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TITLE: CAPTAIN JANUARY
AUTHOR: LAURA E. RICHARDS
EBOOK: E06547 (O'Briens Book Cellar)
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH

CAPTAIN JANUARY

By

LAURA E. RICHARDS

_Author of_

"Melody," "Marie," "Rosin, the Beau," "The Hildegarde-Margaret
Series," "Three Minute Stories," "Five Minute Stories," etc.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

   I. Star Bright
  II. The Story
 III. Introducing Imogen and Bob
  IV. The Visit
   V. Captain January's Star
  VI. The Signal

CHAPTER I.

STAR BRIGHT

The Captain had sold all his lobsters. They had been particularly
fine ones, and had gone off "like hot cakes," everyone who passed
by the wharf stopping to buy one or two. Now the red dory was empty,
and the Captain had washed her out with his usual scrupulous care,
and was making preparations for his homeward voyage, when he was
hailed by a cheery voice from the street.

"Hillo, January!" said the voice. "Is that you? How goes it?" and
the owner of the voice, a sturdy man in a blue coat with brass
buttons, came down the wharf and greeted the Captain with a hearty
shake of the hand.

"How goes it?" he repeated. "I haven't seen ye for a dog's age."

"I'm hearty, Cap'n Nazro!" replied Captain January. "Hearty, that's
what I am, an' hopin' you're the same."

"That's right!" said the first speaker. "'Tain't often we set eyes
on you, you stick so close to your light. And the little gal, she's
well, I expect? She looks a picture, when I take a squint at her
through the glass sometimes. Never misses running out and shaking
her apron when we go by!"

"Cap'n Nazro," said January, speaking with emphasis, "if there is
a pictur in this world, o' health, and pootiness, and goodness, it's
that child. It's that little un, sir. Not to be beat in this country,
nor yet any other 'cordin' as I've voyaged."

"Nice little gal!" said Captain Nazro, assenting. "Mighty nice little
gal! Ain't it time she was going to school, January? My wife and I
were speaking about it only the other day. Seems as if she'd oughter
be round with other children now, and learning what they do. Mis Nazro
would be real pleased to have her stop with us a spell, and go to
school with our gals. What do you say?" He spoke very heartily, but
looked doubtfully at the old man, as if hardly expecting a favourable
answer.

Captain January shook his head emphatically, "You're real kind, Cap'n
Nazro!" he said; "real kind, you and Mis Nazro both are! and she
makin' the little un's frocks and pinafores, as is a great help. But
I can't feel to let her out o' my sight, nohow; and as for school,
she ain't the kind to bear it, nor yet I couldn't for her. She's
learnin'!" he added, proudly. "Learnin' well! I'll bet there ain't
no gal in your school knows more nor that little un does. Won'erful,
the way she walks ahead!"

"Get the school readers, hey! and teach her yourself do you?" queried
Captain Nazro.

"No, sir!" replied the old man; "I don't have no school readers. The
child learns out o' the two best books in the world,--the Bible, and
William Shakespeare's book; them's all the books she ever seed--_saw_,
I should say."

"William Shak--" began Captain Nazro; and then he broke off in sheer
amazement, and said, simply, "Well, I'm blowed!"

"The minister giv 'em to me," said Captain January. "I reckon he
knows. There's a dictionary, too," he added, rather sadly; "but I
can't make her take to that, nohow, though there's a power o' fine
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 in his hand, when a
slight noise made him look up. He started violently, and then, leaning
back in his chair, gazed in silent amazement at the vision before
him.

On the stone stairway, and slowly descending, with steps that were
meant to be stately (and which might have been so, had not the stairs
been so steep, and the little legs so short) was the figure of a
child: a little girl about ten years old, with a face of almost
startling beauty. Her hair floated like a cloud of pale gold about
her shoulders; her eyes were blue, not light and keen, like the old
man's, but of that soft, deep, shadowy blue that poets love to call
violet. Wonderful eyes, shaded by long, curved lashes of deepest
black, which fell on the soft, rose-and-ivory tinted cheek, as the
child carefully picked her way down, holding up her long dress from
her little feet. It was the dress which so astonished Captain January.
Instead of the pink calico frock and blue checked pinafore, to which
his eyes were accustomed, the little figure was clad in a robe of
dark green velvet with a long train, which spread out on the staircase
behind her, very much like the train of a peacock. The body, made
for a grown woman, hung back loosely from her shoulders, but she had
tied a scarf of gold tissue under her arms and round her waist, while
from the long hanging sleeves her arms shone round and white as
sculptured ivory. A strange sight, this, for a lighthouse tower on
the coast of Maine! but so fair a one, that the old mariner could
not take his eyes from it.

"Might be Juliet!" he muttered to himself. "Juliet, when she was a
little un. 'Her beauty hangs upon the cheek o' Night,'--only it ain't,
so to say, exactly night,--'like a rich jewel in a nigger's ear.'
No! that ain't right. 'Nigger' ain't right, 'Ethiop's ear, 'that's
it! Though I should judge they were much the same thing, and they
more frekently wear 'em in their noses, them as I've seen in their
own country."

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