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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
27
“Then
there
came
a
day,”
said
Captain
Littlepage,
leaning
toward
me
with
a
strange
look
in
his
eyes,
and
whispering
quickly.
“The
men
all
swore
they
wouldn't
stay
any
longer;
the
man
on
watch
early
in
the
morning
gave
the
alarm,
and
they
all
put
off
in
the
boat
and
got
a
little
way
out
to
sea.
Those
folks,
or
whatever
they
were,
come
about
'em
like
bats;
all
at
once
they
raised
incessant
armies,
and
come
as
if
to
drive
'em
back
to
sea.
They
stood
thick
at
the
edge
o'
the
water
like
the
ridges
o'
grim
war;
no
thought
o'
flight,
none
of
retreat.
Sometimes
a
standing
fight,
then
soaring
on
main
wing
tormented
all
the
air.
And
when
they'd
got
the
boat
out
o'
reach
o'
danger,
Gaffett
said
they
looked
back,
and
there
was
the
town
again,
standing
up
just
as
they'd
seen
it
first,
comin'
on
the
coast.
Say
what
you
might,
they
all
believed
'twas
a
kind
of
waiting-place
between
this
world
an'
the
next.”
The
captain
had
sprung
to
his
feet
in
his
excitement,
and
made
excited
gestures,
but
he
still
whispered
huskily.
“Sit
down,
sir,”
I
said
as
quietly
as
I
could,
and
he
sank
into
his
chair
quite
spent.
“Gaffett
thought
the
officers
were
hurrying
home
to
report
and
to
fit
out
a
new
expedition
when
they
were
all
lost.
At
the
time,
the
men
got
orders
not
to
talk
over
what
they
had
seen,”
the
old
man
explained
presently
in
a
more
natural
tone.
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