THE “B. O. W. C.”
A Book For Boys
By Prof. James De Mille
The Author Of “The Dodge Club,”
Illustrated
Boston: Lee And Shepard, Publishers
1871
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO
WILLIE
THE “B. O. W. C.”
I.
_The “B. O. W. C.,” with their History, Mystery, and Wonderful Doings;
and how an aged African became elevated to the Dignity of “Grand
Panjandrum.”_
AFTER the long winter session, the approach of the spring vacation
had been eagerly welcomed at the Grand Pré School. It was only a short
recess, and the majority of the boys would not be able to go home; but
such as it was, its advent created the greatest delight. On a pleasant
evening in May the examinations were over; little knots of boys were
gathered jubilantly in various places, bonfires were blazing, squibs
fizzing, crackers snapping, and everything and everybody were as noisy
and as jolly as possible.
In the midst of all this, and immediately after tea, the “B. O W. C.”
had called a meeting in the Rawdons’ rooms. Who or what the “B. O. W.
C.” is, or was, will be explained on a future occasion; let it suffice
for the present that the “B. O. W. C.” called a meeting, and the
Rawdons’ rooms had the honor, of receiving that august assemblage. Not
that it was very numerous. Only four or five could be counted; but then
what they lacked a number, they made up in quality and in style. The
utmost had been done to bring the rooms up to the level of so great an
occasion. The table had been turned upside down, and transformed into
a dais; the book-case had been, covered over with the table-cloth; the
couch had been placed on one end in the corner; and in the middle of the
room was a flour barrel covered with red flannel, on which was placed a
phrenological bust. Added to this, the room was darkened--a smoky lamp
shedding a feeble and fitful ray over the scene, and dimly disclosing
four figures at one end.
These four figures were all dressed in white. The costume was a simple,
but a highly effective one. It consisted apparently of a sheet thrown
over the head and falling to the feet, with two holes for the eyes. In
this attire the four figures bore not a little resemblance to some of
those orders of monks which exist in Europe. The table, which lay on the
floor, legs upward, with the addition of the ottoman, served as a dais,
on which stood a figure with an immense militia captain’s sword in his
hand. On each side was also a figure holding a huge wooden battle-axe,
while the fourth stood between the dais and the bust.
Soon the silence was disturbed by a knock at the door communicating with
the bed-room. The boy near the bust gave it three smart raps, upon which
the door opened, and a figure entered clothed like the others in the
room. On entering he made a low bow, and then stood erect.
The four figures in the room raised their hands to their faces with a
peculiar gesture.
“Blood!” said they in solemn tones.
“Thunder!” said the boy at the door, making the same gesture.
“Is the Grand Panjandrum with you, Venerable Warden?” said the figure on
the dais.
“He is, Most Venerable Patriarch.”
“Let him enter.”
At this the Venerable Warden left the room, and in a few moments
reappeared, ushering in the personage alluded to as the Grand
Panjandrum.
The Grand Panjandrum was an aged gentleman of color, whose wrinkled face
was enlivened by an irrepressible comicality of expression, which not
even the solemnity of this occasion could quell. He was arrayed in a
college cap and gown, with a Master’s red hood and long bands. His face
was a study. He was evidently doing his best to exhibit the deepest
solemnity of expression, but his droll, keen, twinkling eyes darted
furtively about, with an intense relish of the scene before him, and his
efforts at gravity were sadly disturbed by the broad grin which, from
time to time, would flash out irrepressibly over the dark background
of his face. After a few furtive glances he bowed; and then, with an
audible chuckle, he awaited further proceedings.
“Grand Panjandrum,” said the figure on the dais, in an impressive voice.
“Yes, sah.”
“Yes, what?” said the other, in a tone of rebuke.
“Yes, sah,--yes, mos’wossifle,” he added, correcting himself. A grin
broke out over his face, which, however, was instantly checked by a
demure cough.
“Grand Panjandrum, you have heard our map-dates.”
“Mandates?” said the other, in a puzzled tone.
“Yes,--orders.”
“Yes, sah, mos’ wossifle.”
“Have you carried out the instructions of the Venerable Brethren?”
“Yes, sah, mos’ wospeful.”
“Did you get the turkeys?”
“Yes, sah.”
“How many? Six?”
“No, sah.”
“What! not six?”
“No, sah.”
“How many, then?”
“Ten,” said the other, with a chuckle and a grin of triumph.
“O-h!” said the first speaker; while a titter ran round among the
others. “H’m! Very well, and what else?”
“Spring chickens.”
“How many?”
“Twenty.”
“Ah! Very well. And how?”
“Broiled, sah.”
“Any tongue?”
“Yes, sah, three.”
“And the ham?”
“Yes, sah.”
“Nuts?”
“Yes, sah.”
“Raisins?”
“Yes, sah.”
“Crackers? Cheese? Figs? Cake?” “Yes, sah, mos’ wossifle.”
“And what about the drink? Have you prepared the lemonade?”
“No, sah.”
“No! Why not?”
“No lemons, sah.”
“That’s bad. And there is no drink, then?”
“Yes. sah. Ginger beer.”
“Ginger beer. H’m! that will do,” said the Venerable Patriarch,
solemnly. “How much have you?”
“Ten gallons, mos’ wossifle.”
“What else have you?”
“Ten mince pies, twelve apple pies, a basket of tarts, a tin dipper, an
iron pot, an iron spoon,” said the Grand Panjandrum, rapidly enumerating
the various items. “Fact,” he continued, carried away by the ardor of
the moment, “I’se got most nigh eberyting. Gracious sakes! you’ll open
your blessed eyes, mind I tell you! But what are you gwine to do about
de bread and butter? Tell you what, boys! you’ve clean forgot de most
’portant of all.”
“Silence!” cried the Venerable Patriarch, in an indignant voice, rapping
his sword against the leg of the table.
“The sakes now! how you _do_ go on!” said the Grand Panjandrum, with a
broad grin.
“No levity,” said the Venerable Patriarch, in a stern voice.
“Yes, sah,” said the other, assuming an expression of awful solemnity.
“Venerable Warden!”
“Yes, Most Venerable Patriarch.”
“The audience, is over! Escort the Grand Panjandrum to the outer world.”
The Venerable Warden bowed, and led the way out, followed by his sable
companion.
Scarcely had the door closed behind them than the scene underwent a
sudden change. With a shout, the four figures flung off their white
draperies, and kicked them into a corner of the room. Then they drew
back the curtains, replaced the table and couch, while the light that
now came into the room showed the laughing faces of four boys, which had
nothing in common with the sepulchral figures that had taken part in the
late scene.
Two of these boys were big, brawny, broad-shouldered fellows, with
Roman features, and dark, curling hair. They very closely resembled one
another. These were the two Rawdons, to whom the rooms belonged. The
elder was named Bruce, and the younger Arthur. Of the others, one was
tall and slight, Tom Crawford by name; and the other was small and
slight, and was called Phil Kennedy.
“Hurrah, boys!” said Phil. “Isn’t old Solomon a perfect brick of an
old darkey? Do you fairly realize the fact that we are to have ten
turkeys,--ten, my boys, instead of six?”
“And the spring chickens!” said Tom Crawford.
“And the mince pies!” said Bruce.
“And the ginger beer!” cried Arthur.
“The encampment, of the ‘B. O. W. C.’ is going to be a grand success,”
said Bruce. “It will be memorable forever in the history of the school.”
“We ought to have a grand bonfire, and burn our Latin Grammars, before
starting,” said Tom Crawford.
“Yes,” said Phil Kennedy, “and our Arithmetics too. I’d like to burn all
the Arithmetics in the world.”
“No, no,” said Arthur, “don’t let us have a bonfire. Let us have a
burial, with a solemn procession, and a real burial service.”
“Well, what’ll we bury?”
“The Latin Grammar.”
“No, Cæsar.”
“No, the Arithmetic.”
“Let’s bury them all; that is the best plan,” said Phil.
“Yes,” cried all; and a confused medley of proposals arose, in which all
were talking together. In the midst of the uproar the door opened, and
the Venerable Warden made his appearance. Throwing off his white robe,
he disclosed the fair, round face of a fresh, handsome boy, with merry,
mischievous eyes, and curling golden hair. That busy brain of his had
been prolific in all sorts of plans dear to boys, while his generous
nature and frank, pleasant manner made Bart Darner the favorite of Grand
Pré School.
“O, Bart,” said Tom Crawford, “what about that powder?”
Bart left the room for a moment, and returned with a package under his
arm.
“The powder?” said he. “It’s all right. I’ve got it in my room.”
“And the rods?”
“Yes, I’ve got the rods too.”
“Any matches?”
“Matches? Of course not.”
“Why, what’ll we do for lights and fires?”
“I hope you don’t mean to say that you would dream of taking _matches_,”
said Bart, in a voice of solemn rebuke.
“Why not?”
“Why not? Who ever heard of matches in an Encampment of Knights? No,
boys, flint and steel is the thing for us. That’s what I’ve got; and
I’ve made some first-rate tinder, and a lot of sulphur lights. Besides,
I’ve got something to surprise you.”
“What’s that?”
“The dresses.”
“Dresses?”
“Yes; come to my room, and I’ll show you what I’ve got. It wouldn’t do
for us to go out and be brigands in ordinary jackets and trousers, I
hope. Why,” he concluded, in a tone of rebuke, “it would be infamous.”
“And have you got any dresses in your room?” said Bruce.’
“Yes; come along and take a look at them.”
Off went the five with a shout, and going up a flight of stairs, they
soon entered Bart Darner’s room. Here Bart brought out a bundle from the
bed-room, and opening it, he proudly displayed its contents. There were
five red shirts, each of which had a huge white cross on the back; five
belts; and five felt hats, each of which was decorated with a feather.
As he displayed these articles one by one, the boys were struck dumb
with admiration, while Bart’s eyes glowed with delight.
“Don’t say anything,” said he, “but try them on.”
Bart locked the door carefully, and then they all arrayed themselves in
the new costume. Soon five figures stood there with their red shirts and
plunged hats, looking like so many juvenile Garibaldians.
“You see, these belts will do first rate for pistols, and daggers, and
that sort of thing,” said Bart.
The other boys said nothing. Astonishment and delight deprived them
of words; but each stood looking, first at himself, and then at his
companions, in mute admiration.
“But how in the world did you manage it, Bart? Where did you get them
all?” asked Tom Crawford.
“O, I found the shirts down in Brown’s,” said Bart, “and picked out the
smallest ones. I had them altered, and got Maggie Lunt to sew on the
crosses. I begged some old ostrich feathers from. Mrs. Porter, and of
course the hats could be got anywhere. They’re rather large, but we can
put bits of paper inside the lining, you know, and make them fit well
enough. They’ll do for the woods.”
“Do for the woods!” cried Bruce Rawdon. “I should think they would, and
for other places, too. Boys, don’t let’s hide our light under a bushel.
I move that we have a grand procession at once.”
“Yes, yes,” cried all. “Let’s go down now. The fellows are all out on
the grounds.”
“How they’ll stare!” cried Phil. “The ‘B. O. W. C.’ will become more
famous than ever,” said Tom Crawford.
“Come, then,” said Arthur, “let us go down now.”
“No,” said Bart. “That would spoil all.”
“Why, don’t you want the ‘B. O. W. C.’ to show themselves?”
“Of course, but not now. I’ll tell you what to do. Let’s wait till
to-morrow, and then we’ll get Jiggins’s cart, and make Solomon drive,
dressed as Venerable Warden, up to the woods. We’ll follow as brigands.”
“Hurrah! That’s splendid!” said Bruce Rawdon.
“And I’ll show you something else,” said Bart, taking up the parcel
which he had under his arm in the Rawdons’ room. “I’ve got something
else.” And he proceeded to open the parcel, while the others looked
on with eager expectation. He opened it, and drew out a folded cloth.
Unfolding this, he shook it out, and spread it on the table. It was
a black flag., Upon this was stitched something round, which close
examination showed to be a desperate effort to represent a skull. To
the ordinary observer, however, it looked exactly like an elderly
gentleman’s face, quite bald, and with a benevolent grin. Beneath
it were the mysterious initials “B. O. W. C.” At sight of this, the
long-repressed feelings of the boys burst forth without restraint. With
wild shouts they waved their hats in the air, and at last gave three
cheers for Bart. It was long before their wild excitement could be
quelled. Until late that night they sat in their wonderful dresses,
admiring their wonderful flag, and waiting, with eager impatience, for
the next day.
But who or what was the “B. O. W. C.”? That I must now proceed to
answer.
The “B. O. W. C.” arose from the genius of Bart Darner, who, in some
respects, was the most remarkable boy at Grand Pré School. His career
there had been a highly eventful one. His father was a merchant of the
town of St. John, and Bart had gathered, from the atmosphere of his
native place, a passionate desire to go to sea. With the idea of curing
him of this fancy, his father had taken him to Grand Pré School.
Bart had gone very good naturedly, and had been formally entered as a
scholar. The first acquaintances which Bart made were the Rawdon boys;
and on the very first evening after his arrival he confided to them his
determination to quit the school immediately. This determination Bart
was not very long in putting into execution. Two days after his father
had left, Bart was among the missing. Inquiries were made everywhere,
but in vain. At length the worthy head master, Dr. Porter, conjectured
that he might have gone home; so he sent in the direction in which
he supposed it most likely that the fugitive would go. The conjecture
proved to be well founded. Bart was found, on the following day, at an
inn about forty miles away. He made no objection to returning, confessed
that he was on his way home, and made light of the whole affair.
Dr. Porter extorted from him a promise that he would make no further
attempts to go home, and Bart began his school life.
His restless disposition soon caused a new interruption. At the end of
three weeks it was found that Bart was again missing. Dr. Porter was
deeply hurt, for he feared that Bart had broken his word. Search was
made everywhere, but in vain. A week passed away, but no discovery
had been made. At the end of that time, Old Solomon, the cook of the
boarding school, affected perhaps by Dr. Porter’s deep anxiety, came
to him and disclosed the hiding-place of the fugitive. It appeared that
Bart had struck up an eternal friendship with Solomon, and had gained
his assistance in a new scheme of flight. This time he did not seek to
go home, for he had promised Dr. Porter not to do so. His plan was to
escape to the woods, and build a hut, while Solomon was to bring him
provision and news from the outer world. The Rawdons had been taken
into the secret, and Bart had been enjoying the life of a hermit, and
thoughtlessly amusing himself with baffling the search that was going
on for him. Dr. Porter at once made Solomon accompany him to the
hiding-place; and finding Bart there, he sent Solomon back, and had a
long conversation with the youthful hermit. What he said or did no one
else knew; but his mode of treatment was so effectual, that Bart from
that time forward gave up his wandering ways. A long composition was
allotted him as a punishment, and Bart bore the penalty of his misdeeds
like a man.
After this he diverted his active powers into a more legitimate
channel, and rapidly became one of the best scholars in his class. His
restlessness of temper and liveliness of disposition showed themselves
in the invention of new games and sports for the amusement of his
companions. He became a curious compound of intense earnestness and wild
levity. In school no one was so utterly absorbed in study as he; and
outside, on the play-ground, no one abandoned himself so completely to
fun and merriment. He took prizes and threw balls with equal facility.
He invented new modes of making balls, of shaping bats, and of fastening
skates. He introduced new variations in the venerable game of marbles.
He made beautiful little schooners. He even constructed a steamboat out
of an old clock. He organized a military company, including all the boys
in the school, with lath guns and wooden swords, and a band which played
jew’s-harps and tin pails.
But the greatest of all his achievements was the organization of the “B.
O. W. C.”
It arose-on this wise.
From the very outset he had formed a close connection with four other
boys, and the attachment to one another grew stronger among them every
day. After organizing his militia company, and adding to it its famous
“Tin Band,” Bart looked around him for more worlds to conquer; in other
words, for new ideas to put into practice. In a moment of inspiration he
conceived the plan of a secret society, which was to include himself
and his friends. No sooner was this suggested to the others, than they
seized upon it with the greatest eagerness. The name was the first
thing. At first they thought of calling it the “Pentagon.” Then they
thought of the “Quintette.” Other names suggested themselves; but
finally they decided upon the “B. O. W. C.” The use of letters gave
a charming mystery. No one but a member of the society could ever
penetrate the tremendous secret. But the time has at length come for
divulging it. It shall be a secret no longer. Those mysterious letters,
then, were intended to represent “_The Brethren of the Order of the
White Cross_.”
As to the rest, the most charming ingenuity was shown in arranging the
details. The officers had names of solemn import. They were,--
1. The Most Venerable Patriarch.
2. The Venerable Scribe.
3. The Right Worshipful Commander.
4. The Grand Scholastic.
5. The Venerable Warden.
Afterward another dignity was added.
It was arranged that each office should be held only for one month. This
was calculated to satisfy the aspirations of all, since in this way each
member had a chance of filling every office in due time.
The initiation ceremonies were tremendous; the only trouble about these
being that they never had any persons on whom to exercise them. They
remained, therefore, like so many beautiful dreams. The costumes have
already been described. The most important thing among their furniture
was the phrenological bust. This was the pride and delight of the “B. O.
W. C.” It had been obtained from a young man who was studying medicine
in the village, and who levied a heavy tax upon the purses of the
society for so precious an article. They had the bust, however, and did
not complain.
I have said that another dignity was added to the original five. This
was in the person of the venerable Solomon. In consideration of his age,
his color, his occupation as cook, and his eminent previous services to
all of them individually, it was unanimously resolved that he should be
admitted to the society. With very great delicacy they excused him the
terrific initiation ceremony. Perhaps the idea that he might object
to some of the details influenced them in this. Be this as it may, Old
Solomon became a member, and a new dignity was created especially for
him. In a full meeting of the society, it was unanimously voted that he
be created _Perpetual Grand Panjandrum_.
II.
_Grand Pré and Minas Basin.--An astonishing Procession.--Encampment of
Brigands.--Break-up of Encampment and Flight of the Inmates._
THE Grand Pré Academy, under the presiding care of Dr. Porter, was a
highly popular and very efficient boarding school. In choosing such a
place for the Academy, Dr. Porter had shown that ardent love of nature
which always distinguished him. It was situated in a place which yields
to no other in the world for varied charms of land, sea, and sky, and
which can never be forgotten after it has once been seen. Standing
upon the slope of a hill, the Academy, with its broad portico and lofty
cupola, looked down upon a scene whose loveliness has been described in
Longfellow’s exquisite verse:
“In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,
Distant secluded still, the little village of Grand Pré
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the
eastward,
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without
number.
Dikes that the hands of the farmers had reared with labor
incessant,
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood
gates
Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o’er the
meadows.
“West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and
cornfields.
Spreading afar and unseened o’er the plain; and away to the
northward.
Blomidon rose, and the forests old; and aloft on the moun
tains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty
Atlantic
Looked on the happy valley, but ne’er from their station de
scended.”
Looking from the portico of the Academy, the eye rested upon a broad
expanse of dike land immediately in front, which extended far away
for many miles on either hand. These the old Acadian farmers had first
reclaimed from the sea, and afterward their successors had reared new
dikes and reclaimed wider districts. The broad meadows immediately in
front were bounded by the Cornwallis River, a stream which at high tide
can float the largest ship, but which at low tide is so nearly empty
that but a slight rivulet runs through its channel. It runs into the
Basin of Minas, where are the highest tides in the world.. Here the sea
carries in its salt waves up to where the dikes rise against them, and
afterward retreating, they go back for miles, leaving vast tracts of mud
flats exposed to the view. For many miles all around there are rivers
that run into this bay, all of which are subject to the same tides,
and experience the same great vicissitudes, changing twice in the
twenty-four hours from shallow rivulets at the bottom of valleys of mud,
to vast rivers which flow with swift and full streams. Twice on each day
the stream, which can scarce float a canoe, will grow to a mighty
volume of water, where navies might pass. Twice each day may be seen
the startling spectacle, once used as a formula for the impossible, of
rivers running from the sea up their channels; and twice on each day the
scene on Minas shores changes from a wide expanse of red mud to a vast
sheet of deep-blue sea.
All that is wonderful and all that is sublime in nature may be found
here, side by side with all that is most sweet and beautiful. Behind the
hill on whose slope the school stands lies the valley of the Gaspereaux,
an Eden-like retreat, shut in by high hills and watered by a winding
river, sequestered from the world, full of that strange charm of repose
that may so seldom be met with in this busy age. Before the hill there
spreads away for many a mile the broad vale of Cornwallis, through which
there flow five rivers, whoso waters are all chained up at their mouths,
so that their beds may serve for verdurous dike lands to the farmers of
the valley. Far away on the other side extends a long range of hills,
which push themselves forward into Minas Basin till they end in a
precipitous cliff, whose towering form is the centre of attraction for
many and many a mile. This is the famous Cape Blomidon, whose position
is so peculiar, and whose shape is so striking, that it forms the
central object to spectators all around the shores of the bay. Here is
a channel opening into the Bay of Fundy outside, and this channel is
the gate-way through which the disturbed and impetuous waters of the two
seas forever rush backward and forward.
In that outer bay there are fierce tides, and swift currents, and
iron-bound shores, and lonely rocky isles; there are dense fogs, sharp
squalls, and sudden storms. The mists that prevail there are kept away
by that lofty wall which terminates in Blomidon, and cannot penetrate
into the well-protected country within. The mists and the fogs seem like
baffled enemies, long beleaguering, but never victorious. From the sunny
plains of Cornwallis and Grand Pré they may be seen crowded and piled
up on the top of Blomidon, frowning darkly and menacingly upon the scene
beneath, as though eager to descend. But Old Blomidon guards well the
land which he protects, and the mist and the fog that cross his crest
are broken and dissipated into thin air.
From all this there arise wondrous atmospheric effects. Here, when the
fog is piled up in gloomy masses over Blomidon, and the sun is setting
behind them, may be seen a spectacle so gorgeous that, if it could be
portrayed on canvas, few would believe it to be a copy of nature. It
would be deemed the fantastic vision of some artist mad from love of
deep gloom and vivid color; for the colors here at sunset are sometimes
as numerous, as varied, and as vivid as those of a rainbow. The whole
west glows with indescribable glory, when out of black clouds and
voluminous folds of whirling fog-wreaths there beams a gorgeous red,
forth from which shoot up innumerable rays far into the zenith, formed
of every hue and shade, which shift and change like the rays of the
Aurora Borealis, and cast upon all the sky and upon all the earth
something of their own splendid radiance.
Early on the morning which followed the meeting of the “B. O. W. C.,”
a singular scene was presented in front of the Academy. A crowd had
gathered there surrounding a very remarkable group. There was a cart
containing a number of baskets and some pots, in which was harnessed a
quadruped which charity might consent to name a horse, but which looked
more like a skeleton of one of the extinct species. Seated high and dry
in an old arm-chair was the venerable figure of Solomon in his robes of
office, that is to say, his office of Perpetual Grand Panjandrum. He had
an old college cap and gown, and a master’s hood, while the spectacles
that bestrided his nose, and the altitude of his shirt collar, were of
themselves sufficient to strike awe into the beholder. Behind the cart
were the “B. O. W. C.,” robed in the red shirts and plumed hats which
Bart had found for them. Bart had a pistol in his belt. Each one had
something, if it were nothing better than a case-knife. But the centre
of all eyes was the flag. This Bart had generously handed over to Bruce
Rawdon, who was the Most Venerable Patriarch for the month of May. As
the wind caught it and unfolded it before the astonished eyes of the
other boys, the skeleton head grinned benignantly at them from his airy
home, and a loud shout of admiration burst forth from all.
Solomon cracked his whip. The procession started. The noise, the
laughter, and the joking were wonderful. Heads appeared at all the
windows of the house where the teachers lived. There were the laughing
faces of Dr. Porter and his family; there was the wondering gaze of Mr.
Simmons, the mathematical teacher; and there, at another window, the
long, solemn physiognomy of Mr. Long, of the English department. Thus
the procession went on, followed by all the boys, and the centre of
admiring interest. It was a proud moment for the “B. O. W. C.”
In this fashion they went up the hill behind the Academy, and at length
reached the woods. They passed several cavities in the ground which
had once been cellars of the old Acadian houses. They passed through an
orchard where the old, neglected apple trees still spoke of the Acadian
farmer who had planted them and cleared the forest around.
The road entered the woods, and they went along for some distance. At
last, in the midst of the woods they turned aside to the left, and after
a hundred yards or so they stopped, and the cart was unloaded.
At this place there was a steep descent on the right through the thick
woods. Down this the “B. O. W. C.” carried the articles which they had
brought. On reaching the bottom, they emerged into a space clear of
trees, where a brook ran babbling on. About twenty yards up, a dam had
been built, and a pond of water formed, at one end of which was a large
camp made of spruce and fir. Shut in among the woods, with the little
pond in front of it, and the brook babbling behind it, it formed
as secluded a place as could be desired. This spot was once the
hiding-place of Bart during his second flight, and had ever since been
a favorite resort of his. There were many camps and pleasant arbors
through the woods, but the newly-made pond had given to this place the
undoubted preeminence. It had all been done very secretly within a week,
and all the other boys now saw it for the first time, and gave utterance
to their feelings in low murmurs of surprise and admiration. But the “B.
O. W. C.” had much to attend to. First of all, they had to carry down
their provisions. Then they had to arrange them, and finally they had
the most important duty of all to attend to, which was no less momentous
a thing than hoisting their flag. Soon the moment came. A pole had been
already prepared. The ropes were attached, the pole was nailed to a
corner post of the camp, and the flag was hauled up to its place with
loud cheers, in which all the other boys joined with the greatest vigor.
After this the “B. O. W. C.” flung themselves down and rested for a
time. The other boys inspected the place closely, and questioned the
owners of the camp as to their intention.
“Are you going to sleep here?”
“O, yes.”
“What’ll you sleep on?”
“Brush, of course.”
“And will you cook?”
“O, yes.”
“Have you a fireplace?”
“No, but we’re going to make one to-day.”
“What’ll you do if it rains?”
“Grin and bear it.”
“Pooh! You don’t mean to say that you’d stay here if you got wet
through.”
“Wouldn’t we, though? You see.”
“Dr. Porter wouldn’t let you.”
“O, yes, he would. He always says it don’t hurt boys to get wet.”
“O, he means by day. He wouldn’t let you sleep here in a storm.”
“Why not? The camp is good enough.”
“Good enough? It can’t keep the rain off.”
“O, yes, it can.”
“You haven’t enough to eat here--have you?” asked others.
“Plenty.”
“Nonsense! It will all be gone before two days.”
“Well, can’t we easily get things? I’ve got a pistol, and mean to shoot
hares and things.”
Bart proudly displayed his pistol, and the sight of this formidable arm
silenced all controversy.
“Besides,” said Bart, proudly, “we’ve got a gun.”
“A gun!” repeated the others, in low tones. “Yes; we expect to be
attacked.”
“Attacked? Who’d attack you?”
“O, the Gaspereaugians.”
(“The Gaspereaugians” was a name given by the boys to the inhabitants of
Gaspereaux.)
“Do you think they will?”
“Of course; but if they try it, they’ll find us ready for them,”
said Bart, fiercely. “We’ve hoisted our flag, and I’d like to see the
Gaspereaugian that would dare to pull it down.”
“Well, if it comes to that, you’ve got us, you know. We’ll be on hand.”
“Of course,” said Bart, gravely. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do:
we’ll send out scouts, and if we see any signs of an attack, we’ll let
you know. I’ve got a trumpet here, and when I blow three times, you’ll
be along to help. See.”
And Bart stepped back to a bundle, out of which he pulled a long tin
horn, of the kind known among ‘longshoremen as “fog-horns.”
“But we won’t blow it till we’re hard up, you know,” he continued.
“We’ll only blow it if they come in a great crowd, you know.”
“O, yes; of course.”
The boys now broke up into little knots, and proposed all sorts of
plans. A mania for camping out set in strong among them all. The example
of the “B. O. W. C.” in damming the stream was to be imitated at once.
Each little knot of boys had places peculiar to themselves along the
same stream, some of which were the work of predecessors, and had
something like a history. After a time most of the boys went back for
spades, pickaxes, shovels, axes, and whatever else might be needed for
the great work of camp-building. The “B. O. W. C.” then turned their
attention toward the completion, of their own camp. A fireplace
had still to be built, and brush cut for beds. To this they devoted
themselves very vigorously, and worked till about ten o’clock, when
their labors were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of Dr. Porter
and Mr. Simmons. They stood for some time looking with a smile at the
busy scene, before they were noticed. As soon as the boys recognized
their visitors, they came up laughing, eager to describe the beauties
of their camp. Dr. Porter was much amused, particularly with the flag,
which floated from the mast.
“Boys,” said he at length, after he had asked about everything, “I have
come up to make you an offer.”
“An offer? What is it, sir?” cried they all.
“How would you like to give up, for the present, your bandit camp, take
away all your provision, haul down your flag, and go away?”
“What, sir!” cried the boys in consternation, and a cloud of gloom
passed over their-faces.
“How would you like me to charter a little schooner, fill it with
provisions, turn the hold into a sleeping-place, and start off for
a week’s cruise around the Basin of Minas, going ashore at the Five
Islands, at Parrsboro’, at Blomidon, and at any other, place where we
might wish? What do you say to that? Ah, ha!” cried the doctor, as he
watched the changing faces of the boys, where the gloom had vanished
instantly, and given place to the wildest delight. “Ah, ha! that suits
you--does it! Well, that’s what I’ve come to propose.”
“O, Dr. Porter! Are you really in earnest? Do you mean it?--a
schooner--a schooner?--a cruise round Minas Basin? O, good! good! good!
Hurrah! Three cheers!”
A hundred incoherent shouts and words like these burst from the boys as
they dashed about in wild and frantic delight, overwhelmed with joy at
this proposal to all of them. It seemed a thing so glorious that nothing
of which the mind could conceive was to be compared with it. A cruise
round Minas Basin! What did not that involve? Adventures of a hundred
kinds; drifting about in wild tides; getting lost in dense fogs; running
ashore on wide mud flats, or on precipitous cliffs, or on the edge of
perilous breakers; landing on lonely headlands, or on solitary islands;
penetrating far forests; camping out in wildernesses; living pirate
fashion in their own schooner, where all would be given up to them;
shooting, fishing; hunting for gulls’ nests;--it meant not sham
adventures, but real ones--with real dangers environing them instead of
fancied ones. They could cease playing at Robbers, and play what to them
seemed the nobler part of Pirates; the skull-and-cross-bones flag could
adorn the schooner, and the fog-trumpet could sound forth amid the
echoing cliffs of Blomidon. It meant anything and everything, and far
more than even their vivid fancies could very well portray. To most boys
the sea always promises more adventure than the land; there is always
something of the joy of discovery in every new voyage, and so all
these boys felt now; but to Bart, most of all, was the prospect most
delightful; for he had already known to the full that longing for the
sea which many boys have, and that which his father had prevented him
from realizing, now seemed to come to him. In some respects this seemed
to be better than the voyage which he had formerly dreamed of; for
though it would not be long, yet it would be varied and eventful, and
not free from danger. Best of all, it would be made in company with the
other boys.
It was some time before the boys were able, in their excitement, to
get any clear idea of what Dr. Porter was telling them. At length they
learned that Mr. Simmons and Mr. Long wished to visit Blomidon and the
Five Islands in search after minerals, with which the cliffs are filled.
They had concluded to get a schooner, and take the larger boys
with them. They expected to spend about a week, and take provisions
sufficient for that time. Dr. Porter would not be able to go himself,
but would intrust the boys to the care and the jurisdiction of Messrs.
Simmons and Long. Such was the plan.
Moreover, the schooner was already engaged. It was the Antelope, Captain
Corbet; and it was proposed to leave, if possible, that very afternoon,
so as to be on the other side of the bay, or at least near Blomidon,
by sundown. As it was then ten o’clock, there was no time to lose, but
everything should be prepared at once, and taken on board the schooner.
One thing only was insisted on by Dr. Porter; and that was, that they
should take no firearms. Bart pleaded so hard for his little pistol,
however, that the doctor let him keep it, and satisfied himself by
making them leave the gun behind.
III.
_Another extraordinary Procession.--An eccentric Crew.--A
flighty Shipper.--Wonderful Attachment of Captain, Corbet to his
Offspring.--Stealing a Stone Fence, and raising the Black Flag._
SOON the woods were deserted. Twelve or fifteen boys were selected as
worthy of the adventurous voyage, and these all made their preparations,
while the smaller boys looked on with longing eyes. As for the “B. O.
W. C.,” they had no preparations to make. They needed only to transfer
their provisions and other things from the camp to the schooner.
The teachers were to see about the bedding, &c. These boys therefore
enlisted Old Solomon in their service, and packed their things once
more in the same cart which had taken them to the camp; after which they
waited to accompany the others to the schooner. All possible haste was
made; and soon there started for the schooner a procession even more
extraordinary than the one which had gone into the woods.
First of all went a huge hay-cart crammed with bedding; then followed a
wagon filled with provisions; and after this the cart of the “B. O. W.
C.,” driven by Solomon. Then followed the voyageurs in procession; and
after these came the small boys, green with envy. Messrs. Simmons and
Long walked modestly on the sidewalk, not caring to identify themselves
with so odd a crowd.
In fact it was an odd crowd. First there was Solomon in full canonicals,
then the “B. O. W. C.” in their red shirts and plumed caps, with axes
and knives in their belts; and then followed their companions in the
voyage, dressed more grotesquely still. All the old clothes that could
be found were pressed into service for this occasion. Old pea-jackets,
old “sou’-wester” hats, old coats denuded of skirts, jackets in a state
of dilapidation, battered caps, shocking bad hats, which had not been on
a human head for ever so long,--all were now brought into requisition,
and formed an assemblage which was sufficient to drive an “Old Clo’” man
wild with covetousness.
Now, as Homer, at the outset of his poem, enumerates the ships and
chieftains, so will I complete the enumeration of the voyageurs in this
adventurous expedition.
First, then, there came a little Irishman, who had accidentally dropped
into the Academy, and had remained. His name was Michael Murphy, and
consequently he was always called Pat, except when the boys called him
Patsie,--for short, as they said. He wore an old sky-blue dress-coat,
with three brass buttons still remaining, fastened around the waist with
a red woollen comforter. A battered silk hat, with the top of the crown
off, completed his costume.
With him came Peter Fraser, commonly known as Johnnie Blue, a thick-set,
bullet-headed boy, full of obstinate, persevering courage, and dressed
in a sailor’s pea-jacket, made to fit himself by the simple plan of
cutting off the sleeves. He wore a sou’wester, and carried a sailor’s
knife. In fact, his get-up was very remarkably nautical.
Then came David Digg, a tall, solemn, pale boy, very studious, with
a taste for geology. He wore an old overcoat minus the tails, and a
knitted yarn night-cap. David Digg was always called Bogud by the boys,
from the fact that in one of the rules of the Latin Grammar they had
learned that “David and Bogud are common.”
Then came George McLeod, whose name was facetiously contracted into
Muckle. By some extraordinary means he had obtained possession of a
soldier’s red coat, and produced an immense sensation.
Then came Jacob Wiggins, whose name was easily contracted into Jiggins,
by which name alone he was known. He wore a red bandana handkerchief
around his head, and was arrayed in a big gray homespun coat, which he
had borrowed from a friendly farmer.
After these marched William MacNamara, known as Billymack, wearing a
tail coat, long top boots, and a felt hat.
And last, there was George Henderson, who had gained the singular name
of Sammy Bam Ram, which occurs in one of Dr. Bird’s novels, from some
amusing incident in his school life. A very old jacket, a very ragged
pair of trousers, and a hat on the extreme verge of decrepitude, formed
his attire.
The chief harbor of Grand Pré now goes by the name of Mud Creek, and is
one of the many examples which go to prove that the Anglo-Saxon, though
superior to the Frenchman in colonizing a new country, is very far his
inferior in giving names to the places which he may have colonized. At
this place the party soon arrived, and looked for the vessel. To their
surprise, they found her quite deserted, lying aground at a wharf. On
going aboard, they found that no preparations whatever had been made.
“This is too bad!” cried Mr. Long, in tones of deep vexation. “Corbet
promised to be here early, and have everything ready. I wonder what can
have become of him.”
Saying this, he started off to try and find Captain Corbet. After about
half an hour he returned.
“I’ll tell you what it is,” he said; “we can’t afford to wait. We _must_
begin right away and make our arrangements.”
“There’s no ballast on board,” said Mr. Simmons, who had been carefully
inspecting the vessel, “and no floor in the hold.”
“What!” cried Mr. Long; and hurrying on board, he soon saw that such was
indeed the case. He then stood for a time vexed and perplexed.
“Well, boys,” said he at length, “we must all get to work, so that we
may be ready when Corbet does come. There’s a pile of stones over there
which will do very well for ballast;” and he pointed to a stone wall
which surrounded a garden close by the wharf. “Now come, boys,” he
continued, “form a line from the stones to the schooner, and pass them
all along from hand to hand.”
“But it’s Mr. Brown’s fence,” objected Mr. Simmons, who did not relish
this infringement on the rights of another.
“O, Mr. Brown won’t mind!” was the reply.
“He knows me. Come, boys;” and Mr. Long, who was always rapid and
energetic, soon formed the boys in line, and the stones were speedily
transferred from hand to hand.
“Mr. Simmons,” said Mr. Long, after a time, “I think I’ll go and get
some boards.” And saying this, he hurried away, leaving the others hard
at work, and expecting the absent Corbet. The boys worked with a will;
and even the smaller ones, who were to have no part in the voyage,
formed another line, and passed on the smaller stones. At the end of
two hours the vessel was considered by Mr. Simmons to have sufficient
ballast, the garden wall had vanished, and the boys stood waiting, with
blistered hands, for Captain Corbet.
While they were waiting, Mr. Long once more appeared.
“What! hasn’t Corbet come yet?” he cried.
“No.”
Mr. Long looked around in despair.
“I’ve had to go three miles for the boards,” said he. “They’ll be here
in a few minutes. Everything is against us to-day. We’ve got to work
hard yet, or we won’t get off. Mr. Simmons, would you be kind enough to
go and see if you can find Corbet in the village? and I’ll go down into
the hold to lay the flooring.”
Off went Mr. Simmons, and down went Mr. Long into the hold. The wagon
soon arrived with the boards, which were passed down to him, and
speedily laid over the ballast. Thanks to his skill and energy, the
floor was soon made. Then the boys set to work throwing down the
bedding, and arranging the trunks and baskets. There was not much time,
however, for any arrangements. The things lay in a confused heap, with a
busy crowd laboring to reduce them to order.
At the end of about half an hour Mr. Simmons returned, shaking his head.
He had not found Captain Corbet. Things began to look desperate. It was
now high tide, and high time for leaving. Time and tide, which wait for
no man, were not going to wait for Captain Corbet.
There was the Antelope all ready. She was not much of a vessel, it is
true. She resembled a wash-tub in many important points. She looked
leaky. She smelled strong of potatoes; and rightly so, for that
important vegetable formed her invariable cargo. The name Antelope was a
delightful jest. Her chains were deeply eaten with rust; her cordage
and rigging had a time-worn appearance. A venerable air of decay rested
about her. Yet still, in spite of all, there she was, and a dozen eager
young hearts were burning to embark in her, and be away before the tide
should fall.
At last Mr. Long started off, in company with Mr. Simmons, to hunt up
Captain Corbet, or some other man who might go in his place. The boys
stood about the wharf waiting impatiently for their return.
Mr. Long and his companion hurried to the village inn, and found out
that Captain Corbet lived three miles away. So they borrowed a horse and
wagon, and drove off as fast as possible to the house. Arriving there,
they entered, and beheld a scene which so overpowered Mr. Long that for
a time he could not speak.
[Illustration: 0050]
For there in his kitchen, in a high-backed chair, in front of his own
hearth-stone,--there sat the identical Captain Corbet for whom so many
had been waiting so long. He held an infant in his manly arms, he was
gently tilting his chair to and fro, and tenderly feeding his prattling
innocent with a spoon. So intent was he upon his tender task, that he
did not hear the entrance of his excited pursuers.
“Captain Corbet!”
The tone in which Mr. Long spoke cannot possibly be represented in
print; or at any rate to do so would require more notes of admiration
than are usually found in any common printing office. The tone will
have to be imagined. Suffice it to say, that Captain Corbet dropped the
spoon,--almost dropped the baby also,--and started to his feet as though
he had been stirred up by a galvanic shock administered full on the
ganglionic centres.
“Captain Corbet!” cried Mr. Long, furiously. “Didn’t you say you’d be on
the wharf in good time, and that the Antelope would leave at this tide?”
“Why! it’s Mr. Long!” said Captain Corbet. “Why, Mr. Long! Glad to see
you. Sit down. Why, you railly frightened me. Why, I’m railly pleased to
see you. I am, railly.”
“What do you mean,” cried Mr. Long, in a great passion, “by this
mockery? Here have we been waiting for you ever since morning, and we’ve
had to put the ballast on board with our own hands; and I come here and
find you quite indifferent. What do you mean, sir? Are you going, or
not?”
“Good gracious!” said Captain Corbet. “The ballast! Why, railly now! Did
you go and put it on board? Why, I do declare!”
Mr. Long gave a dark frown, and with a violent effort smothered his
indignation.
“Are you coming, or not?” said he, sternly.
“Coming? Why--not jest now. You see there’s the babby.”
And he put his brown finger under the chin of his offspring, and
actually forgot himself so far as to whistle to it; after which he cast
a furtive glance at his visitors, as though half expecting that they
would admire the child.
“Where’s Mrs. Corbet? It’s _her_ place to mind the child--your place is
on board the vessel.”
“Why, I can’t put the babby on the floor, as I see; nor I can’t take him
on board.”
“Where’s Mrs. Corbet?”
“Why, you see, she started off airly to hunt up some parygolic. The
babby’s troubled with wind, and--”
“When will she be back?” interrupted Mr. Long.
Captain Corbet shook his head solemnly.
“It would take a man with a head as long as a horse to tell that,” said
he, sententiously.
“Where is she then? I’ll drive off and get her.”
“She! law bless you, I don’t know no more’n a onhatched chick.”
“Don’t know! You surely know which way she went.”
“Wal, she kind o’ tho’t she’d go to the village, and then she kind o’
hinted she’d visit her married sister that lives on Billy Jackson’s
farm. They’re down with the measles, and--”
“Bother the measles! Do you mean to say that you let her go off, and
quietly sat down here to nurse your baby, when you ought to have been at
work?”