Bee Plans An Expedition
Jack was sitting on the side steps with a shoe in one hand and a
blacking-brush in the other. It was nine o’clock Sunday morning and the
late breakfast had been over for some time. From the open window of the
kitchen, just over his right shoulder, the voices of Aunt Mercy and
Susan, the maid, issued cheerfully. Somewhere upstairs Faith was moving
about at her morning duties, singing like a thrush. It was a wonderful
day. It gave promise of being seasonably warm later on, but just now
the sunlight was but comfortably ardent and a little westerly breeze
stole across the Neck and the harbor beyond, salty and cool. The house
stood some thirty yards from the water, half-way up a little hill green
with wild grass and the anemone and sheep-laurel. Herrick’s Cove was
a tiny indentation in The Front, as the natives called the ocean side
of the Neck, sufficiently protected by jutting ledges at the mouth to
make a safe anchorage, with the hill at the back shielding it from the
northerly and westerly storms. Between high water and the commencement
of the slope a small, steep crescent of beach lay. Into the cove at
one side ran a line of spiles supporting both a narrow plank, upon
which an agile person could walk to the end, and a four-inch iron pipe.
Against the farther spiles the _Crystal Spring_ was moored. The pipe
led up hill to the spring and when Jack wanted to fill the tank in the
water boat he had only to lift the hatch, drop in the end of a length
of cotton hose connecting with the pipe and turn a cock. The cove this
morning was as blue as the sky above and as untroubled. The sloop, the
tall spiles, and the jutting rocks were reflected as though in a mirror.
The house was a low two-story structure, painted white, with blinds
which, originally green, had been wrought upon by the salt winds until
they were now of a hue more blue than green. Along the south side of
the house a flower bed was already in bloom with old-fashioned spring
posies. (Aunt Mercy’s flowers always bloomed a week earlier than any on
the Neck.) There was no fence about the house. The front door faced
the road that ambled westward to the lighthouse and northward followed
the harbor side, ever curving, until it reached the town. Across the
road were other houses perched here and there between it and the
harbor shore. The settlement was known as Herrick’s Cove, just as the
cluster of houses at the other end of Neck was known as The Fort and
the residences on the harbor edge half way to the canal, which divided
Neck from town, was called The Center. Aside from these settlements
Greenhaven Neck was a bare expanse of moorland with here and there a
granite ledge lifting its head from the tangle of stunted trees and
pepper-bush, sweet-fern, wax-berry and laurel and here and there a bog
filled with sphagnum moss and cranberry. One or two summer cottages had
gone up on The Front, but in the main, Nature still held full sway.
From where Jack sat on the side steps industriously shining his Sunday
shoes he could look straight ahead along the dusty road to where the
squatty stone lighthouse, dazzlingly white in the sunlight, stood
firmly on its granite ledge. Beyond it, against the blue summer sky, a
flock of gulls were circling and dipping, their plaintive, discordant
cries coming to him on the breeze. Suddenly, above the hungry notes
of the seagulls and the lisp of the west wind and the sounds from the
house, came the steady _chug, chug, chug_ of a motor boat. Idly, Jack
wondered whose it was and arose to his feet to look. But the boat was
hidden by the shore and he subsided again and gave a final brush to the
shoe he held. Then he set it down beside its fellow, already polished,
and began to whistle one of his tuneless airs, tapping time against
the edge of the step below with the blacking brush. At that moment the
_chug_ of the motor boat grew suddenly louder and Jack looked down to
the cove just as a white launch came around the corner. The boy in
the bow at the wheel waved a greeting. Jack waved back and descended
the slope. The engine stopped its chatter and the launch sidled up to
a spile near the beach. Hal shouted a direction and Bee, leaving the
wheel, clambered to the deck in front and picked up the painter. Then
leaning toward the spile he sought to pass the end of the rope about
it. The natural result was that he pushed the bow of the launch away
and in a moment he was clutching the slippery post with his arms and
striving to pull back the launch with his feet.
“Whoa!” he shouted. “Come back here! Hey, Hal, push her back!”
But Hal, having no boat-hook nor oar at hand, was helpless, and a
moment later the launch had abandoned Bee to his fate and he was
clinging to the spile with arms and legs. Jack, on the beach, shouted
with laughter. Hal, pulling at an obdurate locker lid to get an oar,
sputtered directions and advice.
“Hold tight, Bee! Just a minute! I’ll get an oar! Hang this thing! I
can’t get it open! Reach up and grab the plank, Bee!”
But when Bee tried to adopt the latter suggestion he began to slip down
the spile and so, with a yell of dismay, returned to his close embrace.
By that time Jack had recovered from his amusement and went to the
rescue. Climbing onto the plank, he hurried out and reached down a hand
to Bee.
“Here, take hold and I’ll pull you up,” he said with a chuckle.
“If I do I’ll drop,” panted Bee. “Take hold yourself!”
So Jack got a grip around one of his wrists and finally Bee managed
to wriggle up to the plank. Then he sat down, with his feet hanging
over the water, and laughed until the tears came. And Hal, bobbing
helplessly about in the middle of the cove, and Jack, clinging to the
pipe, laughed with him.
“Did――did you see that launch trip me up?” gasped Bee finally.
“And――and look at my Sunday-go-to-meeting suit! It’s all over green
slime and crushed oysters! It’s completely _spiled_!”
“Oh, what a pun!” cried Hal. “Push him overboard, Jack!”
But Jack, viewing Bee’s clothes, had mercy. “You are in a mess, aren’t
you?” he asked solicitously. “The crushed oysters, as you call them,
will brush off, but that green stain will stick like anything. I’m
awfully sorry, Mansfield.”
Bee viewed the front of his attire philosophically. “Well, anyway,” he
said, “I won’t have to go to church today, will I? There’s nothing like
looking on the bright side of misfortune. Throw us the line, Hal, and
we’ll pull you in.”
“You run away and play,” replied Hal, working vigorously with an oar
and making little headway. “The line won’t reach half-way there.”
“Well, keep on rowing, old chap. Only be sure and have the launch here
by the time I want to go back. Come on, Herrick, let’s go ashore.”
“If you’d kept hold of the line when you had it,” muttered Hal.
“Get up in the bow,” Jack advised. “Then you can put your oar over
either side.”
Following that direction, Hal made better progress and at last the
launch was tied up to the spiling and Hal had clambered up beside the
others. Then they filed ashore and walked up to the house. Bee said he
“cal’ated” he wouldn’t go inside as he wasn’t very presentable and so
they sat down on the steps.
“How does she run?” asked Jack.
“Like a breeze,” replied Hal enthusiastically. “She’ll be all right
now, I guess, if I can keep Bee from meddling with the engine.”
“Humph!” said Bee. “The next time you break down out of sight of land
you can do your own repairing.”
“I intend to; don’t you worry! Gee, but it’s swell over here, isn’t it,
Bee?”
“Fine and dandy,” replied Bee. “Wish I lived here. Are those
chicken-coops yours, Herrick?”
“Yes, but they’re lobster-pots,” laughed Jack.
“Oh!” said Bee blankly. Then, recovering quickly; “I meant
chicken-lobster coops,” he explained. “Do you catch many?”
“No, not many nowadays. There used to be plenty of them, but they’re
dying out. I’ve got a couple of pots out there now; see where those
little red floats are, just beyond the cove? I haven’t looked at them
this morning, but I guess there’s nothing in them.”
“Think of catching your own lobsters!” exclaimed Bee wonderingly. “Bet
you I know one thing about lobsters you don’t think I do.”
“All right,” said Hal. “Go ahead, professor.”
“They aren’t red when you catch ’em. I forget who told me that. It’s
cooking that makes them red. Clever, what?”
“Awfully,” laughed Jack. “And do you know what to use to open an
oyster?”
“An ax, I suppose.”
“No, an oyster cracker.”
Bee looked dejectedly at Hal. “Isn’t he a cute little rascal?” he asked
mournfully. “‘How do you open a clam? Answer: Use an oyster cracker.’
Isn’t that funny?”
“_You’re_ a clam,” said Hal. “And, say, instead of wasting the golden
moments asking conundrums, Bee, we’d better get down to business.”
“Right-o! Jack we have come to consult you on two subjects. In the
first place, what are you going to do this afternoon?”
“Oh, forget about this afternoon,” exclaimed Hal, “and let’s get the
name fixed up.”
“Everything in turn, old Hal,” replied Bee soothingly. “Let us dispose
of the more important affairs first.” He looked enquiringly at Jack.
“This afternoon?” asked Jack. “I don’t know. What’s up?”
“Well, can you come with us and show us Nobody’s Island? Hal says he
knows where it is and can go right to it, but I don’t trust him. Will
you come along?”
“Yes, if you want me to. How are you going?”
Bee nodded toward the cove. “In that,” he said sadly. “Are you brave
enough?”
“I’ll risk it if you fellows will,” Jack laughed. “We can keep close to
shore, you know. What time?”
“What time do we have dinner, Hal?”
“Two, on Sundays.”
“My, that’s a long way off! Well, we will say at three, Mr. Herrick.
How is that?”
“Any time’s all right for me. I’ll look for you about three or a little
later. Are you still thinking of digging for old Verny’s treasure?”
“I certainly am! And if it’s there I’m going to find it! I’ve purchased
a book entitled ‘Historical Greenhaven’ and have read all it has to say
on the subject of Nobody’s Island and your old friend Verny. The book
says that several times silver dollars and pieces of jewelry have been
picked up on the beach there. That looks promising, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but I never really heard of but one silver dollar being found,
and that was so worn that you couldn’t be certain it had ever been a
dollar.”
“But the book says!”
“Oh, don’t be a mule, Bee! Don’t you suppose Jack knows what he’s
talking about? Books tell all sorts of lies.”
“All right. But if there’s been one dollar picked up it shows that
there are more there.”
“Just how do you figure that out?” asked Hal.
“Logic, my son, logic. That’s something you aren’t acquainted with.
But never mind that now. I wrote a letter to my father last night,
Herrick――Say, I’m going to call you Jack, if you don’t mind?――And I
told him that I was organizing an expedition to search for buried
treasure and that he was to send me fifty dollars immediately to outfit
the expedition.”
[Illustration: BEE PLANS AN EXPEDITION.]
Jack smiled. “Think you’ll get the fifty?” he asked.
“No, not more than twenty-five. But I’ve got twenty dollars now and so
I’ll have enough. This thing is going to be done right, fellows; it’s
going to be done scientifically. This afternoon we will look over the
ground, do you see? Then I’ll know just what is necessary. In two or
three days I’ll be ready to begin operations.”
“You’re a silly chump,” laughed Hal. “He won’t talk of anything but
Nobody’s Island and hidden treasure, Jack! And he wants to go and camp
out there and dig the whole place up!”
“Why not?” asked Bee. “Wouldn’t it be fun camping out, even if we
didn’t find anything? Think of the good time we could have!”
“What would we eat?” asked Hal dubiously.
“Fish, which I would catch when I wasn’t digging, and all sorts of
things in cans. We could take fresh meat with us, too, I guess. I wish
you wouldn’t think so much about your old stomach, Hal.”
“Well, it’s the only one I have and it’s got to last me,” replied Hal
untroubledly. “How about you, Jack? Want to join the party?”
“I’d like to awfully, but I don’t suppose I could. I have to stay with
the ship down there. I haven’t camped out since I was a little bit of
a chap. Maybe I could manage for a couple of days, say Saturday and
Sunday.”
“How much,” asked Bee, “will you rent the _Crystal Spring_ and your own
personal services for by the week, Jack?”
Jack smiled. “I guess we aren’t for rent,” he said.
“Why not? I’m in earnest. I want you to go along and I’d feel a heap
more safe if we had the sloop to depend on. Not that I don’t love that
dear little launch down there, but just look what it did to me today!
Now come on, like a good chap! What’s your figure?”
“Why――why, if you really mean it,” said Jack, “I guess you can have
the _Crystal Spring_ and her skipper for――well, about fifteen a week.
That’s pretty near as much as I’ve been making lately.”
“Pretty near as much won’t do,” replied Bee emphatically. “I shall pay
you twenty.”
“No, fifteen’s enough.”
“Twenty!”
“Compromise on seventeen-fifty,” advised Hal.
“All right! It’s a bargain, Jack. You’ll get your sailing orders in
a day or two; say about Wednesday. We’ll go up or down or over or
whatever it is in the sloop and haul the launch with us. We can use the
launch for pleasure and the sloop for business.”
“I don’t see any need of having a whole blooming navy on hand,”
objected Hal. “If we have the sloop we won’t need the launch, and if we
have the launch――”
“Don’t mumble, Hal; talk right out if you have anything to say,”
advised Bee. “Now, what time might it be? Great Scott, Hal, we’ll have
to scoot!”
“Well, but――”
“Now never mind your ‘buts’; come along!” and Bee seized him by the arm
and proceeded to drag him down to the cove. “You might as well learn
discipline right now, old Hal. We’ll be back about three, Jack.”
“But we didn’t do anything about that name for the launch,” Hal
objected. “I thought we were going to ask Jack――”
“We were, but more important affairs prevented. We’ll attend to that
this afternoon. So long, Jack! Turn her over, Hal! That’s the ticket!
Once more! There she blows! Reverse her, Hal; we’ll have to back out or
sink the water boat. All right; slow ahead! Great work! We didn’t bump
a thing! Three o’clock, Jack! Bye, bye!”