Chapter XXXIII: South and South Sailed the Good Barque

The word "Sarpinto" kept ringing in the old fisherman bard's ears as he retired to bed that night.

I believe the last words he said to himself as he laid his head on the pillow were "Sarpinto, Sarpinto, where on earth have I heard the name! Sar----"

He was asleep before he could finish the word, but when he awoke next morning he did finish it. "Pinto," he muttered to himself, "Pinto, yes, now I have it. That was part of the word that I read on the bill of lading that came on shore with dear Toddie, and that Bunko afterwards found in the log of wood. Pinto! I have it. How singular now if this Señor Sarpinto turned out to be nobody else but Toddie's wicked uncle."

Captain Cawdor was not an early riser, as the term is understood by the fisherfolks of Methlin, but on this particular morning he was up and out by seven o'clock.

He found Eean anxiously waiting for him.

"Come with me for a stroll," said Eean, "as far as a cave I have here. Ah! Toddy darling, here you are."

Toddie, who was quite a tall and very pretty girl, now threw her arms about the old bard's neck to give him a morning kiss, and receive his blessing. Then she shyly gave a hand to Captain Cawdor.

"Yes, you can come with us, pet," said the bard. "It is about you we are going to talk."

So the three walked along the cliff-top, and finally descended to the cave.

And there Eean, with the paper in his hand, told Captain Cawdor the whole of Toddie's strange story, as far as he himself knew it.

It was a strange story certainly, but simple enough in the main. There surely was nothing in it to strike so sturdy and hardy an old seafarer as Captain Cawdor speechless. But that is precisely the effect it had on this ancient mariner.

His eyes had got bigger and bigger as Eean proceeded, and as he finished his jaw had actually dropped.

He found his tongue at last, however. Then three times in succession he thumped his red round fist on the deal table in front of him, and three times in succession he muttered the words:

"Bless my soul, sir! Bless my soul!"

"Why, what is it?" said Eean. "Do you know anything?"

"Do I know _any_ thing, man? Bless you and me both, I know _every_ thing. I declare I'm half afraid wonders will never cease."

"Well," said Eean, "it is all very wonderful, but tell us all you know; for I am certain my little girl here is quite as anxious to hear about her early history as I am. And I pray God this moment, Captain Cawdor, that you will tell us nothing that can result in parting me and my more than child."

"Nay, nay," cried Captain Cawdor, earnestly and thoughtfully, as Toddie had thrown herself on old Eean's lap, and was nestling close to his breast.

"I'm certain sure you won't be parted; for Señor Sarpinto--and he really is Toddie's uncle--is one of the kindest men that ever breathed, and an ill-used man he has been."

"But," said Eean, "the paper here calls him a villain. See! Read for yourself."

Captain Cawdor adjusted his glasses, and glanced at the frayed and worn manuscript Eean placed in his hands.

"Nay, nay, sir, here you have made a great mistake. You will note, sir, that the words 'uncle'--'villain'--and 'malediction' are widely separated, and that a deal that has been written between them has been frayed out and obliterated. The word 'villain' doesn't refer to my dear, kind-hearted friend Sarpinto, nor the word 'malediction' either."

"You relieve my mind considerably, Captain Cawdor, but pray proceed."

"Well, sir, on our passage back from the southern seas, Sarpinto and I got very chummy indeed. Although he is a Spaniard, he is a man nobody could help loving. He told me all his life story. But I need tell you no more at present than what refers to the dear wee lady there.

"They were twins, sir, the brothers Sarpinto, and loved each other as dearly as brothers should. The only misfortune in their lives was their both falling deeply in love with the same young lady. No fault of hers, mind you. By all accounts that child's mother was an angel. She loved the sailor brother best, however, and she married him, and sailed with him wherever he went. And never, mind you, did this sailor know his brother's secret. But, between you and me, it broke this brother's heart, though he still lives. And while he lives he'll roam and rove around the wide world in quest of adventures, for, alas! he cannot rest.

"Now, sir," continued Captain Cawdor, "do you begin to see how the land lies?"

"I do," said Eean.

"Señor Sarpinto's sailor brother, on his last voyage, carried with him much specie, and it was not till long after he had sailed that the Señor found out there had sailed with him in disguise one of the blackest-hearted villains that ever drew a knife. The ship was the _Santa Maria_ sure enough, and the very commonness of the name threw the Señor off the scent, and he does not know now, of course, that his niece here is alive and well, and in such fatherly arms."

The captain ceased to speak, and after a moment's pause Eean rose slowly from his seat and held out his hand, which the sailor grasped right heartily.

"You are a good man," he said, "and God has sent you."

"And now," he added, as he reseated himself, "my duty lies before me more clearly than before."

"And that is?"----

"That is to return with you to America, and see this Señor Sarpinto for myself."

"Oh, daddy," cried Toddie, "you will not leave me."

"Nay, child, you too shall go. I feel we will not be separated."

"That you won't, sir."

"So cheer up, darling, you shall see a little of the world yet."

"And, oh, daddy, I feel sure of one thing."

"What, dear?"

"That we shall find Fred and Frank too."

"The Lord send that your words may come true," said Eean piously.

Then all three returned slowly along the cliff-top.

There was much talk and wonderment in the wee village of Methlin, when it got bruited abroad that Eean and his daughter, as Toddie was always called, were going off with the strange sailor gentleman to America.

And almost the first to hear of it was Bunko, the herd.

Now of late years, through the earnest and indefatigable teaching of Eean, a very great change had come over this strange lad. Simple he might still have been called, but half-witted no longer. He went straight away now and sought audience of Eean.

"I hear," he said, "you're going off to the lands o' America. Well, sir, I've saved ten golden pounds, and I'm goin' too to tak' care o' Toddie. No, no, you canna shake me off."

Eean smiled, and Bunko won.

So it came to pass that when Captain Cawdor, with Eean and Toddie, took passage at Liverpool for Baltimore, Bunko was booked also.

"Heigho," said Bunko, as soon as they were embarked, "I can hardly believe I'm no' dreaming. And we really _are_ going down to the sea in ships, to behold the wonders o' the Lord in the mighty deep."

* * * * * *

Just one month after the sailing of the steamer that bore old Eean and his party to the new world, and early on a beautiful forenoon, Señor Sarpinto was lounging in the gardens of a splendid hotel in San Francisco. At such a time of day as this very few people are to be found lounging anywhere, in this great busy, bustling city, for those who are not engrossed in the work of their lives are intent on pleasure.

But Sarpinto was an idler to-day, and a dreamer as well--that is, if so restless a spirit as his ever could be idle.

He had smoked two or three cigarettes, and lit a fourth, but presently he threw this away, and throwing himself back in his chair, allowed his eyes to rest on a fleecy cloud that was speeding across the blue sky on the wings of a western breeze. There was not another morsel of cloudlet to be seen anywhere.

"All alone! All alone!" he was saying half aloud, "alone like a ship at sea, or like my own time-tossed barque of life. How different, how very different it would all have been had Helena loved me! Ay, it is just seventeen years to-day since I dared my fate, and in these very gardens too, and not very far from this spot. Heigho! how the time flies! How----."

He had not heard the sound of light footsteps advancing, nor noted that anyone was near him, till a sweet soft voice said:

"Oh, please sir, can you tell me which is the path that leads to the gate? I----."

She ceased speaking, and stood before Señor Sarpinto, shy, half-frightened, but wholly surprised. And well she might be. For Sarpinto had clutched the arms of the chair with both hands, and was bending forward, gazing into her face as one might who has suddenly awakened from a strange dream.

"Good heavens! girl," he cried. "Tell me what or who you are, and how you came here."

"Oh, sir!" Toddie began, "I'm sorry--I didn't know, Pray forgive me, sir--but, ah! here come father and Captain Cawdor."

"O, Daddy!" she shouted, running towards the group, and forgetting all about Sarpinto. "I'm so glad you have come. I had lost you."

"But, my dear child," cried the jolly old captain, "I do declare you've found your uncle before us."

"My uncle? My uncle Sarpinto, Captain Cawdor!"

"Ay, ay, lass, and nobody else. Señor Sarpinto, you got my letters explaining all; and here, my dear sir, stands your little niece."

The Señor took a step forward with half-open arms, and next moment Toddie's head was pillowed on his breast. He kissed her brow, then held her at arm's length, that he might feast his eyes on her rare young beauty. The tears came welling up. He struggled to suppress them.

"How like your mother!" he sighed.

Then he kissed her again, and smiled.

"We shall all be very happy," he said. "How pleased I am to meet you, Mr. Arundel," he continued, turning now to Eean and shaking hands right heartily. "But, sir, you are to me no stranger. Many and many a night, when frozen up in the southern sea of ice, I have heard about you, and about Fred Arundel too."

"Yes," he added, looking at Toddie, "and about you, my dear, also, and your _Water Baby_, and all about your adventures on your desert island. Oh, I assure you, Carissima, Frank was never tired talking about you."

"Oh, sir! oh, uncle! do you think we shall ever see Fred and Frank again?"

"I dreamt we should, mia Carissima, and I have chartered the sturdy old _San Salvador_ for a cruise in southern seas to look for them--for I cannot, will not, believe them dead--and to look also for survivors, if any there be, of my good ship _Resolute_."

Señor paused for a moment. Then, once more turning to Eean and extending his hand, he said with a pleasant smile:

"Come with me as my guest, friend Arundel, and bring my niece as well. There, I will not be denied."

"In that case I will not refuse," said Eean, "and I shall write to my wife to-night."

"Oh, your wife shall know all about it in an hour! I shall cable."

* * * * * *

Very much surprised indeed was honest, kindly Eppie to receive that cablegram all the way from San Francisco--over three thousand miles of land, across three thousand miles and more of ocean. And the reply was paid for; so that Eean and Toddie had that very evening the pleasure of reading Eppie's message back, and her blessing.

And thus then it happened that, when the _San Salvador_ left the Pacific slope, and once more spread her canvas wings out before the ocean breeze, on her ivory-white quarter-deck sat old Eean, the bard, and Toddie, the latter dressed in the most bewitchingly yachty costume it is possible to imagine, and looking every inch a sailor.

And not very far off, leaning over the bulwarks, was Bunko himself, not looking very like a sailor, it must be confessed, but a well-dressed and interesting figure nevertheless.

Captain Cawdor was in uniform now, and he had not only the same mate, but pretty much the same men, as he had sailed into port with more than a year and a half ago.

One other person deserves a word of introduction. Yonder he is, talking now to Bunko, a Scottish missionary, one of those fearless young men who take life in the left hand, the Bible in the other, and carry the gospel of peace and goodwill to the most savage tribes on earth.

* * * * * *

South and south sailed the good barque _San Salvador_, and every day a new life seemed to be opening out before Toddie. Her young heart was full of hope; it was therefore full of joy, and she seemed to be part and parcel of all the beauty she saw around her--beauty of sea, beauty of sky, beauty of wild wheeling birds of the ocean wave, and beauty of green islands that seemed to move and float and flit on the world of waters, as the ship sailed past them and away--south, south, ever south.