"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 sh.o.r.e.

"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 sh.o.r.e 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 sh.o.r.e 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 sh.o.r.e and anchor, and then row ash.o.r.e in the tender and get some water."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BOAT BEGAN TO TIP]

"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 ash.o.r.e and fill it at some spring."

As the children talked, the current had carried the boat steadily toward sh.o.r.e, but now it did not move.

"She's stuck on a sand-bar," exclaimed Amos, "and the tide's turning.

Perhaps I can walk ash.o.r.e."

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 sh.o.r.e. 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 sh.o.r.e 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 sh.o.r.e. They saw him wade the first channel, run across a long stretch of wet sand, cross the other channel and reach the sh.o.r.e 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 sh.o.r.e anxiously, expecting every minute to see Amos hurrying back with a jug full of fresh water, but time pa.s.sed and he did not come.