THE GOOD SHIP "JASON"
The Rosemont schools closed for the holidays at noon of the Wednesday
before Christmas, so all the Mortons and Dorothy were free to avail
themselves of Mrs. Emerson's offer of her car to bring Katharine from
Hoboken. It was a pleasant custom of the family to regard any guests as
belonging not to one or another member in particular but to all of them.
All felt a responsibility for the guest's happiness and all shared in
any amusement that he or she might give.
According to this custom, not the Ethels alone went to meet Katharine,
but Helen and Roger and Dorothy, too. Mrs. Morton chaperoned them and
Dicky was added for good measure. It was a sharp day and the Rosemont
group were rosy with cold when they reached the station and lined
themselves up on the platform just before the Buffalo train drew in.
Katharine and the Jacksons' German maid, Gretchen, were among the first
to get off.
"Gretchen is going to make a holiday visit, too," Katharine explained
when she had greeted the Ethels, whom she knew, and had been introduced
to the other members of the party.
Mrs. Morton and Roger instructed Gretchen how to reach Staten Island
where her friends lived and then they got into the car and sped toward
home.
Katharine did not seem so much at ease as she had done when she played
hostess to the Ethels at Fort Edward. She was accustomed to meeting many
people, but she was an only child and being plunged into a big family,
all chattering at once, it seemed to her, caused her some embarrassment.
In an effort not to show it she was not always happy in her remarks.
"Is this your car?" she asked.
"It's Grandmother Emerson's," replied Ethel Brown. "She lets us have it
very often."
"I don't care for a touring car in cold weather. My grandmother has a
limousine."
"We're glad to have a ride in any kind of car," responded Ethel Blue
happily.
"Roger, get out that other rug for Katharine," directed Mrs. Morton,
"she's chilly."
"Oh, no," demurred Katharine, now ashamed at having made a remark that
seemed to reflect upon the comfort of her friends' automobile. "I'm used
to a Ford, any way."
"I'm afraid you don't know much about cars if you do come from an
automobile city," commented Roger dryly. "This car would make about
three Fords--though I don't sneeze at a Ford myself. I'd be mighty glad
if we had one, wouldn't you, Mother?"
Mrs. Morton shook her head at him, and he subsided, humming merrily,
He took four spools and an old tin can
And called it a Ford and the strange thing ran.
The Ethels had not paid much attention to the conversation but
nevertheless it had struck the wrong note and no one felt entirely at
ease. They found themselves wondering whether their guest would find her
room to her liking and they remembered uneasily that they had said "I
guess she won't mind" this and that when they had left some of their
belongings in the closet.
The Morton's house was not large and in order to accommodate a guest the
Ethels moved upstairs into a tiny room in the attic, where they were to
camp for the fortnight of Katharine's stay. They had thought it great
fun, and were more than willing to endure the discomfort of crowded
quarters for the sake of having the long-desired visit. Now, however,
Ethel Brown murmured to Ethel Blue as they went into the house, "I'm
glad we had one of the beds taken upstairs; it will give her more
space," and Ethel Blue replied, "I believe we can hang our dancing
school dresses in the east corner of the attic if we put a sheet around
them."
Indeed, Ethel Blue made a point of running upstairs while Katharine was
speaking to Dorothy in the living room and removing the dresses from the
closet. She looked around the room with new sight. It had seemed
pleasant and bright to her in the morning when she and Ethel Brown had
added some last touches to the fresh muslin equipment of the bureau, but
now she wished that they had had a perfectly new bureau cover, and she
was sorry she had not asked Mary to give the window another cleaning
although it had been washed only a few days before.
"Perhaps she won't notice," she murmured hopefully, but in her heart of
hearts she was pretty sure she would.
Katharine made no comment, however, beyond lifted eyebrows when she
noticed anything different from what she had been accustomed to in a
house where there was a small family, and, in consequence, plenty of
space. She unpacked her trunk and hung up her clothes with care and
neatness which the Ethels admired. Ordinarily they would have praised
her frankly for doing well what they sometimes failed to do well, but
they had not yet recovered from the constraint that her remarks on the
way home had thrown over them. It was not lessened when she mentioned
that usually Gretchen did her unpacking for her.
"Mary would love to unpack for us," said Ethel Brown, "but if she did
that we'd have to do some of her work, so we'd rather hang up our duds
ourselves."
Katharine was greatly interested in the Club plans for the Glen Point
orphans. She had lived in garrisons in the remote West and in or near
large cities, but her experience never had placed her in a comparatively
small town like Rosemont or Glen Point where people took a friendly
interest in each other and in community institutions. She entered
heartily into the final preparations for the imitation Christmas Ship
and she and the girls forgot their mutual embarrassment in their work
for some one else.
Roger went to Glen Point in the morning of the day before Christmas to
meet the other Club boys and build the Ship in the hall of the
orphanage. They worked there for several hours and lunched with James
and Margaret at the Hancocks'. The rest of the Mortons and Katharine
took over the parcels in the early afternoon in the car and arranged
them on the deck as had been planned, and then all the young people
came back together, for they were to have a part in the lighting of the
Rosemont Christmas Tree.
The tree was a huge Norway spruce and it was set up in front of the high
school which had a lawn before it large enough to hold a goodly crowd of
observers. The choirs of all the churches had volunteered their services
for the occasion. They were placed on a stand elevated above the crowd
so that they could lead the singing and be heard at a distance.
Except for murmurs of admiration and a long-drawn breath of delight
there was no sound from the throng. It was too beautiful for speech;
the meaning was too laden with brotherly love and cheer for it to be
mistaken. A sad-eyed girl smiled to herself and gazed with new hope in
her face; a pickpocket took his hand out of his neighbor's bag that had
opened like magic under his practised touch. Babies stretched out their
arms to the glitter; grown men stared silently with unaccustomed tears
wetting their eyes. The school children sang on and on, "Oh, come all ye
faithful, joyful and triumphant;" then "Hark, the herald angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King;" and "It came upon the midnight clear." The
fresh young voices rang gloriously, strengthened by the more mature
voices of the choirs.
The stars were coming out before the first person turned away, and all
through the night watchers of the tree's resplendent glory were found by
the patrolling policeman gazing, gazing, with thoughts of peace
reflected on faces that had long been unknown to peace.
It was after six when the Emerson car whirled the U. S. C. back to the
Mortons' for a dinner that had to be eaten hastily, for they were due at
the Glen Point orphanage soon after seven so that all might be in order
for the doors to be opened to the children at half past. Helen was
always urging punctuality as Tom was commanding promptness.
"If we were small youngsters and had had to wait all day for our
Christmas party we'd be wild at having it delayed a minute longer than
necessary," the President insisted, and Tom added his usual exhortation,
"Run the thing along briskly; don't let it drag. You can 'put over' lots
of stupid stuff by rushing it on gayly, and a good 'stunt' may be good
for nothing if it goes slowly."
"Helen and Tom can't say that they 'never sing the old, old songs,' can
they?" laughed Ethel Brown. "The Club has never done anything yet that
we haven't heard these same sweet strains from both of them."
"You're very likely to hear them again--my chant, any way," declared her
sister firmly.
"It won't do us any harm," Ethel Brown yielded good-naturedly.
The boys had made the good ship _Jason_ with some ingenuity. The matron
had let them have a table, long and so old that the marks of boots upon
it would do no harm. This was important for it was to be used as the
forward deck. Because in the days of its youth it had been used in the
dining room of the smaller children it was lower than an ordinary table.
This made it just the right height, for the ship's rail was to rise
above it, and if it had been higher the people on the floor could not
have seen the deck comfortably.
At the end of the table was tied the mast--a broom stick with electric
light wires strung with tiny bulbs going from its top to the deck. This
electrical display was a contribution from Roger who had asked his
grandfather to give it to him for his Christmas gift and had requested
that he might have it in time for him to lend it to the _Jason_. It was
run by a storage battery hidden in a box that was safely bestowed under
the deck. Aft of the mainmast were two kitchen chairs placed side by
side to give the craft the needed length.
The outside of the boat was made by stretching a double length of
war-gray cambric from the bow--two hammock stretchers fastened to the
end of the table--along the deck, past the chairs and across their end.
The cloth was raised a trifle above the deck by laths nailed on to the
edge of the table. The name, "Jason," in black letters, was pinned along
the bow.
"It isn't a striking likeness of a boat," confessed Roger, "but any
intelligent person would be able to guess what it was meant to be."
When the children and a few other people who had begged to be allowed to
come entered the hall they found the ship lighted and with its deck
piled high with wooden boxes and parcels of good size. The members of
the U. S. C. were gathered beside the ship. When all had entered Helen,
as president of the Club, mounted one of the chairs which represented
the after part of the boat and told the story of the real ship _Jason_.
"Children from all over the United States sent Christmas gifts to the
European children who otherwise would not have any because of the war.
Tonight we are going to pretend that we are all sailing on the _Jason_
to carry the gifts to Europe. We've all got to help--every one of us.
First of all we want a captain. I think that boy over there near the
door will be the captain, because he's the tallest boy I see here."
Embarrassed but pleased the tall boy came forward and Della fastened on
his arm a band marked CAPTAIN. Following instructions he mounted the
chair from which Helen descended. Two under officers were chosen in the
same way, and the Ethels raised them to the ranks of first and second
lieutenants by the simple method of fastening on suitable arm bands.
"Now we want some sailors," cried Roger, and he selected ten other boys,
who were all rapidly adorned with SAILOR bands by the U. S. C. gifts.
The ship was about as full as she could be now, with her officers
standing, one on the deck and the others on the two chairs, and the
sailors manning the rail. Everybody was beginning to enjoy the game by
this time, and the faces that looked out over the gray cambric sides of
the _Jason_ were beaming with eagerness to find out what was coming
next, while the children who had not yet been assigned to any task were
equally curious to find out how they were to help.
"Now we're on the pier at the Bush Terminal at Brooklyn," explained Tom.
"Look out there; don't get in the way of the ropes," and he pushed the
crowd back from the imaginary ropes, and whistled a shrill call on his
fingers.
"See, she's moving! She's starting!" cried Ethel Blue. "Wave your
handkerchief! Wave it!" she directed the children near her, who fell
into the spirit of the pretense and gave the Christmas Ship a noisy
send-off.
"Now we'll all turn our backs while the ship is crossing the Atlantic,"
directed James.
It required only a minute for the boat to make the crossing, and when
the onlookers turned about after this trip of unparalleled swiftness
they were told that now they were not Americans any longer; they were
English people at Devonport gathered to watch the arrival of the _Jason_
and to help unload the presents sent to the children of England and
Belgium.
"I want some longshoremen to help unload these boxes," said Helen, "and
a set of sorters and a set of distributors. Who'll volunteer as
longshoremen?"
There was a quick response, and this group exhausted all the boys. They
were designated by arm bands each marked LONGSHOREMAN. Then she called
for girls for the other two detachments and divided them into two
sections, one marked SORTERS and the other DISTRIBUTORS.
Under Roger's direction a chair, turned over on its face, made a
sloping gangplank down which the bundles could be slid.
"Have your lieutenants place their men around the deck and on each side
of this plank," he instructed the captain. "Then order a few
longshoremen to go aboard and hand the bundles from one to another and
slide them down the plank to the men on the pier who will take them over
to the sorters. You," he called to the girls, "you stay at that side of
the room and open these large parcels when they are brought to you, and
you read what it says on the packages and make two piles, one of those
marked 'Boy' and the other of those marked 'Girl'. Then there are
bundles marked with the children's names. Give them out. See that
everybody has one package marked with his name and one package just
marked 'Boy' or 'Girl'."
The Ethels had proposed this arrangement so that all the children should
feel that the distribution of gifts had been made by chance. The parcels
bearing the children's names were filled with candy and goodies and were
all alike.
"Didn't I tell you they'd like foolishnesses!" she said to Helen in an
undertone. "Look at those boys with jumping jacks. They love them!"
"See those youngsters with those silly twirling things Tom made," said
Della. "He's right about the charm of those little flat objects. They'll
twirl them by the hour I really believe."
All the gifts were of the simplest sort. There were the Danish twins
that Ethel Blue had made for the real Ship--little worsted elves
fastened together by a cord; and rubber balls covered with crocheting to
make them softer; dolls, small and inexpensive, but each with an outfit
of clothes that would take off; a stuffed kitten or two; several
baskets, each with a roll of ribbon in it.
"They can fit them up for work baskets afterwards, if they want to,"
said Margaret, "but I'm not going to suggest sewing to these youngsters
who have to do it every day of their lives whether they want to or not."
There were various kinds of candy in boxes covered with bright colored
and flowered paper, for James had outdone himself in developing new
pasting ideas. There were cookies, too, and tiny fruit cakes.
The faces of the Club members were as joyous as the faces of the
children as they looked about them and saw evidences of the success of
their plan. If they needed confirmation it was given them by the matron.
"I've never seen them so happy," she said. "I can't thank you enough for
giving them this pleasure."
"It was lovely," approved Katharine. "I'm so glad you let me help."
It was still early when the merry party reached home, but Mrs. Morton
bundled them off to bed promptly.
"You've all made a sacrifice to Dicky's Christmas habits," she
explained. "He's been in bed for hours and he's preparing to get up long
before dawn, so we all might as well go to bed ourselves or we'll be
exhausted by this time tomorrow night."
"Hang your stocking on your outside door knob, Katharine," cried the
Ethels. "We have Santa Claus trained to look there for it in this
house."