CRESCENT MOON BEACH
It was drawing near the middle of August. And now with each sunrise,
the fun at the Little House seemed to double itself.
“I never saw such a place as this,” Rosie wailed once. “There aren’t
hours enough to do all the things you want to do every day; and not
days enough to do all you want to do every week.”
There was some justice in Rosie’s complaint. The day’s program of
swimming, tennis, croquet, bicycling, reading and games had been broken
into by the coming of the berry season. Blueberries and blackberries
were thick in the vicinity and the children enjoyed enormously eating
the fruit they had gathered.
Floribel taught the little girls how to make blueberry cake and
blackberry grunt and on their teacher’s day out, the Little House was
sure to have one of these delicacies for luncheon and another for
dinner. The Big Six tried to do everything of course; and as Laura
complained, they succeeded in doing everything badly and no one thing
very well. One day Maida appeared at the table with a radiant look of
one who has spawned an idea.
“Granny,” she said, “we haven’t had a picnic on the beach yet. Every
summer we go to the beach once at least. Can’t we go this week on
Floribel’s day out? We girls will cook the luncheon and pack it all up
nicely.”
“But the beach is pretty far away,” Mrs. Dore said warily. “How far is
it? Could you walk to it?”
“It’s between four and five miles,” Maida answered hazily. “You see
the little children could go in the motor and the rest of us--the Big
Six--could go on our bicycles.”
“But I don’t think,” Mrs. Dore said, “that I’d like you children to go
so far away without a grown person with you.”
“Yes, of course,” Maida said, “you and Granny come too.”
“But with Zeke and Floribel away,” Mrs. Dore protested, “who would
drive the automobile?”
Maida’s face fell. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “I never thought of that.”
All the faces about the table--they had grown bright in anticipation of
this new excursion--grew dark.
Zeke had already taught Arthur and Harold to run the machine, but Mr.
Westabrook’s orders against unlicensed persons driving it, were strict.
For a moment it looked as though the ocean-picnic must be given up.
“I think,” Maida faltered, “if I ask my father to lend us Botkins and
the big car, he’d do it.”
Mrs. Dore shook her head. “I wouldn’t like to have you do that, Maida,”
she said. “Your father has given us everything that he thinks necessary
for this household.” She added gratefully, “And more than any of us had
ever had in our lives before. I should certainly not like you to ask a
single thing more of him.”
Again gloom descended on the Big Six. And then hope showed her bright
face again.
“Ah’ll tell you what Ah’ll do,” Floribel, who was waiting on table,
broke in. “Zeke and Ah’ve wanted fo’ a long time to see the big ocean.
Now eff yo’ll let the lil’ children go on dat pic-a-nic, Mis’ Dore,
Zeke and Ah’ll go with them and tak’ the best of care of them.”
“Oh _would_ you, Floribel?” Rosie asked.
“Well, in that case,” Mrs. Dore decided thoughtfully, “I don’t see why
you shouldn’t all go.”
Madness at once broke out in both Sixes, Little and Big. Laura, Maida
and Rosie leaped to their feet and danced about the room. The little
children beat on the table with their spoons and the three boys
indulged in ear-splitting whistles.
The next Thursday, Floribel, Zeke, the Little Six and the lunch, packed
somehow into the machine, the Big Six on their bicycles, streaming
ahead like couriers, started off for the beach.
“Thank goodness we’ve remembered the salt this time,” Rosie said to
Arthur as they mounted their wheels, “I took care of that myself.”
It was a beautiful day, cool as it was sunny, brisk as it was warm. The
winding road led through South Satuit and then over a long stretch of
scrub-pine country, straight to the beach.
Just as they emerged from the Westabrook estate into South Satuit,
Maida’s bicycle made a sudden swerve. “Why I just saw Silva Burle!” she
called in a whisper to Rosie. “She was walking along the trail towards
the Little House. I wonder what she is doing there?”
“Well you may be very sure she isn’t calling on _us_,” Rosie declared,
“and if she is I’m delighted to think that Granny will say, ‘Not at
home!’”
“Still,” Maida said thoughtfully, “that trail leads directly to the
Little House. She must be going there for some reason.”
“Probably,” Laura remarked scornfully, “she’s hoping she’ll meet some
of us, so’s she can make faces at us.”
The automobile arrived at the beach first and the cyclists came
straggling in one after another. Crescent Moon Beach was like a deeply
cut silver crescent, furred at each tip of the crescent with a tight
grove of scrub-pines which grew down to the very water’s edge. Beyond
it, except for a single island, stretched unbroken the vast heaving
blue of the Atlantic. Under the lee of the southern tip of the crescent
was a line of half-a-dozen bath houses.
“What a wonderful, wonderful beach!” Laura commented.
“And there’s that island,” Dicky said, “that we see from the Tree
House--Spectacles Island, didn’t you say--oh no, I remember, Tom
Tiddler’s Ground. How I wish I could swim out to it. I have never been
on an island in my life. Could you swim as far as that, Arthur?”
Arthur laughed. “I should say not. Nobody but a professional could do
that--and perhaps he’d find it some pull. It’s much longer than it
looks, Dicky. Distances on the water are very deceiving.”
“What’s on the Island, Maida?” Dicky went on curiously. “Have you ever
been there?”
“Oh yes,” Maida answered, “once. I went on father’s yacht but I was
such a little little girl that I have only one impression--of great
trees and enormous rocks and thick underbrush.”
Dicky sighed. “I wish we could go on a picnic there!”
“What’s that over there?” Harold demanded, pointing to a spot far out
where a series of poles, connected by webs of fish-net, rose above the
water’s surface.
“Oh that’s a fish weir,” Maida declared electrically. “I’d forgotten
all about that. You see the tide’s going out. It goes out almost two
miles here. And if we follow it up, we can get into the weir and come
back before the tide overtakes us.”
Maida explained the situation to Floribel. Floribel turned to Zeke for
advice. Zeke corroborated Maida’s story. He had, he said, been in that
weir several times himself. Floribel said she would stay on the beach
with the Little Six while Zeke accompanied the Big Six. When they came
back, she added, lunch would be all spread out on the beach.
“The last bath house,” Maida informed them, “is ours. Now let’s get
into our bathing suits at once because we have no time to lose.”
It was only partially low tide when they arrived but it almost seemed
to the children that they could see the water slipping away towards the
horizon. When they emerged from the bath house, a patch of eelgrass,
not far off, made a brilliant green spot in the midst of the golden
sand. As the Big Six started towards the fish weir, the Little Six were
splashing about in the warm shallows near shore.
“Oh what fun this is!” Rosie said. “I love salt-water bathing more than
fresh water--I don’t know why. But somehow I always feel so much gayer.”
The salt water seemed to have an effect of gayety on all of them.
They chattered incessantly when they were not laughing or singing.
At times they came to hollows between the sand bars where the water
was waist-high, but in the main, the water came no farther than their
knees; and it continued to recede steadily before them. Sand-bar after
sand-bar bared itself to the light of the sun--stretched before them
in ridges of solid gold. Eelgrass--patch after patch--lifted above
the water; spread around them areas of brilliant green. Above, white
clouds and blue ether wove a radiant sky-ceiling. And between, the
gulls swooped and soared, circled and dashed, emitting their strange,
creaking cries. It seemed an hour at least to the Big Six before they
reached the weir, but in fact it had taken little more than half that
time.
Zeke found the entrance to the weir and they followed him in. Here the
water was waist-deep. Zeke explained the plan of the weir. It was, he
pointed out, nothing but a deep-sea trap for fish. The fish entered
through the narrow opening into a channel which led into the big
inner maze. Although it was very easy for them to float in, it was a
very difficult matter finding the way out. Caught there, as the tide
retreated, they stayed until the fisherman arrived with his cart and
shoveled them ignominiously into it.
“Oh, oh!” Laura shrieked suddenly. “This place is full of fish. One
just passed me! Oh, there’s another! And another!”
But by this time both the other girls were jumping and screaming
with their excitement; for fish were darting about them everywhere.
The boys, not at all nervous of course and very much excited, were
trying to drive the fish into corners to find out what they were. Zeke
identified them all easily enough--cod, sculpins, flounders, and perch.
“What’s that big thing?” Arthur exclaimed suddenly. “Jiminy
_crickets_!” he called excitedly. “It’s the biggest turtle I ever laid
my eyes on.”
The girls shrieked and stayed exactly where they were, clinging
together. But the males all ran in Arthur’s direction.
“Dat’s some turtle, believe muh,” commented Zeke.
“I’m going to take it home,” Arthur declared, “and put it in the Magic
Mirror.”
“The Magic Mirror!” Laura echoed. “Why I would never dare go in
swimming if I knew that huge thing was there.”
“We’ll keep it tied up with a rope,” Arthur went on excitedly. “It
can’t get where we go in swimming because the rope won’t be long
enough. Come on, fellows, help me get it.”
“How are you going to catch it?” Harold demanded.
“Lasso it!” Arthur declared, untying a stout rope which hung from one
end of the weir posts.
The prospect of catching such big game was too tempting for the males
of the party. And so while the girls dashed madly about, trying to get
out of their reach, screaming with excitement and holding on to each
other for protection, but really enjoying the situation very much--the
boys chased the turtle from corner to corner, until finally Arthur
managed to lasso a leathery paw and tie it captive to a weir post. How
he did this, he himself found it hard to say, because the water was
lashed to a miniature fury by the flounderings of both the turtle and
its captors. It was probably pure accident, he was humble enough to
assert. But having caught the creature, they were not content until
they had brought him ashore, and so the procession started beachwards,
Arthur pulling the turtle at the end of the rope.
It was a huge turtle at least two feet in diameter. It had wide
leathery flappers, a wicked looking head--as big, Rosie said, as her
alarm clock. But its shell was beautifully marked.
As they approached the beach they could see the great square of the
tablecloth laid out on the sand and Floribel busy piling up sandwiches
and hard-boiled eggs; fruit and cake. The Little Six came running to
meet them and then it became a problem to keep them out of the way
of the turtle’s snapping jaws. They had no difficulty however, with
Floribel, who screamed with terror at the sight of the strange creature
and would not allow them to bring it onto the beach. They ended by
mooring it, by means of a large rock, in one of the pools near the
shore.
Then, forgetting their prey for a while, they sat down to lunch. They
were ready to do full justice to it.
“Lord_ee_!” Floribel exclaimed once. “Dey’se salt enough here for an
army--shuah! Who put all dat salt in the basket?”
The three girls burst into giggles.
“I was so sure we’d forget the salt,” Maida said, “that I put in a pair
of salt-cellars.”
“I put in three,” declared Rosie.
“And I put in four,” confessed Laura.
After lunch, following the orders which Mrs. Dore had given them, they
sat on the beach for an hour before they went in bathing again. This
prolonged itself to much more than an hour because they began making
the inevitable collections of shells and stones to take home. Floribel
said that moon-stones were sometimes found on this beach and there
instantly began a frantic search for the small, translucent white
stones. Of course everybody found several of what he supposed were
invaluable gems. By this time the tide, which had turned just as they
left the fish weir, was now galloping up on the beach in great waves.
They had to pull the turtle farther and farther in shore. At length
they all went in bathing again; the Big Six diving through the waves
and occasionally getting “boiled”--which was the local term for being
whirled about--for their pains. Floribel permitted the Little Six to
play only in the rush of the waves after they broke.
After five o’clock, blissfully tired, excitedly happy, they piled the
little children into the machine; packed the turtle in the big lunch
hamper, tied the cover securely over him and started home.
Wild with excitement and the news of their find, they dashed into the
Little House.
“Oh Granny you’ll never guess what we’ve brought home with us,” Maida
exclaimed.
“And oh what a wonderful day we’ve had,” Rosie added.
“And how tired we are and how hungry,” Laura concluded.
The little children were all chattering with excitement; the boys were
attending to the turtle in the barn, preparatory to taking it to the
Magic Mirror.
“I’m glad you’ve had a good time, children,” Granny said gravely. “Your
father is here, Maida, and he wants to see you all in the living room.”
Something seemed to have gone out of the gayety of the day. What it was
or what made it go or where it went, Maida could not guess. Perhaps
it was a quality in Granny’s air and words. At any rate she said
instantly, “I’m going right in there, Granny, and Rosie will you please
tell the boys to come at once?”
Rosie too had caught an infection of this seriousness. She sped to the
barn. In three minutes, the Big Six had gathered in the living room.
Mr. Westabrook was sitting on the couch in front of the fire.
“Good afternoon, children,” he said quietly. “I told Granny to ask
you to come here the instant you came home, because I had something
to say to you. It occurred to me to-day that I would come over to the
Little House when you didn’t expect me and make an inspection. Hitherto
I have come regularly every Sunday. This is Thursday. I’m glad I did
because I found that neither the flower garden nor the vegetable
garden had been weeded for the last three days. The barn was in a very
disorderly confusion. I asked Granny how the girls had left their rooms
and although she didn’t want to tell me, she had to say that the beds
were not made and apparently nothing had been done. But the worst thing
of all that I have to say is that I find that the tennis court is all
kicked up as though it had been played on after a shower without having
first been rolled.”
There was an instant of silence in the room; a silence so great that
everybody could hear quite plainly the ticking of the grandfather’s
clock. Arthur spoke first.
“Mr. Westabrook,” he said in a low voice, “we ought to be ashamed of
ourselves and I certainly am. After all your kindness to us--I won’t
try to make any excuses because there are no excuses we can make.”
“It’s all my fault,” Harold admitted, “I’m supposed to run the boys’
end of the work and I have not held them up to keeping everything
right.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Dicky declared hotly, “no more than mine or
Arthur’s. We’re all to blame.”
“I’m awfully ashamed of myself, Mr. Westabrook,” Rosie confessed almost
in a whisper. “I wouldn’t blame you if you _never_ forgave us, but I
hope you will.”
“I don’t know how we got this way,” Laura said in perplexity. “We began
right.”
“We’ve been having such a good time,” Maida explained in a grave tone,
“that we’ve just let ourselves get careless.”
“Then,” Mr. Westabrook advised them, rising, “try not to let yourselves
get careless again.” He shook hands all around; and kissed his
daughter. “Fair warning,” he said, “I don’t know when I’m coming again,
but it won’t be when you expect me.”
It was a very subdued and a very tired little trio of girls who
went up-stairs and attended to their rooms. It was an even more
subdued--though a less tired--trio of boys who put the barn in order
and then trailing the turtle at the end of his rope, walked down to the
Magic Mirror, and tied him to a tree, and deposited him in the water
there for the night.