Anne's House of Dreams - L. M. Montgomery [103]
Anne sat up in dismay. Through her window she saw the light blinking palely against the blue skies of dawn.
‘Perhaps he has fallen asleep over his life-book,’ she said anxiously, ‘or become so absorbed in it that he has forgotten the light.’
Gilbert shook his head.
‘That wouldn’t be like Captain Jim. Anyway, I’m going down to see.’
‘Wait a minute and I’ll go with you,’ exclaimed Anne. ‘Oh, yes, I must – Little Jem will sleep for an hour yet, and I’ll call Susan. You may need a woman’s help if Captain Jim is ill.’
It was an exquisite morning, full of tints and sounds at once ripe and delicate. The harbour was sparkling and dimpling like a girl; white gulls were soaring over the dunes; beyond the bar was a shining, wonderful sea. The long fields by the shore were dewy and fresh in that first fine, purely tinted light. The wind came dancing and whistling up the channel to replace the beautiful silence with a music more beautiful still. Had it not been for the baleful star on the white tower that early walk would have been a delight to Anne and Gilbert. But they went softly with fear.
Their knock was not responded to. Gilbert opened the door and they went in.
The old room was very quiet. On the table were the remnants of the little evening feast. The lamp still burned on the corner stand. The First Mate was asleep in a square of sunshine by the sofa.
Captain Jim lay on the sofa, with his hands clasped over the life-book, open at the last page, lying on his breast. His eyes were closed and on his face was a look of the most perfect peace and happiness – the look of one who has long sought and found at last.
‘He is asleep?’ whispered Anne tremulously.
Gilbert went to the sofa and bent over him for a few moments. Then he straightened up.
‘Yes, he sleeps – well,’ he said quietly. ‘Anne, Captain Jim has crossed the bar.’
They could not know precisely at what hour he had died, but Anne always believed that he had had his wish and went out when the morning came across the gulf. Out on that shining tide his spirit drifted, over the sunrise sea of pearl and silver, to the haven where lost Margaret waited, beyond the storms and calms.
40
FAREWELL TO THE HOUSE OF DREAMS
Captain Jim was buried in the little over-harbour graveyard, very near to the spot where the wee white lady slept. His relatives put up a very expensive, very ugly ‘monument’ – a monument at which he would have poked sly fun had he seen it in life. But his real monument was in the hearts of those who knew him, and in the book that was to live for generations.
Leslie mourned that Captain Jim had not lived to see the amazing success of it.
‘How he would have delighted in the reviews; they are almost all so kindly. And to have seen his life-book heading the lists of the best-sellers – oh, if he could just have lived to see it, Anne!’
But Anne, despite her grief, was wiser.
‘It was the book itself he cared for, Leslie – not what might be said of it – and he had it. He had read it all through. That last night must have been one of the greatest happiness for him – with the quick, painless ending he had hoped for in the morning. I am glad for Owen’s sake and yours that the book is such a success – but Captain Jim was satisfied – I know.’
The lighthouse star still kept its nightly vigil; a substitute keeper had been sent to the Point, until such time as an all-wise Government could decide which of many applicants was best fitted for the place – or had the strongest pull. The First Mate was at home in the little house, beloved by Anne and Gilbert and Leslie, and tolerated by a Susan who had small liking for cats.
‘I can put up with him for the sake of Captain Jim, Mrs Doctor, dear, for I liked the old man. And I will see that he gets bite and sup, and every mouse the traps account for. But do not ask me to do more than that, Mrs Doctor, dear. Cats is cats, and take my word for it, they will never be anything else. And at least, Mrs Doctor, dear, do keep him away from the blessed wee man. Picture to yourself how awful it