A NIGHT OF ADVENTURE
There were not many young people summering on Beatty’s Island. Ellen and
Mabel could claim acquaintance with perhaps half a dozen girls of their
own age, and not so many boys, youths about to enter college, or, having
finished high school, waiting a chance to enter into business. Dolly and
Cora Dix lived nearest. They were of the flapperish type, dressed and
looked the character, were rather insipid and silly. Farther away lived
Claudia and Lucile Bond, who affected knickers, were very sporty, and
talked a great deal about “expressing themselves,” used the latest
slang, and liked to be considered mannish. The Bonds’ nearest neighbors
were the Truesdells. There were three girls in this family, Hettie,
Gertrude, and Cassie, the youngest being Cassie. These were nice
unaffected girls, and their brother, Alvin, a lad of eighteen, was much
like them. Theirs was a hospitable house, always something going on. No
amount of trouble was too much when it came to entertaining, and all was
done so easily, for every one took a hand in preparations.
It was to the Truesdells’ that Ellen and Mabel went most frequently,
joining forces with them when it came to excursions, picnics, and the
like, and sharing with them any news which might come their way.
Therefore they were not slow to tell them of the late experiences with
Tom and Reed. Hettie waved to the two girls as she saw them coming down
the road. “Join us on the rocks, can’t you?” she called. “We’re going to
have supper on the rocks this evening.”
“So sorry, Miss Truesdell,” Ellen answered, “but we have a previous
engagement.”
“Who’s stealing our thunder?” asked Hettie. “I’ll bet it is those Dix
girls; they’re always butting in when we propose anything.” There was no
love lost between the Truesdell girls and the Dixes.
“You’re ’way off,” declared Mabel; “the Dix girls have nothing to do
with it; they’d better not. No, my dear, we are going over to Minor’s
Island to make clam chowder for two delectable youths.”
“Who are they? Who are they?” Hettie stopped whisking the mayonnaise
dressing she was preparing.
“Tell her, Ellen. They are your discovery.”
This Ellen proceeded to do, having an attentive listener, who at the end
of the tale exclaimed: “What luck! It is the most romantic story I have
heard for an age. Are you going to keep the ‘delectable youths’ all to
yourselves, or are you going to let the rest of us in on the fun?”
“Now, Hettie Truesdell, what do you take us for?” cried Mabel. “Of
course we want you to meet them. To-day’s feast is their affair, so we
can’t ask any one to that, but we’ll get up something when we can share
them with you.”
Hettie laughed. “How pleased they would be to hear us talk of sharing
them, as if we were cannibals. Why can’t they join us on the trip up to
Goose Island that we have planned for day after to-morrow?”
“Why not, indeed? We’ll propose it to them. Farewell, Hettie; we’ll see
you to-morrow and tell you what happens.”
They went off to join Miss Rindy, who had gone ahead to meet the boys at
the wharf, and the small company was soon landed at little Minor’s
Island. As they entered what Tom and Reed were pleased to call “the
studio,” the girls looked around in surprise, for the boys had made a
most attractive place out of the shabby little building. On the walls
they had tacked building paper, which made an excellent background for a
number of sketches. They had resurrected an old armchair from the
haunted house, had covered it with stuff of pleasant tone, had made a
rough table and two benches, had covered the floor with rag rugs, and
had put up shelves on which two brass candlesticks and some bits of
pottery were placed as ornaments.
“You are perfect wonders!” exclaimed Mabel. “You remember what this
place looked like when we first saw it, Ellen.”
“I certainly do, and it looked only fit for chickens or cows.”
“We’ve worked like Trojans,” Reed told them, “but it has been great
sport. There is a lot more we can do, but we shall not attempt it this
year. We sleep in the loft, have two bunks there, and here is our
kitchenette.” He opened a door into a small compartment where stood a
blue-flame stove, a few dishes, and some cooking utensils; a wooden tray
held the clams.
In a few minutes all fell to work and the chowder was made ready,
proving as satisfactory as expected. Bread and butter, fruit, coffee,
and a large chocolate cake completed the meal.
“And where did you get the cake?” asked Ellen. “I know you didn’t make
it.”
“I should say not. We bribed Mrs. Dan Ferry to make it. Most of her
boarders have gone and she could take time to ‘accommodate’ us. She’s
hot stuff when it comes to cooking, you know.”
A merry meal it was, and was ended as the sun went down, leaving rosy
clouds reflected in the water. “It’s as if a heavenly rosebush had been
shaken down,” declared Ellen. “And, oh, those opal and jade waves, and
that exquisite violet and turquoise in the eastern sky! Aren’t you dying
to paint it, Mr. Marshall?”
“Mr. Marshall, indeed,” he replied disgustedly. “To you I am Cronine,
please remember. Yes, Cronette, I am aching to paint so much that I see
that I could keep busy every hour of the day. But, I tell you, I mean to
come back here, if I am alive next year. Shall you come?”
“Don’t ask me. How can I tell? I only know that it is the most wonderful
summer I ever spent, and that it would be too much to expect to repeat
it.”
Here Miss Rindy’s voice broke in: “Aren’t you boys going to wash all
those dishes? If you’re not, we will.”
“You will not,” announced Tom, who had just emerged from the little
kitchen. “I have put them in a pan, poured water over them, and there
they shall stay till morning when we can tackle them. There isn’t any
hot water now.”
“So that’s what you have been doing while we outside have been
rhapsodizing,” said Mabel softly.
“That’s old Tom all over,” said Reed. “He is the most practical chap,
hauls me down from the clouds a dozen times a day.”
“But, once down, you do your share,” declared Tom. “He goes at it like a
whirlwind and gets things done while I’m thinking about them.”
They chugged back to Beatty’s in the small motor-boat, arriving at home
in time to catch the last of the afterglow and to watch the moon emerge
from smoky clouds.
“Those are nice boys,” remarked Miss Rindy with satisfaction. “It’s good
to get among that kind again. I knew some of the same sort in France,
like that Tom Clayton, always thinking of some one besides himself. I
believe of the two I like him the best.” At which remark Ellen had a
small feeling of resentment, although she couldn’t have told why.
The two young men were quite ready to accept the invitation to go on the
trip to Goose Island. “We shall have supper there,” Ellen announced.
“We’ll build a fire; then we can make coffee, fry bacon, and make those
scrumptious sandwiches,—lettuce, mayonnaise, and the hot bacon between.
You’ll go, of course. Cousin Rindy?”
“Indeed I will not. You know I don’t hanker after those motor-boat
trips. I had enough of the water when I crossed the seas, and I only go
now when I have to. No, please count me out. Who all are going?”
“The Truesdell girls, their brother Alvin, and a young married cousin
with her brother, a boy about Cassie’s age. There will be ten in all,
eleven if you will go.”
“No, I’ll have a nice peaceful time at home, with no young, skittish
frivolers about.” Miss Rindy gave her twisted smile.
“Now, Cousin Rindy,” Ellen protested, “you know you don’t consider us
skittish and frivolous, though we may be young.”
“I’m not saying what I consider, though I do say that if you are going
to keep up this everlasting gadding around you’ll not be fit for much of
anything by the time we get ready to leave, and won’t be in any trim for
the winter.”
“Well, to-morrow will see about the last of our frolics,” said Mabel
regretfully, “for Alvin leaves the day after, and there’s no one to run
the boat, which will be stored for the winter. The Truesdells will be
going next week, and by Labor Day there’ll be scarcely any one left.”
“And when do those two boys go? They have a motor-boat, haven’t they?”
“Yes, a small one. I don’t know how long they will stay. As long as they
can keep warm, they said. There is no chimney in that place.”
“Why couldn’t they move over to the big house?”
“Maybe they will. You might suggest it,” answered Mabel slyly.
Miss Rindy gave a little contemptuous sniff and the subject was dropped.
Supplied with wraps and carrying various boxes and baskets, the girls
set off for the wharf where they were met by the rest of the party. Reed
and Tom were on hand, having met the Truesdell girls the day before, and
were helping Alvin stow away the provisions.
“Don’t forget a jug of water,” Hettie called.
“And matches, has any one matches?” Gertrude asked.
For answer Tom dived down into his pocket and produced a box which he
held up to view.
“We’d better have a can of milk, in case the cream gives out,” Hettie
suggested. “Cassie, you run up to the store and get it. And see if they
have any marshmallows,” she called after the child who sped off on her
errand.
She was back quickly, bringing the can of milk. “No more marshmallows;
all sold out, Mr. Hodges said, and they aren’t going to get any more.”
“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. I thought it would be nice to toast some,
but we can get along without.”
At last all were aboard, and they pushed off, rounded a point, and
turned toward the upper reaches of the bay, the small trailer bobbing
along in their wake. The skies were blue and the breezes just fresh
enough to make the girls pull up the collars of their sweaters. Gulls
were soaring and dipping, giving raucous screams when a fishing boat
cast out undesired objects from the catch. Before five o’clock Goose
Island was reached, and all scrambled ashore.
“There’s the fireplace,” cried Gertrude, plunging through the bushes to
reach a point where, earlier in the season, a fireplace of stones had
been built up. “Now you masculines go hunting for driftwood while we
unpack the baskets.”
In a short time wood enough was gathered, the coffee was bubbling
merrily, and the bacon sizzling in the pan. There were several dashes
away from the fire to escape the puffs of smoke, and one pan of bacon
was overturned, causing a mighty conflagration for the moment, but that
was the only mishap. Hettie was chief cook, with Ellen as assistant, and
the supper served did them credit.
“I don’t know why it is that everything always tastes so wonderfully
good when we go on these picnics,” remarked Mabel, nibbling a sandwich;
“and I eat twice as much as upon any other occasion.”
“So say we all of us,” Reed chimed in.
“In spite of what you say,” said Hettie, “we always bring too much. Just
look at all this stuff. Shall we feed it to the fishes or lug it back?”
“My frugal mind would suggest that it would be a wicked waste to throw
it away,” said Ellen. “‘What they could not eat that day they had the
next day fried,’ remember.”
“All right,” returned Hettie, “we’ll obey your frugal mind’s suggestion
and pack it away. Nobody can tell what the morrow may bring forth. You’d
better begin to stow away these things in the boat, boys, for we must
start right back if we want to get home before night. It gets dark so
soon these days.”
The tide was out by now, and great stretches of slippery seaweed lay
between the shore and the boat, but, by dint of using the board seats as
a bridge, all were helped safely aboard, and the return trip began. The
sun had set in a glow of amber light, and all seemed fair for the
voyage.
“Let her go, Alvin,” cried Reed as he pushed off and then made a flying
leap to land in the boat. He scrambled over to a place by Ellen. “I
don’t like the look of that gray bank along the east,” he said in a low
tone to her, “but I reckon we can make it. Whoop her up, boy,” he called
to Alvin.
“Oh, do you think it means we shall have a storm?” quavered the
Truesdells’ cousin, Mrs. Olmstead, who had heard what Reed said.
“Not a storm, but fog. It may come up quickly, or it may hang around
outside, but we know the channel pretty well, and there’s no danger.
I’ve cruised around in these waters so much this summer that I could
steer in the dark. I’ve learned a lot from the fishermen, too.”
They chugged along steadily for some time, then suddenly the boat
stopped short, gave a few futile wheezes, went on a little distance, and
then came to a dead standstill, or as much of a one as a boat afloat
could do.
“Hello! What’s wrong?” cried Tom and Reed in unison, as they climbed
over to where Alvin was striving in vain to right matters.
“Let’s look at her,” said Tom, gazing down into the depths where the
engine was. He and Alvin consulted, experimented, did their best, but
the boat still lopped helplessly around, drifting with the outgoing
tide. “I’m blest if I know what’s wrong,” said Tom, lifting his head at
last. “Nothing seems to be out of order so far as I can see.”
“It looks all right to me,” Alvin agreed.
“I don’t suppose by any chance it needs some juice,” remarked Reed.
“I never thought of that,” replied Alvin, grinning sheepishly. “I gave
the can to Sam Denny and told him to fill her up, so it must be stowed
away somewhere.” He began to search.
“It’s horrid, this lopping around,” complained little Mrs. Olmstead. “Do
help to look for the can, Bert,” she said to her brother.
He joined in the search, but it was to no avail, and at last Alvin stood
up and shook his fist in the direction of the distant Beatty’s Island.
“Doggone that Sam Denny!” he exclaimed. “He’s forgotten to put it in.”
“Do you mean we can’t go on?” cried Mrs. Olmstead in horrified tones.
No one answered. The young men looked at each other, then looked off
across the water to discover the nearest land. “There’s nothing to do
but to row for it,” said Reed to Alvin, “and the longer we wait the
farther out we’ll drift.”
“Then we’d better waste no time over it,” returned Alvin, clambering
over the seats and drawing up the little trailer alongside. He crawled
in, Reed following, and they plied the oars vigorously, the larger boat
in tow. It was a hard pull, but by degrees the distance to shore
lessened, and at last they reached dry land.
“Have we got to spend the night here?” asked little Mrs. Olmstead with a
hysterical sob.
“There might be worse places,” said Bert. “There are no wild beasts or
poisonous snakes.”
“But it will soon be dark, and we’ve no place to sleep,” responded his
sister tremulously.
“You wouldn’t mind going to a dance and staying up pretty near all
night,” retorted Bert.
“Don’t fuss, children; don’t fuss,” urged Hettie. “We’ll manage somehow.
What worries me the most is that Mother will be distracted. She’ll think
something dreadful has happened, that we’re drowned, or gobbled up by
sharks, or some little thing like that.”
“Cousin Rindy will be worried, too,” remarked Ellen. “I wish there were
some way to let her know we are safe. If we could only broadcast the
news, for instance.”
“Don’t worry; we’ll find some way out,” Reed assured her. “The first
thing is to see if we can find some sort of shelter before it gets too
dark to explore, and then we’ll decide what to do next. Come on, boys,
let’s see what the jungle has to disclose.”
The three young men, with Bert, plunged into a thicket, and disappeared,
leaving the girls huddled together on the rocks, Mrs. Olmstead shedding
futile tears, the others discussing the situation and suggesting ways to
meet it. Once in a while Gertrude, who had brought a flash-light, turned
it in the direction whither the boys had gone. The island where they had
landed was but a small one, and there were no signs of a habitation upon
it, only a little stretch of sandy beach, rocks above it, and, beyond, a
grove of fir trees with a few birches interspersed.
In a little while the crackle of twigs announced the return of the
exploring party.
“There’s a little dilapidated log hut in there,” announced Alvin as he
came crashing through the underbrush; “it isn’t much of a place, but
it’s better than nothing, and will give us shelter. We’d better get to
it before it’s any darker. I’ll lead the way.”
The girls followed him in single file. Only glimmers of light sifted
down through the sombre firs, and it was necessary to be careful of the
footing lest one stumble and come to grief. At last they reached the
spot where Tom and Reed were busily gathering boughs to fling upon the
floor of the cabin, which was a rough structure, one side open to the
winds. There was no chimney, and through chinks between the logs one
could peer out into the surrounding thicket.
“Now, you all make yourselves as comfortable as you can,” suggested Tom,
“while we fellows go back for the baskets and things.”
“Gee! I’m glad you didn’t throw away all that provender,” exclaimed
Bert. “We’ll be as hungry as the dickens before morning.”
“Oh, Bert!” wailed his sister again, lapsing into tears.
Reed tossed his overcoat to Ellen. “Keep that,” he said; “I’ll not need
it yet a while.”
“Bert, you’d better stay here and keep off the bears,” charged Alvin.
“We are going after the baskets.” Then with Tom and Reed he went off.
Mabel snuggled up close to Ellen. “If we wanted adventure we surely have
it,” she whispered. “It’s getting sort of shivery. I’m glad we brought
warm wraps, although they seemed superfluous when we started out, didn’t
they?”
“And we would have left them at home if Cousin Rindy hadn’t insisted
that we would need them. She certainly is a wise old dear. No doubt she
will sit up all night watching for us. I don’t mind anything so much as
having her do that.”
“What I want to know is how we are to get off this island even in
daylight.”
“I’m trusting to the boys to find a way, and I’m sure they’ll do it.”
They were not long left in doubt, for soon the forms of Alvin and Tom
were seen approaching in the gathering darkness.
“Three of you went forth. Where is the third?” inquired Mabel. “Have you
thrown him to the sea-god to propitiate him?”
Tom set down the basket he carried, but did not answer for a moment;
then he burst out with, “That Reed Marshall is the darndest fellow!”
“What’s he done now?” came in a chorus.
“He’s taken the rowboat and is on his way back to Beatty’s. While we
were gathering up the baskets and things he slyly cut loose and made off
before we could stop him. I shouted to him to come back, but he said we
must stand by; that he’d take word to Mrs. Truesdell and Miss Crump,
tell them you all were safe, and that he’d be back with help as early in
the morning as possible.”
“But is it safe for him to go so far, and at night?” asked Ellen
tremulously.
“It’s a pretty long pull, but he has the grit to make it. He’s strong
and has some top piece. He’ll put it across if any one can, but I did
hate to see him go off alone; it didn’t seem fair.”
“Why didn’t you go with him, Alvin?” Hettie spoke up sharply.
“Mr. Clayton has just told you that he was off before we knew it, and
when we tried to argue with him he said it wasn’t worth while for more
than one to take the risk.”
Ellen gave a quick gasp and clutched Mabel, who gave her hand an
answering pressure. Mrs. Olmstead, as usual, had recourse to tears.
“Alvin, you’re an idiot,” said Hettie crossly.
“Reed’ll make it; I should worry,” insisted Tom. “Now all of you try to
get a little sleep, if you can. Alvin and I will keep watch.”
It was little sleep any one had that night, resting on the strewn
branches and beds of dry leaves. It grew very cold before morning, so
that Ellen realized why Reed had given her his coat. She drew a long
quivering sigh and offered up a silent prayer for his safety. It was a
relief when dawn came. One by one crept out of the cabin, and stole down
to the rocks to gaze over the rose-flecked water and catch the first
glimpse of an approaching boat.
At last a small, dark speck appeared. It came nearer and nearer,
steadily heading toward them. “Ahoy there!” cried Tom on the outmost
edge of rock. “Ahoy!” came back the answer. A few minutes later the boat
was near enough for them to recognize its occupants, but Reed was not
one of them.