"In this way. You've lived too soft. You need something to wake you up
to the real hardships that men have to go through. Then you won't be so
fussy over little things. Perhaps I've talked plainer to you than I
should; but I believe in going after a fellow with a club before his
face rather than a knife behind his back. Now let's open those windows
so the fresh air can blow through, build a fire in the stove to dry out
the damp, and get everything shipshape. After supper we'll go up on top
of the island and take a look about."
It was nearly seven when the sloop was finally unloaded and everything
stowed under cover. Filippo had collected plenty of driftwood, and a
fire crackling merrily in the rusty stove soon made the cabin dry and
warm.
Jim, in his shirt-sleeves, superintended the preparation of supper. The
wall cupboard yielded a supply of ordinary dishes, cups, and saucers.
There were old-fashioned iron knives and forks, iron spoons of
different sizes, and thick, yellow, earthenware mugs. Despite Percy's
slur, everything was clean.
"Make us a pan of biscuit, Budge; and I'll fry some potatoes and broil
the steak," volunteered Jim. "After to-night we'll have to break in
somebody else to do the cooking. You and I'll be too busy outside."
Percy heard and registered a silent vow that the cook should not be
himself. Pricked by Spurling's earlier remarks, he had taken an active
part in unloading the boats, and he had been glad to throw himself into
one of the despised bunks to rest.
At last supper was ready. The steak, potatoes, and hot biscuit diffused
a pleasant aroma through the cabin.
"Pull up your soap-boxes, all hands!" invited Spurling. "Don't be afraid
of that steak! There's plenty of it for everybody. It's liable to be the
last meat we'll have for some time. The butcher doesn't go by here very
often."
The boys made a hearty meal. Even Percy's fastidiousness did not prevent
him from eating his full share. But he took no part in the jokes flying
round the table. Jim's sermon had left him rather glum. Lane noticed it.
"Why so distant, Whittington?" he inquired.
Before Percy could open his mouth to reply a black body shot with a
squawk through the open door and alighted on the corner of the table
close to Percy's elbow.
"Hullo! This must be Oso!" exclaimed Jim.
The crow croaked hoarsely. On Percy's plate lay a single morsel of
steak, the choicest of his helping, reserved till the last. Seeing the
bird's beady black eyes fasten upon it he made a quick movement to
impale it with his fork. But Oso was quicker still. Down darted his
sharp beak and snatched the titbit from under the very points of the
tines. A single gulp and the meat was gone.
[Illustration]
A roar of laughter went round the table. Starting up furiously, Percy
aimed a blow at the crow. But the bird eluded him and scaled out of the
door with a triumphant screech. Budge proffered mock consolation.
"Percy," said he, "that was the best piece in the whole steak. I saw you
saving it until the last. Too bad, old man! Now you'll have to eat crow
to get it."
"I'll wring that thief's neck if I can catch him," vowed the angry
Whittington.
"Guess we can trust Oso not to leave his neck lying round where you can
get hold of it," observed Lane. "Come on! Let's you and I wash the
dishes!"
"Dishes nothing!" snarled Percy.
Stalking out, he gathered a handful of convenient pebbles and lay in
wait for the culprit. But the crow had disappeared.
"I'll get even with him later," muttered Whittington.
He remained sulkily outside, taking no part in clearing away the
supper-table. At half past seven the others joined him.
"Feeling better, old man?" queried Lane, solicitously.
"Fall in, Whittington," said Jim. "We're going on a tour of inspection."
"Wait a minute," remarked Lane. "We've had our house-warming. The next
thing is to christen the place."
Dragging out a soap-box, he mounted it, produced from his pocket a piece
of red chalk, and traced in large letters over the door, "CAMP
SPURLING."
"Now we're off!" said he. "Welcome to our city! Watch us grow!"
"Come on!" urged Jim. "We want to look the island over before dark."
The party walked west along the sea-wall and proceeded in single file up
a steep path to the highest part of the promontory.
"Brimstone Point," said Jim. "Best view on the island from here."
He began pointing out its different features.
"That little nubble almost west, sticking up so black against the
sunset's Seal Island. Matinicus is right behind it. Up there on the
horizon, just a trifle west of north, are the Camden Hills; you look
exactly over Vinalhaven to see them. North across the pasture is Isle au
Haut that we came by this afternoon. Beyond is Stonington. About time
the lights were lit--Yes, there's Saddleback! See it twinkling west of
Isle au Haut. Now look sharp a little south of west and you'll see
Matinicus Rock glimmering; two lights, but they seem like one from here.
Wouldn't think they were almost a hundred feet above water, would you?
They look pretty good to a man when he's running in from outside on a
dark night."
It was a magnificent evening, the air clear as crystal, the sky without
a cloud. Gulls were wheeling and screaming about the promontory, their
cries mingling with the rote of surf at its base. Sheep bleated from the
pasture. A hawk sailed slowly in from the ocean and disappeared in the
woods behind the eastern point. From under the boys' feet rose the
fragrance of sweet grass and pennyroyal. Tall mullein stalks reared
their spires on the hillside; and here and there were little plats white
with thick strawberry blossoms.
The boys gazed their fill. Gradually the red sky darkened and the stars
began to come out. Saddleback and Matinicus Rock gleamed more brightly.
A cool breeze from the south sprang up. Jim roused himself.
"Guess we won't have time to look about any more to-night. Never mind!
There are evenings enough ahead of us before September. One thing out
here--no matter how hot the day may be, it's always cool after dark.
Let's be getting back to camp!"
Two small kerosene-lamps from the cupboard made the cabin seem actually
cheerful. Percy dug into one of his suit-cases and produced a pack of
cards.
"Let's have a game, fellows! What shall it be?"
"Might as well put those up, Whittington," said Spurling. "We're going
to turn in as soon as we get things arranged. We've a busy to-morrow
before us."
Somewhat disappointed, Percy put the cards back. Taking four wooden
toothpicks, Jim broke them into uneven lengths. He grasped them in his
right hand so that the tops formed a straight line.
"Now we'll draw lots for bunks! Filippo's going to sleep in the hammock
across that corner beyond the table, so he won't be in this. Longest
stick is lower bunk next the door; second longest, lower bunk back;
third, upper bunk near door; shortest, other upper. Draw, Throppy!"
Stevens drew; then Budge and Percy followed him. They matched sticks.
Percy got the lower near the door, with Budge over him; while Spurling
drew the back lower, and Stevens the one above that.
"Percy and I are the lucky ones," said Jim. "We can try this a month,
then have a shake-up to give you top men a chance nearer the floor."
Percy pulled out his wrappers and tobacco. Spurling nipped his
preparations in the bud.
"No cigarettes in here!"
"Can't I smoke just one?"
"Not inside this cabin. It's too close. We might as well make that a
permanent rule."
"All right! You're the doctor! But I thought it might help kill this
smell of tarred rope."
"I like the tarred rope better than I do the cigarettes."
Percy went outside and burned his coffin-nail unsociably. When he came
back the cabin was shipshape for the night. Jim was setting the
alarm-clock. Percy, watching him, thought he detected a mistake.
"You've got the V on the wrong side of the I," he said. "IV doesn't
stand for six."
"But I didn't mean six," retorted Spurling. "I meant four. Now you see
why we haven't any time for card-playing. And as soon as we're really at
work we'll be getting up a good deal earlier than that. Turn in,
fellows!"
He extinguished one of the small lamps.
"You can put out the other one, when you're ready," said he as he crept
into his bunk.
Following the example of his associates, Percy draped his clothing over
his soap-box and the lower end of his bunk, then blew out the lamp and
turned in, barking his shins as he did so. He found his couch anything
but comfortable. A single blanket between one's body and a board does
not make the board much softer. Neither is a tightly rolled sweater an
exact equivalent for a feather pillow. Further, the comforter over him
was none too warm, as two windows, opened for ventilation, allowed the
cool ocean breeze to circulate freely through the cabin. They also
admitted numerous mosquitoes, which sung and stung industriously.
The hours of darkness dragged on miserably. Percy dozed and woke, only
to doze and wake again. An occasional creaking board or muttered
exclamation told that, like himself, his mates were not finding their
first night one of unalloyed comfort.
Bare feet struck the floor. A match scraped, and Percy saw Jim gazing at
the alarm-clock.
"What time is it?" groaned Budge from above.
"Only ten minutes to twelve."
"Gee! I wish it was morning."
"Me too!" complained Stevens from the darkness aloft.
Percy echoed the wish, silently but fervently. And then in an instant
all their discomfort was forgotten. Bursting through the open window, a
sudden sound shattered the midnight stillness.
_Spang!_