So the launch puffed out of the harbor and round the point, and then Smugglers’ was left behind them, and they were crossing the bay past the salt reefs, and now were out of sight of the egg islands, and soon were encountering the big waves that had guarded their prison so long. Jennie laughed, remembering how seasick she had been when they came in. Then San Moros itself passed from their sight, and the life there glided into a closed past.
Already Marian was planning a new and different future.
“Father,” she said, “you say you had to mortgage the home to get the money to come for us. A mortgage is always a hard thing to lift, isn’t it?”
“Apt to be, daughter,” replied Mr. Hadley, “but after seeing what you children did with your bare hands back on that Island, I am not worrying about a little thing like a mortgage. If you don’t like the place, we’ll get your uncle to let us in some way on some of that wild land of his up in the mountains, and you can carve out and build up a place to suit yourselves.”
The steamer at the Port had unloaded her passengers,—those that were to get off there,—and had since been busy taking in a nice little pile of cargo. Her captain wished to go out that night, and they were about ready to start. There were a good many down on the pier, coming and going, and the place was lighted by a few lanterns, leaving great spaces of shadow in between their circles of light.
Mr. Cunningham’s new launch was just in with a picnic party from the Rosalies. They were unloading shawls and baskets and pails of clams.
“I say, Cunningham,” called out one of this party, “is that Beekman’s crowd we passed out there?”
“No,” was the answer; “Beekman will not be in for two days. I had a wire to-day.”
“Well, who in thunder was it, then? We passed a launch out there. If it wasn’t Beekman, who was it?”
“Perhaps it was the two men the captain dropped in the Gulf this morning. He said they would be in in a few days. Perhaps they changed their minds.”