS
Author OfA Little Maid of Massachusetts ColonyA Little Maid of Narragansett BayA Little Maid of Bunker HillA Little Maid of TiconderogaA Little Maid of Old ConnecticutA Little Maid of Old Philadelphia
Illustrated by Wuanita Smith
THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANYPhiladelphia
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COPYRIGHT1913 BYTHE PENNPUBLISHINGCOMPANY
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I. Anne Nelson 1 II. Anne Wins a Friend 14 III. Anne's Secret 27 IV. Anne and the Wolf 39 V. Scarlet Stockings 51 VI. Captured by Indians 62 VII. Out to Sea 73 VIII. On the Island 86 IX. The Castaways 97 X. Safe at Home 107 XI. Captain Enos's Secrets 119 XII. An Unexpected Journey 129 XIII. Anne Finds Her Father 143 XIV. A Candy Party 157 XV. A Spring Picnic 177 XVI. The May Party 186 XVII. The Sloop, "Peggy" 195
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ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGEThe Creature Sprang to Its Feet 1A Blanket Fell Over Her Head 65She Worked Steadily 111"This Is From Boston" 162The Boat Began to Tip 194
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A Little Maid of Province Town
CHAPTER I
ANNE NELSON
"I don't know what I can do with you, I'm sure!" declared MistressStoddard, looking down at the small girl who stood on her door-step gazingwistfully up at her.
"A man at the wharf said that you didn't have any little girls," respondedthe child, "and so I thought----"
"'Twas Joe Starkweather told you, I'll be bound," said Mrs. Stoddard."Well, he's seven of his own to fend for."
"Seven little girls?" said Anne Nelson, in an almost terror-strickenvoice, her dark eyes looking earnestly into the stern face that frowneddown upon her. "And what would become of them if their mother should die,and their father be lost at sea?"
"Sure enough. You have sense, child. But the Starkweathers are all boys.Well, come in. You can take your bundle to the loft and leave it, andwe'll see what I can find for you to do. How old are you?"
"Eight last March," responded Anne.
"Well, a child of eight isn't much use in a house, but maybe you can saveme steps."
"Yes, indeed, Mistress Stoddard; I did a deal to help my father about thehouse. He said I could do as much as a woman. I can sweep out for you, andlay the table and wash the dishes, and bring in the wood and water,and----" there came a break in the little girl's voice, and the womanreached out a kindly hand and took the child's bundle.
"Come in," she said, and Anne instantly felt the tenderness of her voice."We are poor enough, but you'll be welcome to food and shelter, child,till such time as some of your own kinsfolk send for thee."
"I have no kinsfolk," declared Anne; "my father told me that."
"Come you in; you'll have a bed and a crust while I have them to giveyou," declared the woman, and Anne Nelson went across the threshold and upto the bare loft, where she put her bundle down on a wooden stool andlooked about the room.
There was but a narrow bed in the corner, covered with a patchwork quilt,and the wooden stool where Anne had put her bundle. The one narrow windowlooked off across the sandy cart tracks which served as a road toward theblue waters of Cape Cod Bay. It was early June, and the strong breath ofthe sea filled the rough little house, bringing with it the fragrance ofthe wild cherry blossoms and an odor of pine from the scrubby growths onthe low line of hills back of the little settlement.
It was just a year ago, Anne remembered, as she unwrapped her bundle, thatshe and her father had sailed across the harbor from Ipswich, where hermother had died.
"We will live here, at the very end of the world, where a man may think ashe pleases," her father had said, and had moved their few householdpossessions into a three-roomed house near the shore. Then he had givenhis time to fishing, leaving Anne alone in the little house to do as shepleased.
She was a quiet child, and found entertainment in building sand houses onthe beach, in wandering along the shore searching for bright shells andsmooth pebbles, and in doing such simple household tasks as her youthadmitted. A week before her appearance at Mrs. Stoddard's door, JohnNelson had gone out in his fishing-boat, and now he had been given up aslost. No sign of him had been seen by the other fishermen, and it wasgenerally believed by his neighbors that his sloop had foundered and thatJohn Nelson had perished.
Some there were, however, who declared John Nelson to be a British spy,and hesitated not to say that he had sailed away to join some vessel ofthe British fleet with information as to the convenience of the harbor ofProvince Town, and with such other news as he had brought from Ipswich andthe settlements nearer Boston. For it was just before the war of theAmerican Revolution, when men were watched sharply and taken to taskspeedily for any lack of loyalty to the American colonies. And John Nelsonhad many a time declared that he believed England meant well by herAmerican possessions,--a statement which set many of his neighbors againsthim.
"'Mean well,' indeed!" Joseph Starkweather had replied to his neighbor'sremark. "When they have closed the port of Boston, so that no ship but theking's war-ships dare go in and out? Even our fishing-boats are closelywatched. Already the Boston people are beginning to need many things.Americans are not going to submit to feeding British soldiers while theirown men go hungry."
But now Joseph Starkweather was the only man who interested himself in thelonely child. Day after day of that first week of her father's absenceAnne had stayed close to the little house, looking hopefully out acrossthe harbor for a sight of his boat; and day after day Joseph Starkweatherhad come lounging down the beach to speak with the child, to ask her whatshe had for breakfast, and if she slept safe and unafraid.
"The meal is gone," she told him one morning, "and I do not sleep now--Iwait and listen for my father;" and then it was that he told her she mustseek another home.
"You are too young to stay alone," he said; "pick up a bundle of yourclothes and go to Mrs. Stoddard on the hill. She hasn't a chick or childof her own. Like as not you'll be a blessing to her." And Anne, used toobedience and sorrow, obeyed.
There was nothing of much value in the small house, but on the day afterAnne's entrance as a member of the Stoddard family, Captain Stoddardloaded the poor sticks of furniture on a handcart, and pulled it throughthe sandy tracks to his cottage door.
"It's the child of an English spy you're giving shelter to," he had said,when Martha Stoddard had told him that Anne was to live with them, "andshe'll bring no luck to the house." But his wife had made no response; thedark-eyed, elfish-looking child had already found a place in the woman'sheart.
"I don't eat so very much," Anne announced as Mrs. Stoddard gave her abowl of corn mush and milk when she came down-stairs.
"You'll eat what you want in this house, child," answered her new friend,and Anne ate hungrily.
"Now come to the door, Anne, and I'll brush out this tangle of hair ofyours," said Mrs. Stoddard; "and after this you must keep it
brushed andbraided neatly. And bring down your other frock. I'll be doing somewashing this afternoon, and I venture to say your frock is in need ofit."
The first few days in the Stoddard family seemed almost unreal to Anne.She no longer watched for her father's boat, she no longer wandered aboutthe beach, playing in the sand and hunting for shells. Her dresses werenot now the soiled and ragged covering which had served as frocks, butstout cotton gowns, made from a skirt of Mrs. Stoddard's, and covered witha serviceable apron. A sunbonnet of striped cotton covered the dark head,and Anne was as neat and well-dressed as the other children of thesettlement. To be sure her slender feet were bare and tanned, and hardenedby exposure; but there was not a child in the neighborhood who wore shoesuntil the frost came, and Mrs. Stoddard was already making plans forAnne's winter foot-gear.
"I'll trade off something for some moccasins for the child before fall,"she had resolved; "some of the Chatham Indians will get down this way whenthe beach plums begin to ripen, and will be glad of molasses, if I amlucky enough to have it."
For those were the days when the little coast settlements had but fewluxuries, and on Cape Cod the settlers were in fear of the British.Province Town was especially exposed, and at that time there were butthirty houses; and the people had no established communication with theoutside world. The sea was their thoroughfare, as a journey over the sandycountry from Province Town to Boston was almost impossible. News was along time in reaching the little settlement of fishermen. But they knewthat King George III had resolved to punish Boston for destroying hiscargoes of tea, and had made Salem the seat of government in the place ofBoston. War-ships from England hovered about the coast, and the childrenof Province Town were quick to recognize these unwelcome craft.
"Mistress Stoddard," said Anne one morning, when she had returned fromdriving the cow to the enclosed pasturage at some little distance from thehouse, "Jimmie Starkweather says there is a big ship off Race Point, andthat it is coming into harbor here. He says 'tis a British ship, and thatlike as not the men will land and burn down the houses and kill all thecows." Anne looked at Mrs. Stoddard questioningly.
"Nonsense!" responded the good woman. "Jimmie was but trying to make youafraid. 'Twas he sent thee running home last week in fear of a wolf thathe told you was prowling about."
"But there is a ship, Mistress Stoddard. I went up the hill and looked,and 'tis coming along like a great white bird."
"Like enough. The big ships go up toward Boston and Salem on every fairday. You know that well, child."
"This seems a different kind," persisted Anne; and at last Mrs. Stoddard'scuriosity was aroused, and with Anne close beside her she walked brisklyup to the hill and looked anxiously across the blue waters.
"'Tis much nearer, now," said Anne. "See, it's coming to--'twill anchor."
"Sure enough," answered Mrs. Stoddard. "Jimmie Starkweather is a wise lad.'Tis a British man-of-war. Trouble is near at hand, child."
"Will they kill our cow?" questioned Anne. "Jimmie said they would, andeat her," and Anne's voice trembled; for the small brown cow was thenearest approach to a pet that the little girl had. It seemed a losshardly to be borne if "Brownie" was to be sacrificed.
"It's like enough they will," replied Mrs. Stoddard. "They'll be sendingtheir boats ashore and taking what they can see. Run back to the pasture,Anne, and drive Brownie down the further slope toward the salt-meadow.There's good feed for her beyond the wood there, and she'll not wander farbefore nightfall, and she will not be quickly seen there."
Anne needed no urging. With another look toward the big ship, she fledback along the sandy road toward the pasture, and in a short time thebrown cow, much surprised and offended, was being driven at a run down thepasture slope, around the grove of scrubby maples to the little valleybeyond.
Anne waited until Brownie had sufficiently recovered from her surprise tobegin feeding again, apparently well content with her new pasturage, andthen walked slowly back toward the harbor. The village seemed almostdeserted. The children were not playing about the boats; there was no onebringing water from the spring near the shore, and as Anne looked outtoward the harbor, she saw two more big ships coming swiftly towardanchorage.
"Poor Brownie!" she said aloud, for if there was danger in one ship shewas sure that three meant that there was no hope for the gentle brown cowwhich she had just driven to a place of safety.
Before night a boatload of British sailors had landed, filled theirwater-barrels at the spring, bought some young calves of JosephStarkweather and returned quietly to their ships.
"They seem civil enough," said Captain Stoddard that night as he talkedthe newcomers over with his wife. "They know we could make no standagainst them, but they treated Joseph Starkweather fairly enough."
Anne listened eagerly. "Will they take Brownie?" she asked.
"Indeed they won't if I can help it," answered Mrs. Stoddard; "we'll notdrive the creature back and forth while the British are about. I can slipover the hill with a bucket and milk her night and morning. She's gentle,and there's no need of letting the pirates see how sleek and fat thecreature is."
"And may I go with you, Mistress Stoddard?" asked Anne.
"Of course, child," answered Mrs. Stoddard, smilingly.
After Anne had gone up to the loft to bed Captain Stoddard said slowly:"She seems a good child."
"That she does, Enos. Good and careful of her clothes, and eager to be ofhelp to me. She saves me many a step."
"'Tis John Nelson, they say, who has brought the Britishers into harbor,"responded Captain Enos slowly. "Joseph Starkweather swears that one of thesailors told him so when he bargained for the calves."
"Anne's not to blame!" declared Mrs. Stoddard loyally, but there was anote of anxiety in her voice; "as you said yourself, Enos, she's a goodchild."
"I'll not be keeping her if it proves true," declared the man stubbornly."True it is that they ask no military duty of any man in Province Town,but we're loyal folk just the same. We may have to barter with the Britishto save our poor lives, instead of turning guns on them as we should; butno man shall say that I took in a British spy's child and cared for it."
"They'd but say you did a Christian deed at the most," said his wife."You're not a hard man, Enos."
"I'll not harbor a traitor's child," he insisted, and Mrs. Stoddard wentsorrowfully to bed and lay sleepless through the long night, trying tothink of some plan to keep Anne Nelson safe and well cared for untilpeaceful days should come again.
And Anne, too, lay long awake, wondering what she could do to protect thelittle brown cow which now rested so securely on the further side of thehill.
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