really think, Yulee," said he, "that there are savages here?"
"I don't know," said she, "I've never been here before, but it's best to
be prepared. Don't you be afraid, Bobo," she added encouragingly; "you
know we can take to the boat if they chase us, and they'll fire darts,
but the darts will fall into the water all around us, and won't hit us
at all."
"Do you think it's safe, Yulee, to leave the things so on the beach?"
asked Bo, as they started off on their tour of discovery.
"Oh, yes," said she, "nobody will touch them, they never do; besides,
I've got the range with me." To be sure, she had the range in one hand,
but she had left the matches upon the beach as causing too much anxiety.
Thus they set off. Yulee with the range and the bow and arrows, and Bo
with his pop-gun. It did not take long to explore the island; it was
only about an acre in all, and irregular in shape. They came to the
clump of trees but did not dare go in, though Yulee was pretty sure that
the cave must be in there. They left that, however, for a future tour,
and came back without further adventure to their landing place, where
they found their stores safe upon the beach, but the boat to Bo's
consternation had drifted off from the shore, and was now some distance
away, floating down the Lake.
"Oh, Yulee!" said he, "what shall we do I see the boat is gone!"
"That is all right," said she cheerfully. "I wouldn't have been half so
much of a wreck if the boat had stayed. A'n't you glad we have got all
the things out? The next thing we must do is to build a house."
"I'm hungry," said Bo.
"Then we'll have dinner first," said she. "We'll have strawberries
to-day, but to-morrow we'll have fish, or you can shoot a goat."
"But there a'n't any goats," said Bo.
"Yes there are; they're in the cave in the clump of trees yonder." Bo
couldn't dispute that, but he demurred as to going in there to shoot
them. At present, however, they satisfied themselves with eating
strawberries, which were very plentiful upon the island.
When they had eaten their strawberries, and had become quite crimson
about the mouth and finger-tips, they returned to the landing-place,
where Miss Phely had been keeping watch over the stores. She had been
placed in a sitting posture, leaning against a stone, and looking out
upon Clearwater as wide awake as when she had been put into the boat,
and with her arms and fingers extended as if she were delivering an
oration. She paid not the slightest attention to the valuables placed
under her guard. Bo began to look about for stones to throw into the
water while Yulee thought it a good time to attend to Miss Phely's
toilet; so she set busily to work changing her frock; when she had
finished this to her satisfaction and was debating whether it would be
well to wash her face also, she remembered suddenly, what she had
forgotten for the while, that she was a cast away.
"Bo!" she cried, "we ought to be building our house."
"What shall we make it of?" said he. She reflected a moment.
"Sometimes they build them of trees and sometimes of skins; the best way
is to have a cave. I wish we had a cave, Bo. I've half a mind to try
those trees. Will you go in if I will?"
"Ye-es," said Bo, hesitatingly; "but you must go in first."
"Let's make a fire first in the range and have some tea," said Yulee,
who could not quite get up courage enough to go in among the trees.
"Oh, do! that'll be fine!" said Bo, joyfully. It was a very important
business, this making a fire in the range. Yulee had long been looking
forward to it, and now that she was really about to have the fire she
proceeded very cautiously, Bo standing ready to help her and peering
anxiously into the process. The range was precisely like a real range,
only it was very small, and was made of lead instead of iron. It had a
grate in the middle for the fire and a place underneath to hold the
ashes; it had ovens at the sides; it had flues and dampers and a chimney
piece, and even a place in front to heat irons on; moreover, it was
furnished with a full set of pots and pans and kettles. In fact it was
complete, and in Yulee's opinion, only needed a fire in the grate, real
smoke coming out of the chimney, and a kettle of water boiling over it,
to make it the most wonderful and perfect thing that ever had been
conceived.
Now she set about preparing the fire. First she laid in the newspaper in
which she had brought the matches; then Bo was sent off for leaves and
came back with some very green grass and leaves of different sorts.
Yulee put these very carefully above the paper, and on top of them she
laid some twigs that she had broken up into bits, and now the fire was
all ready to be lighted.
"Now, Bo," said she, "we must have the water in the kettle and on the
range before we light the fire." So Bo took the pump to the lake side
and filled it with water, and then hanging the kettle under the nose of
the pump, he jerked the pump handle and made the water come plashing out
into the kettle. He could have filled the kettle much easier by simply
dipping it in the lake, but it would not have been near so good fun.
However, it was full of water, and Yulee carefully set it in its place
upon the range. Everything now was ready for the fire. Bo held his
breath as he leaned on his hands and knees, eagerly watching Yulee while
she proceeded to handle the dangerous matches. She took one in her hand
and was just about rubbing it on a stone, when she stopped.
"Bo!" she said, "I think we had better set the table first for tea."
"Why, no!" said he, "mother always sets the table after she has set the
kettle a boiling."
"But I shall want to watch the fire," said Yulee.--"Yes, I think we had
better set the table first." So the match was laid down to Bo's grief,
and Yulee proceeded to unpack the box containing her tea-set. They chose
for a table a flat rock sunken in the sand, and just the right size. On
this they arranged the cups and saucers, and tea-pot and sugar-bowl and
creamer.
"We ought to have some real sugar," said Bo.
"So we ought," said Yulee. "There ought to be some in the ship's
stores," she added. "They generally find a box of sugar on the beach, a
little damaged by the water. At least I believe they did in Swiss Family
Robinson."
"Did they in 'The Castaways?'" asked Bo.
"No," said Yulee, "but you know they weren't exactly wrecked the second
time--Dr. Cameron went out to the ship when the rest were on shore, and
brought back some things--I think there was sugar; let me see--here it
is," and she read:--
"When the watering-boat touched the coast, Dr. Cameron went up and
courteously requested to be allowed to return in it, as the ladies had
forgotten some little necessaries, and he proposed to bring out their
own boat, the _Little Madras_, to enable them to procure these trifles
as well as the cooking-apparatus which would be useful if they were
detained a few days on shore." Mum, mum, mum. "They succeeded in
lowering their own boat, with its oars, and by Marshall's advice,
brought from their property the carpenter's chest, disguised under the
covering of a travelling trunk, with the powder and shot, ropes and
straps, which had been left in the hold of their boat; but every morsel
of provision, biscuit, wine and flour had been removed, and could not be
found. Dr. Cameron had fortunately locked up his cabin before he left
the vessel, and was able to remove his own private property consisting
of a bag of coffee, a loaf of sugar, and a chest which contained his
valuable medical stores, all of which he now placed in the boat."
Our castaways, however, had to content themselves like some of their
betters with sand for sugar, which they put in the sugar bowl, and then
filled the creamer with water, though Yulee declared that some time
they would find the goats and milk them. The table was now set and Miss
Phely was given a place by it, where she sat, still looking out on the
water in an abstracted way, and keeping her hands away from her clean
frock. She had none of the friskiness commonly belonging to black
children; she was anything but a Topsy.
Nothing now remained to be done but to light the fire and make the tea.
Again Yulee took a match and Bo stooped down, breathlessly watching the
operation. "Ritzch!" went the match and Yulee held it between the bars
of the range to light the fire; it didn't seem to burn very well though
there was considerable smoke; in fact, the match after burning to the
edge of Yulee's fingers went out, and the fire was not yet fairly
kindled. Yulee tried another match with about the same success, only a
little more smoke.
"Burn a lot at a time," suggested Bo. So she took a bunch of six and got
them into a fine blaze. Bo was still peering anxiously while Yulee with
her face very red, and her sun-bonnet fallen back, held the bunch of
matches between the bars; she tried them first between two and then
between another two. All at once something hot fell upon her hand; she
dropped the matches in the pan that was to hold the ashes and clapping
her other hand upon the spot, began hopping up and down with the pain
but determined not to cry.
"Why! what is the matter?" said Bo, in great surprise. Yulee didn't dare
trust herself to speak--she was so afraid she might cry, but uncovered
her hand to show him, and there they both saw--for she had not looked at
it herself yet,--a shining spot as large as a three cent piece, and that
looked like silver.
"Why!" exclaimed Yulee.
"Oh!" said Bo.
Yulee forgot her pain for a moment. How did it get there? what was it?
she touched it and found that it came off easily. It was irregular at
the edges, looking in fact like a spatter of silver.
"What is it?" asked Bo.
"What can it be?" said Yulee. "It looks like silver." She looked toward
the range to see if that could explain it. Then she burst into a loud
cry.
"Oh, Bo! Oh, Bo!" said she, "the range! the range!" Alas, the matches
that had been dropped into the ash-pan, had burnt on and flamed up,
melting the lead bars, the first drop from which had burnt poor Yulee's
hand. The sticks in the grate had fallen through with the heap of
matches, and catching fire, the melting had gone on until now the
beautiful range was a sad sight to behold. The kettle just then gave
way, and tipping up, spilled the water over, which hissed on the molten
lead and caused a great smoke to rise from the burning embers.
Yulee and Bo gazed wofully on the ruin before them. It was too hot at
first to touch, and they stood for some time in front of it, looking at
the odd shapes that the melting lead had taken. If it had not been for
that, they would have been much worse off; but the drops of lead were so
curious and looked so much like animals and pieces of silver, that they
almost forgot for the time their great loss. But they soon remembered it
again and looked sadly at the range.
"Don't you suppose it can be mended?" said Bo.
"I don't know," said Yulee shaking her head, "I don't believe it can.
What will mother say!"
"Yulee!" said Bo, suddenly, "I think we ought to pump on it so as to put
the fire out." So he ran for his pump which had not been emptied in
filling the kettle, and though the trough was somewhat in the way, he
managed to spill out the rest of the water on to the hot range, while
Yulee brought the cream-jug and emptied its contents also on it. By this
time the range was pretty cool and they could handle it; but it was in a
sad state, quite melted out.
Yulee tried to solace herself with making tea for Miss Phely; but it was
miserable comfort to make tea with cold water that had not even made
believe boil as usual on the wonderful range. As for Miss Phely, she was
as unconcerned as ever, and seemed equally indifferent whether the water
were hot or cold, or even whether the tea were made or not, and sat
staring out upon the lake.
* * * * *
But June afternoons, long as they are, have an end at last; and this
afternoon was drawing to a close. In the eagerness of making the fire,
the little Castaways had not noticed how late it was growing, but now,
when they were so disappointed and were sitting with Miss Phely
disconsolately by the rock, they saw that the sun had set, and that
evening was closing in.
Yes, the night was coming; they had hardly thought of this before and
were not at all prepared for it. But it was still warm, for the June
afternoon lingers long and far into the evening. Then they fell to
eating strawberries again, for make-believe tea where everything is
water and sand is not very satisfactory. After the strawberrying they
came back to the shore again, and little Bo, now quite disheartened
began to make a noise which sounded a little like crying, it was a
whimper; but Yulee was brave and kept her courage up, and began telling
Bo stories which she had read about people who had been cast away upon
islands; but somehow or other she always seemed to remember best the
parts where they were attacked by savages and wild beasts, and
especially by her favourite hippopotamus. So that Bo only grew more
terrified and as it became darker began to fancy he heard animals
around them, and once actually thought he saw a great hippopotamus with
open jaws coming out of Clearwater toward them. Yulee tried to read "The
Castaways," but it soon became too dark. Yet she wouldn't give in to
fear, but kept her courage stoutly.
"Bo," said she, "it's getting dark and I think it must be time to put
Miss Phely to bed."
"I want to go to bed," said Bo. "I want to go to mother!" and little Bo
cried now without any doubt. Yulee bravely kept back her tears and tried
to comfort Bo, who soon began to take an interest in the unrobing of
Miss Phely, who was put to bed on a very uncomfortable rock--the very
one in fact at which she had sat for her tea; but it made no difference
to her; she went to sleep with her eyes as wide open as ever.
When this was over, Yulee, never at a loss, began to sing for Bo's
amusement and her own comfort. She sang all the songs she knew just as
they came into her head. "There is a happy land," "Three little
kittens." "Pop goes the weasel," "The sunday-school," and some others
which I have forgotten. Would you believe it? Bo fell fast asleep with
his head in her lap. Then Yulee felt less badly; before she had been
troubled about Bo, but now that he was asleep, leaning so upon her, she
felt a courage at having one depending upon her whom she must never
desert, no, not even if a hippopotamus, as she said, were to come toward
them.
But no hippopotamus came; instead of that, she saw a boat with a light
twinkling in it, come rowing down the lake toward the island. The house
and the boat-landing could not be seen from the island, because as I
said, there was a point of land jutting out, and because the lake too
makes a bend. Yulee was singing the song about the little robins as the
boat came round the point. She was singing the line
"And what will the robins do then, poor things!"
And looked up at that moment, just as her father catching the sound of
her voice--called out:
"There she is! bless her little soul, singing about the robins! Yulee!"
"Here I am, father," said the little Castaway. "Bo, wake up! here's
father." Bo gave a sort of snuffle and went to sleep again. The boat
with a few pulls was now brought up to the island, and John Robin
jumping out, while the boys sat in the boat caught up Yulee and Bo in
his arms.
"I've a good mind to give you a good whipping on the spot, you little
runaways!" said he; but he did no such thing; perhaps he thought he
would leave that to their mother. Bo opened his eyes and blinked in the
light of the lanterns, but went right to sleep again on his father's
shoulder.
"We didn't run away," said Yulee, "we were cast away in the _Little
Madras_."
"Where's the boat, Yulee?" asked one of her brothers.
"Oh that was washed away of course," said she.
"Why _of course_?"
"Why, they always are," said she, "and they make new ones out of logs."
"Why didn't you make one out of a log, then?" he asked laughing. But
Yulee was too busy collecting her treasures to answer his foolish
question. She got them all safely on board at last, Miss Phely being
unceremoniously huddled into the boat without waiting to be dressed.
Now Yulee was reminded of her poor unfortunate range; but she said
nothing about it, only gathering up its ruins and taking especial care
of it.
Yulee was very talkative at first, but her father was grave and silent,
and her brothers teased her, so that she soon stopped talking and began
wondering in her mind how she ever was to get the range mended, and
whether there was a cave in the grove of trees which she was very sorry
now she had not explored; she secretly determined to make a second trip
to the island for that purpose as soon as possible.
But when they came to the shore and walked up to the house, and when
Yulee found her mother half wild with thinking she had been drowned, and
her grandfather, old Benjy Robin, crooning in his arm-chair and saying
he had been the death of them,--she began to think it was not so fine,
and lay down that night penitently in her little bed and promised over
and over never to be cast away again. As for Bo, he would do just as
Yulee said, but he privately resolved never to follow her to sea at any
rate. Even Miss Phely appeared so much the worse for her knocking about
that I think she must have been better satisfied with her corner in the
nursery; but as for repenting of her folly or blaming Yulee, I never
heard of her doing so. She always looked contented and indifferent.
[Illustration]
A Faery Surprise Party.
LILLIE'S STORY.
A Faery Surprise Party.
[Illustration]
My name is Jack Frost, and I have a story to tell. If you don't know who
I am, ask my friend North East Wind, Esq., and he will tell you, and
whistle a tune which he made up about me. I am Painter to her Beauty
Mab, Queen of the Faeries. She gives me plenty of work to do; in the
summer-time I go North, like other artists, to take sketches, but when
the winter comes then I come back and paint my pictures. I paint chiefly
on glass, though sometimes on pottery, the night is the time I like
best to work in, for in the day-time the sun tries to put some colour
into the paintings, which spoils them; white is the only colour I ever
use.
I was going to tell you, however, a story about what I saw the other
night. Queen Mab sent a snow-flake to me with a message. I was to paint
eight large squares of glass in a certain window of a certain house. I
might paint what I chose only it must be done in good season, for the
Queen was to visit the painting when it was finished. So I was at the
glass and at work early--'twas only a little after sundown; my friend,
North East Wind, jolly old fellow! was whistling a tune right merrily as
I handled my brush.
There was a light inside the room, and I could see everything that was
going on there; I could hear everything too, for there was a crack in
one of the panes of glass; these cracks spoil my paintings--I never can
make any mark on the glass close to them--but how ever, here was this
crack, and I could make out through it everything that was going on. A
nurse was putting a little girl named Milly to bed, and they talked
incessantly. Milly was to have a party the next day, which was her sixth
birth-day; it was to be her first party. All things had been made ready
for it; she had had a new dress, white with red spots like wafers all
over it, and she was to wear a red sash and bronze kid slippers. Twelve
little girls had been invited, but only eleven were sure to come; Susan
Peabody was sick, and might not be there.
All this I heard, and I saw Milly tucked up in bed and left to go to
sleep. Then I worked with a will, for I had no time to spare. I begged
my jolly friend, N. E. Wind, to be off with himself, as he interrupted
my work. So he gave one long wheugh! and away he went.
At twelve o'clock my painting was done. It was the best piece I had done
in a long while; one square of glass in particular was superb, though I
say it that ought not say it. It was a picture of the palace of Queen
Mab; towers and spires were there, hung with crystal bells; the castle
was set round with trees, some slim, shooting up above the towers, some
stunted throwing out their branches in every direction. The whole
glittered most brilliantly. There was a network over all, as if a spider
had spun silver threads in front of it. I very often put that on
afterwards to add to the effect, though my friend North East Wind
pooh-poohs at it; but he knows nothing about art.
It was twelve o'clock, as I said, and the moon was shining brightly; as
it rose higher, a moon-beam passed through the window, and through the
very square of glass that I had taken such pains with. It passed like a
carriage-way right by the great door of the Queen's palace, while the
other end rested on the bed where Milly was sleeping. I was standing on
the window sash, just touching up the work a little, when, all of a
sudden, what should I see but her Beauty Queen Mab with eleven
attendants; she came out of the great door of the palace I had
painted--that was the finest effect of all.
She got into her sleigh which is made of a dove-feather, curling up in
front, and which is drawn by twelve lady birds: the lady birds all had
on robes of caterpillar fuz to keep them warm. The retinue of eleven
Faeries were all riding on milk-white steeds of dandelion-down. The
Queen held the reins herself, and cracking the whip which is made of a
musquito leg, away they went over the moon-beam. The Queen saw me just
as they left the palace, and gave me a nod. She is very gracious! It did
not take them long to reach the bed, I can tell you, and they reined up
at the other end of the moon-beam, which rested on Milly's breast.
I wondered what they were going to do here, but it was very soon
evident. It seems the Queen knew of the party Milly was to have, and
meant to get the better of her by giving her a surprise party first. So
she had brought the eleven Faeries with her--just the number of little
girls Milly was to have the next day.
The Queen got out of her sleigh, and tied the ladybirds to the strings
of Milly's night-cap, that they might not run away. Then she walked
along very carefully till she came to Milly's chin. She climbed up it
and rested there for a minute, to get breath, and then went on, until
she was safely perched on Milly's red lip, where she was nearly blown
away, Milly breathed so hard.
Here she beckoned to the eleven and they, leaving their horses below,
all set out to reach Milly's forehead, where she told them to gather. A
hard time they had of it, too! some of them tried to get up by the nose,
but the wind coming out of two great caves was too strong for them;
others more wisely crept round by the corners of the eyes, and scrambled
up the precipice there. But those who fared worst were a few who tried
to get through the hair. They got lost in the forest, and wandered about
for a long time, halloing and trying to find the top. You may wonder why
they didn't fly--I suppose you think Faeries always do--but I know
better. When winter comes they always take off their wings, and put them
carefully away where the moths can not touch them--chiefly in old
nut-shells; then in spring, their mantua-makers and milliners, the
caterpillars and spiders, get them out and put them in repair, or else
make new ones.
However, they all at last safely reached the forehead. That was a fine
large play-ground for them--the forest behind, and the hill and
precipices below. Here they formed a ring and took hold of hands.
Round the ring run,
Pass in and out,
Melt into one,
Puff! turn about!
cried Queen Mab, and in a twinkling the ring of Faeries was going round
and round, till it looked just like a glittering ring, perfectly still;
then all in a moment they had stopped, and each Faery in turn ran across
the ring, ducked between two Faeries, was back again, then between two
more, and so on, till I got perfectly confused, and couldn't tell one
from another, they seemed so mixed up; they kept getting more and more
in a maze, and nearer and nearer to each other, until it was just one
solid ball of Faeries; spinning round like a top; then suddenly the ball
seemed to burst, and the Faeries to scatter in every direction, but
really there was a perfect ring again, and whirling round in just the
opposite direction. And then the same thing was done over again, till I
should have thought they would all have been ready to drop.