sailor, nodding his
head; "but those as knows the least have a habit of thinkin' they know
all there is to know, while them as knows the most admits what a
turr'ble big world this is. It's the knowing ones that realize one lifetime
ain't long enough to git more'n a few dips o' the oars of knowledge."
Trot didn't answer. She was a very little girl, with big, solemn eyes and
an earnest, simple manner. Cap'n Bill had been her faithful companion
for years and had taught her almost everything she knew.
He was a wonderful man, this Cap'n Bill. Not so very old, although his
hair was grizzled -- what there was of it. Most of his head was bald as
an egg and as shiny as oilcloth, and this made his big ears stick out in a
funny way. His eyes had a gentle look and were pale blue in color, and
his round face was rugged and bronzed. Cap'n Bill's left leg was
missing, from the knee down, and that was why the sailor no longer
sailed the seas. The wooden leg he wore was good enough to stump
around with on land, or even to take Trot out for a row or a sail on the
ocean, but when it came to "runnin' up aloft" or performing active
duties on shipboard, the old sailor was not equal to the task. The loss of
his leg had ruined his career and the old sailor found comfort in
devoting himself to the education and companionship of the little girl.
The accident to Cap'n Bill's leg bad happened at about the time Trot
was born, and ever since that he had lived with Trot's mother as "a star
boarder," having enough money saved up to pay for his weekly "keep."
He loved the baby and often held her on his lap; her first ride was on
Cap'n Bill's shoulders, for she had no baby-carriage; and when she
began to toddle around, the child and the sailor became close comrades
and enjoyed many strange adventures together. It is said the fairies had
been present at Trot's birth and had marked her forehead with their
invisible mystic signs, so that she was able to see and do many
wonderful things.
The acacia tree was on top of a high bluff, but a path ran down the bank
in a zigzag way to the water's edge, where Cap'n Bill's boat was
moored to a rock by means of a stout cable. It had been a hot, sultry
afternoon, with scarcely a breath of air stirring, so Cap'n Bill and Trot
had been quietly sitting beneath the shade of the tree, waiting for the
sun to get low enough for them to take a row.
They had decided to visit one of the great caves which the waves had
washed out of the rocky coast during many years of steady effort. The
caves were a source of continual delight to both the girl and the sailor,
who loved to explore their awesome depths.
"I b'lieve, Cap'n," remarked Trot, at last, "that it's time for us to start."
The old man cast a shrewd glance at the sky, the sea and the motionless
boat. Then he shook his head.
"Mebbe it's time, Trot," he answered, "but I don't jes' like the looks o'
things this afternoon."
"What's wrong?" she asked wonderingly.
"Can't say as to that. Things is too quiet to suit me, that's all. No breeze,
not a ripple a-top the water, nary a gull a-flyin' anywhere, an' the end o'
the hottest day o' the year. I ain't no weather-prophet, Trot, but any
sailor would know the signs is ominous."
"There's nothing wrong that I can see," said Trot.
"If there was a cloud in the sky even as big as my thumb, we might
worry about it; but -- look, Cap'n! -- the sky is as clear as can be."
He looked again and nodded.
"P'r'aps we can make the cave, all right," he agreed, not wishing to
disappoint her. "It's only a little way out, an' we'll be on the watch; so
come along, Trot."
Together they descended the winding path to the beach. It was no
trouble for the girl to keep her footing on the steep way, but Cap'n Bill,
because of his wooden leg, had to hold on to rocks and roots now and
then to save himself from tumbling. On a level path he was as spry as
anyone, but to climb up hill or down required some care.
They reached the boat safely and while Trot was untying the rope Cap'n
Bill reached into a crevice of the rock and drew out several tallow
candles and a box of wax matches, which he thrust into the
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