“Yes,” answered the Captain; “I was over there myself two days ago.”
“Why, what for?” the boy asked in surprise.
“What for?” exclaimed the Captain. “Why, to enlist of course. And they wouldn’t take me; no, the fools wouldn’t take me! Here I know every yard and shroud and timber in every kind of ship that’s afloat. I’ve lived long enough really to learn something—and they turned me away. They’re taking boys of eighteen, sixteen even, if their parents say yes, fellows who have learned about as much of ships as they could find out from sailing chips in a duck-pond. I don’t know what our Navy means. Here’s a war coming, and a valuable man like me applies—and they won’t have him.”
His outburst was so full of wrath that for a moment Billy was awed into silence. But even the silence was thunderous with rage, so he finally broke it.
“What are you doing now?” he inquired.
Captain Saulsby put down the paper and his spectacles, rose stiffly and once more grasped his spade.
“I’m planting potatoes,” he said bitterly.
CHAPTER XI
THE WATCH FIRES OF APPLEDORE
It was Easter Sunday and Billy and his Aunt were going to church. The day was to bring forth strange things, but it began as any Sunday might, with bright weather that was a little hot, with a pleasant walk up through the fields while the bells were ringing, with entry into the cool, dim little church and a silent wait, for Aunt Mattie was one of the people who are always early. There was a good deal of stiff rustling of the Appledore population’s Sunday best, as in twos and threes the congregation filed in, fishermen and their wives, some more prosperous ones who farmed as well as fished, the hotel proprietor, and Harvey Jarreth in a suit of very new clothes.