Chapter 1

The Captain Arrives

Long ago, a little boy opened his brown eyes sleepily and gave a wide yawn as he stretched himself awake.

“Something is different about this morning,” the young boy said to himself. He wondered what it was.

Jean was in bed in his own room, the same room in which he had gone to sleep and wakened each evening and each morning for as long as he could remember.

He could see the same mosquito-netting curtains hung about his bed like a veil to keep out the hordes of hungry insects which were always there, ready and waiting to take a bite of nice, tender boy.

The green shutters were closed, as always, to keep out the blazing sunlight of the West Indian island where young Jean lived. A few beams of the bright sunlight managed to creep between the shutters and make slender white lines on the floor.

Some little sugar birds which had come in through the kitchen door were hopping about the furniture and hunting insects on the floor.

“There is nothing different about you,” said the little boy to the sugar birds. They were tame animals which came into the house every day and went quietly about picking up crumbs and bugs and flies.

Outside the house, the trogons and the gorgeously colored chatterers were quarreling in the mango trees, making more noise than usual.

When the boy listened with his sharp ears, he could hear the voices of the laborers down in the cane fields. They were singing in deep, slow, musical tones.

“It is the same song that they always sing,” said young Jean. He yawned again and slipped out of bed, looking carefully before he set his slim bare feet down on the floor. In this hot country, a huge tarantula, or poison spider, might come in for a visit. Or a long snake might choose to take a nap in the cool shade of a bedroom.

Jean ran to the window and threw open the green shutter. White sunlight flooded the room with a blast of oven-like heat. Far beyond the mango trees was the sea, so brilliantly blue that it hurt his eyes to look at it. The green cane waved gently in the steep fields which rose from the sea. While he looked, Jean could see what looked like a tiny dark cloud moving above the shoreline, high in the sky.

“The swallows are leaving!” he cried.

Now, suddenly, he knew what had made this morning different. He hadn’t heard the morning songs of the blue-gray birds which spent several months of the year in Haiti. Usually, they had wakened him every morning with a shrill, sweet chorus outside his window.

He leaned out still farther, almost falling from the window, in order to watch the dark cloud as it moved swiftly away.

“Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye!” he called, waving his hand. A strange feeling of loneliness came over him, for he loved the swallows.

“Someday I would like to follow the swallows and see where they go,” he thought.

Captain Audubon, his father, had told him that the birds went north, many of them to a place called North America.

“When I grow up, I am going to follow those birds to North America!” he said to the birds in the mango trees.

The trogons laughed and laughed, and the chatterers scolded in their harsh voices.

“Silly, silly, silly!” they seemed to say.

Just then Celestine came rushing into the room. “It is time you were up, you sleepyhead!” she called.

She was a tall enslaved woman who took care of the little boy and his sister. Jean’s mother had died when he was too young to remember her very well. Since then, Jean’s father had put Celestine in charge of the children.

Jean looked surprised. Usually Celestine let him sleep in the mornings.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” asked Jean. He picked up his ruffled shirt from the floor, shaking it well to get rid of any spiders that might be hiding in it.

His old nurse took the shirt from his hand. “Not that one!” Celestine then went to the chest in the corner and got out another shirt. It was a very fancy one, made of finest linen with many little tucks and ruffles.

“But that is my very best shirt!” said Jean, opening his hazel-brown eyes in wide amazement. “Why do you want....”

“The best is none too good for you to wear when the Captain is coming,” the old woman interrupted.

The boy’s eyes sparkled. He clasped his hands, hardly able to believe this wonderful news. “The Captain—Captain Audubon—my captain?” he cried.

Celestine led him to the window and pointed to the sea. “Look closely,” she said.

Yes, there was a ship, resting gracefully like a beautiful white-winged bird on the bright blue water of the sea.

“It is Captain Audubon’s ship,” whispered Jean happily. Old Celestine nodded her white-turbaned head.

“He came in last night,” she said. “His ship arrived late. He came up from the shore and would have wakened you and your sister, but I would not let him.” She fastened his shirt. “Hurry now.” she said. “We must make you presentable.”

In the kitchen his little sister was sitting in her cradle. Her face was very clean, and she had on a brightly colored silk dress trimmed with golden buttons and lots of silver lace.

Jean did not complain when Celestine rubbed his face until it ached. The Captain, his captain, was home from sea!

More than anybody in the world little Jean loved and admired big Jean, the Captain. He thought him the grandest person on earth.

“Ow!” he cried, as old Celestine’s comb scraped through his long, light brown curls, yanking out tangles.

The sound of a carriage outside made him forget his pain. The Captain was here!

Captain Audubon came into the kitchen, and Jean jerked away from Celestine and flew into the big man’s outstretched arms.

“You are here, Father! You are honestly here at last! I thought you would never come!” he cried eagerly.

Captain Audubon hugged his son. Then he picked up little Rose and tossed her into the air. He caught her as she came down laughing and screaming with delight.

“Have you really missed me?” the Captain asked, turning back to Jean.

The boy nodded his bright head. “It seems like years—hundreds of them, even thousands!” he answered.

Captain Audubon was of medium height with a friendly face and sharp eyes. Sometimes when he wanted to look dignified, he put on a uniform with many brass buttons and wore a white wig on his head. Today, however, he merely wore the uniform and left his grayish-brown hair uncovered.

He sat down at the table, and old Celestine brought some breakfast—a platter of chicken and some bread and fruit.

“That will do, Celestine,” said the Captain. “You had better go. You have many things to do, and I can look after the children.”

Celestine went off, her head bobbing angrily. She was muttering to herself.

“She is very angry this morning,” said young Jean, biting into a banana. “I slept too long. The swallows did not awaken me, because they left early.”

Captain Audubon waited a minute before he spoke. “No, she is angry because, , , , ” He did not seem to know what to say, and young Jean looked puzzled.

Suddenly the Captain laid down the chicken leg that he had been eating. “Listen, my boy!” he said. “I am taking you away with me—you and your little sister. We are going across the ocean in a ship!”

“In a ship? Across the ocean? As far as—as far as the swallows go?” Jean asked.

The Captain nodded his head. “We are going to France. I have a new mother for you. She is a kind woman, and she is eager to welcome her two little stepchildren!”

“A new mother,” whispered Jean. “A French mother! That will be nice.” Then his voice grew more eager and his hazel eyes shone. “Shall we see the swallows again?”

Captain Audubon laughed. “I think you are more interested in birds than in a new mother,” he said teasingly.

He was pleased, though. He had taught young Jean the names of many birds, and he had told him about the long journeys which the northern birds make to hot countries before the weather grows cold.

“France is a long way off,” he said kindly, “but you will find many of your old bird friends there to welcome you. I am sure you will see the swallows, the firebirds, the kingfishers, and the catbirds.” (Figure 1.1)

Figure 1.1: “Listen, my boy!” he said. “I am taking you away with me—you and your little sister. We are going across the ocean in a ship!”

Jean felt happy. He had learned to know these northern birds by sight and song. He had looked forward to their coming in the winter, and he had been sorry when they left the “big heat” of Haiti every year for their cooler northern homes.

“Will there be other birds, too, Father?” he asked eagerly, forgetting to eat his breakfast. “Will there be birds I’ve never seen—maybe French birds?”

“Oh, dozens of them,” laughed the Captain. “You will see the green sandpipers wading in the marsh. You will see jackdaws and crows and owls. You will see the cuckoo, too lazy to build her own nest.”

Jean sprang to his feet. He was excited by the thought of all these strange new birds.

“How soon can we start?” he cried. “Can we start right now?”

He was not afraid of the long journey which lay before him, nor of the strange people in that far-off land of France. He was on tiptoe with eagerness to get started on this first flight.