The Red Buoy
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ANY ONE would be sick of it! thought Johnny Blossom. He couldn’t even
appear in the street without people rushing to him to question and pry
as to how it had happened, and how he had felt that time he lay out on
the red buoy and they all thought at home that he was drowned. He was
completely sick of it.
Even the minister had stopped him and questioned and quizzed like the
rest; and when he had finished, he hit Johnny Blossom on the back with
his cane (not hard, you know) and said: “You surely are a little rascal,
Johnny Blossom!”
Indeed he wasn’t a rascal. The whole thing had just happened of itself.
It was no plan of his, but it was just as unlucky as if it had been.
The new postmaster’s sons were at the bottom of it really. Such
pipestems from Christiania don’t know anything anyway—and they get
scared so easily! That’s why they lose their wits when they get into
trouble. No one would believe how silly they were! Still, they were
good-natured and ready to join in anything, so they were jolly enough
playfellows after all.
Early one afternoon the three boys, Olaf, Herman, and Johnny, had a
great desire to go rowing. They peered everywhere around the wharf for a
boat that they could use. Not a sign of one was to be seen; not a boat
of any kind—to say nothing of one that they could borrow in such a
hurry. So they went round to the Custom House wharf. True as you live,
there lay a dory, with oars and everything, right down at the foot of
the little steps. They wouldn’t have dared to think of taking the boat
if it had been at the big Custom House steps, but since it was at the
little steps near the warehouse, it was probably not a Custom House boat
at all. Johnny Blossom, for his part, was quite sure it was not.
“Well, we’ll take her,” said Olaf.
It was a fine little boat. Johnny was captain and commanded grandly,
giving many orders to the postmaster’s sons—those silly pipestems from
Christiania, who did not know anything.
Oh! there was the big English coal steamer that had been lying at the
wharf several days unloading coal. Too bad that he had not had a chance
to go on board that steamer! He had tried to go a number of times, but
there was always one or another grimy sailor who chased him ashore. Ugh!
Englishmen were horrid! The steamer was unloaded now and would surely
sail tonight.
Farther out rowed the boys. Johnny Blossom boasted of the ships that
sailed from the town, of the sea, and of the church tower that was the
highest in Scandinavia, and the postmaster’s boys boasted of the wonders
of Christiania; and everything was very jolly indeed. They rowed past
the big red buoy that lay farthest out—the buoy that is like an immense
red pear floating and rocking on the water.
“Would you dare sit up on the big red pear?” asked Olaf.
“Pooh! That’s nothing to do,” said Johnny Blossom.
“Yes, but sit there alone while we row away?” said Olaf.
“You shall soon see whether I dare or not,” returned Johnny.
They rowed to the buoy and he climbed out upon it.
“Now row away, row as far away as you like. It is perfectly glorious
sitting here!”
Olaf and Herman plied the oars as hard as they could, while Johnny
Blossom sat proudly erect upon the “red pear.” He had never thought of
its being possible for any one to sit here. Just think, only water far
and wide around him! Yet here he sat entirely at his ease, could sit
here just the same if a storm should blow up—that would be a small
matter for Johnny Blossom. Now that the boys were away off behind the
big coal steamer, any one might wonder how much farther they meant to
row.
The wind began to blow and the pear rocked up and down. It was queer the
way there came a whack from the sea against the buoy with every wave.
The pear rocked more and more. My! oh, my! how the sea hit against it
now! Almost hard enough to send the spray away up to him. What had
become of those silly postmaster’s boys? He could see nothing of the
boat anywhere. It was probably behind the wharf. Not a person was to be
seen on the wharf now, either. It was so late that every one had gone
home.
Johnny Blossom shouted: “Olaf! Herman!” No answer, only the sea’s
pounding. A big wave dashed over his legs, and the pear rocked and
plunged frightfully.
All at once Johnny Blossom was afraid. Not a little afraid, but
overwhelmed with great fear. Here he was alone out in the midst of the
wide waters, with no one to see him, no one to hear him, and no one to
help him. A great wave struck against the buoy, leaving his stockings
dripping wet up to the knees.
“Oh, Mother! Mother!” screamed Johnny in terror.
Another wave came—a stronger one—and dashed even higher. He would be
safer, perhaps, if he lay on his stomach and stuck his arms through the
big ring that they fastened the ship’s ropes to.
Oh, if he were only at home! Oh, those wicked postmaster’s boys who had
rowed away and left him! They should get their pay when—but suppose he
should die now! “Our Father who art in heaven.” Johnny Blossom, with
eyes closed, said the whole of the Lord’s Prayer as he lay on his
stomach on the red buoy. Now surely God would help him.
The buoy swayed and dipped and the wind howled. Suddenly he heard a
different sound and turned swiftly to look. There was a boat right off
there. Oh, if only!—
It was some Englishmen from the big coal steamer, and they were rowing
straight toward the buoy, talking fast. Pshaw! how stupid it is when
people talk English. Without waiting to say, “By your leave,” they took
Johnny Blossom from the buoy, put him into their boat, and rowed
directly to the steamship. One of the sailors scooped up some salt water
in his hand and splashed it over Johnny Blossom’s tear streaked face and
laughed. Then Johnny laughed, too.
If it were only German the men spoke! He had studied German for a half
year now and could have managed with that language pretty well, he
thought.
Here they were alongside the steamer. Well, Johnny Blossom hadn’t the
least objection. How Olaf and Herman would envy him, that he should go
on board the big ship after all! The steamer was full of sailors who
talked and laughed and tumbled him about in rough play till Johnny
Blossom bubbled over with merry laughter that rang through the whole
ship.
Soon a man took him to the upper deck to the stout, ruddy captain whom
Johnny Blossom knew from having seen him on the street in the town. He
pinched Johnny’s ear and said a great many funny words to him, just as
the other Englishmen had. Johnny pointed to the red buoy and shook his
head for “No,” and pointed toward the town and nodded for “Yes.” With
this he felt sure that the captain must know how the matter stood.
An oldish looking man wished Johnny to go below with him, and naturally
Johnny did not need to be asked twice, even by signs! It was wonderful
down there. He had never imagined there could be anything so fine on the
dirty coal steamer; and just think! some crackers were brought out, and
then if that funny man didn’t set a whole jar of preserves before him,
too, and give him a spoon! My, oh, my! Mother ought to see him now,
eating with a big spoon right from the preserve jar!
Johnny Blossom ate plentifully, while the strange man sat opposite with
elbows on the table, looking at him and smiling. Suddenly the man took
out a leather case and from it a photograph, which he handed across the
table to Johnny. It showed two boys about Johnny’s age. The man pointed
to the boys and then to himself and smiled again, and Johnny understood
that these were his boys.
How curious to think that this man had two boys and that they were
English! He certainly was very fond of them—this queer man with the gray
beard. Now he put the photograph into the case again and into his
pocket, slapped his breast and smiled. Englishmen were certainly odd,
thought Johnny. And those boys—just boys like himself—could speak
English without studying it. Think of that!
The man then showed Johnny over the whole steamer. Above one of the
hammocks hung a picture of the same two boys; and when they came to
this, the man laughed again and laid his hand upon his heart.
Then he gave Johnny a whistle—a regular boatswain’s whistle. He put it
right into Johnny’s pocket, and of course that meant that he wanted to
give it to him. So Johnny Blossom shook hands with him and bowed his
thanks. Ah! this would be something to show to the boys at school. How
he would blow and play on it.
How awfully good to him this man was! Johnny would like to ask him to
take his greeting to those two boys. So Johnny pointed to the picture
over the hammock, then to himself, and then far out over the sea, with
his little arm stretched at full length. There! the man must surely
understand anything as plain as that.
At this moment one of the sailors came to take Johnny Blossom up on deck
again, for the row boat was going to the shore and Johnny was to go in
it. He shook hands with all the sailors and bowed and said “Thank you.”
When he was in the row boat, the ship’s deck was full of grimy-faced
men, who stretched over the railing to look down at him.
Johnny Blossom swung his cap, then suddenly remembering his whistle,
took that out and blew it hard. Then he laughed heartily and blew it
once more. All the black faces up at the railing laughed also. After
this farewell the boat was rowed to the shore and Johnny Blossom was
soon running up the street.
Then began all the hue and cry. First, Squire Levorson stopped him.
“What in the world! Is this you? They are saying all over town that you
are at the bottom of the sea.”
“Far from it,” answered Johnny Blossom, somewhat offended.
Next it was the telegraph operator, Mr. Nilsen. “Well, I must say! If
here isn’t the person every one is talking about—and as large as life!”
Pshaw! how silly people were! And now came Olea, the cook from his own
home, weeping and wailing aloud. When she saw him she was ready to drop
with astonishment. “Oh, you angel John! Are you risen from the dead?
They brought us word that you were drowned.”
“Not a bit,” said John. “It was the fault of the postmaster’s boys
entirely. See what I’ve got.” And Johnny Blossom took his English
boatswain’s whistle out and blew it, with beaming face.
No one was in the sitting room at home, nor in the library; but from
Mother’s room there came a sound as of some one crying. Johnny Blossom
tramped in. There lay Mother on the couch, and Father sat by her side,
and they were both sobbing as hard as they could.
“John!” screamed Mother, starting up. “Oh, Johnny! my boy, my boy! Is it
really you?”
“Thought I was drowned, did you?” said Johnny Blossom loftily. “It never
entered my head till afterwards that any one could get drowned sitting
on the big red pear, you know. Mother, see here.”
A frightfully piercing whistle resounded in the little room.
“Would you like to hear it again?” asked Johnny, radiant.
“No, no!” said Mother, with hands on both ears.
Just then Father grabbed John by the shoulder. Ugh! it was horrid when
Father took hold that way, for it usually meant a whipping.
“Do you know what you deserve?” asked Father. Not a sound in reply. “You
shall escape this time,” continued Father. “I think you will remember
your Mother’s tears now better than a whipping; but another time—do you
hear?”
“Yes.” Johnny stared at his mother’s tear-stained face.
“The postmaster and his boys came here and said that you had climbed up
on the buoy farthest out. The boys had rowed back toward shore just for
fun, but they met a man in a row boat who nabbed them because they had
taken the Custom House boat. The boys didn’t say anything to him about
you, sitting out there on the buoy”—
“There! Now you can see how stupid they are,” interrupted Johnny
Blossom.
“They ran home, crying, and told that you were out on the ‘red pear’;
but when the postmaster had got a boat and rowed out you were gone.”
“I was on board the coal steamer—that’s where I was. His name is
Hobborn, Mother, and just listen! he set a big jar of preserves before
me—I think it was raspberries—and I ate a lot, and then he gave me this
whistle. Now I’ll blow it.” An ear-splitting blast followed.
Mother hugged him to her and kissed him. “But that was a horrible
present, John,” she said, pointing to the whistle.
“Far from it,” said John, “for now I need never be in danger any more if
I just whistle. If I had had this when I lay out on the red pear, no one
would ever have imagined I was drowned. A very useful present, it seems
to me, and delightful.”
“I can scarcely call it delightful,” said Mother. All the rest of that
afternoon, the sound of whistling, incessant and penetrating, filled the
pine grove. Blowing the English whistle in the house at any time was
strictly forbidden.
In Johnny Blossom’s opinion, after his experience on the coal steamer,
Englishmen were the most delightful people on the face of the globe.
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