WHO’LL WIN THE PRIZE?
“O, Lil-i-an!”
“Lilian’s out on the point working on a song.”
“Words and tune too?”
“I don’t know, very likely. She has her guitar with her and told us
that she was not to be disturbed ‘on pain of death’. But she laughed
when she said it, and if you want to see her, go and hunt her up.”
“Imagine Lil’s going off alone!”
“First she and Cathalina were working on a Merrymeeting song, then
we all got at it and evolved one of a sort. O, it’s a rouser, _mihi
crede_!” and Betty waved both hands, as if directing some
Merrymeeting celebration.
“What’s ‘meehee craydeh’?” asked Virgie.
“‘Believe me’; you find it in Cicero, though he did not use it in a
slangy way, of course. At least I suppose not, in his famous
orations. You ought to take Latin, Virgie. It would be lots of fun
now, because you would have it to Patty. Dr. Carver wouldn’t have
the beginning Latin classes last year, so Patty took them. _We_ had
it to Dr. Carver, alas. Here comes Lilian now. Did you get ‘lonse’
all by yourself, Lil?”
“Yes, and the divine afflatus wouldn’t afflate. I guess it works
better when you’re all round. I thought if anything would bring the
Muse it would be the ashes of the camp fires and the thoughts of the
Indians that used to meet there. I just had a little idea, but not
of a regular Merrymeeting song.”
“Did you know that the people on some of the land here first got
their deed, or whatever it was, back in 1726?”
“My, they must be old!”
“O, you know what I mean, their ancestors, of course.”
“Yes, I’ve been inquiring about all the legends and stories of this
place. This used to be heavily wooded, all over the point, and they
used to come down and shoot bears, right where this camp is. Dear
me, when you get into New England you are where things have
happened!”
“Yes, and in the West, too,” reminded loyal Virginia. “We have wild
Injun stories there, too, if we haven’t any Captain Kidd.”
“That is what my verses are about, Captain Kidd, If I finish them I
may hand them in, though the prize will be for some regular
Merrymeeting song, in praise of Merrymeeting, you know, something
that will go with yells and celebrations. At least that is what I
should think would take the prize, what I would give it for if I
were on the committee of councillors. But when I get something into
my head I have to finish it, or try to.”
“I’ll help you, Lilian—I’ll make up all the first lines of the
couplets and you make the second lines, or whatever lines have to
have the rhyme.”
“Aren’t you generous, Virgie!”
“Who’s going to claim the prize if the song you all wrote together
wins it?” asked Virginia.
“We haven’t thought that up yet,” replied Betty.
Not long after this conversation the songs were called for and a
meeting appointed at the club house to try out the songs previous to
the awards by the committee. The songs were to be sung before the
assembled campers, preferably by the composer, if not, by the young
councillor in charge of the proceedings. Another councillor was at
the piano. This method was explained at the beginning.
“There was an unusually large number of songs handed in this year,
which is very gratifying to the committee, but will make the choice
more difficult. As far as possible the author of the verses, or the
klondike, if part or all of the girls have learned them, will sing
them here tonight. First we shall have the Laugh-a-lot songs.”
Most of these were short efforts, but raised a great deal of
applause for the composers, though the term author is more
appropriate, since the songs were set to popular or familiar tunes.
One small author sat on a councillor’s lap and was so overcome when
her pretty little song was sung that she turned her face away; and
at the vociferous applause which followed, she quite hid her head on
the protecting shoulder.
One of the Intermediates in Piggly-Wiggly sang all alone, in a
gentle voice, two pretty verses about river, bay, island and clouds.
Helen, Eloise and the rest of the girls in that senior cabin gave
praise to Merrymeeting in a rousing chorus set to Yankee Doodle.
Lilian, Cathalina and Betty did the singing for Squirrels’ Inn.
Lilian had decided not to offer her Captain Kidd verses, declaring
that there were too many active things to do at camp to bother about
a “masterpiece”. Then, too, it would not turn out to be a real
Merrymeeting song.
After the singing of the list, a few which were easily recognized as
the best were asked for again, and the committee promised as quick a
decision as possible. As it turned out, several songs were adopted
as Merrymeeting songs, and several prizes were given, one to
Squirrels’ Inn included.
June, Jo and Dot came around to ask Lilian what had become of the
Captain Kidd song.
“Why, where did you ever hear that I was writing one?” she asked.
“I heard you and Hilary talking about it one time,” replied June.
“It isn’t much,”
“We want to hear it any way.”
“I’ll send it to the _Moon_ and if they accept it you shall hear it
read there.”
“All right. Did you hear any more facts about Captain Kidd?”
Lilian laughed. “I don’t know that I have any ‘facts’ about him, but
I find that there is a story about the real Captain Kidd and the
Kennebec. It is said that he used to attack boats that came to this
trading center, kill off everybody but one, whom he left to help him
carry the goods to his hiding place, and then kill him too. Nice old
pirate! And they say that the name ‘Merrymeeting’ applied not only
to the five rivers beside the Kennebec that come into Merrymeeting
Bay, but to the meeting of the tribes here.”
“Then the boys’ stories were true, or at least some of them!” said
June with satisfaction.
“How can you be glad that such terrible things happened,” teased
Lilian.
“O, I wouldn’t have had ’em happen,” explained June carefully, “but
if they did happen I want to know about it, and it would be great if
we could find some treasure. Miss Patty, do you know where we could
get something to dig with?”
“No, June, and remember, kiddies, that you can’t dig up the
place,—it isn’t yours. And if you ever go to the hunters’ cabin,
Hilary and some of the big girls must go with you.”
“O, dear, then we can’t have any fun, I suppose, and if we did find
anything it wouldn’t belong to us anyway!”
“Finders keepers,” suggested Dot.
“That wouldn’t be honest, I’m afraid,” said June.
“That ethical point can be decided if you ever come across any
treasure. I’m sure that you would be amply rewarded! Have fun
thinking about it anyhow.”
“S’pose we’d find some big red rubies,” suggested Jo.
“And di’monds,” added Dot.
“And pearls,” said June. “Haven’t we got the imaginations though?
Say, Lilian, please read us the verses!”
“O, all right, I had fun, too, writing out the story.”
The Merrymeeting Pirate.
In the early days when Captain Kidd
Sailed up the Kennebec,
He had his gold in his vessel’s hold
And prize from many a wreck.
When on to Merrymeeting Bay
The river boats would glide
In rippling cove or piney grove
This pirate dark would hide.
_Refrain_:
O, Captain Kidd, we’re glad
We’re glad you’re not here now!
The goods that they had brought to trade
With early pioneer,
For Indian wild or settler child,
Was soon to disappear.
Alone he’d board the wave-washed deck,
The crew could not resist;
The pirate’s glare, their deep despair,
Could feel through rain or mist!
O, Captain Kidd, we’re glad
We’re glad you’re not here now!
With knife and gun and cutlass sharp,
He’d cut and hack and shoot,
Just saving one till set of sun,
To help him carry loot.
But on Brick Island, in the Bay,
He met his well-earned fate;
For on his track, when he came back,
Were men that pirates hate.
O, Captain Kidd, we’re glad;
We’re glad you’re not here now!
They captured him, and no one knows
Just what those sailors did.
With empty threat the end he met,—
And _exit_ Captain Kidd!
His treasure lies somewhere about
Beneath the wrinkled rock,
Or in some cave where wild winds rave
Or screaming sea-birds flock.
O, Captain Kidd, we’ll find,
We’ll find your treasure-trove!
Of coins a little box or two,
The legend says they found,
But would you wear his jewels rare,
You still must search this ground.
At if at eve his ghost you meet,
Just follow if you dare;
Get spade and pick, or knife and stick,
And dig for treasure there!
O, Captain Kid, we’ll find,
We’ll find your treasure-trove!
The little girls clapped their hands. “O, Lilian, I think that’s
great! Did he really ‘meet his fate’ on Brick Island?”
“That is what the story says, that he was captured there, and that
they really did find some coins around here somewhere.”