Part 13

Within the fort, the children were much astonished at the number of enormous cannon, and at the great black balls and shells piled together in pyramids upon the green in the centre, and beneath the casemates. The side of the fort next the water was entirely taken up with these warlike-looking arrangements; while on the inner side were the officers’ quarters, or little houses where they lived, and the soldiers’ barracks and mess-rooms. All was neat, clean, and orderly; and, in spite of the purpose for which it was intended, the whole place had a bright, cheerful look. The band were playing delightful music on the green, and the drive was filled with gay equipages. The handsome carriages, fine horses, and beautifully dressed ladies and children, made it a pretty and lively scene, and it was all so new to the children, that each moment some exclamation of pleasure or wonder escaped them. Some of the officers were sauntering about, talking to their acquaintances; and the general who commanded the fort, being a friend of Colonel Rush, came and asked the ladies and children to alight from the carriages, and he would show them over the works. They were glad to accept his invitation, and the general took them over the fort, and explained all that was interesting.

But in spite of the many new and curious things she saw, in spite of the lovely music, and the merry crowd, Bessie’s mind was full of the “poor, naughty soldiers in the prison;” and when her older friends were resting in the general’s quarters, while she with the other children stayed without and watched the gay scene, she went quietly to Belle and said,--

“Belle, dear, don’t you feel rather bad about those soldiers shut up in that prison place?”

“Not when I don’t see ’em,” answered Belle. “I guess they were pretty naughty to be put in there.”

“May be so,” said Bessie; “but wouldn’t you like to be kind to them?”

“No,” said Belle. “I b’lieve not. One of them looked so cross.”

“Maybe it makes him cross to be shut up there when the music is playing, and every thing is so nice out here,” said Bessie. “Let’s go and ask them if they will promise to be good if they are let out.”

“We can’t let them out,” said Belle.

“No; but we’ll tell some one they have repented and ask for them to be let out. You know that soldier with a gun, that was walking up and down there? well, I guess he’s a kind of soldier-policeman and we’ll ask him. The prison is just outside of that gate-hole,” said Bessie, pointing to the archway by which the fort was entered; “and we will be back in a moment.”

“Shall we ask Maggie to go?” said Belle.

“No, Maggie was so frightened at them. She is over there with Harry, looking at those ugly black balls; so we won’t ’sturb her, but just go by ourselves.”

So, hand in hand, the two little things ran out under the archway, and over to the guard-house beyond. Not unnoticed, however; for though they were not seen by their own friends, they were by some acquaintances, who were driving past at the moment, and who, fearing that they might be run over by the constantly passing carriages, or fall into some other mischief, told Colonel Rush’s servants to see after the children. One of the men called his master, and the Colonel speedily followed the little runaways.

They made for the grated door, with what purpose Bessie hardly knew herself, save that there was kindness in her heart for the poor prisoners; but, as they reached it, the guard or “soldier-policeman,” as Bessie called him, stopped them by crossing his musket in their way.

Belle was frightened,--partly by this, partly by the two or three astonished faces that peeped at them through the bars,--and would have drawn back, but Bessie stood her ground, and, looking up at the guard with her innocent, serious eyes, said,--

“We only want to speak to the poor shut-up soldiers.”

The man shook his head.

“It’s against the rules, miss,” he said.

“But I’m not in rules,” said Bessie. “I don’t live here you know, and I think I might do it. If you were in prison you would like some one to coax you to be good: wouldn’t you?”

The soldier looked at her in astonished silence; but his gun still barred the way.

“You’ll let them out, won’t you?” she went on with pleading voice and eyes: “you’ll let them out so they can come in there where there is such sweet music, and it is all nice and bright? I think they are sorry now.”

“Yes,” said Belle: “see that poor fellow sitting on the floor with his head down. I’m sure he is sorry, and will be good, and the ofers will too.”

While the little girls were speaking, two more soldiers had come round from the other side of the guard-house. One of them was the corporal; and, hearing what the children said, he answered for the sentry.

“He can’t let them out, little ladies,” he said: “if he did he’d be put there himself.”

As he finished speaking, Colonel Rush stood behind the children. The corporal and the soldiers, even the men behind the grating, saluted the brave English officer, whom they knew by sight, and whom they greatly admired; for the story of his daring and courage were known to the garrison. But the third man, who was hardly more than a lad, still sat with his arms folded, and his head sunk upon his breast.

“My dear children,” said the Colonel, “this is no place for you. What brought you here?”

“Oh! Uncle Horace,” said Bessie, seizing upon his hand; “won’t you ask these policemen-soldiers to let out those poor prisoners? We feel so badly about them.”

“My darling,” answered the Colonel, “they cannot let out these men. They are under arrest, and shut up here because they have done wrong, and the guard are here to keep them from getting out.”

“But see that poor soldier sitting down there,” said Bessie: “he looks so sorry. Maybe, he’s thinking of somebody of his, far away, who will hear he has been in prison, and feel badly about it.”

In her earnestness, she was using every argument she could think of; but she had innocently touched almost the only soft spot in the man’s heart. If he was not at the moment thinking of “somebody of his” who was far away, her words brought the thought of that one to his mind,--that “somebody,” his poor young sister, who would be grieved at his disgrace, hurt at his obstinate wrong-doing, if it ever came to her ears.

He raised his head, and gave a quick glance at the innocent little pleader; and a softened look came over the hard, sullen face.

“He’s not sorry, but just sullen, little lady,” said the corporal: “that fellow has been in the guard-house four times in the last week, for insubordination, and they’ll have to try some harder measures to take it out of him, I’m thinking. Your pity is only wasted.”

“Oh, no!” said Bessie; “for you know Jesus said we must be sorry with people when they are in trouble, and happy with them when they are glad. I’m _very_ sorry for him and the other men too. Who can let them out, Uncle Horace?”

“Only their officers, Bessie; and I fear they must stay here now till their time is up: but we will hope they will do better in future, and not deserve punishment again. Come away now: your mother will be anxious.”

Bessie obeyed; but both she and Belle cast backward pitying looks at the poor prisoners. The man they had noticed most, still sat silent; but the other two, as well as the soldiers without, talked with pleasure and amusement of their pretty ways and innocent simplicity.

But the man who had seemed to pay little or no regard to their words was the one who remembered them the longest, and to whom they brought the most good. He had been hard, obstinate, and disobedient, and, as the corporal said, had been punished four times during the last week. Punishment and persuasion had alike proved useless in bringing him to do better; but he was softened now. He could not resist that sweet little face, the pitying eyes and gentle tones that asked for his release. He thought of them, and of that “somebody of his,” all that night as he lay upon the hard floor of the guard-house; and, when he was set free in the morning, went to his commanding officer whom he had disobeyed and insulted; asked forgiveness, and promised that he would try not to offend again. And he kept his word, striving hard with himself for he always felt, from this time, as if there were two “somebodies” who would be grieved to hear of his bad behavior and disgrace.

“Who could let them out, Uncle Horace?” repeated Bessie as the Colonel led her and Belle away.

“Only the officer who ordered them to be shut up, dear,” said the Colonel.

“And couldn’t we ask him?” said Bessie.

“Not very well, dear: the rules in the army must be strictly kept; and if these men were let out without good reason, it would be a bad example for the other soldiers, who might think they would not be punished if they were disobedient.”

“But what had that man on the floor been doing?” asked Belle.

“I do not know, dear. Misbehaving in some way which deserved punishment.”

“The soldier-policeman said he had been shut up four times for--for--in--su--such a long word I can’t remember it, Uncle Horace, and I didn’t know what it meant,” said Bessie.

“Insubordination?” said the Colonel.

“Yes, sir: what does it mean?”

“Disobeying orders, or being impertinent, and so forth,” said the Colonel.

“And we’d better not ask the General to let them come out of that dark house?” said Belle.

“No, I think not,” said the Colonel. “They would not have been shut up if it had not been necessary, and we had better let the matter rest. We can do no good by interfering.”

So thought the Colonel, believing and knowing that discipline must be sternly kept up; knowing nothing the while of the good which had already been done,--of the tiny seed unconsciously dropped upon the hard and stony ground of an obstinate heart, but which had brought “forth fruit meet for repentance.”

This was by no means Bessie’s last visit to Fort Adams; but she never saw the prisoner soldiers again, at least she did not recognize them; but they saw and knew her, the innocent little fairy, so she seemed to these rough men, who had stood outside the prison bars, pleading so pityingly for their release.

XIV.

_WATER-LILIES._

One great object of delight and interest to the children was the immense number of robins around Newport. These pretty, saucy, little birds were constantly to be seen hopping about the soft, velvety lawns for which this place is famous; picking up whatever crumbs fell in their way, or such unwary worms and caterpillars as had ventured forth for air and exercise; swinging on the branches of the trees, or perched with an independent, look-at-me sort of an air, upon the fences and railings; shaking down showers of diamond dew-drops from slender sprays, in the early morning; charming all ears with their sweet notes; welcome guests whenever and wherever they came.

The first thing done by the children after breakfast, was each morning to beg for crumbs and bits of bread to feed the robins, who would come hopping close to the piazza to receive the welcome gift. Even Baby Annie must throw out her share, and would hold up her tiny little finger to keep off any one who, she feared, would disturb the birds, saying,--

“Ss, ss, badie fy,” which meant, “Hush, hush, birdie fly.”

Then there was the bathing in the sea, now as formerly, such a source of pleasure to Bessie. Maggie, too, enjoyed it, for she had lost all fear of the waves while she was at Quam Beach. It afforded endless amusement, too, to Maggie, to see the droll figures presented by the bathers when they were dressed for their dip in the sea. Her merry, ringing laugh provoked smiles not only from lookers-on, but from the very wearers themselves; for there was no rudeness or unkindness in that laugh, and she was quite as much diverted at her own appearance as she was at that of others.

From nine to twelve, the beach was generally crowded with bathers; some coming from the water, others going from the line of bathing-houses towards it; others still, in every color and style of dress, bobbing up and down in the waves. There were carriages driving back and forth over the yielding sand; many walkers, too,--people who came only to look at the bathers, or who were moving about after their own bath. The beach was a merry, lively place, where there was never a lack of “something to do;” for the children always brought their little pails and shovels with them, and when their frolic in the water was over, they would dig in the sand, or pick up small shells. Sometimes they would watch the clam-fishers turning over the sea-weed with their long-pronged instruments, or sail bits of wood and light scallop-shells down the pretty, shallow stream of fresh water; which, running from the pond beyond, and crossing the beach near its upper end, mingles its pure waters with the salt waves of the sea.

There was a story connected with this beach, told by Mr. Bradford to his children,--a story strange and romantic enough to satisfy even Maggie’s love of the marvellous, yet perfectly true.

One fine, bright morning, more than a hundred years ago, a vessel was seen coming down directly towards the beach, where no vessel had ever been known to venture before. Her sails were all set, her colors flying; and the alarmed spectators watched her with the most painful interest, expecting each instant to see her dashed to pieces upon the rocks. But no: on she came safely; past craggy points and over hidden reefs, and struck her keel into the soft sand of the beach. No person was seen on board; and, when the anxious townspeople reached her decks, the only living creature there was a dog. A cat was found in the cabin, where coffee was boiling, and other preparations made for breakfast; but not a sailor was to be seen. What became of her crew was never known: but it was supposed, that, finding themselves too near the rocks, they took to the life-boat, which was missing, and were lost; while the vessel came safely to land, without hand or eye to guide her.

Beyond this beach, a most lovely drive, with the ocean in view all the way, leads to Purgatory and Paradise. The former is a great gulf or chasm in the solid rock of the point or bluff which separates the first from the second beach; a dark, gloomy-looking place, from which Maggie, Bessie, and Belle drew back in alarm, without the least desire to look down. Neither did they like to hear the stones which the boys threw into the cleft, and which went bounding with a dull sound, from side to side, till they plunged sullenly into the dark waters below.

Reckless Fred ventured too near the edge, where a slip upon the short grass, or a stray pebble would have sent him down into the dark abyss. The Colonel drew him back with no gentle hand, and a sharp reprimand, all of which made the little girls still more ready to seek a pleasanter spot.

“For,” said Maggie, in a tone of great wisdom, “I don’t think it is at all prudent to come into places where one can be killed with such felicity.”

Maggie meant facility.

Paradise, as might be supposed, proved much more attractive. This is a succession of lovely groves and mossy glades lying below and on the sides of a rocky hill, and as great a contrast as can be imagined to its neighbor, Purgatory.

But the place which the children loved the best, and where they spent the most of their time, was the lovely little beach lying just below the bluff on which stood Colonel Rush’s house. Here, too, they often bathed, instead of driving over to the larger and more frequented beach; and here they might be found at almost every hour of the day. Here Bessie would sit, forgetting her play, as she watched the blue billows with their crests of white foam, rolling up one after the other on the smooth sands, and listening to the chiming sound of the waves, the grand music of old ocean sounding ceaselessly, and speaking to all hearts, that will hear, of the power and goodness of the Almighty hand which holds it in its place.

Even in bad weather, when she could not go out, the sea afforded endless pleasure to Bessie; for she could sit at the window watching it, as the waves, lashed into fury by the wind, rushed foaming and dashing over the rocks and reefs, and sometimes even flung their spray above the edge of the cliff on which the house stood.

And sitting here one day, looking out from her perch over the stormy waters, the leaping waves, and foam-covered rocks, she was the first to observe, and call all the family to see a spectacle which they had long desired to witness.

This was the famous Spouting Rock in full play.

At a little distance from Colonel Rush’s house was a ledge of rocks, the under side of which has been worn into deep caverns by the constant fretting of the waves. One of them has an open shaft, or sort of natural chimney, which ends on the surface of the rock. In stormy weather, when the wind has blown for some time in a particular direction, the sea rushes with great power into these caverns, and forces itself up through the spout or chimney, often to a great height. But this does not happen very often, and one may spend months, perhaps years, at Newport, without ever seeing it.

All of Mr. Bradford’s children, and indeed the grown people of the party as well, had been very anxious to see this singular sight; and when Bessie, sitting by the window, and looking over towards these rocks, saw a jet of water forcing itself above them, she knew at once what it was, and called out eagerly,--

“Oh, the horn is horning! it is really horning; come and see, everybody.”

The horn spouted all that day, and the children never tired of looking at it; and Frankie, when he was asked if he knew what it was, answered,--

“I dess it is Dod’s fountain,” than which no answer could have been truer.

Not very far from Colonel Rush’s house, lay a calm, lovely lake, called Lily Pond, separated from the ocean only by a narrow belt of land, and making a striking contrast to the rolling billows of the ocean so near.

As may be supposed, the lake is named from the number of water-lilies with which it is covered during the season when these exquisite flowers are in bloom. They fill the air with their delicious fragrance; and the delicate, pearly, white blossoms are seen by all the passers-by, resting among their green leaves on the surface of the water.

Bessie’s mother, and Bessie herself, were both extremely fond of these lovely flowers; and when Harry came in one day with two which he had fished up from their watery bed with some trouble to himself, great was the rejoicing over them.

The next afternoon, Maggie and Bessie were out driving with Mrs. Rush and Aunt Bessie, when they came upon a boy and girl, perched upon a fence at the side of the road, and having a basket half-filled with water-lilies.

“Water-lilies! oh, water-lilies!” cried Bessie; “where did they gather so many I wonder. Could we find some for dear mamma, do you think, Aunt May?”

“I think those children have them for sale: we can buy some from them,” said Mrs. Rush; and she ordered the coachman to stop.

“But we have left all our money at home,” said Maggie, in a tone of regret.

“Well, I will buy them, and you may give them to mamma,” said Mrs. Rush.

“But that is not at all the same, Aunt May,” said Bessie: “it would only be pretend our present.”

“Suppose I lend you the money. You may give it back to me if you like, as soon as you go home.”

So Maggie and Bessie each bought a bunch of water-lilies from the boy and girl, who had come down from the fence and now stood beside the carriage, and Aunt May purchased the rest, leaving the basket empty.

The girl tossed her basket above her head, and, after thanking the ladies, bounded across the road and over the fence on the other side, making for Lily Pond as if she were after a fresh supply. The boy followed more slowly.

“I wonder why they sell lilies,” said Maggie: “they do not look so very poor. At least they’re not ragged and dirty, though the girl has a pretty ugly frock.”

“If I was poor and had to make some money, I would choose to be a water-lily girl,” said Bessie; “and I would try to be so polite, and ask so nicely, that people would like to buy of me.”

“I do not think people would be very apt to refuse you, my lily girl,” said Aunt Bessie, with a loving look at the sweet little face before her, which was bent over the lovely white blossoms, not purer than itself.

“I would like to paddle in and pick the lilies,” said Maggie; “but I would not like to sit on top of a fence, waiting for people to come and buy my flowers: it must be so stupid.”

“The boy looks as if he were better able to do that than to pick the lilies,” said Mrs. Rush. “He has an interesting, thoughtful face, but looks delicate.”

“My anxiety is all upsidedown about him,” said Maggie. “Maybe he wants money to pay a doctor. Bessie, when we go out to walk to-morrow morning, let’s ask nurse to come this way, and see if we can find these children. Maybe we could help them a little. We must have a whole lot of charity money, for you know we have not had much use for it on our travels.”

Accordingly, the next morning the children waited for Belle; and, as soon as she came, the whole flock started with Mammy and Jane on the road towards Lily Pond, the little girls having taken care to be provided with money. They found the boy and girl, not sitting on top of the fence this time, but near the lake; the boy lying flat upon a rock with a book in his hand, the girl sitting beside him, busy shelling pease.

They looked up as our party drew near, and the girl said with a pleased look,--

“Oh! it’s the little girls who bought all the lilies yesterday.”

“Yes, it is us,” said Maggie. “Have you more to sell us to-day? We meant to buy a whole lot, and have brought a basket in baby’s wagon.”

“We haven’t picked any to-day,” said the boy: “we don’t generally gather them till later, when it’s time for the gentle-folks to come riding this way; but we can get some for you right away. In a few days, when they’re more plenty, there’ll be lots of fellows up here after them; but they mostly take them down to the beach and around the town to sell.”

“We have a little pond of our own, where there are a few,” said the girl; “but we get most off of this one.”

“Where do you live?” asked Belle.

“Over yonder,” said the girl, pointing to a small farm-house standing among its out-buildings on the other side of the road. “Now, Johnny, I’m ready.”

Johnny went a few steps off, where the bushes grew thickly, and drew from among them two long, hooked sticks. One of these he gave to the girl, and kept the other in his own hand. While they had been talking, the girl had pulled off her shoes and stockings; and now, to the surprise of all the children, she waded into the water, while her brother stayed upon the rock, without offering to follow.

Sallie, so he called her, stepped out till the water touched her knees; and having gathered such lilies as she could reach with her hand, drew others towards her with the hooked stick. The long, slender stems yielded easily; and, as she plucked one after another, she tossed them towards her brother, who drew them in with his own stick.

How lovely and delicious they were, just fresh from their watery bed, with the drops still glittering like diamonds on the rich, creamy-white petals! how they filled the whole air with their fragrance!

“I think if I could carry flowers to heaven, I would like to take these,” whispered Bessie to Maggie and Belle, as all three hung delighted over their prize. “They look as if they were very large stars fallen down out of God’s sky, to tell us how sweet every thing is there.”

“O Bessie, you darling!” said Maggie. “What a lovely idea! That’s good enough to put in a book. Bessie, do you know that is talking prose?”

“What is prose?” asked Belle.

“You know what rhyme is,” said Maggie.