CHAPTER XIII
AUNTY FLAGS A ROSY ONE
Lemme see, I was headed out of Boothbay Harbor, Maine, bound forRoarin' Rocks, wa'n't I? Hold the picture,--me in a white jumper andlittle round canvas hat with "Vixen" printed across the front, whiteshoes too, and altogether as yachty as they come. Don't forget youngMr. Payne Hollister at the wheel, either; although whether I'dkidnapped him, or he'd kidnapped me, is open for debate.
Anyway, here I was, subbin' incog for the reg'lar crew, who was laid upwith a sprained ankle. All that because I'd got the happy hail fromVee on a postcard. It wa'n't any time for unpleasant thoughts then;but I couldn't help wonderin' how soon Aunty would loom on the horizonand spoil it all.
"So there's a picnic on the slate, eh?" I suggests.
Young Mr. Hollister nods. "I'd promised some of the folks at thehouse," says he. "Guests, you know."
"Oh, yes," says I, feelin' a little shiver flicker down my spine.
I knew. Vee was a guest there. So was Aunty. The picnic prospectsmight have been more allurin'. But I'd butted in, and this was no timeto back out. Besides, I was more or less interested in sizin' up PayneHollister. Tall, slim, young gent; dark, serious eyes; nose a littleprominent; and his way of speakin' and actin' a bit pompous,--one ofthem impatient, quick-motioned kind that wants to do everything in aminute. He keeps gettin' up and starin' ahead, like he wa'n't quitesure where he was goin', and then leanin' over to squint at the enginerestless.
"Just see if those forward oil cups are full, will you?" says he.
I climbs over and inspects. Everything seems to be O. K.; althoughwhat I don't know about a six-cylinder marine engine is amazin'.
"We're slidin' through the water slick," says I.
"She can turn up much faster than this," says he; "only I don't dareopen her wide."
I was satisfied. I could use a minute or so about then to plot out afew scenarios dealin' with how a certain party would act in case ofmakin' a sudden discovery. But I hadn't got past picturin' the coldstorage stare before the Hollister place shows up ahead, Paynethrottles the Vixen down cautious, shoots her in between a couple ofrocky points, and fetches her up alongside a rope-padded private float.There's some steps leadin' up to the top of the rocks.
"Do you mind running up and asking if they're ready?" says Payne.
"Why, no," says I; "but--but who do I ask?"
"That's so," says he. "And they'll not know who you are, either. I'llgo. Just hold her off."
Me with a boathook, posin' back to for the next ten minutes, not evendarin' to rubber over my shoulder. Then voices, "Have you the coffeebottles?"--"Don't forget the steamer rugs."--"I put the olives on thetop of the sandwiches."--"Be careful when you land, Mabel dear."--"Oh,we'll be all right." This last from Vee.
Another minute and they're down on the float, with Payne Hollisterexplainin', "Oh, I forgot. This is someone who is helping me with theboat while Tucker's disabled." I touches my hat respectful; but I'mtoo busy to face around--much too busy!
"Now, Cousin Mabel," says young Hollister, "right in the middle of thatseat! Easy, now!"
A squeal from Mabel. No wonder! I gets a glimpse of her as she stepsdown, and, believe me, if I had Mabel's shape and weight you couldn'ttease me out on the water in anything smaller'n the Mauretania! Allthe graceful lines of a dumplin', Mabel had; about five feet up anddown, and 'most as much around. Vee is on one side, Payne on theother, both lowerin' away careful; but as she makes the final plungebefore floppin' onto the seat she reaches out one paw and annexes myright arm. Course that swings me around sudden, and I finds myselfgazin' at Vee over Payne Hollister's shoulders, not three feet away.
"Oh!" says she, startled, and you couldn't blame her. I just has tolay one finger on my lips and shake my head mysterious.
"All right!" sings out Payne, straightenin' up. "Always more or lessexciting getting Cousin Mabel aboard; but it's been accomplished. Now,Verona!"
As he gives her a hand she floats in as light as a bird landin' in atreetop. I could feel her watchin' me curious and puzzled as I passesthe picnic junk down for Hollister to stow away. Course, it wa'n't anyleadin'-heavy, spotlight entrance I was makin' at Roarin' Rocks; butit's a lot better, thinks I, than not bein' there at all.
"Oh, dear," sighs Mabel, "what a narrow, uncomfortable seat!"
"Is it, really?" asks Vee. "Can't it be fixed someway, Payne?"
"Lemme have a try?" says I. With that I stuffs extra cushions aroundher, folds up a life preserver to rest her feet on, and drapes her witha steamer rug.
"Thanks," says she, sighin' grateful and rewardin' me with a display ofdimples. "What is your name, young man?"
"Why," says I, with a glance at Vee, "you can just call me Bill."
"Nonsense!" says Mabel. "Your name is William."
"William goes, Miss," says I; and as she snuggles down I chances a winkVee's way. No response, though. Vee ain't sure yet whether she oughtto grin or give me the call-down.
"Cast off!" says Payne, and out between the rocks we shoot, with Auntyand Mrs. Hollister wavin' from the veranda. Anyway, that was somerelief. This wa'n't Aunty's day for picnickin'.
She didn't know what she was missin', I expect; for, say, that's goodbreathin' air up off Boothbay. There's some life and pep to it, andrushin' through it that way you can't help pumpin' your lungs full.Makes you glow and tingle inside and out. Makes you want to holler.That, and the sunshine dancin' on the water, and the feel of the boatslicin' through the waves, the engine purrin' away a sort of rag-timetune, and the pennants whippin', and all that scenery shiftin' aroundto new angles, not to mention the fact that Vee's along--well, I wasenjoyin' life about then. Kind of got into my blood. Everything waslovely, and I didn't care what happened next.
Me bein' the crew, I expect I should have been fussin' around up front,coilin' ropes, or groomin' the machinery. But I can't make my eyesbehave. I has to turn around every now and then and grin. Mabel don'tseem to mind.
"William," says she, signalin' me, "see if you can't find a box ofcandy in that basket."
I hops over the steerin' seat back into the standin' room and digs itout. Also I lingers around while Mabel feeds in a few pieces.
"Have some?" says she. "You're so good-natured looking."
"That's my long suit," says I.
Then I see Vee's mouth corners twitching and she takes her turn. "Youlive around here, I suppose, William?" says she.
"No such luck," says I. "I come up special to get this job."
"But," puts in Mabel, holdin' a fat chocolate cream in the air, "Tuckerwasn't hurt until yesterday."
"That's when I landed," says I.
"Someone must have sent you word then," says Vee, impish.
"Uh-huh," says I. "Someone mighty special too. Sweet of her, wa'n'tit?"
"Oh! A girl?" asks Mabel, perkin' up.
"_The_ girl," says I.
"Tee-hee!" snickers Mabel, nudgin' Vee delighted. "Is--is she verynice, William? Tell us about her, won't you?"
"Oh, do!" says Vee, sarcastic.
"Well," says I, lookin' at Vee, "she's about your height and build."
"How interesting!" says Mabel, with another nudge. "Go on. What kindof hair?"
"Never was any like it," says I.
"But her complexion," insists Mabel, "dark or fair?"
"Pink roses in the mornin', with the dew on," says I.
"Bravo!" says Mabel, clappin' her hands. "And her eyes?"
"Why," says I, "maybe you've looked down into deep sea water on astill, gray day? That's it."
"She must be a beauty," says Mabel.
"Nothing but," says I.
"I hope she has a nice disposition too," says she.
"Nope," says I, shakin' my head solemn.
"Humph! What's the matter with that?" says Vee.
"Jumpy," says I. "Red pepper and powdered sugar; sometimes all sugar,sometimes all pepper, then again a mixture. You never can
tell."
"Then I'd throw her over," says Vee.
"Honest, would you?" says I, lookin' her square in the eye.
"If I didn't like her disposition, I would," says she.
"But that's the best part of her to me," says I. "Adds variety, youknow, and--well, I expect it's about the only way I'm like her. Mineis apt to be that way too."
"Why, of course," comes in Mabel. "If she was as pretty as all that,and angelic too----"
"You got the idea," says I. "She'd be in a stained glass windowsomewhere, eh?"
"You're a silly boy!" says Vee.
"That sounds natural," says I. "I often get that from her."
"And is she living up here?" asks Mabel. "Visiting," says I. "She'swith her----"
"William," breaks in Vee, "I think Mr. Hollister wants you."
I'd most forgot about Payne; for, while he's only a few feet off, he'sas much out of the group as if he was ashore. You know how it is inone of them high-powered launches with the engine runnin'. You can'thear a word unless you're right close to. And Payne's twistin' aroundrestless.
"Yes, Sir?" says I, goin' up and reportin'.
"Ask Miss Verona if she doesn't want to come up here," says he. "I--Ithink it will trim the boat better."
"Sure," says I. But when I passes the word to Vee I translates. "Mr.Hollister's lonesome," says I, "and there's room for another."
"I've been wondering if I couldn't," says Vee.
"You can," says I. "Lemme help you over."
Gives me a chance for a little hand squeeze and another close glimpseinto them gray eyes. I don't make out anything definite, though. Butas she passes forward she puckers her lips saucy and whispers,"Pepper!" in my ear. I guess, after all, when you're doin'confidential description you don't want to stick too close to facts.Makin' it all stained glass window stuff is safer.
I goes back to Mabel and lets her demand more details. She's just fullof romance, Mabel is; not so full, though, that it interferes with herabsorbin' a few eats now and then. Between answerin' questions I'mkept busy handin' out crackers, oranges, and doughnuts, openin' theolive bottle, and gettin' her drinks of water. Reg'lar Consumers'League, Mabel. I never run a sausage stuffin' machine; but I think Icould now.
"You're such a handy young man to have around," says Mabel, after I'vesplit a Boston cracker and lined it with strawb'ry jam for her; "somuch better than Tucker."
"That's my aim," says I, "to make you forget Tucker."
Yes, I was gettin' some popular with Mabel, even if I was in wrong withVee. They seems to be havin' quite a chatty time of it, Payne showin'her how to steer, and lettin' her salute passin' launches, andexplainin' how the engine worked. As far as them two went, Mabel andme was only so much excess baggage.
"Why, we're clear out beyond Squirrel!" exclaims Mabel at last. "AskPayne where we're going to stop for our picnic. I'm getting hungry."
"Oh, yes," says Payne, "we must be thinking about landing. I hadplanned to run out to Damariscove; but that looks like a fog bankhanging off there. Perhaps we'd better go back to Fisherman's Island,after all. Tell her Fisherman's."
I couldn't see what the fog bank had to do with it--not then, anyway.Why, it was a peach of a day,--all blue sky, not a sign of a cloudanywhere, and looked like it would stay that way for a week. He keepsthe Vixen headed out to sea for awhile longer, and then all of a suddenhe circles short and starts back.
"Fog!" he shouts over his shoulder to Mabel.
"Oh, bother!" says Mabel. "I hate fog. And it is coming in too."
Yes, that bank did seem to be workin' its way toward us, like a big,gray curtain that's bein' shoved from the back drop to the front of thestage. You couldn't see it move, though; but as I watched blamed if itdon't creep up on an island, a mile or so out, and swallow it complete,same as a picture fades off a movie screen when the lights go wrong.Just like that. Then a few wisps of thin mist floats by, makin' thingsa bit hazy ahead. Squirrel Island, off to the left, disappears like ithad gone to the bottom. The mainland shore grows vague and blurred,and the first thing we know we ain't anywhere at all, the scenery's allsmudged out, and nothin' in sight but this pearl-gray mist. It ain'tvery thick, you know, and only a little damp. Rummy article, thisState of Maine fog!
Young Hollister is standin' up now, tryin' to keep his bearin's anddoin' his best to look through the haze. He slows the engine downuntil we're only just chuggin' along.
"Let's see," says he, "wasn't Squirrel off there a moment ago?"
"Why, no," says Vee. "I thought it was more to the left."
"By Jove!" says he. "And there are rocks somewhere around here too!"
Funny how quick you can get turned around that way. Inside of threeminutes I couldn't have told where we were at, any more'n if I'd beenblindfolded in a cellar. And I guess young Hollister got to thatcondition soon after.
"We ought to be making the south end of Fisherman's soon," he observes.
But we didn't. He has me climb out on the bow to sing out if I seeanything. But, say, there was less to see than any spot I was ever in.I watched and watched, and Payne kept on gettin' nervous. And still wekeeps chuggin' and chuggin', steerin' first one way and then the other.It seemed hours we'd been gropin' around that way when----
"Rocks ahead!" I sings out as something dark looms up. Payne turns herquick; but before she can swing clear bang goes the bow againstsomething solid and slides up with a gratin' sound. He tries backin'off; but she don't budge.
"Hang it all!" says Payne, shuttin' off the engine. "I guess we'restuck."
"Then why not have the picnic right here?" pipes up Mabel.
"Here!" snaps Payne. "But I don't know where we are."
"Oh, what's the difference?" says Mabel. "Besides, I'm hungry."
"I want to get out of this, though," says Payne. "I mean to keep goinguntil I know where I am."
"Oh, fudge!" says Mabel. "This is good enough. And if we stay hereand have a nice luncheon perhaps the fog will go away. What's thesense in drifting around when you're hungry?"
That didn't seem such bad dope, either. Vee sides with Mabel, andwhile Payne don't like the idea he gives in. We seem to have landedsomewhere. So we carts the baskets and things ashore, finds a flatplace up on the rocks, and then the three of us tackles the job ofhoistin' Mabel onto dry land. And it was some enterprise, believe me!
"Goodness!" pants Mabel, after we'd got her planted safe. "I don'tknow how I'm ever going to get back."
We didn't, either; but after we'd spread out five kinds of sandwicheswithin her reach, poured hot coffee out of the patent bottles, openedthe sardines and pickles, set out the cake and doughnuts, Mabel ceasesto worry.
Payne don't, though. He swallows one sandwich, and then goes back toinspect the boat. He announces that the tide is comin' in and sheought to float soon; also that when she does he wants to start back.
"Now, Payne!" protests Mabel. "Just when I'm comfortable!"
"And there isn't any hurry, is there?" asks Vee.
I wa'n't so stuck on buttin' around in the fog myself; so when he asksme to go down and see if the launch is afloat yet, and I finds that shecan be pushed off easy, I don't hurry about tellin' him so. Instead Iclimbs aboard and develops an idea. You see, when I was out with EbWestcott in his lobster boat the day before I'd noticed him stop theengine just by jerkin' a little wire off the spark plug. Here was awhole bunch of wires, though. Wouldn't do to unhitch 'em all. Butalong the inside of the boat is a little box affair that they all leadinto, with one big wire leadin' out. Looked kind of businesslike, thatone did. I unhitches it gentle and drapes it over a nearby screwhead.Then I strolls back and reports that she's afloat.
"Good!" says Payne. "I'll just start the engine and be tuning her upwhile the girls finish luncheon."
Well, maybe you can guess. I could hear him windin' away at thecrankin' wheel, windin' and windin', and then stoppin' to cuss a littleunder his breath.
"What's the matter?" sings out Mabel.
She was one of the kind that's strong on foolish questions.
"How the blazes should I know?" raps back young Hollister. "I can'tstart the blasted thing."
"Never mind," says Mabel cheerful. "We haven't finished the sandwichesyet."
Next time I takes a peek Payne has his tool kit spread out and is busytakin' things apart. He's getting' himself all smeared up with greaseand oil too. Pity; for he'd started out lookin' so neat and nifty.Meanwhile we'd fed Mabel to the limit, got her propped up withcushions, and she's noddin' contented.
"Guess I'll do some exploring" says I.
"But I've been wanting to do that this half-hour," says Vee.
"Well, let's then," says I.
"Go on," says Mabel, "and tell me about it afterward."
Oh, yes, we explores. Say, I'm a bear for that too! You have to gohand in hand over the rocks, to keep from slippin'. And the fog makesit all the nicer. We didn't go far before we came to the edge. Thenwe cross in another direction, and comes to more edge.
"Why, we're on a little island!" says Vee.
"Big enough for us," says I. "Here's a good place to sit down too."We settles ourselves in a snug little corner that gives us a fine viewof the fog.
"How silly of you to come away up here," says Vee, "just because--well,just because."
"It's the only wise move I was ever guilty of," says I. "I feel like Ihad Solomon in the grammar grade."
"But how did you happen to get here--with Payne?" says she.
"Hypnotized him," says I. "That part was a cinch."
"And until to-day you didn't know where we were, or anything," says she.
"I scouted around a bit yesterday afternoon," says I. "Saw you too."
"Yesterday!" says she. "Why, no one came near all the afternoon; thatis, only a couple of lobstermen in a horrid, smelly old boat."
"Uh-huh," says I. "One was me, in disguise."
"Torchy!" says she, gaspin'. And somehow she snuggles up a littlecloser after that. "I didn't think when I wrote," she goes on, "thatyou would be so absurd."
"Maybe I was," says I. "But I took it straight, that part about itbein' stupid up here. I was figurin' on liftin' the gloom. I hadn'tcounted on Payne."
"Well, what then?" says she, tossin' her chin up.
"Nothin'," says I. "Guess you were right, too."
"He only came the other day," says Vee; "but he's nice."
"Aunty thinks so too, don't she?" says I.
"Why, yes," admits Vee.
"Another chosen one, is he?" says I.
Vee flushes. "I don't care!" says she. "He is rather nice."
"Correct," says I. "I found him that way too; but ain't he--well, justa little stiff in the neck?"
That brings out a giggle. "Poor Payne!" says Vee. "He is something ofa stick, you know."
"We'll forgive him for that," says I. "We'll forgive Mabel. We'llforgive the fog. Eh?" Then my arm must have slipped.
"Why, Torchy!" says she.
"Oh!" says I. "Thought you were too near the edge." And the sideclinch wa'n't disturbed.
Then my arm must have slipped--and the side clinchwa'n't disturbed.]
Some chat too! I don't know when we've had a chance for any such agood long talk as that, and we both seemed to have a lot ofconversation stored up. Then we chucked pebbles into the water, andVee pulls some seaweed and decorates my round hat. You know? It'seasy killin' time when you're paired off right. And the first thing weknows the fog begins to lighten and the sun almost breaks through. Wehurries back to where Mabel's just rousin' from a doze.
"Well?" says she.
"It's a tiny little island we're on," says Vee.
"Nice little island, though," says I.
"Hey!" sings out Payne, pokin' his head up over the rocks. "I've beencalling and calling."
"We've been explorin'," says I. "Got her fixed yet?"
"Hang it, no!" growls Payne, scrubbin' cotton waste over his forehead."And the fog's beginning to lift. Why, there's the shore,and--and--well, what do you think of that? We're on Grampus Ledges,not a mile from home!"
Sure enough, there was Roarin' Rocks just showin' up.
"Now if I could only start this confounded engine!" says he, starin'down at it puzzled.
By this time Vee and Mabel appears, and of course Mabel wants to knowwhat's the matter.
"I'm sure I can't tell," says Payne, sighin' hopeless.
"Wirin' all right, is it?" says I, climbin' in and lookin' scientific.And--would you believe it?--I only paws around a minute or so before Ifinds a loose magneto connection, hooks it up proper, and remarkscasual, "Now let's try her."
Pur-r-r-r-r! Off she goes. "There!" exclaims Mabel. "I shall nevergo out again unless William is along. He's so handy!"
Say, she stuck to it. Four days I was chief engineer of theVixen--and, take it from me, they was perfectly good days. No morefog. No rain. Just shoolin' around in fair weather, makin' excursionshere and there, with Vee trippin' down to the dock every day in afresher and newer yachtin' costume, and lookin' pinker and sweeterevery trip.
Course, as regards a certain other party, it was a case of artisticdodgin' for me between times. You got to admit, though, that it wa'n'ta fair test for Aunty. I had her off her guard. Might have beendiff'rent too, if she'd cared for motorboatin'. So maybe I gotcareless. I remember once passin' Aunty right in the path, as I'mluggin' some things up to the house, and all I does is to hoist thebasket up on my shoulder between me and her and push right along.
Then here the last morning just as we got under way for a run toDamariscotta, she and Mrs. Hollister was up on the cliff seein' us off.All the rest was wavin'; so just for sport I takes off my hat and wavestoo, grinnin' humorous at Vee as I makes the play. But, say, next timeI looks back she's up on the veranda with the fieldglasses trained onus. I keeps my hat on after that. My kind of red hair is prominentenough to the naked eye at almost any distance--but with fieldglasses!Good night!
It was a day for forgettin' things, though. Ever sailed up the ScottyRiver on a perfect August day, with the sun on the green hills, a seabreeze tryin' to follow the tide in, and the white gulls swingin' lazyoverhead? It's worth doin'. Then back again, roundin' Ocean Pointabout sunset, with the White Islands all tinted up pink off there, andthe old Atlantic as smooth as a skatin' rink as far out as you can see,and streaked with more colors than a crazy cubist can sling,--somepeaceful picture.
But what a jar to find Aunty, grim and forbidding waitin' on the dock.She never says a word until we'd landed and everyone but me had startedfor the house. Then I got mine.
"Boy," says she icy, "take off that hat!"
I does it reluctant.
"Humph!" says she. "William! I thought so." That's all; but she saysit mighty expressive.
The programme for the followin' day included a ten o'clock start, andI'd been down to the boat ever since breakfast, tidyin' things up andsort of wonderin'. About nine-fifteen, though, young Hollister comeswanderin' down by his lonesome.
"It's all off," says he. "Miss Verona and her aunt have gone."
"Eh?" says I, gawpin'. "Gone?"
"Early this morning," says he. "I don't quite understand why;something about Verona's being out on the water so much, I believe.Gone to the mountains. And--er--by the way, Tucker is around again.Here he comes now."
"He gets the jumper, then," says I, peelin' it off. "I guess I'm dueback on Broadway."
"It's mighty good of you to help out," says Payne, "and I--I want to dothe right thing in the way of----"
"You have," says I. "You've helped me have the time of my life. Putup the kale, Hollister. If you'll land me at the Harbor, I'll call itsquare."
He don't want to let it stand that way; but I insists. As I climbs outon the Yacht Club float, where he'd picked me up, he puts out his handfriendly.
"And, say," says I, "how about Miss Vee?"
"Why," says he, "I'm very sorry she couldn't stay longer."
"Me too," says I. "Some girl, eh?"
Payne nods hearty, and we swaps a final grip.
Well, it was great! My one miscue was not wearin' a wig.