ROBERT BECOMES A PRISONER
One of the most tasteful houses in Cook’s Harbor was occupied in summer
by the family of Theodore Irving, a Boston lawyer, who liked to have his
wife and children in the country, though his business required him to
spend a part of the hot season in the city.
The oldest son, Herbert, was about a year younger than Robert, a lively
boy, fond of manly sports and thoroughly democratic in his tastes. He
had scraped acquaintance with our hero, making the first advances, for
Robert was not disposed to intrude his company where he was not sure it
would be acceptable.
When Robert came to the village to avoid meeting his uncle, in passing
by the house of Mr. Irving he attracted the attention of Herbert, who
was sitting on the edge of the piazza.
With him was another boy of about his own age, a cousin named George
Randolph. He had come to Cook’s Harbor to spend a fortnight with his
cousin, but the latter soon found that George was very hard to
entertain.
He was seldom willing to engage in any amusement selected by his cousin,
but always had some plan of his own to propose. Moreover, he was proud
of his social position and always looked down upon boys whose dress
indicated a humbler rank than his own.
The two cousins were sitting on the piazza doing nothing. Herbert had
proposed croquet, but George pronounced it too warm. He also declined
ball for a similar reason.
“It seems to me you are very much afraid of the sun,” said Herbert.
“I don’t care to get tanned up. It looks vulgar,” said George.
“I like to have a good time, even if I do get browned up,” said his
cousin.
“Then I don’t agree with you,” said George in a superior tone.
Just then Robert was seen approaching.
“There’s a boy that will play with me,” said Herbert, brightening up.
“What boy?”
“There--the one that is just coming along.”
“That boy? Why, he isn’t dressed as well as our coachman’s son!”
“I can’t help that; he’s a nice fellow. Bob, come here; I want you.”
“You surely are not going to invite that common boy into the yard?”
protested George hastily.
“Why not? He has been here more than once.”
By this time Robert had reached the gate.
Herbert jumped up and ran to open it.
“I am glad to see you, Robert,” said Herbert cordially. “Are you in a
hurry?”
“No, Herbert.”
“Then come in and have a game of croquet.”
“All right, but you’ll easily beat me.”
“Never mind; you’ll learn fast. Bob, this is my cousin, George Randolph.
George, this is my friend, Robert Coverdale.”
George made the slightest possible inclination of the head and did not
stir from where he was sitting.
“He doesn’t look very social,” thought Robert, greeting his friend’s
visitor politely.
“Here, Bob, select a mallet and ball. Shall I start first?”
“If you please. Won’t your cousin play?”
“I’m very much obliged, I’m sure, for the invitation,” said George, “but
I’d rather not.”
“George is afraid of being tanned by exposure to the sun,” explained
Herbert. “I hope you are not.”
“I don’t think the sun will make me any browner than I am already,” said
Robert, laughing.
“I agree with you,” said George in a sneering tone.
Robert looked at him quickly, struck by his tone, and decided that he
had no particular desire to become any better acquainted.
The game of croquet proceeded and Herbert was an easy victor.
“I told you I should be beaten, Herbert,” said Robert.
“Of course; I am much more used to the game than you. I will give you
odds of half the game. You shall start from the other stake on the
return course and I will try to overtake you.”
He came near succeeding, but Robert beat him by two wickets.
After three games Herbert proposed ball, and Robert, who felt more at
home in this game, agreed to it.
“You’d better join us, George,” said his cousin.
“No, I thank you. I have no inclination, I assure you.”
“I don’t see what fun there can be in sitting on the piazza.”
“You forget that I have an opportunity of witnessing your friend’s
superior playing.”
His tone made it clear to Robert that this was a sneer, but he had too
much self-respect and too much regard for Herbert to take offense at
it.
“You mean my awkwardness,” he said. “You are quite welcome to the
amusement it must afford you.”
George arched his brows in surprise.
“Really this ragged boy is talking to me as if he considered me his
equal,” he thought. “It is Herbert’s fault. He should not treat him so
familiarly. I really don’t care to be in such company.”
“You must excuse me, Herbert,” said George, rising with suitable
dignity. “As you are provided with company, you can spare me. I will go
into the house and read for a while.”
“Very well, George.”
“I hope I haven’t driven your cousin away, Herbert,” said Robert.
“I don’t care whether you have or not, Bob,” said Herbert, “I’m awfully
disappointed in him. Papa invited him to visit us, thinking he would be
company for me, but, instead of that, he objects to everything I
propose. I find it very hard to entertain him.”
“He doesn’t appear to fancy me,” said Robert.
“Don’t mind him, Bob. He’s a mean, stuck-up fellow, if he is my
cousin.”
“Perhaps he is not to blame. I am only a poor boy, belonging to a
fisherman’s family. I am afraid I am not a suitable associate for you or
him,” said Robert with proud humility.
“No more of that talk, Bob,” said Herbert. “You’re suitable for me,
anyhow, and I like you twice as much as my cousin. I don’t care how you
are dressed, as long as you are a good fellow.”
“At any rate, you are a good fellow, Herbert,” said Robert warmly. “I
liked you the very first day I saw you.”
“And I can say the same for you. Bob. Well, never mind about George.
Leave him to his book. We’ll amuse ourselves better.”
As Robert was playing he caught sight of his uncle on his way to the
tavern. He knew, therefore, that he could return home without danger of
annoyance, and he excused himself to Herbert. As it was doubtful whether
he could get anything to do in the village and as the boat would not be
in use, he concluded to go out and see if he could not catch a few fish
for his aunt’s dinner.
“Well, come and play with me again very soon, Bob,” said his friend.
“I will, Herbert. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Oh, I do that on my own account! I like your company.”
“Thank you!”
Robert went home and spent a short time with his aunt before setting out
on his fishing trip. He only meant to go out a short distance and there
was plenty of time before noon.
He was just getting out the boat when, to his dismay, he heard a
familiar but unwelcome voice hailing him.
“Where are you going?”
“I am going a-fishing. I thought you were not going to use the boat.”
“Well, I am,” said the fisherman shortly. “Are you ready to give me that
money?”
“No, uncle,” said Robert firmly.
“I have a right to it.”
“You don’t need it and aunt does,” answered our hero.
“Well, never mind about that now. You can go out with me.”
Considerably surprised at getting off so easily, Robert jumped into the
boat with his uncle and they pushed off.
“Pull for Egg Island,” said John Trafton.
Egg Island, so called from its oval shape, was situated about three
miles from the cliff on which the fisherman’s cabin stood and probably
did not comprise more than an acre of surface. It was rocky, partly
covered with bushes and quite unoccupied.
Robert was puzzled, but did not venture to ask his uncle why they were
going to this island.
In due time they reached the rocky isle and the boat was rounded to
shore.
“You may jump out and get me a good-sized stick,” said the fisherman.
Robert obeyed, though he feared the stick was to be used on his back.
He had scarcely scrambled up the bank than he heard the sound of oars,
and, looking back hastily, he saw his uncle pushing off from the
island.
“I’m going to leave you here, you young rascal, till you agree to give
me that money,” said John Trafton triumphantly. “I’ll let you know that
I won’t be defied by a boy.”
Already the boat was several rods distant.
Robert sat down on a rocky ledge and tried to realize his position. He
was a prisoner on Egg Island and there he must stay till his uncle chose
to release him.