Captain June
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ernest Schaal, and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
"All day long the boys played down by the river."]
Captain June
By
Alice Hegan Rice
Author of "Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch," "Lovey Mary," Etc.
With Pictures by C. D. Weldon
New York The Century Co. 1907
Copyright 1906, 1907, by THE CENTURY CO.
_Published October, 1907_
THE DE VINNE PRESS
TO THE LITTLE BOY I LOVE BEST FRANCIS BARBOUR HEGAN
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"All day long the boys played down by the river" _Frontispiece_
The Tea-party on the Train 17
"'Do you want me to help you?'" 37
"'It's a Matsuri--a festival,' Seki explained" 49
"'Does it spell anything?' June asked" 75
"They peeped through the cracks, gravely discussing the situation" 85
"It was the old sword-hilt that Monsieur had given him" 97
"Long after he was asleep she sat beside him" 107
"June waved good-by to the friends below" 117
CAPTAIN JUNE
CAPTAIN JUNE
CHAPTER I
JUNE had never sat still so long during the whole six years of hisexistence. His slender body usually so restless and noisy wasmotionless; his hands too fond of teasing and mischief lay limp in hislap, even his tongue was still and that was the most wonderful of all.The only part of him that stirred was a sparkling pair of gray eyes thatwere looking out upon the strangest world they had ever seen.
The entire day had been one of enchantment, from the first waking hourwhen he discovered that the engines on the big steamer where he hadlived for seventeen days had stopped, and that the boat was actuallylying at anchor just off the coast of Japan. Seki San, his Japanesenurse who had cared for him ever since he was a baby, had been so eagerto look out of the port-hole that she could scarcely attend to herduties, and the consequence was that he had to stand on the sofa andhook his mother's dress and help her with the little pins at the back ofthe neck while Seki San finished the packing. June could not dresshimself but he knew a great deal about hooks and eyes and belt pins.When mother got in a hurry she lost things, and experience had taughthim that it was much easier to fasten the pin where it belonged than tospend fifteen minutes on the floor looking for it.
At last when all the bags and trunks were ready, and the pilot and thehealth officer had come aboard, and everybody had waited until theycould not wait another moment, the passengers were brought ashore in awheezy, puffy launch, and were whirled up to the hotel in queer littlebuggies drawn by small brown men with bare legs and mushroom hats, andgreat sprawling signs on their backs.
Since then June had sat at a front window too engrossed to speak. Justbelow him lay the Bund or sea-road, with the wall beyond where the whitewaves broke in a merry splash and then fell back to the blue waterbelow. Out in the harbor there were big black merchant steamers, andwhite men-of-war, there were fishing schooners, and sampans with wobbly,crooked oars. But the street below was too fascinating to see muchbeyond it. Jinrikishas were coming and going with passengers from thesteamers and the coolies laughed and shouted to each other in passing.Women and girls clattered by on wooden shoes with funny bald-headed,slant-eyed babies strapped on their backs. On the hotel steps, a littlegirl in a huge red turban and a gorgeous dress of purple and gold wasdoing handsprings, while two boys in fancy dress sang through theirnoses and held out fans to catch the pennies that were tossed from thepiazza above.
If Cinderella, and Jack the Giant Killer, and Aladdin and Ali Baba hadsuddenly appeared, June would not have been in the least surprised. Itwas where they all lived, there could be no possible doubt as to that.Here was the biggest picture book he had ever seen, the coming true ofall the fairy-tales he had ever heard.
He was dimly conscious that in the room behind him Seki San wasunpacking trunks and boxes, and that his mother was coming and going andleaving hurried instructions. Once he heard her say, "Don't say anythingto him about it, Seki, I'll tell him when he has to be told." But justthen a man went by with a long pole across his shoulder and roundbaskets on each end, and in the baskets were little shining silverfishes, and June forgot all about what his mother was saying.
June's father was a young army officer stationed in the Philippines.June was born there but when still a baby he had been desperately illand the doctor had sent him back to the States and said he must notreturn for many years. It was a great grief to them all that they had tobe separated, but Capt. Royston had gotten two leaves of absence andcome home to them, and now this summer June and his mother had come allthe way from California to meet him in Japan.
June was not his real name. It was Robert Rogers Royston, Junior, butmother said there never could be but one Robert for her, and father didnot like the Rogers for a Christian name, so they called him Junior, andJunior soon got bobbed off into June. The name suited him too, for asunshinier little chap you never saw. He never seemed to know that hewas not as strong as other boys, and when his throat was very bad andhis voice would not come, why he sat up in bed and whistled, just thekeenest, cheeriest, healthiest whistle you ever heard.
It was on the indoor days that Seki San used to tell him about herwonderful country across the sea, of the little brown houses with theflower gardens on the roofs, of the constant clatter, clatter of thewooden shoes, and the beautiful blossoms that rained down on you likesnow.
"Where are the blossoms?" he demanded, suddenly turning in his chair."You said they came down thick and white and that I could let them fallover my face."
Seki San did not answer, she was kneeling beside a very disconsolatefigure that lay on the bed with face buried in the pillows. When Junespoke, his mother sat up and pushed back her tumbled hair. She was avery little mother with round eyes and lips as red as June's, only nowher eyes were red and her lips trembling.
"You may go in the other room, Seki San," she said, "I want to talk toJune by himself."
June sidled up cautiously and took a seat near her on the bed. The oneunbearable catastrophe to him was for his mother to cry. It was like anearthquake, it shook the very foundations on which all his joys werebuilt. Sometimes when the postman forgot to leave a letter, andoccasionally when he was sick longer than usual, mother cried. But thosewere dark, dreadful times that he tried not to think about. Why thetears should come on this day of all days he could not understand.
She put her arm around him and held him close for a long time before shespoke. He could feel the thump, thump of her heart as he leaned againsther.
"June," she said at last, "you are going to be a soldier like father,aren't you?"
June's eyes brightened. "Yes, and carry a sword!" he said.
"There is something more than a sword that a soldier has to have."
"A gun?"
Mother shook her head. "It's
courage, June! It's something I haven't gota scrap of. You'll have to be brave for us both!"
"I'm not afraid," declared June. "I go to bed in the dark and go placesby myself or anything."
"I don't mean that way," said his mother. "I mean doing hard things justbecause they are right, staying behind for instance when--when somebodyyou love very much has to go away and leave you."
June sat up and looked at her. "Who's going away?" he demanded.
Mother's voice faltered. "Father's terribly ill with a fever, June. Theletter was waiting here, it is from our old doctor in Manila, he says,'Come on first steamer, but don't bring the boy.'" The earth seemedsuddenly to be slipping from under June's feet, he clutched at hismother's hand. "I am going too!" he cried in quick alarm, "I won't staybehind, I can't, mother!"
Her arm tightened about him. "But I don't dare take you, June, think ofthe terrible heat and the fever, and you are the only little boy I'vegot in the world, and I love you so!"
"I won't take the fever," protested June. "I'll be good. I'll mind everyword Seki says."
"But Seki isn't going. She wants to take you home with her down to alittle town on the Inland Sea, where there are all sorts of wonderfulthings to do. Would you stay with her, June, while I go to father?"
Her voice pleaded with eagerness and anxiety, but June did not heed it.Slipping from her arms, he threw himself on the floor and burst into apassion of tears. All the joys of the enchanted country had vanished,nothing seemed to count except that mother was thinking of leaving himin this strange land and sailing away from him across the sea.
"Don't cry so, June, listen," pleaded his mother. "I have not decided, Iam trying to do what is best."
But June refused to be consoled. Over and over he declared that he wouldnot stay, that he would rather have the fever, and die than to be leftbehind.
By and by the room grew still, his mother no longer tried to pacify him,only the ticking of the little traveling clock on the table broke thestillness. He peeped through his fingers at the silent figure in thechair above him. He had never seen her look so white and tired, all thepretty smiles and dimples seemed gone forever, her eyes were closed andher lips were tightly drawn together. June crept close and slipped hishand into hers. In an instant her arms were about him.
"I don't know what to do, nor where to turn," she sobbed. "I am afraidto take you and afraid to leave you. What must I do?"
June was sure he did not know but when mothers are little and helplessand look at you as if you were grown up, you have to think of a way. Hewas standing beside her with his arm around her neck, and he could feelher trembling all over. Father often said in his letters, "Be sure totake care of that little Mother of yours," but it had always seemed ajoke until now. He sighed, then he straightened his shoulders:
"I'll stay, Mudderly," he said, then he added with a swallow, "Maybe itwill help me to be a soldier when I get big!"