Darry the Life Saver Part 4

Nothing so angers a life saver as the mention of a wrecker; for deep down in his heart he believes that the men who make a living from salvage after a vessel has gone to pieces on the reefs, or else in boarding the wreck when the storm has gone down, would not hesitate a minute about sending any ship to her doom if they believed it could be done without too much risk.

"If he doesn't get on with the missus let me have a try with him, Abner.

Looks to be a likely lad. They're a scarce article around here--some go to sea, others are in the service, and more get drowned; while those that are left seem bad from top to bottom, just like Jim Dilks. Yes, I could use that younker, I think."

Peake had turned white at mention of the fate that befalls so many young men of the sh.o.r.e; but he made no remark concerning his feelings.

"I'll remember what yuh say, Mr. Keeler. But I got a notion the boy will stick with me. When the missus gets to know him she can't help but like him. He's the clear quill. Take the change out of that bill. We just got paid last night, yuh see. Darry, let's move along."

The village merchant looked after the couple a little enviously, as though something about the boy's appearance had awakened his interest.

"I saw Jim Dilks talking to Peake before they came in here. I wager that young scamp has it in for the new boy in town. He's been a holy terror for a long time, and for one I think something should be done to put a stop to his doings. But his father has a grip on the worst elements here, and everyone seems afraid to rile up the old wrecker. Some say he used to be a smuggler years back, and even blacker stories are told of his life in Cuba, before Spain got out of the island. Well, it's none of my business. I don't dare act alone. If someone else starts the ball rolling I'll give it a big shove." And so the butcher salved his conscience for not doing his duty.

Meanwhile Darry and his new friend walked briskly along, talking as they went.

The boy had seen considerable of foreign ports, and the many strange things he could tell were doubly interesting to this simple life saver, who had never been further than to Wilmington in all his life.

"See that light ahead, lad? That's a lamp in the windy o' my shack.

They knows when my night comes around, an' the missus puts that lamp there. It's a big thing, Darry, to have a light in the windy, ashinin'

only fur you. Makes a feller feel like he had one leetle nest in all this big world, where some un cared fur him. And that is goin' to be your home too, boy."

"I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Peake," faltered the lad.

"Then don't try. Besides, mebbe yuh won't like it so well, after all.

Nancy, she ain't so easy to get on with, since leetle Joe went away.

Seems like she jest can't ever git over it. I seen her cryin' the last time I was over. No use tryin' to comfort the pore ole gal. It left a sore place in her heart that nothin' kin ever heal. I'm a hopin' that p'haps with you around she may perk up some."

They were soon at the door. It was thrown open at the sound of Abner's call, and two rather unkempt little girls rushed out, to be tossed up in the air by the proud father.

They looked at Darry with wide-eyed wonder, for strangers were uncommon in this neighborhood, so far removed from the railroad.

"Come right in, Darry. Here's the missus," said the life saver.

A woman came forward, and after greeting Abner, looked with a little frown in the direction of the boy.

The surfman hastened to explain that Darry was a survivor of the last wreck, on the sh.o.r.e where so many brave ships had left their bones.

"He's a waif, what's never knowed no home, Nance. The captain picked him up abroad, but he's English or American, sure enough. With the death of that captain went his only friend. I liked the lad,--he somehow made me think of our Joe. Jest the same size, too, and he could wear his clothes fine. He'd be a great help to yuh, I reckons, if so be yuh would like to have him stay."

Abner saw a look of coming trouble in the eyes of his wife, and his voice took on a pleading tone.

His mention of Joe was unfortunate, perhaps, for the woman had never become reconciled to the loss of her only boy, and always declared Heaven had dealt unjustly with her when there were so many worthless lads in the village, who could have been far better spared.

"Just like I didn't have my hands full now, without bringing home any more mouths to feed," she fumed. "Like as not he's a good-for-nothing like Jim Dilks, and will only make us trouble right along. Keep him over at the station if you want, Abner Peake, but you don't quarter him on me. This is my house, and I'm to be consulted before anybody is brought here."

Abner had apparently thought this all over.

He simply took Darry's hand and drew the half resisting lad over in front of the irate woman.

"Nancy, I never knowed yuh to be anything but fair. S'posin' our leetle Joe was kerried out to sea, an' in a strange land met up with a citizen as took him home to his wife. What kinder reception do yuh think _he'd_ get? Could any woman look in Joe's face an' send him away from her door?

Wall, then, jest look in the face o' this boy, an' then if so be yuh say take him away, I'll do it, Nancy," he said, simply.

Almost against her will she was compelled to look.

Well it was for Darry that he had clear eyes in which lurked no guile, for that gaze of the surfman's "missus" was searching, since she had before her mind a picture of the lost Joe.

She only nodded her head and said:

"Let him stay."

Perhaps she was too full of emotion to say more; but the husband nodded his head as though satisfied with what he had done.

"It's all right, boy; she seen Joey in your eyes, jest as I done. Seems to me yuh kin make good with the ole woman. Don't notice all she says fur a time. Sure she's suffered some."

Apparently the family had waited with supper for Abner to come home, for his wife immediately placed the meat on the frying pan, and the odor of steak quickly filled every cranny of the small cabin of three rooms.

The two little girls were slow to make up with Darry, but he knew how to interest them in certain ways, and it was not long before they hovered around him as if he were a curiosity indeed.

Abner tried to make himself as agreeable as possible, for various reasons.

He saw that his wife had not yet become reconciled to the fact of a stranger coming among them, and was watching Darry out of the corners of her eyes from time to time, while a frown would gather on her brow.

She was a sharp-featured woman; but life goes hard with those of her s.e.x in this coast country, and they grow old at forty.

Darry was studying hard how to please her, for he felt that she was to be pitied after having lost her only boy so suddenly a year or so back; and he determined never to forget this if she should scold him needlessly or show temper.

He antic.i.p.ated her wants in the line of wood for the fire, cheerfully a.s.sisted in washing up the supper dishes, and was withal so obliging that ere long the anxious Abner saw the lines begin to leave the forehead of his better half.

This tickled him more than any well-won fight in the breakers might have done, for he had a secret dread of Nancy's often ungovernable temper.

"The boy's gone and done it, blame me if he ain't!" he muttered to himself, when he saw his wife actually smile over at where Darry was sitting, with one of the twins on either side, entranced with some figures he was drawing to ill.u.s.trate a little story he had been telling them about some sight seen in Naples.

When it came time to retire Darry was given a shake-down in the second room.

He felt that he had made some sort of an impression upon the surfman's wife, and that after all she might not prove so hard to win as he had feared from what little he had heard about her temper.

That night was the most peaceful he had known for some time.

In the morning he was up before any one else stirred, and when Mrs Peake made her appearance she found a bright fire burning in the kitchen, plenty of wood on hand, a bucket of water from the spring handy, and a boy only too anxious to do anything he was told in the way of ch.o.r.es.

Perhaps she may have had a suspicion that it would not last.

"A new broom sweeps clean," she remarked to Abner, as he appeared and looked at her inquiringly.

"I calkerlate this one means to keep a-going' right along," he said, "yuh see, the poor critter ain't never had no home before, an' he'll sorter 'preciate one now. Give him a show an' he'll make good."

When Abner had to return to the other side of the bay Darry went with him to the store, where a supply of edibles was laid in according to the list written out by the station keeper; together with a can of oil, since their stock had run low.

When Abner shook his hand heartily at pushing off, Darry felt as though another link connecting him with the past had been broken.