ABOARD THE NANCY HANKS
It must be confessed--and not to the belittlement of Sammy Pinkney--that
he never would have run away to be a pirate on this occasion had it not
been for Dot Kenway. When this little miss had once set her mind to a
thing it took a good deal to turn her from her purpose.
It had been Sammy's dire threat for a long time that he would seek the
adventurous life of a buccaneer on the rolling main. But he had never
set a definite date for his departure upon this venture. To-day was the
day. Fate willed it thus. And it looked as though fate was disguised in
the character of a strong-minded little girl with two cherry-red
hair-ribbons and a doll hugged tightly in her arms.
Sammy, however, having once embarked on the venture considered that he
must take a certain lead in affairs. Dot certainly had urged him away
from home and mother; but now she gave up the guidance of affairs
entirely into her companion's hands.
She had no more idea of what "being pirates" meant than she had of the
location where "pirating" as a profession might be safely pursued. On
Sammy's part, he knew that pirates roved the sea. The nearest water to
the corner of Willow and Main Streets was the canal. Therefore he led
the little girl by the hand toward that rather placid body of water that
flowed through one end of Milton and into the river.
The canal connected two tributaries of a large watercourse--the largest
in the state, in fact; but it was not a very busy waterway. Now and then
a battered old barge was drawn through by a pair of equally battered
horses or mules. Milton people held the canal folk in some contempt. But
then, they knew very little about the followers of the inland waterways
as a class.
Sometimes some of the canal boatmen came over as far as Meadow Street to
purchase provisions of Mrs. Kranz, or of Joe Maroni, both of whom
occupied stores on property belonging now to the four Corner House
girls; and the way the two small runaways took on this day led them
directly past this Meadow Street property.
"If we are going to be pirates," said Sammy rather soberly for him, "we
must lay in a stock of provisions. We've got to eat, you know."
"Oh! have we?" asked the little girl, to whom the fact of piracy was a
sublimated sort of existence in which she had not considered it would be
necessary to think of mundane things.
"I've got the money, and we'll lay in a stock," Sammy said, proud of his
position now as acknowledged leader of the expedition.
Mrs. Kranz, the German woman who kept the delicatessen store, was not at
all surprised to see Dot. The Corner House girls often visited her and
the other tenants on the property, and Dot was particularly beloved by
the good woman.
"My! my! Undt de baby, too? Coom right in undt haf some nice
pop-sarsaparilla. I haf some on de ice yet--you undt your young man."
"Oh, Mrs. Kranz!" cried Dot, eagerly, "we haven't come to visit you.
We've come to buy something."
But Sammy nudged her quickly. "Let's have the sarsaparilla," he
whispered in Dot's ear, as the generous woman bustled away to the
icebox. "That'll go fine."
Maria Maroni, oldest of the fruit dealer's family, who dwelt in the
cellar of the building but lived mostly with Mrs. Kranz, waited upon
Sammy; so the storekeeper herself had no idea of the queer order Sammy
gave.
He bought crackers--mostly of the animal kind; a piece of cheese;
fishhooks; a ball of twine; a sack of potatoes (Maria ran and got those
from her father); a pencil and a pad of paper; some raisins; a jar of
peanut butter; some drop-cakes; and ten cents' worth of a confection
just then very popular, called by the children "gumballs."
All these things, save the gumballs, he had put in a flour sack, and
told Dot they were ready to depart.
"Undt dat iss a pig pundle of t'ings Mrs. MacCall sent you for," said
Mrs. Kranz placidly, as the runaways started out of the store.
"Oh, Mrs. MacCall didn't send us," Dot explained.
"No? Are dey for de poy's mutter!"
"Oh, no. You see, Mrs. Kranz," Dot said gravely, "we're going to be
pirates, and we have to have a stock of things to eat. Don't we, Sammy?"
"Come along," growled Sammy, fearful that they would be laughed at.
But Mrs. Kranz was befogged. She had never before heard of pirates, and
she did not know whether it was a game, a lodge one belonged to, or a
picnic. She guessed it was the last, however, for she bade them a hearty
farewell and hoped they would have a pleasant day.
As they came out there was Joe Maroni himself, the neat, smiling, brown
little Italian in his corduroy suit and with gold rings in his ears,
ready waiting with a basket piled high with fruit.
"For the leetle padrona," Joe said, with a smiling bow, sending his
usual gift to Ruth, whom he considered a grand signora and, as his
"landlady," deserving of such thoughtful attentions.
"Aw, say!" cried Sammy his eyes growing big; "that's scrumptious."
"But they are for Ruthie," complained Dot. "We'll have to lug them all
around with us--and no knowing when we'll get home from being pirates."
"Get _home_!" snorted the boy. "Why, we can't never go home again. If
they catch us they'll hang us in chains."
Dot's mouth became suddenly a round "O" and nothing more, while her eyes
Neale O'Neil would have said had he seen them, "bulged out." The
assurance in Sammy's tone seemed final. She could not go home again! And
"hanging in chains" somehow had an awfully creepy sound.
But as the boy himself did not seem to take these terrible possibilities
very seriously, Dot took comfort from that fact and went on again
cheerfully. Nor did she mind carrying the basket of attractive fruit.
One of the peaches on top was a little mellow and she stuck a tentative
finger into the most luscious spot she could see upon the cheek of that
particular peach.
The juice was just as sweet! She touched it with her finger again and
then put the finger to her lips.
By this time they had come out of Meadow Street and were crossing the
open common toward the canal. On one hand was a blacksmith shop, and the
smith was getting ready to shoe a pair of mules which, with drooping
ears and saddened aspect, waited in the shade.
There was no moving boat on the canal and nothing stirring along the
towpath. But a battered looking old barge was moored to the nigh bank,
and Sammy's face brightened.
"Come on, Dot," he said, glancing back at the little girl. "There's a
ship and I guess there isn't anybody aboard. Anyhow, if there is, we'll
fight our way over the bulwarks, kill half the crew, and make the others
walk the plank. That is what pirates would do."
"Oo-ee!" squealed Dot--and she dropped the basket of fruit.
"Aw, say!" growled Sammy. "What kind of a pirate will _you_ make? Of
course we have to do what all pirates do."
But it was not anything to do with the true business of pirating that
had brought forth that squeal from Dot Kenway. Just as she had been
about to touch that peach again with her pink finger, where the sweet
juice was oozing out, a great ugly, yellow wasp came along and lit right
on that juicy spot!
"Oo-ee!" squealed Dot again. Sammy valiantly came to the rescue, and
beat away the "stinger" with his cap. But he carried the fruit himself,
as well as the bag of other provisions, the rest of the way to the
canalboat.
"Can't trust you with it, Dot," he declared. "You'd have the things all
mush if you dropped them every time you saw a bee."
"I don't like bees," declared his little comrade.
"And you was one yourself, once," grinned Sammy. "In that show, you
know."
"Oh, but I didn't sting anybody," the little girl replied. "I wouldn't
be so mean!"
"How do you know this fellow was going to sting you?" demanded Sammy.
"Why, Sammy Pinkney! Of course he was!" declared Dot, earnestly. "I--I
could see it right in his face! He was _so_ ugly."
The canalboat was high out of the water, for its hold was empty; but the
runaways climbed aboard easily. Sammy was as brave as a lion. He
proposed to take possession of the craft and drive ashore anybody who
might already be there. Only, there was nobody aboard.
"The crew maybe saw us coming and deserted her," he said to Dot. "Lots
of 'em do. When they see the Black Roger flying at our peak--"
"What's the Black Roger?" demanded Dot, big-eyed again. She was gaining
considerable information regarding pirates and "pirating."
"Our flag. And when the crews of the merchant ships see it, they
tremble," went on Sammy.
"But we haven't got any flag," said the rather literal Dot. "You know we
haven't, Sammy."
"Well," he returned cheerfully, "we'll have to make one. I made one
once. I got one of my father's handkerchiefs, and blacked it with ma's
liquid shoeblacking, all but white spots in the center for a skull and
crossbones. But--but," he admitted, "ma took it away from me."
"Never mind," said Dot, kindly. "I've got a handkerchief," and she
pulled forth from her pocket a diminutive bit of cambric. "You get some
shoeblacking and we'll make another."
Sammy was for getting settled at once, and he went to the door of the
decked over cabin intending to put their possessions inside. But the
door was made fast with a big padlock.
However, a hatch cover was off one of the hatchways, and the sunshine
shone down into the hold of the canalboat. It seemed dry and comfortable
just under this opening and there was a rough ladder which gave access
to the hold. Sammy went down first; then Dot delivered the package of
groceries into his arms, then the basket of fruit, and lastly backed
over the edge herself in a most gingerly way, and was helped down
gallantly by the pirate chief.
"Now what'll we do, Sammy?" asked the little girl eagerly.
"We'll unpack our things first," said Sammy. "Then I'll rig up a
fish-line. We'll have to catch fish to help out with the rest of the
grub," added the practical youngster.
"But not with worms!" cried Dot, with a shudder. "If you bring any of
those horrid, squirmy worms aboard this boat, I--I'll just go right home
and not be pirates any more."
"Oh! All right," said the scornful Sammy, who found "female pirates"
rather more trying than he had supposed. "I'll fish with grasshoppers."
"We-ell," agreed Dot. "Only don't let 'em jump on me. For if they do
I'll scream-- I know I shall, Sammy."
"Pooh! Pirates don't scream," growled the boy.
"Not--not even girl pirates?"
"No," said the boy doggedly. "'Taint the thing to do. We got to be real
savage and--"
"Oh, but, Sammy!" gasped the little girl, "I couldn't be savage to a
grasshopper."
However, they unpacked their provisions and arranged them on a board.
Dot really could not keep her finger off that mellow peach.
"I don't believe Ruthie would mind," she said at last. "And, anyway,
it's getting so juicy that maybe it wouldn't be good by the time we got
home--"
"Don't I tell you we ain't going home no more!" demanded Sammy.
"Er--well, then I guess we'd better eat the peach to save it," said the
little girl, with some hesitancy. "You cut it in half, Sammy," she added
with more decision.
Inroads were made upon most of the other provisions within the first
hour. For, indeed, what else is there more interesting in being pirates
than using up the food laid in for a voyage? Sammy had spent his two
dollars with the cheerfulness and judgment of a sailor ashore with his
pay in his pocket. And he did not propose to let any greedy little girl
eat her share and his own of their stock.
Several times Sammy ran up the ladder to examine the vicinity of the
_Nancy Hanks_, as the battered old canalboat was named--its title being
painted in big letters along either side of the decked-over cabin, which
was a little higher than the remainder of the deck--but the pirate chief
sighted no prey on the canal. The waters of that raging main seemed
deserted of all craft whatsoever.
Suddenly, however, he sighted an approaching group. It came from the
direction of the blacksmith shop. The mules they had seen waiting to be
shod ambled ahead at a pace warranted to bring them to the towpath in
time. Behind, at the same gait, came a tall, shambling man, what
appeared to be a girl some twelve years of age in tattered calico, and
shoeless, and a droop-eared, forlorn, yellow hound.
"Hist!" said Sammy, down the well of the hold.
Dot did not know just what to reply to this thrilling summons, but she
ventured to ask:
"Do you want to say something to me, Sammy Pinkney? For if you do, you
can."
"Hist! Keep quiet," ordered the pirate chief. "They're--they're in the
offing."
"Wha--what's a offling?" she demanded. "We're orphans--Ruthie, and
Aggie, and Tess, and me. So's Mr. Luke and Cecile. And so's Neale
O'Neil," she added thoughtfully. "Is an offling like an orphan?"
"Keep still!" hissed the boy. "They're nearer."
"Who's nearer?"
"Shall I make 'em heave to when they come near 'nough, or shall we let
'em go on and give chase?"
"Goodness me, Sammy!" cried Dot, greatly puzzled. "You'd better come
right down here. If anybody's coming we don't want to get into trouble.
You _know_ we didn't ask the man if we could come into this boat, and
perhaps he don't like pirates."
This idea appealed to Sammy, too, as the mules and the little company
with them drew near. He slipped over the edge of the hatchway and came
down the ladder.
Overhead a threatening black cloud had obscured the sun. Thunder
muttered in the distance. A tempest would probably break soon and
neither Sammy nor Dot liked thunder and lightning.
"And we didn't bring any umbrella, Sammy Pinkney!" gasped Dot.
"Aw, we won't need one down here. We'll be dry enough," the boy
declared.
Just then a drawling voice said: "Lowise, you better pull over that
hatch right smart. It's agoin' to pour cats and dogs in a minute."
"You get the mewels hitched on, Pap," said a shriller and younger voice.
"Where's the key to the house? Give it here. And you, Beauty, come
aboard. Ain't no rabbits fur you to chase so near town as this."
"Oh," whispered the little girl below in the hold, "they have come on to
our boat!"
"Hist!" said Sammy, shakingly.
"Do--do people do that to pirates?" demanded Dot, anxiously. "I--I
thought we were going to--to get on to other people's boats and make
them walk over a board."
"_Walk the plank!_" hissed Sammy.
"And aren't we?"
"Wait!" commanded the pirate chief in a most threatening tone.
They waited. By and by somebody came along and kicked the hatch-cover
into place and the light was suddenly shut out of the hold. At the same
time big drops of rain began drumming on the deck and the thunder burst
forth in a rolling reverberation overhead.
"I guess we _will wait_, Sammy Pinkney!" gasped Dot, nervously. "They've
shut us up down here!"