The New Land Part 9

Broken in body and ruined in fortune, Mordecai accompanied by the faithful Becky, bade farewell to Colonel Hawkins and journeyed further into the wilderness. For the Indian agent prudently refused to erect a second gin while the Indians still planned to injure Mordecai, and the adventurer himself felt that it would be hopeless to seek to gain the friends.h.i.+p of the embittered Chief. Trader and trapper, he led his solitary existence in the south, with no companions.h.i.+p but Becky's, until her death left him entirely alone.

He had regained his former vigor by this time and sometimes dreamed of returning to his boyhood home. But from the pioneer towns springing up wherever he pa.s.sed, he knew that a new civilization was rising in America; that he was of the generation that must pa.s.s away as surely as the Indian and he realized that he would feel sadly out of place in the surroundings that he had known as a boy. Yet, dreamer that he was, he never ceased to picture himself, a sober stay-at-home citizen, living out the last years of his life in communion with his fellow Jews, who had never left their quiet firesides. Nor in all his wanderings did he ever part with the three _Sidurim_ and the faded red napkin. For as he grew older, the fantastic notion grew ever stronger that before he died he would again say grace with the builders of his cotton gin.

Almost a century old, he wandered back at last to Montgomery county, seeking the very spot where his hut had stood before Chief Towerculla had driven him away. Now the settlement of Dudlyville, so close at hand, made him feel cramped and uncomfortable. Colonel Hawkins had long since left Pole Cat Springs; Chief Towerculla, driven away by the white men he had always feared, was dead; "Old Milly" no longer lived in her savage kingdom with her husband and her slaves.

But he felt too tired to travel further; perhaps he realized that no matter where he went he would feel lonely as the survivor of another day and generation. So he built a tiny cabin for himself, even putting together some crude furniture. Here he lived, never seeing a human face unless he walked to the village to secure supplies, which the settlers, vaguely touched by his loneliness, never failed to press upon him. He talked to them sometimes of the days before the wilderness had been conquered, speaking too, of the first cotton gin, which the Indians had destroyed. "I love the spot," he used to say, "but it is growing too crowded; yes," with a shake of his white head, "too crowded for one who needs plenty of fresh air to breathe. Next spring I must journey on." But when spring came, he would wait until fall, and again through the long winter. For his old ambition had left him and though his heart still wandered afar through the forests, his feet were too weary to follow it.

But one evening he felt strangely strong and refreshed. He had worked hard all the afternoon cleaning his little hut and now the humble room looked as spotless as spring water and vigorous scrubbing could make it. Even the table and chairs were scoured and the fireplace cleaned, while, to complete the day's task Mordecai had emptied an old barrel in the corner, burning the heap of odds and ends which had acc.u.mulated since his return. But now as he stood behind the table he held in his hand three black books and a faded napkin which he could not bring himself to destroy. As he stood there with the rays of the setting sun falling through the open door on his s.h.a.ggy white head, old memories burned in his faded eyes and a strange, dreamy smile played about his mouth.

"I have found the books--it is time for them to come and say 'grace',"

he murmured to himself. "I have put my house in order. I know it is time for me to go away--into the Great Wilderness--but not until we have three at grace once more."

Carefully placing a book at each place, he drew up two chairs and a box, spread the napkin at the head of the table and set out his few poor dishes and humble evening meal. Then he took his place, opened his book and waited. The Hebrew letters seemed strangely blurred; for the first time in his life his keen eyes failed him. But, glancing up, he thought he saw his two guests, Lyon and Barrett in their places waiting for him to begin the blessing before the meal.

"I am ready," he said, and even as he spoke, his head dropped upon the open book and Mordecai's restless spirit was at rest forever.

THE LUCKY STONE

_The Adventures of Uriah P. Levy, the First Naval Officer of his Day._

A little brown sand piper scudded along the beach. Uriah Levy, a brown-faced lad who looked several years older than a boy who had just pa.s.sed his eleventh birthday, lay upon the sh.o.r.e and smiled to see it flirt importantly past him as though in a tremendous hurry to reach its destination. Then his keen eyes turned toward the sea, blue and stainless, as level as the long looking gla.s.s in his mother's parlor at home. Several sea gulls skimmed the quiet waters, now rising until their gray-white plumage melted into the clouds, now seeming to float upon the tide. Uriah was a trifle sorry when they disappeared at last, for he loved the sea gulls dearly. They seemed so akin to him in their wild freedom, in their love for the solitary waste of waters. Ever since he could remember, he, too, had loved the sea, since the days when he was a tiny boy, sailing his paper boats to strange ports across the ocean. And tomorrow he was going to sea at last--a real cabin boy in a real vessel! He threw himself back upon the warm sands and with half-closed eyes lay dreaming of the future.

He was aroused from his day dreaming by the strange uneasiness that comes to one who feels that he is being observed. Sitting up, he saw that Ned Allison, a lad whose father owned a fis.h.i.+ng shack near by, had come down to the beach and was now standing over him, his hands thrust into the pockets of his ragged trousers, his bare, brown toes kicking among the pebbles at his feet. The newcomer was a few years younger than Levy, a grave, stolid lad with bright, restless eyes.

"h.e.l.lo, Ned," Uriah greeted him. "Did you know I was going to sea tomorrow?"

"No. You're lucky." The other's tone was delightfully envious of Uriah's good fortune. "I've got to wait till I'm twelve or maybe fifteen, I guess. Father's rheumatism is bad lately and I have to help him. How're you going?" He sank beside Uriah on the sands and gazed longingly over the blue waters.

"I'm going to s.h.i.+p as cabin boy; but I won't be gone long." Uriah couldn't help bragging a little as he told his good fortune. "I'm going to be like Paul Jones and that crowd--if it takes a hundred years."

"You'll be too old then," observed Ned dryly. He began to turn over the heap of pebbles that lay between them. "Now if you were to find an oyster or clam sh.e.l.l with several big pearls you could buy a s.h.i.+p of your own right now and----"

"I'd make you first mate," promised Uriah, generously. Leaning on his elbow, he too began to turn over the pebbles, for like every boy of his years he never gave up hope of finding an oyster sh.e.l.l thickly studded with pearls, each one milk-white and s.h.i.+ning and worth a king's ransom. "Yes," he went on, dreamily, "I'd rig out a brig right away and sail the seas till I got tired. First, I guess, I'd clear the Spanish Main of pirates and then I'd visit far-off countries across the ocean. Remember what old Captain Ferguson told us about 'em; palm trees, and naked black men who'll sell you ivory and precious stones for a string of beads or a piece of red cloth? That's what I'd do if I had a s.h.i.+p of my own."

"I think I'd rather go to war," observed Allison with equal seriousness.

"Of course! If there would only be a war with some country or other, I'd like to be captain of the American Navy and capture all the other nation's vessels and tow 'em into port." His eager face clouded. "But I've heard my father say that this country's lucky to have peace after the Revolution; that we have to rest and grow strong. I suppose it isn't any more likely than either of us ever finding a pearl among all these stones." Suddenly he interrupted himself with a shrill whistle of delight. "I found a lucky stone," he exclaimed, "a beauty," holding it up for Ned's inspection. "And I'm going to wear it for luck as long as I'm a sailor." He took a piece of string from his pocket and ran it through one of the holes. "Maybe," he laughed, hanging the charm about his neck, "maybe this is almost as good as finding a pearl. Anyhow, I don't care about being rich as long as I can go to sea."

Uriah Levy stood upon the sea sh.o.r.e, no longer a dreaming boy, but a stalwart youth of twenty. At sixteen he already held the position of first mate after becoming part owner of the brig, "Five Sisters," on which he had made five voyages. It had not been easy for a youth with the down of manhood scarcely visible upon his cheeks to rule a crew gathered in that day from the riff-raff and sc.u.m of the sailing-ports.

Yet the Jewish lad, who one day was to make it his boast that he had abolished the barbarous custom of corporal punishment from the United States Navy, by resorting to force ruled without difficulty when his lawless seamen once realized his courage and the strength of his fists.

But in the year 1812 the times were still wild times upon the ocean and it was no uncommon thing for a law-abiding crew to grow weary of the restraints of their commander, mutiny and follow the sea after the manner of the pirates who still ruled the Spanish Main. And so, when Uriah P. Levy became master of the schooner, "George Was.h.i.+ngton," not even his iron discipline was strong enough to withstand the plotting of several of the bolder spirits of his crew. Almost under his very eyes, the mutiny had been hatched and had grown to a head.

Standing upon the lonely sea sh.o.r.e, Uriah recalled the swarthy, leering face of Sam Jones, recently punished for infraction of discipline, and the crooked smile of Martin, he who puffed everlastingly at his pipe and wore a red handkerchief for a turban and earrings of heavy gold. He had known them for the ringleaders in the plot against him, even before they had seized command of the vessel and taken possession of the cabin that they might hold council whether their master should be spared or cast into the sea.

"He's but a boy," Martin had argued. "Let him go. Put him in a boat and set him adrift. We're off the coast of Carolina now and even if he gets there with a whole skin, he's not likely to worry us when we're flying the black flag on the Main."

But Sam Jones had urged instant death. "Let him walk the plank," he suggested, his small eyes glittering with hate. "He's only a boy, but I tell you I'm afraid of him--sore afraid."

Martin laughed scornfully, puffing at his pipe. "I'm willing to take the risk," he declared, "though it's no concern of mine. So let's shake dice and the man who wins will say what's to be done with him."

There in the dimly lighted cabin, Levy with his arms bound behind him, had watched the game of dice as calmly as though his life did not lie in the hands of the two who played for such a ghastly stake. Out on the deck, the mutineers drank and jested and sang uproariously in their new freedom. He wondered if that were to be the end: a short plank, a blow to thrust him into the dark waves of the ocean which he had loved so well. Uriah closed his eyes, swaying a little; but he was quite calm, even smiling, when Jones sneered in disgust:

"Born to hang, will never drown. You win, Martin." He pushed the dice aside and rose to release Levy from his bonds. "Here you," he called to several sailors loitering near the door, "get a small boat ready and set him adrift."

"And put in a pair of oars," added Martin. "Give the lad a fighting chance, can't you? And some bread and a jug of water, too." Somehow he felt suddenly uncomfortable before the boy's quiet gaze. "Aren't you going to thank me?" he half bl.u.s.tered.

"I am an American gentleman," answered Levy, very slowly, "and I hold no speech with outlaws and pirates." And before the astonished mutineer could answer him he followed the sailors from the cabin.

And now his perilous journey was over at last, although his frail boat had been destroyed on the rocks before he reached the sh.o.r.e. An excellent swimmer, Levy had stripped off his shoes and coat and jumped into the water. Cleaving the waves with long powerful strokes, he soon reached land, where for several hours he lay wet and exhausted, so bitterly discouraged that he almost wished Jones had prevailed and cut his throat or forced him to walk the plank. Better to have fallen asleep beneath the waves, he thought, than try to live, a hopeless and a defeated man.

It was now past sunset and Levy mechanically set about building a fire to warm his aching limbs and keep off any prowling beasts while he slept. Scooping a hollow in the sand beyond the reach of the tide, he gathered dry drift wood which he finally lighted by the aid of a spark struck from two stones. He was hungry now and even more anxious for a smoke than for food; at that moment he hated the crew less for making off with the vessel in which he had had a third interest than for casting him on this deserted sh.o.r.e without even the solace of his evening pipe. Muttering angrily, he leaned over the fire to stir the blaze; as he did so the damp string about his neck swung free and he noticed the little lucky stone still fastened to the end.

Strangely enough, the sight of the pebble he had worn as a charm for so many years gave him courage. His bold spirit which for a little while had lain bruised and discouraged grew strong again; he felt that he was not the man to submit tamely to treachery and misfortune. He must win back all that he had lost that day, not only the stolen vessel but his self-respect. He must not allow himself beaten.

Crouching by the fire, his chin resting on his clenched fists, his eyes on the flames, the boy vowed not to rest until he had defeated his enemies and secured what was his own. "I'm strong and young," he told himself, confidently, "and so far my luck has never failed me."

And he fingered the little stone on the string about his neck. At last the fire died down, but there was no one to stir the dying embers, for Uriah Levy had fallen asleep upon the sands, the luck stone still clutched between his strong, brown fingers, a confident smile upon his lips.

In the days that followed, it was not an easy thing for young Levy to smile confidently in the faces of those who predicted certain failure in his undertaking. "Other merchants and commanders have suffered from pirates and mutinous crews before your day," he was informed at every turn. "Better s.h.i.+p again and look for better luck."

Kindly and well-meant advice, but Levy would have none of it. He still smiled, though now somewhat grimly, as he went from friend to friend, insisting that he would not fail to bring his piratical crew to justice. And so confident was he that he would eventually find a backer, that he even spent several days roaming about the wharves in order to pick out a trustworthy crew, should he find anyone willing to send him to sea on his own vessel again.

"Why, Uriah Levy," exclaimed a deep voice as a stout sailor came toward him. "You surely haven't forgotten me?"

"You're Ned Allison," said Levy after a long look had convinced him that the slender fisher boy had grown into the burly man before him.

"And do you follow the sea now as you planned?"

"Yes. My poor father died two years ago. So I sent mother to live with her sister and here I am. I just hit port last week and now I'm ready to leave again as soon as I find a good berth. Just can't feel at home on dry land anymore."

Levy nodded understandingly. "Take me to a good tavern around here,"

he suggested. "I want to talk to you."

Allison willingly led the way to a tavern in the neighborhood much frequented by sailors, chatting lightly as they walked. Levy hardly knew him for the shy, taciturn playfellow of his boyhood. He sipped his ale slowly as he studied Ned's bright, eager face. Somehow he felt encouraged at the thought that he might induce Allison to accompany him, should he set out on what seemed to be a hopeless voyage.

"And what have you been doing?" asked Allison, pausing for breath.

"The last I heard of you, you were master of the 'George Was.h.i.+ngton'

and part owner. Not that you look very lively and prosperous," he added with a keen glance.

Levy briefly related the story of the mutiny and his hope to pursue and punish his mutinous crew. "And I'll do it, too," he added, pa.s.sionately. "Though I suppose you, like the rest, think it's a mad venture," he ended, doubtfully.

Allison put down his mug before replying. "I can't say that I do," he answered slowly. "Though it's risking a good deal if you catch up to the dogs and they sink your s.h.i.+p in the scuffle. You couldn't afford that, could you?"

"I'm not thinking of the money alone," insisted Levy. "Nor of revenge; although I've been treated pretty shabbily and they'll pay for it, if I live long enough to track them down. But it's a matter of conscience with me, too, Allison. I'm going to do my share in making the sea clean of piracy. Maybe there won't be a war in our time, though they say there's trouble threatening with England, but I'll serve my country in this way at least. Want to help me?" and he leaned across the table, looking straight into Ned's eyes.

"I'd rather s.h.i.+p with you as master than any man I know, Sir,"