Here Comes a Candle Read Online Free Page B

almost hostile American. And, so thinking, she slept again and woke to an unusual sound of activity above decks and a new feel to the motion of the ship.
    A friendly sailor, rousing her with a cup of strong black coffee, confirmed her guess. “ Welcome to the United States, ma ’ am. We anchored in the night And Mr. Penrose sends his compliments and asks how soon you can be ready to go ashore. ” And then, perhaps sensing something a little ruthless about this message to an invalid: “ We ’ re just east of Fort Niagara now, ” he explained, “ and liable to sail again any minute for Sackett ’ s Harbor, so you ’ ve no time to lose. I just hope you ’ re up to it . ”
    So did she. “ Of course I am. ” She drank scalding, delicious coffee and th o ught as she did so, that it was no wonder if British seamen were apt to desert to the American Navy. “ Tell Mr. Penrose I ’ ll be with him in ten minutes. ”
    She was almost as good as her word. There was a minute, on the steep companionway, when the rancid smell of the between-decks hit her, and she thought for a moment she would faint. Then she set her teeth, held her breath, and clawed her way up to the blessed fresh air of the deck. It smelled rawly of spring, of dampness, and growth, and of something else she could not identify. She felt her strength coming back with every deep breath.
    She needed it. Jonathan Penrose was pacing the deck, his eye anxiously on the telltale flag that told where the wind lay. “ You ’ re better? Good. ” It was rather a command than a question. “ The boat ’ s waiting for us. No time to be lost, I ’ m afraid, if you ’ re coming with me. ”
    She felt a flash of anger. What else could she do? But she was in his hands. “ Yes, please. Unless you have changed your mind. ”
    “ Of course not. ” He managed to sound almost as if he meant it. “ This way then. ”
    Following him across the busy deck, she fought resentment. Had he no thought for what this moment must mean to her? She was leaving everything she had ever known—for an enemy country. But then—she picked her way carefully over a pile of ropes—he had not asked her to come. Why should he think about her? She gathered up her skirts with a firm hand, grateful to Fred Croston, who had shown her how to use the bosun ’ s chair without making an exhibition of herself.
    Firm, friendly hands—not Jonathan ’ s—helped her into the little boat. At last she had time to look about her. The day was overcast, with even a hint of late snow in the piled-up clouds, but as they pulled away from the ship the sun broke through for a moment to light up the wooded shore they were approaching. Where, before, all had been flat monochrome, she now saw great splashes of color, the brown of last autumn ’ s oak leaves contrasting with the deep green of pine and fir.
    “ I reckon you find that a mighty handsome sight, ma ’ am, ” said the very young man who commanded the boat. “ You ain ’ t got woods like that in the old country, I guess. ” He spoke with the same nasal twang as the other sailors, and she found herself surprised, for the first time, at her companion ’ s lack of accent.
    “ It ’ s beautiful. ” She forbore to say that the woods, in fact, looked very much like the ones on the other side of the lake, in Canada. “ And it ’ s spring! ”
    “ Yes, ma ’ am. There ain ’ t much to touch our American spring, I guess. What do you thin k of it? ”
    “ It ’ s beautiful, ” she said again, not quite sure to what his question referred, but grateful for his interest. “ It ’ s come on so fast. ” While she had been below decks rain and wind had washed away the last patches of snow, and now, as the boat drew nearer to the shore, she could see touches of brilliant green in the clearing where they were to land.
    “ Spring comes fast when it comes, ” said the young sailor. “ But I reckon you ’ ll have a rough journey of it, Mr. Penrose.