“I call this my quarter-deck,” he explained, seeing the question in her eyes. “I have been accustomed to pacing a deck for so many years that I didn’t feel at home without a stretch of planking to walk on.”
“Oh, isn’t it nice? I’ve seen pictures of people on ships. My mother came from England on a sailing vessel. I’m sure I’d just love the ocean!”
Captain Clarke smiled at her encouragingly but made no reply.
54Chicken Little rambled on nervously. She was decidedly in awe of her host but having begun to talk, it seemed easier to keep on than to stop.
“I guess it must be wonderful out at sea when the sun is coming up. Sometimes I get up early and go out on the prairie to watch it. It just keeps on getting lighter and lighter till finally the sun bobs up like a great smiling face. I always feel as if it were saying ‘Good morning, Jane.’ I suppose it’s a lot grander at sea where you can’t see a single thing but miles and miles of waves. Why, I should think you’d feel as if there wasn’t anybody in the world but you and God. I always feel a lot more religious outdoors than I do in church. But Mother says that’s just a notion. But, you know, the people are always so funny and solemn in church and the ministers most all talk through their noses or say ‘Hm-n’ to fill in when they don’t know what to say next. But, oh dear, I guess you’ll think I’m dreadful! And please don’t think I swear that way often. I haven’t for ever so long before.”
The Captain’s face twitched, but he replied gravely:
“Don’t worry about the ‘Darn,’ child, I’ve heard worse oaths, though I believe young girls are not supposed to use strong language. I feel as you do about church and the outdoors. I find it irksome 55to be cooped up anywhere. But come in, and I will have Wing Fan give you some pigeon pot-pie. We had a famous one for dinner and you surely must be hungry. Afterwards, I’ll show you through The Prairie Maid as I sometimes call this craft.”
Chicken Little began to feel at home. “And to think Ernest said he didn’t like women and girls! Pooh, I knew he was just fooling.”
Wing Fan found other things beside the pot-pie, and Chicken Little was soon feasting luxuriously with the Chinaman waiting on her most deferentially. Her host watched her with a keener interest, had she but known it, than he had shown in any human being for many months.
He was a man of fifty odd. Naturally reticent, his long voyages in command of merchant vessels had fostered an aloofness and love of solitude, which had later been intensified by a great grief. His stern bearing had repelled his country neighbors in the year he had lived on Big John. He was satisfied that it should be so, yet he was intensely lonely.