Jess of the Rebel Trail | Page 8

He
should be back soon, Miss, so I think ye'd better leave before he comes.
Thar might be trouble. He's dead set aginst strange women, Eben is."
"Will you start as soon as your son returns?" the girl asked, unheeding
the captain's warning.
"Start! Start where?"
"Sailing, of course."
"Not until the wind springs up. Thar's a dead calm now, an' the tide's
aginst us."
"Oh, I wish it would blow a gale," and the girl looked anxiously around.
"I want to get away from this place as soon as possible."
"Well, I think the best thing then fer you to do is to go ashore an' light
out. Ye kin do it quicker thar than here."
"But I can't get ashore, Captain."

"Ye can't! An' why not, I'd like to know?"
"Because my boat has gone adrift. I let it go on purpose."
"Good Lord!" Samuel sat down upon a biscuit box and eyed his visitor
curiously. "Say, are you crazy, or a fool, or what are ye, anyway?" he
asked.
"I'm just a poor unfortunate girl, that's who I am," was the decided
reply.
"An' ye ain't done nuthin' bad; nuthin' that yer ashamed of, Miss?"
"No, no," and the girl's face crimsoned. "I'm proud of what I have
done," and she lifted her head haughtily, while her eyes flashed. "Any
girl with the least self-respect would do the same, so there."
"That's all right, Miss, that's all right," Samuel hurriedly assured her. "I
wasn't castin' any reflection upon yer character. I was only wonderin',
that's all. Ye see, Flo's about your age, from what I judge, an' I wouldn't
like her to be actin' this way."
"I know you wouldn't. But my case is different. Oh, I wish I could tell
you all, but I can't. You will trust me, anyway, won't you, and let me
stay here for a while?"
The captain sighed and looked helplessly around.
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" he growled. "This is sartinly some fix an' I
don't know what to do. The accommodation isn't much here fer the
likes of you, though it ain't too bad fer me an' Eb. If you occupy this
cabin, we'll have to camp out on deck, an' I know what Eb'll say about
that. He's more'n fond of sleep, that boy is, the greatest I ever saw. Why
he'd sooner sleep than eat any day, an' he likes a good soft bed at that. I
had to buy a special spring an' mattress before I could git him to come
with me this year. He doesn't take much to boatin', an' I have to make
things as smooth as possible."

"But can't you put his cot on deck?" the girl suggested. "I am very sorry
that I am giving you so much trouble, but I shall pay you well. Money
is no object if you will only help me out of my trouble. I am sure you
will never regret it."
"I hope not, Miss, fer I don't want to git into any fix. It wouldn't look
very nice if the papers got hold of this affair. Jist imagine a big
write-up about Capt. Sam'l Tobin keepin' a fine lookin' runaway gal on
the 'Eb an' Flo.' Why, I'd never be able to hold up me head agin, an' I
guess it 'ud about break Martha's heart, to say nuthin' about Flo. They're
mighty pertic'ler about sich things, they surely are."
"This must never get into the papers," the girl declared, "for you must
promise that you will keep it a dead secret, and not tell anyone, not
even your own family."
"I don't see how I kin do that, Miss. I guess ye don't know Martha as
well as I do. If ye did, ye wouldn't talk about keepin' this racket a secret
from me family. An' besides, thar's Eben, who'll be here in a jiffy now.
How am I to explain matters to him? No, Miss, I reckon ye'd better
light out while the coast is clear. I'll git the boy to take ye ashore, an'
tell him that ye hit the wrong craft."
But the girl was not to be baffled in her purpose. She rose to her feet
and stood before the captain. Her eyes were wide with a nameless fear,
and her face showed very white where the light of the bracket-lamp fell
upon it.
"Don't, don't send me away," she pleaded. "Let me stay here until you
go from this place. Then you can put me ashore in the woods, or throw
me overboard, I don't care which, but for the love of heaven let me stay
now!"
Captain Samuel's big right hand dove suddenly into his pocket and
clawed forth a clay pipe, a plug of tobacco, and a large jack-knife.