CHAPTER XVII
"BOILED" AT 'SCONSET
The poem Tim read from his scrap-book is an excellent description of'Sconset. It is a place in which to dream one's life away in spite ofthe fact that it is a very popular summer resort and filled tooverflowing with pleasure and rest seekers. There is many a nook andcranny behind the ever changing sand dunes where one can get away fromthe "madding crowd." Behind one of those dunes Breck and Jane found asnug harbor after having taken a dip in the surf.
"Did you ever feel such water?" cried Jane, burrowing down in theyielding sand. "It isn't as cold as Hurricane Island, but it has astinging, spanking way with it as though it meant to conquer you."
"Yes, I feel as though parental authority had got after me with thewrong side of the hair brush," laughed Breck. "It is a treacherous bitof beach down at this end and none but good swimmers should venturehere."
The bathing beach proper was several hundred yards from where Breckand June had taken their swim. There the island made a sharp curve andthe undertow suddenly was increased as though the old ocean resentedthe change of tactics in the land. It was a sparkling, brilliant day,but the water gave evidence of there having been a storm at sea. Farout near the horizon were occasional white-caps and as the waves camecloser to the shore they increased in size and fury, each oneseemingly trying to jump on the back of the one in front, foaming andraging, thundering and booming, breaking on the sand with a final roarand then endeavoring to drag the whole of Nantucket Island down intothe deep. The sand was coarse and loose and it took a firm,quick-footed person to get out of the surf safely without being"boiled." Boiling is a terrible experience and one often had by theunwary who does not know the habits of the surf on a shelving beachwith loose and shifting sand. The worst feature about being "boiled"is the jeering crowd that sits on the beach and screams with laughteras the poor victim is turned over and over and played with by therelentless waves like some gigantic cat worrying a poor little mouse.There is nothing amusing in it but the crowd always finds it so and,when the poor mouse is cast up on the sands with a final admonishingspank from the last playful breaker, the ordinary crowd of holidaymakers shows less heart than an ancient audience in a Roman arena. Thevictim, if it is a woman, is pretty apt to have lost her stockings inthe struggle, her bathing cap, hair pins, anything in the way ofapparel that is not securely fastened on. No matter what the sex, itis hard to come out from a real good "boiling" with much religionleft. Ears leveled over with sand, shins, knees and elbows scrapedsore from being dragged back and forth, besides the hurt feelings frombeing laughed at, is enough to make one doubt that "whatever is, isright."
To the more secluded spot, sought by Jane and Breck, came Mabel andCharlie. They, too, found it difficult at times to pursue theirlove-making on the deck of the "Boojum" where, as Charlie put it,"somebody was always butting in."
"Gee! Ain't this nice? Not a soul around! Come on, Mabel honey, let'stake a dive and then get on the safe side of one of those friendlydunes."
Now Charlie Preston was a fresh-water fish and, while he was apowerful swimmer, he knew little of the dangers of surf bathing.While on the "Boojum," as a rule, the bathing had been done by divingfrom the yacht's deck into the deep sea. Mabel was as at home in thesurf as a seal and could dive under a breaker and come up on the otherside with amazing poise. She never even thought to warn Charlie of thetreachery of the beach but dived in and while her fiance stood towatch her prowess and admire her skill a wave took him off his feetand then began the process of "boiling" described above.
Over and over poor Charlie rolled, struggling and spluttering,gurgling and choking. He would clutch with desperate hands at theloose sand and then a relentless wave would dash over him and drag himback while a playful brother wave would knock him with a resoundingsmack up on the beach only to let him be dragged back and rolled overby yet another one before he could get a footing.
Hearing a great splashing and screaming, Breck and Jane emerged frombehind their friendly dune just in time to see Charlie being boiled toa king's taste and Mabel, who ordinarily would have been much amusedat the discomfiture of an unwary bather, was screaming shrilly andtrying to get in to come to the rescue of her beloved Charlie. Butone must bide his time in trying to ride waves. Time and tide waitsfor no man, nor does it hurry, and getting back to shore was not asquick as Mabel would have liked. She made a desperate lunge and, forthe first time in the annals of the Wings, one of that name was caughtin the surf and "boiled."
Over and over went Mabel and over and over went Charlie again, but inthe confusion they managed to clasp hands and just as Breck, trying toconceal a grin, came to their assistance they managed to crawl up outof reach of the spanking waves.
A rueful couple they were, sitting on the beach blinking ludicrouslyat each other.
"Well, you needn't laugh!" spluttered Charlie.
"I'm not laughing! I'm trying to cry, but my eyes are dammed up withsand," sobbed Mabel.
"Well, you needn't laugh, Breck, you and Jane."
"We are not laughing, old fellow. I would have come sooner if I hadknown what was going on," said Breck. "'Boiling' is no joke to my mindbut a serious calamity."
Breck spoke soberly but he was glad Mabel and Charlie had so muchsand in their eyes they could not see his face. Nobody could helpsmiling at their misery.
Jane came to the assistance of her friend with a small pail some childhad left half buried in the sand. This she filled with sea water bycarefully timing an incoming breaker. She had no desire to be caughtas Mabel and Charlie had been.
"Here, honey, wash out your poor eyes."
"They are getting washed fro-om with-h-in-hin-out-hout-ward," sobbedMabel. "I ne-hever expec-hected to get boi-hoiled."
"Don't you mind, darling," comforted Charlie, who was still pantingbut was happy to be alive after such an experience. "Here's amoonstone I found buried in my ear. A beauty too! I'm going to have itset in a ring for you. I've heard there were lovely moonstones on thisbeach, but I never expected to pick up one by ear."
"I'm hun-un-gry," said Mabel, her sobs letting up somewhat. "When Iget scared, I always get hungry. Maybe it is the 'boiling' that mademe think about food."
"Of course," said Charlie, indulgently. "I'm kind of hungry too. Itell you what you do: you and Jane wait here and Breck and I'll goforage and bring us back a light lunch. We'll pick up the rest of thecrowd on the way."
"Not too light," admonished Mabel.
Breck looked sadly at Jane. There seemed to be no place where he couldgo and have a quiet little love-making with his sweetheart. Why shouldCharlie and Mabel come and be 'boiled' near their dune of refuge? Andwhy should he have to go hunt food for Mabel? But Jane gave him abright little nod of admonition and there was nothing for him to dobut comply. He leant over and whispered to her:
"Don't go in the water while I am away. Please promise me!"
And she laughingly promised.