They had set up a small stove in the captain’s cabin. Five minutes later they were all three doing a wild Indian dance round the fire. This ended by a pow-wow in blankets, then a feast of smoked trout, hard crackers and some hot drink only Jeanne knew how to make. And still, outside, the wind drove rain against the windowpanes.
“If she lasts that long,” Jeanne whispered under her breath. She was thinking of Florence’s words about the ship.
For the time it appeared there was nothing to fear. The wind dropped at sunset. Clouds went scudding away and the moon, shining like a newly polished copper kettle, hung over all.
After Greta and Jeanne had crept into their berths, Florence slipped into knickers and mackinaw to climb the steps leading to the bridge. There, while the moon sank lower and lower, she paced slowly back and forth.
In common with all other girls, this big girl had her dreams. Strange dreams they were that night. For her the ship was not a wreck, but a living ship riding on an even keel, plowing its way through the dark night waters. She was the captain on the bridge. From time to time, as if for a word with the wheelman, she paused in her march; at times, too, appeared to jangle a bell. For the most part she paced slowly back and forth.
“Why not?” she murmured at last. “Why should I not some day command a ship? I am strong as a man. There would be things to learn. I could master them as well as any man, I am sure.”
She paused for a moment’s reflection. Had there been other lady captains? Yes, she had read stories of one who commanded a tugboat in Puget Sound.
And there had been the lady of the “Christmas Tree Ship.” The husband of this Christmas tree lady had been lost on his craft while bringing thousands of Christmas trees to Chicago. She had chartered another ship and had carried on his work.
“What a glorious task!” the girl murmured. “Bringing Christmas trees to the people of a great city!
“She’s dead now,” she recollected, “that lady captain is dead. The Christmas tree ship sails no more. But it shall sail. Some day I shall be its captain. And Christmas trees shall be free to all those who are poor.”