The Camp Fire Girls on a Yacht

  CHAPTER V

  AT THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS

  "I feel just exactly like the Pilgrim Fathers, don't you, Mr. Wing?"Jane said as she and Frances climbed up the wharf ladder from thedinghy.

  These two girls and Mr. Wing had grown to be the closest of friendsand it had become a habit for them to take the little dinghy when theparty went ashore, leaving the tender for the others. Mr. Wing hadproved himself a delightful companion. In fact, as Frances said: "Heis every bit as crazy as we are."

  "You will love Plymouth, and then I want to sail you over toProvincetown, too. It is not nearly so charming as Plymouth, but it isinteresting at that. Primarily, it is a fishing village but a lot ofartists summer there and, sometimes, they have rather goodexhibitions."

  Twilight had just settled over the little town as the three started upthe hill from the water front. There was a great peace about thestreets and a gentle quietness over all the houses. The pilgrimswalked along without speaking, taking in the simple beauty of thewhite houses, guarded by tremendous elms.

  "And we have the nerve to talk about the Southern homes as if theywere the only homes worth mentioning," said Jane suddenly. "Of coursethese are very different but I like them."

  Mr. Wing smiled. "You know," he said, "that these houses are to mevery much like the New England people, strong, simple and dignifiedand infinitely beautiful."

  "It would be a wonderful place to come and grow very old in and awonderful place to have had as your childhood home, but somehow Ican't imagine it for schoolboys and girls, can you?" mused Frances.

  "Well, Jane," said Mr. Wing, as they neared the center of town,"Frances and I have a bunch of telegrams and letters to send and, ifyou don't want to bore yourself by waiting around for us, why don'tyou go up to the top of that hill where the graveyard is and lookaround--it is very lovely--and then meet us and our daughters andbrothers and friends at the Samoset House in an hour. I thought itwould be kind of fun to have dinner there to-night. It is famous forits food."

  "That will be dandy, if Frances will promise to send Daddy a telegramfor me saying that Jack and I are still alive and kicking. I have beenhaving too wonderful a time to write as much as I should and I know hewill want to know what has become of me," and Jane started up the hillto the cemetery.

  Looking around, she was rather pleased to find that she was the onlyperson in sight. She went over to a great tree and sank down into thedeep soft grass, leaning her head back against the tremendous trunk.Jane thought it was a great pity that most people had such a morbiddistaste for the resting place of the dead. She had never seenanything more beautiful than this high hill covered with oldtombstones and trees whose spreading branches arched above her. Afaint wind rustled among the many leaves and the warm air was filledwith a delicate fragrance.

  Suddenly the base of the hill shone with misty lights and aninvoluntary exclamation of wonder fell from her lips as she gazed atthe beauty of the scene that stretched before her. Even therealization that the sudden change had come with the turning on ofthe town's electric street lights failed to mar the enchantment shefelt.

  "It would make a perfect illustration for Dunsany's tale 'The Edge ofthe World,'" announced a man's voice close beside her.

  Jane turned her head with a peculiar feeling that nothing was unusualwith this strange setting. It was Breck.

  "Yes, and I would like to see a real artist do a huge canvas of it,wouldn't you?" she said.

  "If he could get that unreal light that just burst forth," Breck said.

  There was the clang-clang of a passing trolley car and the spell wasbroken. Jane's thoughts came crashing back to reality. What in theworld did Breck know about Dunsany and art? And if he did know aboutthem, as it was evident that he did, what could be his object in beinga paid sailor on a rich man's yacht?

  However, it was Breck's business and, if he did not wish to throw anylight on the subject, she would not pry into his affairs but she feltthat he was conscious of the slip he made. Breck's confusion wasevident, so the girl casually asked what time it was and told him thatshe had to meet her friends for dinner and so was going. She smiledgood-bye and walked off down the hill.

  Jane left Breck rapt in admiration for a girl who was alive andinterested in everything and thoroughly feminine, but had tact enoughto keep from trying to divine some one else's secret.

  He thought that he couldn't imagine his sister or any of her friendsrefraining in so quietly sympathetic a manner from rushing in whereangels feared to tread. All of these girls had a breezy out-doorsy waywith them that he liked and he wished that that same sister of hismight have joined a Camp Fire organization before she made her verysuccessful debut. All of which thoughts were strange thoughts for anordinary deck-hand to be entertaining in a mystic cemetery when heought--if he was to stay in character--to be guzzling a plate of beansat a "Quick and Dirty."

  The others were waiting for Jane at the Samoset when she got there,rather out of breath from her fast walk.

  "Jane looks so mysterious, I am sure she must have had a millionadventures," teased Frances.

  "You might tell us about them if you did," Ellen said. "We made a veryordinary trip from the boat to shore, landing as usual."

  "Well, you know I went to the cemetery and it is almost traditionalthat strange things happen in graveyards," was all that could beforced from Jane.

  "If she won't divulge the horrid secret, let's feed. My appetite isstraining on the leash," suggested Charlie.

  Mabel giggled. "Charlie, I didn't even know you had a leash for it."

  The little party entered the beautifully simple dining room that wastypical of the Samoset and began one of the most delicious dinners inthe history of the cruise.

  On the way back to the "Boojum," Jack said to Ellen, "In all my life Inever tasted anything as good as that duckling."

  And much to his delight she answered, "Yes it was good and it iscooked by just the recipe my grandmother taught me. I believe you willlike my duckling just as much as you liked the Samoset's."

  "I'll adore yours, Ellen."

  Again on deck, Mr. Wing looked at the sky with the searching glance ofa seaman. "We just did make it in time. In about five minutes we aregoing to have an awful big rain. Looks like she was coming up toblow, too. Hope we won't drag. This is a poor harbor."

  Before the girls had got into their bunks, the rain Mr. Wing hadforeseen was beating in through the open portholes and down the hatch.

  Jack and Charlie went rushing about closing portholes and shutting thehatch. "It is going to be one stuffy night; I never can sleep withoutplenty of air," observed Charlie.

  "Stop putting on airs, Charlie; you could sleep if there wasn't anyair in the whole universe, and you know it," Jack corrected him.

  Jane and Frances, overcome by giggles as usual, were trying to twistthe ventilators in their room so the rain didn't trickle in on them.

  Mabel opened her stateroom door and peered through the crack."Children and Daddy, I hate to be horrid, but you have simply got tostop smoking and go to bed and, if you go to sleep right away, youwon't miss not smoking. You see, without any air in the place, thesmoke can't get out and it all seems to come through my door some way.Anyhow, Ellen and I are simply gasping for breath."

  Moved by the pitiful picture of Ellen and Mabel clutching their softthroats and writhing on the floor in the agonies of suffocation,Charlie and Jack immediately put out their cigarettes.

  "Greater love than this has no man, that he put out his cigarette toplease a girl," paraphrased Mr. Wing. "I am going up on deck to see ifthey are holding all right. I hear Breck up there and I can finish mycigar in all the wind and rain. Do you hear that, Mabel? We are goingto have a lively night."

  Frances was almost asleep when Jane asked her, "Do you know whetherBreck has a slicker or not? It must be horrid on deck in all thiswet."

  "Why Jane, how funny! How should I know about what clothes Breck has?This is the first bad weather we have had."

  In
the other cabin Ellen was saying to Mabel, "Ugh! listen to thewind, and the groaning of the rigging, and the plash, plash of thewater slopping against the poor old 'Boojum's' sides."

  Soon they were all asleep, the wind and rain unheeded. The stewardsnored with a series of really interesting variations, with suchcarrying powers that it was fortunate that all the seafarers were goodsleepers. The waves had become choppy and hit the "Boojum's" sideswith angry little smacks. In spite of the lashings on the pilotwheel, the rudder thudded to and fro.

  Suddenly Mabel waked to find herself gouging into the bunk with herfingernails in much the attitude of some one climbing a steep claybank, and her legs entirely out of the bunk. Ellen had slipped down ontop of her and would surely have been on the floor had not Mabel'sbulk stopped her.

  "Daddy," Mabel called in the purely conversational tone in which onemight say, "Will you have cream or lemon?" "Is this boat right?"

  "Why, of course it is. It is the rightest little boat in the EasternYacht Club." Even when half asleep Mr. Wing was the proud possessor of"the best little schooner that ever set sail."

  "Wake up quick and see!" commanded Mabel. "Something is the matterwith the boat or my bed is broken and you have to do something ineither case."

  By this time, everybody aft was more or less awake.

  "Did you ever hear such fascinating sounds as the steward is making? Iwould adore to arrange the orchestration for them and call it'Nocturnal Arabesques' or something," Jane said to Frances. "Butisn't it funny, I am sleeping on the side of the ship instead of in mybunk and the rail around my little bunk is like a ceiling over my headand my bunk is like a wall! What do you suppose is the matter?"

  "I'm just the same way," giggled Frances. "And I know we ought to feelexcited and be running around with streaming fists and clenched hairand we just lie here upside down and giggle and talk nonsense. We haveprobably hit a rock or something and we will all be drowned likerats."

  Mr. Wing crawled in their cabin with much the same method a fly walksalong the ceiling. He came in just in time to hear the end of Frances'speech. "You don't seem to be making much effort to save yourself," helaughed. "But I'll save you the anxiety you don't seem to feel andtell you that nothing serious is the matter. We just anchored in tooshallow water. While the tide was in, it was all right, but the tideis out now and we are turning turtle and are lying in the mud on ourbeam ends. There is no danger; it just means that we will be a bitupset till the tide comes in. Then we will beat it over toProvincetown."

  "You girls put on kimonos and come into the saloon. I stuck my headdown the galley hatch and found Breck prying the steward out frombehind the stove where he slipped when we did our flip. I told him tomake some coffee and it will be here in a minute," Jack announcedthrusting a wet and tousled head into the cabin.

  "When I was a kid, I used to wonder how the heathen Chinee could walkupside down on the other side of the world, but I see now that it wasquite simple compared to this," Charlie said as he landed the girls onthe least perilous of the transoms.

  "You certainly bruised us enough doing it. The last time Mabelslipped, you steadied yourself by grabbing my left ear," said Francesruefully.

  "And my poor head," laughed Ellen. "Charlie reminded me of theBellman, don't you remember?--

  "'Just the place for a Snark!' the Bellman cried, As he landed his crew with care; Supporting each man on the top of the tide By a finger entwined in his hair."

  "You kids are certainly peaches," and Mr. Wing literally beamed. "Hereyou are quoting 'The Hunting of the Snark' and laughing and chattingjust as if you weren't cold and upside down and everything."

  Just then Breck came in with a steaming coffee pot, in some mysteriousway maintaining his equilibrium.

  "Fortunately the steward didn't hear your remark about theorchestration of his snores, or I don't believe you would have gotyour coffee so soon," Breck said in an undertone to Jane as he handedher her cup.

  Jane thought, as she sipped her coffee, that perhaps gray eyes werebetter suited for twinkling than any other eyes.