The Life-boat Anniversary
On the following Wednesday three much-disinfected girls took their
places in the train, and started off for the short remainder of their
holiday.
"I wish we didn't smell so horribly of carbolic!" protested Dulcie. "I'm
sure everybody'll think we're coming from a fever hospital, and give us
a wide berth."
"All the better if we can keep the carriage to ourselves," chuckled
Deirdre. "Those three old ladies were just going to come in, when they
turned suspicious and sheered off in a hurry. I feel rather inclined to
label myself 'Recovering from Measles'."
"Then you'd come under the Infectious Diseases Act, and be fined for
travelling in a public conveyance. Perhaps they'd turn you out, and put
you in the guard's van."
"To give him measles? How kind! But I'd travel in a cattle-truck to get
home. Only one week of the holidays left! I mean to get the most amazing
amount into the time, I assure you."
Deirdre and Dulcie were travelling together to Wexminster, where their
ways parted, and Gerda was to go on to Hunstan Junction, where she
would be met by a relative. If she was pleased at the prospect, she did
not betray much excitement, nor did she vouchsafe any details of what
was in store for her. The chums were too busy with their own plans to
concern themselves with hers, and jumped out of the train at Wexminster
in such a hurry that they almost forgot to bid her good-bye. Rather
conscience-stricken, Dulcie remembered just in time, and turned back to
the carriage window.
"Good-bye! I hope you'll have as jolly holidays as mine," she called.
"Thank you!" said Gerda, waving her hand, with a wan little smile, as
the train began to move. And for the first time since they had known one
another, it struck Dulcie that there was something infinitely sad and
pathetic about her mysterious school-fellow.
Could she really be a spy? The chums had discussed the question again
and again. Her German associations, her intense reserve, and, above all,
her incriminating meetings on the shore, seemed highly suspicious. What
was the secret that she so persistently concealed? And what the
explanation of the letter she had placed in the bottle? For the present
the riddle must remain unanswered. Both they and she had turned their
backs on Pontperran for one brief week, and during that time neither
suspicions nor speculations must disturb the full bliss of their belated
holiday.
Deirdre and Dulcie made up for the shortness of the vacation by the
thorough enjoyment of each precious day, and when they returned to the
Dower House had enough material for conversation to last them a month or
more. Even Gerda appeared cheered by the change. Though she did not
offer any details of her doings, she admitted she had enjoyed herself in
London. She looked brighter, and was more ready than formerly to join in
the life of the school and take some part in all that was going on. The
chums watched her closely, but found her conduct perfectly regular and
orthodox. She indulged in no more surreptitious expeditions to the
shore, and did not attempt, when on the warren, to separate herself from
the others. Since the day they had been marooned on the island, Deirdre
and Dulcie had not seen the brown-jerseyed stranger again. They
concluded that he must have left the neighbourhood, and have suspended
his evil designs till a more favourable season.
Though they could not in any degree trust her, they certainly found
Gerda a more genial companion than she had been last term. Her reserve
about her own affairs remained unshaken, but she began to show an
interest in school doings. She took keenly to tennis, and improved so
rapidly that she was soon one of the best players, and even vanquished
Jessie Macpherson in singles--a great triumph for VB.
"She's 'Gerda the Sphinx' still, but she's not quite so bad as she was
before," said Dulcie.
The bedroom shared by the three girls had been well disinfected and
repapered before their return after the measles. They themselves were
regarded rather in the light of heroines by the others.
"You weren't quite clever enough, though," said Betty Scott. "If you'd
managed to catch it in term time it would have been a real excitement,
and perhaps it would have spread, and we should have had one of the
dormitories turned into a nice little hospital."
Betty spoke regretfully, as if she had lost an opportunity which might
not occur again. Evidently measles at school was an experience she
craved for. Not a solitary germ, however, had survived the stoving and
whitewashing, and the health record at the Dower House maintained its
former standard of excellence.
The summer term was always of more than usual interest. The school lived
largely out-of-doors, many classes were held in the garden, and meals,
when weather permitted, were often taken on the lawn. The girls would
particularly petition for breakfast in the open air. It was delightful
to sit in the warmth of the early morning sunshine, with birds singing
in chorus in the trees and shrubs around, and the scent of lilac and
hawthorn wafted by the gentle little breeze that was blowing white caps
to the waves on the gleaming sea below the cliffs. The whole
neighbourhood of Pontperran changed annually after Easter. During the
winter it was as sleepy and quiet a spot as could be imagined, with no
excitements beyond an occasional temperance meeting or village concert.
In the summer it woke up. Every farm or cottage that had a room to spare
let it to visitors. The place had a reputation amongst both artists and
anglers, and throughout the season easels might be seen pitched at every
picturesque corner, and the one hotel blossomed out into the
head-quarters of the "Izaak Walton Club". So long as the visitors did
not attempt to trespass on the headland, the girls rather enjoyed their
advent. It was interesting to try to catch a glimpse of an artist's
picture as they passed his easel, and the added gaiety in the village
found its way to the school. Miss Birks took her pupils to an occasional
concert or entertainment, and never omitted to let them attend such
important functions as Hospital Saturday Parade and the Life-boat
celebrations.
It had been decided by the local authorities this year to keep the
Life-boat anniversary on Whit Monday. On that day large numbers of
visitors often came to Pontperran from other seaside places, a
circumstance which would largely enhance the possibility of a good
collection. The girls at the Dower House, having had a long Easter
holiday, were not going home for Whitsuntide, so, with Miss Birks's
permission, they were pressed into the service, and requisitioned to
sell flowers and take donations. As it was the first time they had been
allowed to play such a public part, they were much delighted and
excited.
"It's as good as a bazaar, only more fun, because it will be in the
streets," said Evie Bennett.
"We'll just make people buy," announced Annie Pridwell. "I'm not going
to take a single flower back with me, I've made up my mind about that!"
"I hope people will feel generous," said Elyned Hughes.
It was arranged that the girls should be dressed in white, and should
wear their school hats, and a badge consisting of a scarlet sash tied
over the shoulder and under one arm. The flowers--imitation
corn-flowers--were supplied at the public hall; they were made into tiny
buttonholes, which were to be sold for the sum of twopence, or anything
more that the charitable felt disposed to give for them. The collectors
were to go two and two together, one to sell the flowers, and the other
to hold the miniature life-boat into which the pennies were to be
dropped. Dulcie begged hard to be allowed to collect with Deirdre, but
this Miss Birks would not permit, apportioning an elder girl to each
younger one, so that Dulcie, instead of having her chum for a partner,
found herself, rather to her chagrin, placed with Jessie Macpherson, the
head of the school.
"It isn't going to be fun at all!" she lamented. "I'd almost as soon go
about with Miss Harding. I thought we should have had a ripping time.
I'll undertake Jessie will want to sell all the flowers herself, and
make me rattle the box."
Jessie decidedly had views on the due subordination of younger girls,
and would probably have fulfilled Dulcie's gloomy prophecy, had not Miss
Birks intervened with the injunction that the seniors were to commence
the sale of the flowers, then when half the stock was disposed of, the
remainder was to be handed over to the juniors, so that each might have
a fair part in the proceedings.
"Jessie looked rather sulky about it," chuckled Dulcie. "I shall see
that those flowers are divided equally and she doesn't take more than
her legitimate share of them. Twenty buttonholes apiece is the portion.
I've a good mind to label mine."
This particular anniversary was to be one of more than ordinary
interest, for a new life-boat had been presented to the station, and was
to be launched amid general rejoicings. A large influx of visitors was
expected, so there seemed every reasonable hope of a speedy sale of the
pretty little bouquets.
"I only wish they'd been real flowers," said Deirdre, who, with Irene
Jordan, had been apportioned a beat in the main street near the
principal shops.
"The real ones fade so horribly quickly," replied Irene. "They would
have been drooping by the time we got them down to the town, and they'd
only last about an hour in people's buttonholes. These are really very
pretty, and can be kept as mementoes. I shan't part with mine till next
year. Now, are you ready? I'm going to tackle that old gentleman over
there; he looks charitably disposed."
At first the girls were rather shy in pressing their wares, but people
responded so kindly and readily that they took courage, and offered them
even in unlikely quarters. It was amazing how many and what varied
customers they found. A ragged, roguish-looking urchin, who generally
begged from them when he could snatch the opportunity, came up now, and
invested his twopence in the biggest posy he could select, standing with
quite the air of a dandy as Irene pinned the treasure on to his faded
little jersey. He dropped the coppers into the life-boat with keen
enjoyment, and retired beaming, satisfied that he had contributed his
small share to the general fund. Day trippers proved a harvest, some
putting threepenny bits or sixpences in place of pennies, and buying
more than one bouquet. A waggish young fellow decorated his sailor hat
with enough bunches to form a wreath, quite finishing Irene's stock, and
encroaching on Deirdre's half of the tray. Several ladies tied bouquets
on to the collars of their pet dogs, and a sweet little girl insisted
upon making a purchase on behalf of her doll. A small, very spoilt boy
wanted to carry off the miniature life-boat, and howled lustily when he
realized that it was not for sale; but was consoled when Irene allowed
him to hold it for a few minutes, and rattle it suggestively at
passers-by. So delighted was he with the novel occupation that his nurse
could scarcely tear him away, and it was only by the bribe of a bun that
she cajoled him into restoring the box to its lawful owner.
"It's getting almost too full to shake!" laughed Irene. "If everyone
else has done as well as ourselves, this ought to be a record day. Oh,
look! There's Miss Herbert with Ronnie! They're coming this way!"
"Ronnie must have one of my bunches, if I buy it myself and give it
him!" declared Deirdre.
But Ronnie had come with his small pockets well lined with pennies which
he was burning to spend. He gallantly chose a buttonhole for his
governess first then one for himself, and would have added a third for
his aunt had not Miss Herbert reminded him that he would meet other
friends with trays of flowers if they walked farther down the street.
"I want to buy some from Jessie," he sighed, "and from Gerda. I do like
Gerda--the best of anybody!"
"He's taken quite a fancy to Gerda," laughed Miss Herbert. "He often
talks about her. And really she's very kind. She gives him so many
picture post cards--the sort he loves, with photographs of animals on
them. I think she must get them from Germany. I've never seen any like
them in England."
"Gerda's ripping!" remarked Ronnie as he trotted away.
Deirdre looked after him in much astonishment. She remembered how on the
occasion of Ronnie's birthday Gerda had paid him a surreptitious visit,
and given him a present on her own account, but she had no idea that the
friendship had been continued. Gerda must surely have seen him on other
occasions, and won his favour. Ronnie was so entirely the "King of the
Castle" to the school at the Dower House that Deirdre felt hugely
indignant at the notion of her room-mate stealing a march on his
affections. It was an extraordinary thing, she reflected, that Ronnie
should care for anybody so silent and uninteresting. Then a mental
vision returned to her of Gerda's eager, animated face, as she had seen
it when she had peeped unobserved over the wall. No, Gerda had not
looked silent and uninterested when she was alone with Ronnie.
"The girl's a riddle. I can make nothing of her," decided Deirdre.
By half-past eleven the enthusiastic flower vendors had the extreme
satisfaction of finding their trays cleared, and their miniature
life-boats grown extremely heavy. They carried the latter to the public
hall, and delivered them safely to the secretary of the fund; then,
being off duty, they wended their way to the quay to await that
most-important function, the launching of the new life-boat. Quite a
crowd was assembled, of both visitors and townspeople, and the place for
once seemed full almost to overflowing. A long jetty stretched out from
the harbour, and here, during the summer months, large numbers of lasses
were busy every day packing fish into barrels and boxes. They were a
bonny, picturesque crew, most of them wearing gay-coloured handkerchiefs
tied over their heads, and short sleeves which showed their well-shaped
arms to advantage. They were brought to Cornwall for the summer from
Scotland, in a special vessel chartered for the purpose, and performed
their task of fish packing with a skill and dispatch in which nobody
could rival them.
For the moment they had ceased work, and, wiping the scales from their
hands, stood watching the preparations with as keen interest as anybody.
"They're talking Gaelic to each other!" exclaimed Ronnie, running up to
Deirdre in great excitement. "Oh, it sounds so funny! Miss Herbert says
it's rather like Welsh. I asked one of them to say something, and she
just gabbled gibberish, and said it meant I was a sweet, nice little
boy. She let me stand on a barrel, and I could see so well, but Miss
Herbert made me get down, because she said it was too fishy."
"Come and stand here with me," suggested Deirdre persuasively.
"No, I'm going to Gerda--she's over there and smiling at me. Good-bye!"
and Ronnie rushed away tumultuously to join his latest favourite,
placing himself so extremely near to the edge of the quay as to have
involved imminent danger, had not Gerda held one of his small hands, and
Miss Herbert the other.
As everybody seemed to be collected, and the appointed hour of noon was
already past, a flag was waved as a signal for the proceedings to begin.
First a blank charge was fired, which rang over the water with a
tremendous report, scaring those who were not quite prepared for it, and
making some people clap their hands over their ears. Then the great
doors of the National station swung open, and the beautiful new
life-boat came gliding gently out on her path to the sea. All her crew
were in new jerseys and scarlet caps, and as the bow of their vessel
first touched the water, they broke into a mighty ringing cheer. It was
taken up by the crowd, and from every side came hurrahs and shouts of
congratulation. Ronnie was flourishing his hat frantically (with Miss
Herbert and Gerda both clutching him in the rear) and hurrahing with all
the power of his young lungs; the fish packers were clapping and waving
handkerchiefs; and even the sea-birds, frightened probably by the gun,
screamed as if adding their quota to the general disturbance.
"I do like anything that makes a noise!" declared Ronnie, when the
excitement had calmed down a little, and everyone was tired of shouting.
"I'm going to ask Auntie to let me fire the two old cannon on the
terrace at home when I go back."
"I'm quite sure she won't!" laughed Miss Herbert.
The life-boat made a short trial trip round the harbour, then, returning
to the quay, the coxswain announced that they would be pleased to take
visitors on board in relays, and gave a special first invitation to the
young ladies who had so kindly sold flowers in the interest of the
institution. With Miss Birks's permission the delighted girls descended
the stone steps, and were jumped by sturdy sailors into the boat. Ronnie
begged so hard to be of the party that his pretty wistful little face
gained the day, and the coxswain himself took him in his arms, and
handed him safely on board. Very proud he was of his trip, and very
loath to go back to dry land when the vessel, after a partial tour of
the harbour, returned to take a fresh cargo of young people.
When those of the juveniles among the crowd who cared to venture had had
their turn, the crew provided a fresh sensation by giving an exhibition
of life-saving. One of their number jumped into the water, and, throwing
up his hands, shouted as if in the utmost jeopardy of his life.
Immediately the boat was turned, a rope flung, and in record time he was
rescued, hauled on board, and revived. The rocket apparatus was next
fixed, and the crowd watched with deepest interest as a rope was fired
over the vessel, and skilfully caught and attached by the crew, who then
drew up the "cradle", a rough canvas bag, in which the passage from the
life-boat to the shore must be made. Without wasting a moment one of the
men was popped in, then those on shore hauled him as rapidly as possible
to land. He kept dipping in the water as he came, so the girls decided
that in a real storm it must be an extremely perilous passage, and he
would be likely to arrive half-drowned.
"I don't think I'd ever dare to be saved in a dreadful thing like that!"
shuddered Dulcie. "I'd rather stay on board and take my chance."
"I wish they'd let me go in it!" said Ronnie. "Are they going to take
visitors as passengers? I'm going to run down the steps, and ask them to
have me first!"
"No, you're not!" laughed Miss Herbert. "You're getting too
obstreperous, young man, and I must take you home. Say good-bye to the
girls."
"Good-bye! Oh, hasn't it been glorious! I have so enjoyed myself! When
will the next fun be?"
"Not till Empire Day. Then we'll have the beacon fire on the headland."
"Oh, lovely! I wish it was to-morrow! What, Gerda?" as his friend bent
over him and murmured something. "Really? Oh, how spiffing! Rather!"
"What was Gerda whispering to you?" asked Deirdre jealously.
"Shan't tell you! It's a secret between her and me," chirruped Ronnie as
he danced away.