Captain January | Page 2

words in it."
Then, as the other man remained silent and openmouthed, he said: "But
I must be goin', Cap'n Nazro, sir! The little un'll be lookin' for me.
Good day, sir, and thank ye kindly, all the same as if it was to be,
which it ain't!" And with a friendly gesture, the old man stepped into
his red dory, and rowed away with long, sturdy strokes.
Captain Nazro gazed after him meditatively, took out his pipe and
looked at it, then gazed again. "January's cracked," he said; "that's
what's the matter with him. He's a good man, and a good
lighthouse-keeper, and he's been an able seaman in his day, none better;
but he's cracked!"
There is an island off a certain part of the coast of Maine,--a little rocky
island, heaped and tumbled together as if Dame Nature had shaken
down a heap of stones at random from her apron, when she had
finished making the larger islands which lie between it and the
mainland. At one end, the shoreward end, there is a tiny cove, and a bit
of silver-sand beach, with a green meadow beyond it, and a single great
pine; but all the rest is rocks, rocks. At the farther end the rocks are
piled high, like a castle wall, making a brave barrier against the
Atlantic waves; and on top of this cairn rises the lighthouse, rugged and
sturdy as the rocks themselves, but painted white, and with its windows
shining like great, smooth diamonds. This is Light Island; and it was in
this direction that Captain January's red dory was headed when he took
his leave of his brother-captain, and rowed away from the wharf. It was
a long pull; in fact, it took pretty nearly the whole afternoon, so that the
evening shadows were lengthening when at length he laid down his
oars, and felt the boat's nose rub against the sand of the little
home-cove. But rowing was no more effort than breathing to Captain
January, and it was no fatigue, but only a trifle of stiffness from sitting
so long, that troubled him a little in getting out of the boat. As he
stepped slowly out upon the firm-grained silver of the little beach, he
looked up and around with an expectant air, and seeing no one, a look

of disappointment crossed his face. He opened his lips as if to call some
one, but checking himself, "Happen she's gettin' supper!" he said. "It's
later than I thought. I don't pull so spry as I used ter, 'pears ter me. Wal,
thar! 'tain't to be expected. I sh'll be forty years old before I know it!"
Chuckling to himself, the Captain drew up the little boat and made her
fast; then, taking sundry brown-paper parcels from under the thwart, he
turned and made his way up towards the lighthouse. A picturesque
figure he was, striding along among the heaped and tumbled rocks. His
hair and beard, still thick and curly, were absolutely white, as white as
the foam that broke over the rocks at the cliff's foot. His face was
tanned and weather-beaten to the colour of mahogany, but the features
were strong and sharply cut, while the piercing blue eyes which
gleamed beneath his shaggy eyebrows showed all the fire of youth, and
seemed to have no part in the seventy years which had bent the tall
form, and rounded slightly the broad and massive shoulders. The
Captain wore a rough pea-jacket and long boots, while his head was
adorned with a nondescript covering which might have begun life
either as a hat or a cap, but would now hardly be owned by either
family.
Reaching the house, the old man mounted the rude steps which led to
the door, and entered the room which was kitchen, dining, and drawing
room at Storm Castle, as the lighthouse was called by its inhabitants.
The room was light and cheerful, with a pleasant little fire crackling
sociably on the hearth. The table was laid with a clean white cloth, the
kettle was singing on the hob, and a little covered saucepan was
simmering with an agreeable and suggestive sound; but no one was to
be seen. Alarmed, he hardly knew why, at the silence and solitude,
Captain January set his parcels down on the table, and going to the foot
of the narrow stone staircase which wound upward beside the chimney,
called, "Star! Star Bright, where are you? Is anything wrong?"
"No, Daddy Captain!" answered a clear, childish voice from above;
"I'm coming in a minute. Be patient, Daddy dear!"
With a sigh of relief, Captain January retired to the fireplace, and
sitting down in a huge high-backed armchair, began leisurely pulling
off his great boots. One was already off and