Upon Captain Jerry's face settled the look of one who accepts the melancholy inevitable. He sat down again.
"I s'posed she would," he said with a sigh. "She's known me for quite a spell now, and she's had a chance to see what kind of a man I be. Well, what else did you do? Ain't settled the weddin' day, have you?" This with marked sarcasm.
"Not yit. Jerry, you've made a mistake. I didn't ask her for you."
"Didn't ask her--didn't--What are you talkin' 'bout, then?"
"I asked her for myself. She's goin' to marry me."
Captain Jerry was too much astonished even to get up. Instead, he simply sat still with open mouth while his friend continued.
"I've come to think a lot of Mrs. Snow sence she's been here," Captain Eri said slowly, "and I've found out that she's felt the same way 'bout me. I've kept still and said nothin' 'cause I thought you ought to have the fust chance and, besides, I didn't know how she felt. But to-day, while we was talkin', it all come out of itself, seems so, and--well, we're goin' to be married."
The sacrifice--a sacrifice no longer--still sat silent, but curious changes of expression were passing over his face. Surprise, amazement, relief, and now a sort of grieved resignation.
"I feel small enough 'bout the way I've treated you, Jerry," continued Captain Eri. "I didn't mean to--but there! it's done, and all I can do is say I'm sorry and that I meant to give you your chance. I shan't blame you if you git mad, not a bit; but I hope you won't."
Captain Jerry sighed. When he spoke it was in a tone of sublime forgiveness.
"Eri," he said, "I ain't mad. I won't say my feelin's ain't hurt, 'cause--'cause--well, never mind. If a wife and a home ain't for me, why I ought to be glad that you're goin' to have 'em. I wish you both luck and a good v'yage. Now, don't talk to me for a few minutes. Let me git sort of used to it."
So they shook hands and Captain Eri, with a troubled look at his friend, went out. After he had gone, Captain Jerry got up and danced three steps of an improvised jig, his face one broad grin. Then, with an effort, he sobered down, assumed an air of due solemnity, and tramped downstairs.
If the announcement of Captain Perez' engagement caused no surprise, that of Captain Eri's certainly did--surprise and congratulation on the part of those let into the secret, for it was decided to say nothing to outsiders as yet. Ralph came over that evening and they told him about it, and he was as pleased as the rest. As for the Captain, he was only too willing to shake hands with any and everybody, although he insisted that the housekeeper had nothing to be congratulated upon, and that she was "takin' big chances." The lady herself merely smiled at this, and quietly said that she was willing to take them.
The storm had wrecked every wire and stalled every train, and Orham was isolated for two days. Then communication was established once more, and the Boston dailies received the news of the loss of the life-savers and the crew of the schooner. And they made the most of it; sensational items were scarce just then, and the editors welcomed this one. The big black headlines spread halfway across the front pages. There were pictures of the wreck, "drawn by our artist from description," and there were "descriptions" of all kinds. Special reporters arrived in the village and interviewed everyone they could lay hands on. Abner Mayo felt that for once he was receiving the attention he deserved.
The life-saving station and the house by the shore were besieged by photographers and newspaper men. Captain Eri indignantly refused to pose for his photograph, so he was "snapped" as he went out to the barn, and had the pleasure of seeing a likeness of himself, somewhat out of focus, and with one leg stiffly elevated, in the Sunday Blanket. The reporters waylaid him at the post-office, or at his fish shanty, and begged for interviews. They got them, brief and pointedly personal, and, though these were not printed, columns describing him as "a bluff, big-hearted hero," were.
If ever a man was mad and disgusted, that man was the Captain. In the first place, as he said, what he had done was nothing more than any other man 'longshore would have done, and, secondly, it was nobody's business. Then again, he said, and with truth:
"This whole fuss makes me sick. Here's them fellers in the crew been goin' out, season after season, takin' folks off wrecks, and the fool papers never say nothin' 'bout it; but they go out this time, and don't save nobody and git drownded themselves, and they're heroes of a sudden.
I hear they're raisin' money up to Boston to give to the widders and orphans. Well, that's all right, but they'd better keep on and git the Gov'ment to raise the sal'ries of them that's left in the service."
The climax came when a flashily dressed stranger called, and insisted upon seeing the Captain alone. The interview lasted just about three minutes. When Mrs. Snow, alarmed by the commotion, rushed into the room, she found Captain Eri in the act of throwing after the fleeing stranger the shiny silk hat that the latter had left behind.
"Do you know what that--that swab wanted?" hotly demanded the indignant Captain. "He wanted me to rig up in ileskins and a sou'wester and show myself in dime museums. Said he'd buy that dory of Luther's that I went out in, and show that 'long with me. I told him that dory was spread up and down the beach from here to Setuckit, but he said that didn't make no diff'rence, he'd have a dory there and say 'twas the reel one.
Offered me a hundred dollars a week, the skate! I'd give ten dollars right now to tell him the rest of what I had to say."
After this the Captain went fishing every day, and when at home refused to see anybody not known personally. But the agitation went on, for the papers fed the flames, and in Boston they were raising a purse to buy gold watches and medals for him and for Captain Davis.
Shortly after four o'clock one afternoon of the week following that of the wreck, Captain Eri ventured to walk up to the village, keeping a weather eye out for reporters and smoking his pipe. He made several stops, one of them being at the schoolhouse where Josiah, now back at his desk, was studying overtime to catch up with his class.
As the Captain was strolling along, someone touched him from behind, and he turned to face Ralph Hazeltine. The electrician had been a pretty regular caller at the house of late, but Captain Eri had seen but little of him, for reasons unnecessary to state.
"Hello, Captain!" said Ralph. "Taking a constitutional? You want to look out for Warner; I hear he's after you for another rescue 'special.'"
"He'll need somebody to rescue him if he comes pesterin' 'round me," was the reply. "You ain't seen my dime show friend nowheres, have you?
I'd sort of like to meet HIM again; our other talk broke off kind of sudden."
Ralph laughed, and said he was afraid that the museum manager wouldn't come to Orham again very soon.
"I s'pose likely not," chuckled Captain Eri. "I ought to have kept his hat; then, maybe, he'd have come back after it. Oh, say!" he added, "I've been meanin' to ask you somethin'. Made up your mind 'bout that western job yit?"
Ralph shook his head. "Not yet," he said slowly. "I shall very soon, though, I think."
"Kind of puzzlin' you, is it? Not that it's really any of my affairs, you understand. There's only a few of us good folks left, as the feller said, and I'd hate to see you leave, that's all."
"I am not anxious to go, myself. My present position gives me a good deal of leisure time for experimental work--and--well, I'll tell you in confidence--there's a possibility of my becoming superintendent one of these days, if I wish to."
"Sho! you don't say! Mr. Langley goin' to quit?"
"He is thinking of it. The old gentleman has saved some money, and he has a sister in the West who is anxious to have him come out there and spend the remainder of his days with her. If he does, I can have his position, I guess. In fact, he has been good enough to say so."
"Well, that's pretty fine, ain't it? Langley ain't the man to chuck his good opinions round like clam shells. You ought to feel proud."
"I suppose I ought."
They walked on silently for a few steps, the Captain waiting for his companion to speak, and the latter seeming disinclined to do so. At length the older man asked another question.
"Is t'other job so much better?"
"No."
Silence again. Then Ralph said, "The other position, Captain, is very much like this one in some respects. It will place me in a country town, even smaller than Orham, where there are few young people, no amusements, and no society, in the fashionable sense of the word."
"Humph! I thought you didn't care much for them things."
"I don't."
To this enigmatical answer the Captain made no immediate reply. After a moment, however, he said, slowly and with apparent irrelevance, "Mr.
Hazeltine, I can remember my father tellin' 'bout a feller that lived down on the South Harniss shore when he was a boy. Queer old chap he was, named Elihu Bassett; everybody called him Uncle Elihu. In them days all hands drunk more or less rum, and Uncle Elihu drunk more. He had a way of stayin' sober for a spell, and then startin' off on a regular jamboree all by himself. He had an old flat-bottomed boat that he used to sail 'round in, but she broke her moorin's one time and got smashed up, so he wanted to buy another. Shadrach Wingate, Seth's granddad 'twas, tried to fix up a dicker with him for a boat he had. They agreed on the price, and everything was all right 'cept that Uncle Elihu stuck out that he must try her 'fore he bought her.
"So Shad fin'lly give in, and Uncle Elihu sailed over to Wellmouth in the boat. He put in his time 'round the tavern there, and when he come down to the boat ag'in, he had a jugful of Medford in his hand, and pretty nigh as much of the same stuff under his hatches. He got afloat somehow, h'isted the sail, lashed the tiller after a fashion, took a nip out of the jug and tumbled over and went fast asleep. 'Twas a still night or 'twould have been the finish. As 'twas he run aground on a flat and stuck there till mornin'.
"Next day back he comes with the boat all scraped up, and says he, 'She won't do, Shad; she don't keep her course.'
"'Don't keep her course, you old fool!' bellers Shad. 'And you tight as a drumhead and sound asleep! Think she can find her way home herself?'
he says.
"'Well,' says Uncle Elihu, 'if she can't she ain't the boat for me.'"
Ralph laughed. "I see," he said. "Perhaps Uncle Elihu was wise. Still, if he wanted the boat very much, he must have hated to put her to the test."
"That's so," assented the Captain, "but 'twas better to know it then than to be sorry for it afterwards."
Both seemed to be thinking, and neither spoke again until they came to the grocery store, where Hazeltine stopped, saying that he must do an errand for Mr. Langley. They said good-night, and the Captain turned away, but came quickly back and said: