CHAPTER XIV
ROBINSON CRUSOE
A long stretch of white, fine sandy beach, packed hard; an orderlyprocession of waves, each one breaking in seething, snowy foam that ran orcrept after a child's bare feet as she skipped back and forth, playing withthem; that was Long Island to Jewel.
Of course there was a village and on its edge a dear, clean old farmhousewhere they all lived, and in whose barn Essex Maid and Star found stables.Then there were rides every pleasant day, over cool, rolling country, andwoods where one was as liable to find shells as flowers. There were wide,flat fields of grain, above which the moon sailed at night; each spot hadits attraction, but the beach was the place where Jewel found the greatestjoy; and while Mr. Evringham, in the course of his life, had taken part tothe full in the social activities of a summer resort where men are usuallyscarce and proportionately prized, it can be safely said that he now setout upon the most strenuous vacation of his entire career.
It was his habit in moments of excitement or especial impressiveness toaddress his daughter-in-law as "madam," and on the second morning aftertheir arrival, as she was sitting on the sand, viewing the greatbottle-green rollers that marched unendingly landward, she noticed herfather-in-law and Jewel engaged in deep discussion, where they stood,between her and the water.
Mr. Evringham had just come to the beach, and the incessant noise of thewaves made eavesdropping impossible; but his gestures and Jewel's repliesroused her curiosity. The child's bathing-suit was dripping, and her pinktoes were submerged by the rising tide, when her grandfather seized herhand and led her back to where her mother was sitting.
"Madam," he said, "this child mustn't overdo this business. She tells meshe has been splashing about for some time, already."
"And I'm not a bit cold, mother," declared Jewel.
"H'm. Her hands are like frogs' paws, madam. I can see she is a perfectwater-baby and will want to be in the waves continually. She says you areperfectly willing. Then it is because you are ignorant. She should go inonce a day, madam, once a day."
"Oh, grandpa!" protested Jewel, "not even wade?"
"We'll speak of that later; but put on your bathing-suit once a day only."
Mr. Evringham looked down at the glowing face seriously. Jewel lifted herwet shoulders and returned his look.
"Put it on in the morning, then, and keep it on all day?" she suggested,smiling.
"At the proper hour," he went on, "the bathing master is here. Then youwill go in, and your mother, I hope."
"And you, too, grandpa?"
"Yes, and I'll teach you to jump the waves. I taught your father in thisvery place when he was your age."
"Oh, goody!" Jewel jumped up and down on the warm sand. "What fun it musthave been to be your little boy!" she added.
Mr. Evringham refrained from looking at his daughter-in-law. He suspectedthat she knew better.
"Look at all this white sand," he said. "This was put here for babies likeyou to play with. Old ocean is too big a comrade for you."
"I just love the foam," returned the child wistfully, "and, oh, grandpa,"eagerly, "I tasted of it and it's as _salt_!"
Mr. Evringham smiled, looking at his daughter.
"Yes," said Julia. "Jewel has gone into Lake Michigan once or twice, and Ithink she was very much surprised to find that the Atlantic did not tastethe same."
"Sit down here," said Mr. Evringham, "and I'll show you what your fatherused to like to do twenty-five years ago."
Jewel sat down, with much interest, and watched the speaker scoop out ashallow place in the sand and make a ring about it.
"There, do you see these little hoppers?"
Julia was looking on, also. "Aren't they cunning, Jewel?" she exclaimed."Exactly like tiny lobsters."
"Only they're white instead of red," replied the child, and her grandfathersmiled and caught one of the semi-transparent creatures.
"Lobsters are green when they're at home," he said. "It's only in our homesthat they turn red."
"Really?"
"Yes. There are a number of things you have to learn, Jewel. The ocean is asplendid playmate, but rough. That is one of the things for you toremember."
"But I can wade, can't I? I want to build so many things that the waterruns up into."
"Certainly, you can take off your shoes and stockings when it's warmenough, as it is this morning, if your mother is willing you should drabbleyour skirts; but keep your dress on and then you won't forget yourself."
Jewel leaned toward the speaker affectionately. "Grandpa, you know I'm apretty big girl. I'll be nine the first of September."
"Yes, I know that."
"Beside, you're going to be with me all the time," she went on.
"H'm. Well, now see these sand-fleas race."
"Oh, are they sand-fleas? Just wait for Anna Belle." The child reached overto where the doll was gazing, fascinated, at the advancing, roaringbreakers.
Her boa and plumed hat had evidently been put away from the moths. She worea most becoming bathing costume of blue and white, and a coquettish silkhandkerchief was knotted around her head. It was evident that, in commonwith some other summer girls, she did not intend to wet her fetchingbathing-suit, and certainly it would be a risk to go into the water wearingthe necklace that now sparkled in the summer sun.
"Come here, dearie, and see the baby lobsters," said Jewel, holding herchild carefully away from her own glistening wetness, and seating heragainst Mrs. Evringham's knee.
"If lobsters could hop like this," said Mr. Evringham, "they would beshooting out of the ocean like dolphins. Now you choose one, Jewel, andwe'll see which wins the race. We're going to place them in the middle ofthe ring, and watch which hops first outside the circle."
Jewel chuckled gleefully as she caught one. "Oh, mother, aren't his eyesfunny! He looks as _surprised_ all the time. Now hop, dearie," she added,as she placed him beside the one Mr. Evringham had set down. "Which do youguess, Anna Belle? She guesses grandpa's will beat."
"Well, I guess yours, Jewel," said her mother; but scarcely were the wordsspoken when Anna Belle's prophecy was proved correct by the airy bound withwhich one of the fleas cleared the barrier while Jewel's choice stillremained transfixed. They all laughed except Anna Belle, who only smiledcomplacently.
Jewel leaned over her staring protegee. "If I only knew _what_ you were sosurprised at, dearie, I'd explain it to you," she said. Then she gentlypushed the creature, and it sped, tardily, over the border.
They pursued this game until the bathing-suit was dry; then Mr. Evringhamyawned. "Ah, this bright air makes me sleepy. Haven't you something you canread to us, Julia?"
"Yes, yes," cried Jewel, "she brought the story-book."
"But I didn't realize it would be so noisy. I could never read aloudagainst this roaring."
"Oh, we'll go back among the dunes. That's easy," returned Mr. Evringham.
"You don't want to hear one of these little tales, father," said Julia,flushing.
"Why, he just loves them," replied Jewel earnestly. "I've told them all tohim, and he's just as _interested_."
Mrs. Evringham did not doubt this, and she and the broker exchanged a lookof understanding, but he smiled.
"I'll be very good if you'll let me come," he said. "I forgot the ribbonbows, but perhaps you'd let me qualify by holding Anna Belle. Run and getinto your clothes, Jewel, and I'll find a nice place by that dune overyonder."
Fifteen minutes afterward the little party were comfortably ensconced inthe shade of the sand hill whose sparse grasses grew tall about them.
Jewel began pulling on them. "You'll never pull those up," remarked Mr.Evringham. "I believe their roots go down to China. I've heard so."
"Anna Belle and I will dig sometime and see," replied Jewel, muchinterested.
"There are only two stories left," said Mrs. Evringham, who was runningover the pages of the book.
"And let grandpa choose, won't you?" said Jewel.
"Oh, yes," and the
somewhat embarrassed author read the remaining titles.
"I choose Robinson Crusoe, of course," announced Mr. Evringham. "This is anappropriate place to read that. I dare say by stretching our necks a littlewe could see his island."
"Well, this story is a true one," said Julia. "It happened to the childrenof some friends of mine, who live about fifty miles from Chicago." Thenshe began to read as follows:--
ROBINSON CRUSOE
"I guess I shall like Robinson Crusoe, mamma!" exclaimed Johnnie Ford,rushing into his mother's room after school one day.
"You would be an odd kind of boy if you did not," replied Mrs. Ford, "andyet you didn't seem much pleased when your father gave you the book on yourbirthday."
"Well, I didn't care much about it then, but Fred King says it is the beststory that ever was, and he ought to know; he rides to school in anautomobile. Say, when'll you read it to me? Do it now, won't you?"
"If what?" corrected Mrs. Ford.
"Oh, if you please. You know I always mean it."
"No, dear, I don't think I will. A boy nine years old ought to be able toread Robinson Crusoe for himself."
Johnnie looked startled, and stood on one leg while he twisted the otheraround it.
"If you have a pleasant object to work for, it will make it so much theeasier to study," continued Mrs. Ford, as she handed Johnnie the blue bookwith a gold picture pressed into its side.
Johnnie pouted and looked very cross. "It's a regular old trap," he said.
TRUDGING ALONG BEFORE HIM]
"Yes, dear, a trap to catch a student;" and pretty Mrs. Ford's low laughwas so contagious that Johnnie marched out of the room, fearing he mightsmile in sympathy; but he soon found that leaving the room was notescaping from the fascinating Crusoe. Up to this time Johnnie had nevertaken much interest in school-books beyond scribbling on their blankmargins. Was it really worth while, he wondered, "to buckle down" and learnto read? He knew just enough about the famous Crusoe to make him wish tolearn more, so he finally decided that it was worth while, if only toimpress Chips Wood, his next-door neighbor and playmate, a boy a yearyounger than himself, whom Johnnie patronized out of school hours. So heworked away until at last there came a proud day when he carried the blueand gold wonder book into Chips' yard, and, seated beside his friend on thepiazza step, began to read aloud the story of Robinson Crusoe. It would behard to tell which pair of eyes grew widest and roundest as the taleunfolded, and when Johnnie, one day, laid the book down, finished, twosighs of admiration floated away over Mrs. Wood's crocus bed.
"Chips, I'd rather be Robinson Crusoe than a king!" exclaimed Johnnie.
"So would I," responded Chips. "Let's play it."
"But we can't both be Crusoes. Wouldn't you like to be Friday?" askedJohnnie insinuatingly, "he was so nice and black."
"Ye-yes," hesitated Chips, who had great confidence in Johnnie's judgment,but whose fancy had been taken by the high cap and leggings in the goldenpicture.
"Then I've got a plan," and Johnnie leaned toward his friend's ear andwhispered something under cover of his hand, that opened the younger boy'seyes wider than ever.
"Now you mustn't tell," added Johnnie aloud, "'cause that wouldn't he likemen a hit. Promise not to, deed and double!"
"Deed and double!" echoed Chips solemnly, for that was a very bindingexpression between him and Johnnie.
For several days following this, Mrs. Wood and Mrs. Ford were besieged bythe boys to permit them to earn money; and Mrs. Ford, especially, wasastonished at the way Johnnie worked at clearing up the yard, and suchother jobs as were not beyond his strength; but, inquire as she might intothe motive of all this labor, she could only discover that Chips andJohnnie wished to buy a hen.
"Have you asked father if you might keep hens?" she inquired of Johnnie,but he only shook his head mysteriously.
Chips' mother found him equally uncommunicative. She would stand at herwindow which overlooked the Fords' back yard, and watch the boys throwkindling into the shed, or sweep the paths, and wonder greatly in her ownmind. "Bless their little hearts, what can it all be about?" shequestioned, but she could not get at the truth.
Suddenly the children ceased asking for jobs, and announced that they hadall the money they cared for. The day after this announcement was the firstof April. When Mr. Ford came home to dinner that day, he missed Johnnie.
"I suppose some of his schoolmates have persuaded him to stay and sharetheir lunch," explained Mrs. Ford.
She had scarcely finished speaking when Mrs. Wood came in, inquiring forChips. "I have not seen him for two hours," she said, "and I cannot helpfeeling a little anxious, for the children have behaved so queerly lately."
"I know," returned Mrs. Ford, beginning to look worried. "Why, do you know,Johnnie didn't play a trick on one of us this morning. I actually had toremind him that it was April Fools' Day."
Mr. Ford laughed. "How woe-begone you both look! I think there is a verysimple explanation of the boys' absence. Chips probably went to school tomeet Johnnie, who has persuaded him to stay during the play hour. I willdrive around there on my way to business and send Chips home."
The mothers welcomed this idea warmly; and in a short time Mr. Ford setout, but upon reaching the school was met with the word that Johnnie hadnot been seen there at all that morning. Then it was his turn to lookanxious. He drove about, questioning every one, until he finally obtained aclue at the meat market where he dealt.
"Your little boy was in here this morning about half past ten, after a ham.He wouldn't have it charged; said 'twas for himself," said the market-man,laughing at the remembrance. "He didn't have quite enough money to pay forit, but I told him I guessed that would be all right, and off they went,him and the little Wood boy, luggin' that ham most as big as they was."
"Then they were together. Which way did they go?"
"Straight south, I know, 'cause I went to the door and watched 'em. Youhaven't lost 'em, have you?"
"I hope not," and Mr. Ford sprang into his buggy, and drove off in thedirection indicated, occasionally stopping to inquire if the children hadbeen seen. To his great satisfaction he found it easy to trace them, thanksto the ham; and a little beyond the outskirts of the town he saw apromising speck ahead of him on the flat, white road. As he drew nearer,the speck widened and heightened into two little boys trudging along beforehim. His heart gave a thankful bound at sight of the dear little legs intheir black stockings and knee breeches, and leaving his buggy by the sideof the road, he walked rapidly forward and caught up with the boys, whoturned and faced him as he approached. Displeased as he was, Mr. Ford couldhardly resist a hearty laugh at the comical appearance of the runaways.Chips carried the big, heavy ham, and Johnnie was keeping firm hold of ahen, who stretched her neck and looked very uncomfortable in her quartersunder his arm.
"Why, father!" exclaimed Johnnie, recovering from a short tussle with thepoor hen, "how funny that you should be here."
"No stranger than that you should be here, I think. Where, if I have anyright to ask, are you going?"
"To Lake Michigan," replied Johnnie composedly. "Oh, I do wish this old henwould keep still!"
"Then you have fifty miles before you," said Mr. Lord.
"Yes, sir," replied Johnnie, "but it would have been a thousand miles tothe ocean, you know."
"Ha, ha, ha!" roared Mr. Ford, mystified, but unable to control himself anylonger at sight of Johnnie and the hen, and patient-faced Chips clutchingthe ham.
"I am glad you don't mind, father," said Johnnie. "I thought it would be sonice for you and mother and Mrs. Wood not to have Chips and me to worryabout any more."
"It was very thoughtful of you," replied Mr. Ford, remembering the anxiousfaces at home. "And what are you going to do at Lake Michigan?"
"Take a boat and go away and get wrecked on a desert island, like RobinsonCrusoe," responded Johnnie glibly, at the same time hitching the hen uphigher under his arm.
"And how about Chips?"
"Oh, I'm
Man Friday," chirped Chips, his poor little face quite blackenough for the character.
"I am so sorry we had to tell you so soon," said Johnnie. "We were keepingit a secret until we got to the lake; then we were going to send you aletter."
Mr. Ford looked gravely into his son's grimy face. It was an honest face,and Johnnie had always been a truthful boy, and just now seemed onlytroubled by the restless behavior of his hen; so the father rightlyconcluded that the blue and gold book had captivated him into the beliefthat what he and Chips were doing was admirable and heroic.
"What part is the hen going to play?" asked the gentleman. "Is she going tohelp stock your island?"
"Oh, no, but we couldn't get along without her, because she's going to layeggs along the way."
"Lay eggs?"
"Yes, for our lunch. At first we weren't going to take anything but thehen, but Chips said he liked ham and eggs better'n anything, so we decidedto take it."
Another pause; then Mr. Ford said: "You both look tired, haven't you hadenough of it? I'm going home now."
"No, no," asserted the boys.
"And have you thought of your mothers, whom you didn't even kiss good-by?"
Johnnie stood on one leg and twisted the other foot around it, after hismanner when troubled.
"I thought you knew, Johnnie, that nothing ever turns out right when youundertake it without first consulting mother."
"I wish now I'd kissed mine good-by," observed Friday thoughtfully.
"Come, we'll go back together," said Mr. Ford quietly, moving off as hespoke, "and we will see what Mrs. Wood and mother have to say on thesubject."
Johnnie and Chips followed slowly. "Father," said the former emphatically,"I can't be happy without being wrecked, and I do hope mother won'tobject."
His father made no reply to this, and three quarters of an hour afterwardthe children jumped out of the buggy into their mothers' arms, and as theystill clung to their lunch, the ham and the hen came in for a share of theembracing, which the hen objected to seriously, never having been huggedbefore this eventful day.
"Never mind, mother," said Johnnie patronizingly, "father'll tell you allabout it while I go and put Speckle in a safe place." So the boys went, andMr. Ford seated himself in an armchair, and related the events of theafternoon to the ladies, adding some advice as to the manner of making theboys see the folly of their undertaking.
Mrs. Wood and Chips took tea at the Fords' that evening, and the boys, oncedelivered from the necessity of keeping their secret, rattled onincessantly of their plans; talked so much and so fast, in fact, that theirparents were not obliged to say anything, which was a great convenience, asthey had nothing they wished to say just then. It had been a mild first ofApril, and after supper the little company sat out on the piazza for atime.
"As Johnnie and Chips will be obliged to spend so many nights out of doorson their way to Lake Michigan, it will be an excellent plan to beginimmediately," said Mr. Ford. "You'll like to spend the night out here, ofcourse, boys. To be sure, it will be a good deal more comfortable than theroad, still you can judge by it how such a life will suit you."
Johnnie looked at Chips and Chips looked at Johnnie; for the exertions ofthe day had served to make the thought of their white beds very inviting;but Mr. Ford and the ladies talked on different subjects, and took nonotice of them. At last the evening air grew uncomfortably cool, and thegrown people rose to go in.
"Good-night, all," said Mrs. Wood, starting for home.
Chips watched her down to the gate. "Aren't you going to kiss megood-night?" he called.
"Of course, if you want me to," she answered, turning back, "but you wentaway this morning without kissing me, you know." Then she kissed him andwent away; and in all his eight years of life little Man Friday had neverfelt so forlorn. Johnnie held up his lips sturdily to bid his father andmother good-night.
"I think we are going to have a thunder-storm, unseasonable as it will be,"remarked Mr. Ford pleasantly, standing in the doorway. "Well, I suppose youwon't mind it. Good luck to you, boys!" then the heavy front door closed.
Johnnie had never before realized what a clang it made when it was shut.The key turned with a squeaking noise, a bolt was pushed with a solid thud;all the windows came banging down, their locks were made fast, and Johnnieand Chips felt literally, figuratively, and every other way left out in thecold.
There was an uncomfortable silence for a minute; then Chips spoke.
"Your house is splendid and safe, isn't it, Johnnie?"
"Yes, it is."
"I wonder where we'd better lie down," pursued Chips. "I'm sleepy. Let'splay we're Crusoe and Friday now."
"Oh, we can't," responded Johnnie impatiently, "not with so many com--" hewas going to say comforts, but changed his mind.
The night was very dark, not a twinkling star peeped down at the children,and the naked branches of the climbing roses rattled against the pillars towhich they were nailed, for the wind was rising.
The boys sat down on the steps and Chips edged closer to his companion. "Ithink it was queer actions in my mother," he said, "to leave me herewithout any shawl or pillow or anything."
A little chill crept over Johnnie's head from sleepiness and cold. "Ourmothers don't care what happens to us," he replied gloomily. The stillnessof the house and the growing lateness of the hour combined to make him feelthat if being wrecked was more uncomfortable than this, he could, afterall, be happy without it.
"What do you think?" broke in the shivering Man Friday. "Mamma says hamisn't good to eat if it isn't cooked."
"And that's the meanest old hen that ever lived!" returned Crusoe. "Shehasn't laid an egg since I got her."
A distant rumble sounded in the air. "What's that?" asked Chips.
"Well, I should think you'd know that's thunder," replied Johnnie crossly.
"Oh, yes," said little Chips meekly, "and we're going to get wet."
They were both quiet for another minute, while the wind rose and swept bythem.
"I really think, Johnnie," began Chips apologetically, "that I'm not bigenough to be a good Man Friday. I think to-morrow you'd better findsomebody else."
"No, indeed," replied Johnnie feelingly. "I'd rather give up being wreckedthan go off with any one but you. If you give up, I shall."
The rain began to patter down.
"If you don't like to get wet, Chips, I'd just as lieves go and ring thebell as not," he added.
A sudden sweep of wind nearly tipped the children over, for they had risen,undecidedly.
"No," called Chips stoutly, to be heard above the blast. "I'll be Fridaytill to-morrow." His last word sounded like a shout, for the wind suddenlydied.
"What do you scream so for?" asked Johnnie impatiently; but the storm hadonly paused, as it were to get ready, and now approached swiftly, gatheringstrength as it came. It swept across the piazza, taking the children'sbreath away and bending the tall maple in front of the house with suchsudden fury that a branch snapped off; then the wind died in the distancewith a rushing sound and the breaking tree was illumined by a flash oflightning.
"I think, Johnnie," said Chips unsteadily, "that God wants us to go in thehouse."
A peal of thunder roared. "I've just thought," replied Johnnie, keeping hisbalance by clutching the younger boy as tightly as Chips was clinging tohim, "that perhaps it wasn't right for us to run off the way we did,without getting any advice."
They strove with the wind only a few seconds more, then, with one accord,struggled to the door where one rang peal after peal at the bell, while theother pounded sturdily.
Johnnie didn't stop then to wonder how his father could get downstairs toopen the door so quickly. Mrs. Ford, too, seemed to have been waiting forthe pair of heroes, and she took them straight to Johnnie's room, where sheundressed them in silence and rolled them into bed. They said their prayersand were asleep in two minutes, while the storm howled outside. Then, insome mysterious way, Mrs. Wood came into the room, and the three p
arentsstood watching the unconscious children.
"That's the last of one trial with those boys, I'm sure," said Mr. Ford,laughing, and he was right; for it was years before any one heard eitherJohnnie or Chips mention Robinson Crusoe or his Man Friday.