"Can we not do that, Aunt Martha, when May is really here?" asked Anne.

"Perhaps," replied Aunt Martha, "if the minister sees no objection, and if we get good news before that time, why, a May-day party would be a pretty thing. The boys could put up the May-pole near the spring, and there will be all sorts of wild things in blossom by that time."

When they started off for the marshes Anne told Amanda what her Aunt Martha had said, and Mrs. Cary and Amos were greatly interested. Amos said that he knew where he could get a fine pole, and Mrs. Cary said that the little girls could gather flowers and fasten them to the pole with vines and strings before it was set up.

"And there must be a big wreath fastened on top of the pole," said Mrs. Cary, "and by rights there should be long bright streamers coming down from the top for each to hold and twist in and out as they dance around it."

"Can we not take long strings and fasten flowers about them?" asked Anne.

"Why, yes, indeed!" replied Mrs. Cary. "'twill be better than any bright ribbons. Now we must surely have a May-day party. Near the spring will be the very place."

As they searched for thoroughwort, and picked the tender spruce and pine tips, they all talked of the coming May-day, but Amos soon began to look about for a good place to make his fire. He had brought the fish in a covered basket, and said that he knew he could cook it as well as if he had a kettle to boil it in. He made a fire at a little distance from the woods, and then busied himself in putting up two crotched sticks, one on each side of the fire; a third stick rested across these two, and from it hung the fish, directly over the blaze.

Amos watched his fire very carefully, and kept a brisk blaze until the fish began to grow brown and steam. Then he declared that it was nearly cooked, and so let his fire die down until only a bed of smouldering coals remained.

They all thought the fish tasted as good as if it had been cooked in a pan or kettle, and Mrs. Cary had a fine cake of Indian meal, and with Anne's molasses cake they all said that it was the best dinner any one could have. The April sky was soft and blue, the sun warm, and Amos was sure that in a few days he could go in swimming.

"And it's only the nineteenth of April," said Anne.

Afterward these children always remembered the nineteenth of April, and would say, "That was the day we had our picnic at the marshes," and on that day the minutemen were gathered at Lexington and Earl Percy was urging his tired men to meet them, and the great battle which did so much to settle the fate of the Americans was fought.

But the people at Province Town did not know of this until long afterward. If Anne had known on the day when she was so happy, thinking of the May-day to come, and watching Amos cook the fish over the fire, that her dear father with other brave men was at Cambridge on guard waiting for the British, who were determined to make a stand in their flight from the minutemen, and that on that very day her good friends, the Freemans, were hurrying away toward Watertown to escape the dangers of war which now centered about Boston, she would not have cared so much about the May-day plans.

"It would be well to ask all the grown people as well as the children to the May party," said Mrs. Cary, as the little party made its way toward home that afternoon. "I do not think there has ever been a May-day party before in the town, and it will be good for all of us to try and be cheerful."

Anne and Amanda looked at her wonderingly. The world seemed a very cheerful and happy place to both the little girls, and they could not know how anxious the older people were that the trouble with England might soon come to an end.



CHAPTER XVI

THE MAY PARTY

"A May-day party, eh?" said Elder Haven, when Anne and Amanda told him of the plan. "Why, I think it an excellent idea. It will surely be a pleasant sight to see the children dance about the May-pole, and I shall like well to come."

After Elder Haven had approved the parents could find nothing wrong in the idea, and all the children went Maying for arbutus and trailing evergreens to wind about the pole.

Early on the morning of May-day Amos and Jimmie were at the spring with a long smooth pole. The other children soon followed them, and Mrs. Starkweather came to show them how to fasten the wreath at the top and the long strings covered with vines and blossoms which Anne and Amanda, with the help of Mrs. Stoddard and the Starkweather boys, had made ready the day before.

"We used often to dance about a May-pole when I was a girl in Barnstable," said Mrs. Starkweather. "To be sure it is an old English custom, and just now England does not seem our friend, but 'Tis a pleasant custom that we do well to follow. I know a little song that we all used to sing as we took hold of the bright streamers."

"I know that song," said Dannie; "you call it 'May Song.'"

"Why, yes," said Mrs. Starkweather, "I'm sure all my boys know it. I've sung them all to sleep by it; and 'Tis one I sing about my work, for 'Tis a cheerful and a merry lilt."

"It goes this way," said Dannie, and began to sing:

"Birds in the tree; Humming of bees, Wind singing over the sea; Happy May-days, Now do we praise, As we dance gladly round the May tree."

As Dannie sang his mother and brothers joined in with him, and the other children listened in delight.

"Can you not sing it when we do 'dance round the May tree,' Aunt Starkweather?" asked Anne; "and if Dannie will sing it over to us a few times I am sure that we can all sing it, and then Elder Haven can hear us."

Dannie liked to sing, and he sang the little verse over and over again until all the children knew it, and until his mother said that they must all run home and make themselves tidy, and then come back, as the dance around the May-pole was to be at two o'clock.

"I do wish that Uncle Enos could see it," said Anne, as she put on her new white pinafore over her plaid dress, and fastened the coral beads around her neck; "I know well he would like to hear the song."

"The boats went out early and may get in in good time," said Aunt Martha.

"Mrs. Starkweather says that there is always a Queen of the May—a little girl whom the other children choose to wear a wreath on her head, and whatever the Queen tells them to do they must do all May-day," said Anne, as she and Mrs. Stoddard walked toward the spring, "but I do think the other children have forgotten all about it."

"What makes the children want to choose one to obey, I wonder," said Mrs. Stoddard, smiling down at Anne.

"It must be because 'Tis a little girl whom they all like, and who is always kind and pleasant to the other children," said Anne. "If 'twas a King of the May we would all want Jimmie Starkweather; but there are not so many girls as boys."

The other children were all at the spring with bunches and wreaths of flowers, and Anne was surprised to see that a mound of sand had been heaped up and covered with pine boughs.

"What is that for?" she asked.

"That's a throne for the Queen," said Dannie Starkweather.

Mrs. Cary and Mrs. Starkweather were talking with the children, and as Anne came near they formed into a little circle round her, joining hands and singing:

"Our May-queen, Queen of the May, We're ready to serve you All this bright day."

Then Willie Starkweather, who was only four years old, took Anne's hand and led her to the "throne" and said, "You mutht thit down, Anne," for Willie lisped, "and I'll put the crown on."

So Anne sat down on the pine-covered sand-heap, and Willie put a wreath of fragrant arbutus on her head.

Captain Enos, hurrying up from the shore, thought it the prettiest sight he had ever seen. The tall pole, covered with green vines and bright blossoms, the children forming in a circle round Anne, and the pleasant May skies over all, seemed to the sailor to make a picture worth remembering.

Then came the dance round the May-pole and the song. By this time, the other men had come up from the shore; Elder Haven was there, and every one in the little settlement had gathered at the spring. It was a circle of happy faces, and when the time came for them all to start for their homes, each one said that Province Town had never seen so pretty a sight.

"'Tis something we shall like to think about," said Elder Haven to Jimmie Starkweather, as the two walked toward the Elder's house.

Anne was sure that it was the happiest day in her life. "I wish my father could have seen me, Aunt Martha," she said, as they walked toward home. "'Twould please him well to know the children like me. 'Tis only a year since they did scorn me at the spring."

"You must forget about that, Anne," said Aunt Martha. "They chose you for Queen because you have been a pleasant child. You see, it matters not what they said before they knew you."

"Aunt Martha!" exclaimed Anne, suddenly looking up toward the harbor, "see! There are two big ships coming down the bay."

"We are not to be in peace long," said Mrs. Stoddard. "They are coming straight to anchorage."

Every one soon knew that the "Somerset" was back again, and now the English sailors took no trouble to be civil. They laid hands on provisions of all sorts, but nevertheless they brought good news.

William Trull found a chance to tell Captain Enos that the Americans had won the battle at Lexington. "We'll be in harbor here but a day or two," he added; "we must be back to watch the Americans at Charlestown." And, sure enough, the next morning the big ships had sailed away again, taking with them many things that the little settlement could ill spare.

As the summer days lengthened, Anne longed more and more for some news of her father. The battle of Bunker Hill had brought another triumph to the Americans, but the English vessels still cruised about the coast, making the fishermen careful about going far from shore.

"Uncle Enos, could we not go to Boston again and find my father?" Anne would ask, and Captain Enos would grow serious and shake his head, and say it would be too great a risk to undertake. So Anne helped Aunt Martha with the work of the house, played with her doll under the pine trees, and wandered about the shore with Amanda, but always thinking of her absent father, and wishing that she might go and find him.

"I am past nine years old. If I was a boy, I could sail a boat to Boston," she said to Amanda one day, as they went down to the beach to watch the fishing-boats come in.

"Yes," agreed Amanda; "I guess that Amos could sail a boat to Boston before he was nine."

"Then he could sail one there now," exclaimed Anne. "Oh, Amanda, wouldn't Amos sail us to Boston to find my father? Uncle Enos will not; he says 'Tis not safe. But surely the English would not hurt two little girls and a boy. Would Amos be afraid?"

"Afraid of what?" Amos had come up beside them, and the sound of his voice made them jump.

"Afraid to sail a boat to Boston," explained Anne.

"That would be easy enough," declared the boy, "and I would like well to get the chance to sail father's 'Peggy' to Boston."

"Will you, Amos? And take Amanda and me with you to find my father? I will take all the blame, indeed I will. And if we find him and bring him back, they will all think you a brave boy, Amos."

"They will not let us start," said Amos. "We'd have to put off in the night. But I'll do it. You girls must bring along something to eat, and we'll start at midnight."

"When?" asked Anne.

"To-night," answered the boy. "Why, 'twill be a greater adventure than any boy of this settlement ever had. If we make Boston, I may be made prisoner by the British," and Amos looked as happy over the prospect as Anne did at the thought of finding her father.

"Mistress Stoddard will not be pleased," cautioned Amanda.

"She did not greatly blame me before," said Anne. "She knows I want much to see my father, and Uncle Enos does not want to go. If we sail safely there and home, it will save Uncle Enos trouble. He will not have to go himself."

"Should we see Rose Freeman?" asked Amanda.

"It may be," said Anne.

"I would like well to go, if we could see her," Amanda said thoughtfully.

Amos was now full of plans for the trip. There would be a favoring tide at midnight, and he was sure they could sail out of the harbor and be well on their way by morning; and, giving the girls many cautions about being on the shore at the right time, he went happily off to look over the sloop "Peggy," and to wonder what Jimmie Starkweather would say if he knew that he, Amos, was going to sail a boat straight up to Boston!



CHAPTER XVII

THE SLOOP, "PEGGY"

The sloop, "Peggy," was becalmed. Anne, Amanda and Amos looked over the smooth stretch of water, but there was not a ripple to be seen. Since sunrise, the boat had not moved. They had made the start at midnight, as they had planned, and had sailed away under a fair wind; but before the sun rose the wind had died away, and the mainsail now swung back and forth and the boat drifted slowly with the current.

None of the children had thought of bringing a jug of fresh water, and the salt fish and corn bread which they had brought along for food made them very thirsty.

"We're off Barnstable now," said Amos. "I've a mind to let the boat drift in nearer shore and anchor, and then row ashore in the tender and get some water."



"How far is Barnstable from Boston?" asked Anne.

"Miles and miles," answered Amos. "'Tis only about half-way up the cape from Province Town."

"Then we could not walk to Boston from there?"

"No," said Amos; "why should we walk? There'll be a good breeze come sunset. All we need is a good drink of water, and there's a water-jug in the cabin. I can take it ashore and fill it at some spring."

As the children talked, the current had carried the boat steadily toward shore, but now it did not move.

"She's stuck on a sand-bar," exclaimed Amos, "and the tide's turning. Perhaps I can walk ashore."

It was not long before the boat began to tip to one side, and as the tide went out, they found themselves on a sand-bar, a full half mile from shore. The water seemed to flow in little channels, like wide brooks, here and there, between the boat and the land, and Amos wondered if he could either jump or wade those channels. The hot July sun beat down upon them, they were very thirsty and uncomfortable, and Amanda began to wish herself at home.

"We ought not to have started," she said, ready to cry. "I know my mother won't like it, and Mistress Stoddard will not like it, either."

Anne was very quiet. She was thirsty, hot and uncomfortable, and being run aground on a sand-bar near a strange shore was a very different thing from her other prosperous voyage with Captain Enos. What if they should never reach Boston at all?

"They will all think that we have run away this time," said Amos, who had stepped over the side of the boat onto the sand-bar.

"Oh, no, they won't," said Anne. "I wrote on a smooth chip, 'Amanda and Amos and I have gone to Boston to find my father,' and put it on the kitchen table."

"I believe I could get across those channels some way," declared Amos, "and I am so thirsty that I'm going to try it."

Amanda brought him the small stone jug from the cabin, and telling the girls not even to step out of the boat until he came back, Amos started for the shore. They saw him wade the first channel, run across a long stretch of wet sand, cross the other channel and reach the shore safely.

"Goody!" exclaimed Amanda; "now he will find a spring, fill the jug and hurry back, and we can have a good drink of water," and she turned smilingly to Anne. But Anne was looking very sober. She had been thinking over her other trip, and now remembered what Mrs. Stoddard had said when she returned from Boston.

"Oh, Amanda!" she said, looking ready to cry, "when I ran off before with Uncle Enos, Aunt Martha did tell me that I must never do so again. Now I have disobeyed her, and perhaps she will not want me to live with her any more."

"Then you can live with your father," answered Amanda cheerfully.

"But my father was to live with us," said Anne. "He was to have the big, pleasant loft that looks toward the water, and was to help Uncle Enos with the fishing. Perhaps they will not want either of us since I have been so unruly and disobedient."

Amanda longed to tell Anne that she should have a home with her, but she remembered that the white kitten had to be given away because they could not afford to keep it, and so kept silent.

"I hope Amos will not linger," she said, after a little silence. "He forgets that we are as thirsty as he is."

The little girls watched the shore anxiously, expecting every minute to see Amos hurrying back with a jug full of fresh water, but time passed and he did not come.

"I think the tide has turned," said Amanda. "See, the channels are widening every minute. If Amos does not come soon the water will be too deep. Oh, dear! I am afraid something has befallen him."

"What could befall him?" questioned Anne. "'Tis a smooth and pleasant shore, with much taller trees than grow about Province Town. He is just playing about and has forgotten us."

Anne was nearly right, for after Amos had found a fine boiling spring and had drunk all he wanted and then filled his jug, he had sat down to rest under a wide-spreading oak tree. The day was hot, he was very tired and sleepy, having been awake all the night before, and without forgetting the "Peggy" or her crew, he dropped gently off to sleep. The tide came in, lifted the "Peggy" from the sand-bar and a gentle breeze carried her steadily out from shore, and Amos slept on, knowing nothing of what had happened. The sun was very low in the western sky when he awoke. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, snatched up the jug and ran to the shore, but there was no boat to be seen.

Amos was now thoroughly frightened. He ran up and down the quiet shore, calling the name of his boat and shouting, "Amanda!" "Anne!" at the top of his voice. The shadows of the summer night deepened, a little haze rose over the water, and Amos, crouching down near the water's edge, waited for night to come.

"I know I shall never sleep any more," he whispered to himself, hardly daring to think of what might happen to the little girls. He wished that he had lowered the mainsail before coming ashore.

"I ought to have dropped anchor, anyway," he said aloud, and almost forgot to be hungry in his anxiety.

The shadows grew deeper, night settled down on land and sea and Amos went fast asleep again, with his bare feet almost within reach of the waves that rolled so softly up over the smooth sand.

Anne and Amanda watched the tide come in about the "Peggy," and soon felt the boat move under them. Then the mainsail filled and swung out, as the breeze came up.

"Try and steer ashore, Amanda," exclaimed Anne.

"I dare not touch the rudder," said Amanda. "Whenever I have been in a boat, my father has told me to sit still; and I do think it is the best thing we can do now, Anne."

"Mayhap the wind will take us home again," said Anne, "and then your father will come back and find Amos."

"More like 'twill take us straight out to sea," said Amanda.

"'Tis all my fault," said Anne; "I did prevail on you and Amos to come."

"We both liked well to come," answered Amanda stoutly. "Amos should have known better, for he is older. But he likes a risk over well, and now he can play shipwrecked to his heart's desire."

"My eyes are heavy with sleep," said Anne. "Let us say the small prayer that Elder Haven taught us and sleep a little. 'Tis dark and foggy; we can see nothing."

Amanda reached out her sunburned little hand and clasped Anne's, and they repeated aloud the prayer, asking for help and protection, which Elder Haven had taught them; then, curling themselves up in the bottom of the boat, they went fast asleep.

But the "Peggy" did not sail far. The wind died away, and the boat drifted with the tide. When the little girls awoke it was bright sunshine, and a big ship was coming slowly down upon them.

"'Tis a Britisher!" Amanda exclaimed; "like as not she's bound for England and will carry us straight off," and Amanda began crying bitterly.

Before Anne could answer there came a hail from the ship, and Anne and Amanda called back, "Sloop 'Peggy'! Sloop 'Peggy'!" as loudly as they could, as they had heard Province Town captains do in answer to hails from harbor boats.

It was not long before the big vessel was near enough for the sailors to distinguish that there were only two little girls on board the drifting sloop, and a man was ready with a stout boat-hook, which he grappled about the "Peggy's" mast, and a big man with reddish hair and blue eyes slid down a rope and swung himself on board the sloop.

"Zounds!" exclaimed the sailor, "if 'Tis not the little Province Town maid again! And adrift like this. I'll have to take you to England and let Betsey and Harriet take care of you!"

Before he had finished both Anne and Amanda had begun to cry. They were sure now that they should never see home again, and William Trull had some trouble in convincing them that he did not mean to take them to England.

But the captain had small patience with the delay, and called out that 'twas best to sink the sloop rather than lose a fair wind out of harbor.

"I cannot be leaving two helpless maids adrift," William Trull called back. "They are from the Province Town settlement."

"Take them back to it, if you like, and find your way across the Atlantic as best you may," retorted the English captain angrily. "We can't stand by for such folly."

Poor William Trull looked at the little girls in dismay. To be left stranded on American territory was the last thing he desired.

"Can't you tow our boat down to Province Town?" pleaded Anne. "We won't hurt you."

"Ha! ha!" laughed the captain, and even William Trull joined in the laughter of the crew, while Anne and Amanda wondered why the sailors laughed. "Well," and the captain's voice was more friendly as he leaned over his ship's railing and gazed down at the little girls, "if you won't run us down we'll take you along that far. You can stay on the sloop, Trull, till we get near the tip of the cape. 'Tis plain American children are not easily frighted."

The sloop was now taken in tow, and although the little girls pleaded that a boat be sent to find Amos, William Trull shook his head.

"'twill not do," he declared, "to ask it of the captain; and if the boy be a smart boy he'll make his way home, never fear."

It was some comfort to Amanda to declare that Amos was the smartest boy in the settlement; that he could make fire as Indians did, and that he knew many ways of snaring birds and fish.

"Never fear for a boy like that," said the sailor.

Anne was eager to ask him if he knew anything of her father, and William Trull owned that he did.

"'twas your father who some way got word to Newburyport and Portsmouth men to be ready to fight," he said. "'twas cleverly done, they tell me, but no one has found out how."

"I know," said Anne, "because I helped." Then remembering Captain Stoddard's caution, she put her hand over her mouth. "I must not tell," she said.

The sailor looked at her in astonishment. "Even the children are 'rebels,'" he declared, "and helping when chance comes. 'Tis a great country. I'll not question you, child, but I'll tell my little girls about you, and that you helped to send the English home. Your own father will soon be telling you how the Americans drove the English; but you must keep a kind thought for me."

"Oh, I do wish you would stay and be an American, Mr. William Trull, and bring your little girls to live in Province Town," said Anne.

"Who knows?" said the sailor. "It may be I'll be coming back with my family. I like this country well. Your father will be coming to Province Town soon, never fear," he added, "for now Boston port is open to all, and the fishermen are going in and out as they please."

Amanda had not been much interested in what the sailor had to say. She was thinking that Amos must be very hungry; and when William Trull climbed aboard the big vessel and the sloop dropped behind near the Province Town shore, she was greatly rejoiced.

It was not long that the "Peggy" was alone. Men on shore had been watching and were quick to recognize the sloop, and a boat was sent out. Amanda recognized that her father was in it, as well as Captain Enos and Jimmie Starkweather, and called out in delight. There was an anxious crowd on the beach, and Mrs. Stoddard and Amanda's mother ran eagerly forward to greet the little girls, and to ask what had become of Amos.

It was soon evident that Jimmie Starkweather and the other boys were inclined to be envious of Amos's good fortune; and when Mr. Cary made his own boat ready to sail for Barnstable to bring Amos home Jimmie was very proud to be selected to accompany him.

"How shall we ever feel safe about thee, child?" said Mrs. Stoddard, as she and Anne walked toward home. "Are you always to be seeking your father without telling us? If you had but waited you would have saved us all this worry, and Amos would now be safe at home."

"But I have news, Aunt Martha," pleaded Anne. "Mr. William Trull told me my father might soon be with us. I will not leave you again, unless, indeed, you no longer want me."

"Of course we want you, Anne. But I have better news than the English sailor gave you. Look! Here comes some one whom you will be glad to see," but before she had finished speaking Anne had sprung forward with an exclamation of delight, for her father was coming down the path to the shore.

"I came down in one of Mr. Freeman's fishing-boats," he explained, as, hand in hand, he and Anne walked back to join Mrs. Stoddard. Anne danced along happily, and Mrs. Stoddard smiled as she looked at the little girl.

"And now I hope for peace," declared the good woman. "Anne will not let you go again, John Nelson. You will have to be content to stay in Province Town."

The next day Elder Haven came to see John Nelson to hear more about the great triumphs of the Americans; and when Anne's father told him of Captain Stoddard's trip to Newburyport, with Anne carrying the important message for the Newburyport patriots, the good clergyman held up his hands in wonder. "She is a brave little maid," he said. "It should be put on record that a maid of Province Town helped the Americans to win their just cause against King George. Indeed it should."

"She is a brave child," agreed Captain Enos. "I was sure of it when I heard her defend her father at the spring," and the good captain chuckled at the remembrance of Anne's battle with the Cary children, who were now her staunchest friends.

"Amos is safe home, and proud enough; he is lording it well over his mates," said Elder Haven. "You must not run away again, Anne," he added more gravely, resting a gentle hand on the dark head.

"No, oh, no!" replied Anne, "not unless my father and Aunt Martha and Uncle Enos go with me."

THE END