Part 7

A quiet resolve was taken and another trip to town, and now these dainty little aristocrats go about in quest of experience with gleaming collars about their throats, upon which dangle little tinkling bells, so that they never escape the music which gives warning of their approach. From their look of appeal and almost of terror when these warnings sounded the first alarm, I imagine that it has lessened their confidence in the kindness of mankind and taken a great deal of joy out of the world for them.

"Oh, Lady! You do Not Suspect Us of Having Seen Any of Your Birds This Morning?"]

Ordinarily they submit to the fatalism, looking bored to death, but there are occasional lapses when their fighting blood struggles and they are excited almost to madness by the everlasting jingling. Then, again they will sometimes lift their appealing eyes in hopeless despair to our unyielding authority, opening their mouths as if to make a feeble protest in tremolo, but in their guilty helplessness, failing to utter a sound. But as no miracle of love happens in the way of release, they have become of necessity philosophers, and though doubtless they would give the world to be rid of these tink-tingles of law and order that follow every movement, they are martyrs and have learned, even in their brief experience of life, to make the best of the inevitable. The longer their residence in this world, the greater their education will be concerning the mystery of a higher power which arranges things so as to baffle a helpless kitten's best laid pleasant plans, even kittens with marvellous bushy tails with a double kink in them.

Nothing so completely subdued these incorrigibles and hurt their pride, as a horrible catastrophe they once inadvertently brought upon themselves, which came near being a tragedy. It was the first time in their play paradise that they ever met with absolute rebuff and it completely subdued them for the time being. One hot summer day, on coming in from one of their tramps abroad, very warm and very thirsty, they caught sight, both at the same instant, of a basin of gleaming, tempting, creamy white paint, which a careless workman had left standing there for a moment. Mistaking it for milk which doubtless our thoughtful kindness had prepared for their thirsty coming, they uttered a little flute-like duet of thanks and made a rush to their fate, side by side, as the animals went into the ark, not stopping for even a smell, so unsuspecting and great was their confidence. Down deep went their little aristocratic noses into the sticky mass, so deep they could hardly extract them!

We were very sorry for these foolish, self-confident little victims and they were very sorry for themselves. A strange, unwonted calm fell on our bungalow, and it was really one of the saddest times for all, humans as well as kittens. Until the paint wore off their faces and whiskers, it was an interval of quiet, in which there was no make-believe humility, but in which the culprits were really bowed to the earth in shame and with indigestion.

Truly, it is a hard world for even innocent little sinners!

MAROONED

It was midsummer and the city sweltering in an overpowering heat wave, but in the country there were cool retreats and a fulness of verdure that were calling with enticing insistence to all the suffering city-bound folk to come to their bounty and rest. To one weary country-bred woman, the alluring summons sounded clear with a healing message to her tired nerves and jaded brain. It was the seductive call of the big blue sky and the pure air of her own old-fashioned country home, and her whole soul responded with an intense longing. But she was one of the city's plodders, chained by the inevitable to the treadmill, and she could only picture in her hopelessness what such happiness might be, by straining her misty eyes in memory to years gone by.

She stood by the one window of her own room in that big lonesome boarding house, apparently gazing idly out on the bit of sun-baked street her limited view commanded, but she had closed her eyes and was totally unmindful of the last hot slanting rays. Her whole being was enthralled by that "back home" call that was stirring her heart. She was so utterly tired of the heat of walls and pavements and the city's seething rush and endless clang, that her eyes and brain seemed bursting and her very soul cried out for that restful spot in the country she still called home. She knew how sweet and still the misty woods were "back there" in the soft twilight of this hour, and how the air was damp and fragrant with the scent of the tangled undergrowth. In homesick longing she recalled the blessedness of the evening glow of the setting sun trembling upon the hills of this girlhood's home in its parting benediction, leaving a sabbath-day stillness on all the land. She could still hear the musical tinkling of the bells on the lowing cattle, as they ambled home from the pasture, in the lengthening shadows, filling the air with the rich warm breath of the hot clover they had been feeding on. These homey, country memories were like a fresh delightful breeze blowing on her burning heart and opened up entrancing visions which stretched far back to happy days when there had been plenty, and no need of battling with the struggling crowd of the city.

Under the thrilling delight of these crowding memories, she was for a few blessed moments transported to this home of her desire, and the sweetness of it nearly broke her heart. With a sigh, however, she remembered the present and the throbbing glare of her surroundings, realizing how worse than foolish and how hopeless was her discontent with things "that are." Impatiently she lifted the heavy hair from her hot forehead and winked back the stinging tears, and was just about to turn resolutely from the window to take up the practical things of life, with a brave make-believe, when she caught sight of two big, round, gleaming eyes looking up at her from the dejected little garden beneath her window. There was nothing very striking or attractive about these eyes except their resolute intensity, and that they belonged to a very small cunning kitten, sitting with all four paws tucked under his body and his tail wrapped neatly about him, patiently gazing up at the window with concentrated wistfulness, hoping for recognition. As he caught the lady's tardy glance, he gave a cordial and friendly mew without moving a muscle of his body and, as there was no response, another mew. This time the lady, longing for the companionship of anything alive, could not resist a grateful and hearty return of his friendliness, and throwing the window wide open, she invited him to enter. Instantly, with a clever spring and a curious twist of his legs, he landed on the window ledge, clear of the garden below, and was caught, with a soft little cry and cuddled tight with the warm downy fur against her cheek, in a frenzy of overwhelming delight.

Every one knows that a city boarding house is no place for pets, and in this particular one there was a law, as of the Medes and Persians, rigid and inflexible, that there should be no dogs or cats. So it was with a guilty, beating heart that she revelled in even these few stolen moments with this dear little comforter that carried her back to the days of her youth and the days when there were always cats--and cats aplenty. When she released her little visitor from her arms, he sniffed about the room, reconnoitering every nook and corner, as is the fashion of cats, and after a thorough and careful inspection of everything, settled down with a mew of approval into his favorite position of rest, all four paws under him, having evidently decided to stay. But the lady knew, and feared, and confiding to him the restrictions of the place, gently placed him on the window ledge, telling him to scamper for his life into hiding. He dashed away at breakneck speed and the lady thought he was gone forever. But to her surprise and delight, on returning to her room after business hours next day, there was Mr. Kitty sitting on the ledge outside her window, in his favorite position of "warming his toes," as if by previous arrangement. Of course he was invited in, snuggled and fed. Fortunately the lady's window was in the back of the house, in a rather secluded corner, so she could carry on these clandestine meetings without discovery.

It grew to be the regular thing, that the kitten should be there each night, sitting just outside the window like the Peri at the Gate, patiently waiting for his lady's return. In this way he laid such persistent siege to her heart that she finally had to surrender, permitting him an established place in her home and in her affections, but under certain restrictions. Although there was the impassable barrier of expressed thought between them, he could look into her eyes and wistfully divine her desire. In this way he quickly learned that it was only in the evening that he could be admitted into the brightness of her society, and even then, only with the greatest caution. After he had once grasped this mental warning he forever after honored it with the most careful consideration.

An evening came when the tall, thin-faced captain, with the winds of many a sea on his cheeks, was in port, and the indulgement of his long-established habit of calling on the lady in the boarding house. The anticipation of these regular visits had lain in the sturdy captain's heart until it had blossomed into a cheering romance and he boldly dreamed, during his lonely night vigils, of a possible fireside that might sometime be kindled and waiting to welcome him on his return from his voyages. This little "comfort beacon" he was building in his mind made his stays in this port of great consequence to him. But the heart of the lady was a port of happiness the captain had not yet been able to invade as it was not a sailor's life that the lady thought she would like to share. Some day, somehow, she hoped to return to that happy land in the country she remembered, where she would pitch her modest tent and live forever after, happier even than the proverbial fairies. But the big, courageous captain was gentle and generous in loving, and willing to wait.

On the captain's first call after reaching port this time he found the kitten duly installed as a permanent member of the evening circle, and on account of the lady's evident partiality for her favorite, he being always anxious to please her, tried to make friends with him. To the lady's surprise, the cat persistently eluded the captain's demonstrative wooing. Perhaps it was instinct that told him of a certain jealous impatience in the captain's heart that he should be there taking so much of the lady's attention; or perhaps it was because the captain offended his dignity by teasing him, in a friendly way, by pulling his tail; or perhaps it was just because he called him "pussy," which to any civilized cat must be rather galling.

Anyway, they did not seem to get along together at all nicely and on the captain's evenings the cat developed a decided and hitherto unknown kink in his temper. He would wait for and submit like a gentleman to the captain's rough stroke of greeting, but that was the limit of his politeness, and any familiarity beyond this would bring a wicked gleam to his sea-green eyes and an ominous thud of his tail.

The lady felt their mutual irritation and thinking to interest the captain in her pet and to smooth their rather stormy friendship, told him of the kitten's great fondness for water, a very unusual trait in cats, as they generally dread getting even their feet wet. She told how this cat really dissipated in water, loving to play with the straggling lengths of the garden hose and in the puddles it made, often getting himself thoroughly drenched, and sometimes even played at swimming across a shallow pool until he came to some high place where he could perch and dry his bedraggled self. Having such a bond as their mutual fondness for water, they ought by right to be the best of friends, she said.

When the time came for the captain to sail again, to the lady's great surprise, he begged her to let him have the kitten for a passenger, telling her that they needed a mascot on board ship. He assured her that her "best beloved" had just the special qualities to make a dandy sailor, and loving the water as he evidently did, would doubtless take kindly to the life.

The captain hesitatingly pondered in his heart if the time were ripe to ask for another passenger, the one in all the world whom he thought would make life's voyage sweet and complete, but he instinctively felt that the lady would not have it that way, and in wisdom asked only for the cat. Secretly she wondered why the captain had asked for the company of the cat, as they plainly were not greatly attached to each other, and selfishly she wanted to keep this dear little friendly kitten all to herself. Yet there was always the secret of his unlawful transgression on forbidden territory and the fear of discovery; and more than all, the heartbreaking fact that time, over which there was no control, would bring him the misfortune of becoming just a big, homeless, skulking city cat. These considerations, and a desire to provide a good home for her pet far away, reconciled her to the separation, although it gave her a big heart-ache to think how she would miss him.

So it was arranged that the captain should have his mascot. On the day of sailing the lady herself took him to the ship, as she wanted to be quite sure that he was carried aboard gently and safely and that he was induced to stay there with as little fright as possible. She was also glad to give the captain this little flattering attention of a last good-bye and bon voyage, which hint, if the poor captain had not been too downcast at the parting, might have made him feel that perhaps he had been a little too timid in asking for only one passenger. When at last she cautioned him, with a pitiful little break in her voice, to have patience and use only gentleness with this trusting, helpless little shipmate she was so basely betraying, it came near bringing about a climax. As the devoted captain held her small hands clasped tightly in his strong ones, a burning flood of love flushed his cheeks under their coat of tan and his snappy blue eyes blurred, as he solemnly swore, in a voice not quite under control, that he would be ever faithful to her admonition, to her, to the cat and to anything she held dear. Had there been time, in his almost overpowering emotion, the candid mariner might then and there have ventured his fate. However, the tension of the instant passed, and in the confusion of the last few moments there was not again time or opportunity for tender words, especially as the lady's whole attention seemed taken up with the cat and in solicitous anxiety as to whether he would be contented and develop a liking for skippers and a skipper's life. So in the final moment of clashing bells, splashing hawsers and the settling down of the engine to real business, the last flickering farewell was only a quick grasp of hands, which somehow seemed to carry with it a new hope, and the call of "all ashore," left the captain's heart still fluttering with only the next time to look forward to.

Neither Disappointment nor Ugly Temper Had Broken His Fierce Sense of Injury or His Indomitable Spirit]

It was a very sullen kitten that the lady had left on the lower deck after the last desperate squeeze she had given him. As she turned to take her last look back, there he sat on his haunches, as motionless as an Egyptian mummy, amid his new surroundings, but game, maintaining a lofty dignity to the last in spite of perplexity, dismay and wrath.

As the great ship swung clear of the pier and turned her clean-cut prow toward the mists of the ocean, the lady wiped the blinding tears from her eyes and waved her handkerchief bravely as a last admonition to the cat, and in adieu to the captain, who was now in command, alert and busy, all sentiment forgotten.

All on board a sailing vessel, from the captain down, love pets of every kind, but during the first hours of the ship's getting under way, when all is confusion and bustle and everybody busy with the ship's important affairs, there is no time for trifles. Naturally the new passenger was forgotten for the time being and left to his own devices and for the ocean to do its own work with him, in its own way, until things had settled down into the daily routine. When this time arrived, the cat was past all overtures of any kind and occupied exclusively with his own resentment, the anger of his betrayal having by this time entered too deeply into his being for him to accept any kind of peace-offering. He was insensible to all caresses and disdained all offers of friendly acquaintance, and from the rank rebellion brooding in his gloomy, unforgiving eyes, it was plainly evident that he was not enjoying his ocean trip. Although he had soon found his sea legs, he had also found en route a very wicked temper in thinking over the injustice of the situation, shanghaied and deserted in this heartless manner.

The men, now that they had the time, tried in every way to make up to him but coaxing of all kinds proved of no avail, the awful bitterness of his injury making him immune to any sort of cajolery, and he treated them all with a calm and persistent air of scorn. They tried to tempt him with every kind of cat dainty, but in an attitude of sullen hostility he would have nothing to do with them, venting his ill-temper on all alike and confining his dependence in the eating line to the cook, who merely threw him scraps. His angry resentment was too deep and too hopeless for any comforting; he merely wanted to be let alone, if he was doomed to stay in this dungeon, and to live his own sullen, desolate life, in resenting everything.

His former freedom among gardens and roofs made the limitation of even this big craft, a miserable home for one of his outdoor habits, and although he had all the ship's mice for diversion, there was time and time for thoughts deep and resentful. As he was unconfined and had full range of the ship, on an early tour of investigation he discovered a porthole, always open to the sun in possible weather, which seemed to attract him, as a light will draw a traveler, lost in the dark. This he decided on as his favorite resting place during the day and the sailors, knowing that he had become fully accustomed to the monotonous swaying of the boat, and in consideration of his strong prejudices, let him take possession undisturbed. Here he would sit and "let his mind work" in brooding abstraction, gazing by the hour in wide open revolt at the gray blankness of the sea, too dreary and hopeless to sleep. Perhaps it reminded him of other times and of another window where he had been wont to sit in happy anticipation of the coming of his lady. However it was, this window had a strange fascination for him and day after day, when he was not roaming drearily about the ship, he would sit here, a sad still-life study. With wide, unwinking, gloomy eyes, hour by hour he would follow the broad expanse of the desolate waves to the empty horizon, eating his homesick heart out in grim endurance of his fate.

One awful day he was caught unawares and his career came near ending tragically. The ship, without the slightest warning, made a sudden lurch and he was unceremoniously tumbled out of his resting place with a splash, into the waves that were racing along the smooth black sides of the ship. An alarm was immediately given and in five seconds everyone on board knew what had happened. The captain received the information with a few sailor expletives, nautical and to the point, and growled something about "not being worth it," but ordered "all hands to the rescue," and the middies responded valiantly. One, more venturesome than the rest, without pausing to count the odds, stripped and leaped boldly into the dangerous depths. The rest of the crew hung breathless over the rail, watching their comrade make his desperate struggle with the buffeting waves, which sucked at every ounce of his youthful will and strength. There was an instant of sickening suspense when he sunk straight down clear out of sight. But quickly his head shot up again above the swirl of water and as he shook the brine from his nostrils and eyes and struck out powerfully with his arms, there was seen between his teeth the motionless cat held fast by the neck. The small boat was lowered and the hero was picked up and helped aboard.

The cat did not show a symptom of life, as they laid him on the warm sunny deck and applied "first aid," and it looked for a time as if the shock to his nerves and the long salt bath had done their worst. But the determined mettle of this hard-shell spirit was not so easy to extinguish and as life surged back into nerve and muscle, and he struggled back to consciousness, they found he was there with all of his nine lives wide awake and still in good working commission. One would have thought that after such an appalling doom had all but closed in on him, he would have appreciated his good luck and the true value of having such heroic comrades, and would have shown some thankfulness for the risk one of them had run to save his life. On the contrary, although he had learned to keep away from the porthole, a deeper gloom than ever settled upon him, and, taking this unfortunate accident as an added insult, he treated them all with more than his usual scorn.

The cat's peculiar characteristics of temper made him not only marked, but famous. The very independence and aloofness of his dull life made him tantalizingly popular with the young fellows, and in their leisure hours they were continually seeking him out to pass the time. They thought it great fun to tease him to furious anger and then laugh at his quivering rage, but after they had had enough of this kind of entertainment they would never let him go back to seclusion without trying their very best to coax him to good temper. They never succeeded in this commendable purpose, however, even with the most heroic efforts, and would have hotly resented any insinuation that their pastime might possibly be a cruelty. The captain, too, was guilty of loving to display the cat's tabasco-like temper, being quite proud of the strong personality shown in one so ugly and vicious and still one so delightfully entertaining.