Produced by Annie McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]
Copyright, 1895, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1895. FIVE CENTS A
COPY.
VOL. XVI.--NO. 835. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
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[Illustration]
ENGLISH ELIZA.
A HALLOWEEN STORY.
BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH.
"What was it that Obed saw?" That question used to be asked by
chimney-corners in the great farm-houses of an old New England
neighborhood for many years.
For Obed in his boyhood on a certain last night of October, "when the
moon was round," had seen a spectacle the account of which filled the
minds of many good people with wonder and of simple people with terror.
Even the cats and dogs seemed to be uneasy when it was discussed in an
awesome tone of voice on old red settles, for such animals seem to share
the fears of their masters. "Come, now, Obed is no fool," the
work-people used to say.
"What do you suppose it was that he saw? It was proper strange!"
Obed lived in one of the farm neighborhoods near Medfield, a town famous
in King Philip's war. The place has a fearful legend of a family who
were killed by the Indians, and a very curious story of a farmer who
saved his family at the time of the Indian attack by rolling out of the
cellar a barrel of cider.
It is a quiet town to-day, not a long ride from Boston. It would delight
a tired man or an artist; it is old-fashioned and full of rural beauty,
a bit of old New England left over, as it were. Great elms throw their
cloudlike shadows over the trim and well-kept roads in summertime. The
churches, the homes, the farms all show a historic pride. Here great
orchards once bloomed; here the Baltimore orioles still swing in the
elms, and the bobolinks topple in the clover meadows. Here the lilacs
still bloom by door-yard walls, and the people draw water from the round
stone wells of the generations gone.
Obed was a "bound boy," as an apprentice lad was called. He was "bound
out," to use another old New England term, to a certain Mr. Miller, who
was a farmer and a cobbler. This Mr. Miller was named Brister--Brister
Miller--a surname not uncommon in colonial times.
A bound boy was one who was "let out" by his parents or guardian or the
"selectmen" to the service of another for a term of years; really, a
slave for a limited time. Brister Miller had in his family a bound boy
and a bound girl.
The girl's name was Eliza. She had come to Boston from England. Her
parents had died, and she had been found a home on Brister Miller's
bowery farm. Bound children and boys and girls worked hard in the old
times, and had but few privileges. They were sometimes allowed to go to
the "General Training," and to share in the husking frolics, and they
were always permitted to listen for a time after "early candlelight" to
the stories that were told on old red settles in cool weather by the
open fires.
As Eliza had come from England she was called "English Eliza." She was a
good-hearted, resolute girl. She became a great friend to Obed, whom her
warm heart pitied, owing to her own hard and solitary lot.
It was the last day of October. There had been a warm rain, which had
kept Obed and English Eliza from the husk heap. The weather had suddenly
changed towards evening. A chill had come down from the north, and the
family and work-people had gathered after supper around the crackling
fire. Mr. Miller sat shelling corn with a cob, and Mrs. Miller began to
knit by the tallow candle.
The work-people told stories. These stories were of a strange and
exciting kind, and related to the times of the Indian war, or to people
with haunted consciences who thought that they had seen ghosts. Young
people listened to such tales in terror. English Eliza had never heard
these tales before or any narratives like them. She saw that the ghost
stories filled Obed with fear, and she pitied him.
On this particular night, after a story had been told that made Obed sit
close to an older farm-hand, Mrs. Miller paused in her work, and,
lifting her brows, said,
"There, English Eliza, what do you think of such doin's as that?"
Eliza looked at Obed, and his fixed eyes and white face nerved her to
make a very honest and resolute answer.
"I don't believe in ghosts, marm."
"Why, Eliza?"
"Honest people never see 'em; if they think they do, they find them out.
It is folks with haunted consciences that see such things, marm; folks
with something wrong, or touched in mind, marm. I wouldn't be afraid to
go right into a grave-yard at midnight. Why should I! I never did any
one harm. This is an awful night to some folks in England--those who
fear a death fetch and have sins on their souls. But to good people this
is the merriest night of all the year, except Christmas, only. It is
Halloween, marm."
What was the girl talking about? A "death fetch," and merrymaking and
"Halloween."
Mrs. Miller dropped her knitting-work into her lap. The cat, who seemed
to feel that there was terror in the air, leaped into the knitting. Mrs.
Miller gave the poor scared little animal a slap, and then looking Eliza
straight in the face, said,
"'Liza, do you speak true? Remember, 'Liza, that you are a bound girl."
"Never a word in jest, marm. My folks were honest people, marm, and I an
honest girl."
"'Liza, what is that awful thing that you told about--that death fetch?"
"On Halloween a person goes into the church and says a prayer, and when
he comes out into the church-yard he sees all the people who are going
to die during the year. An old sexton did it, and he saw himself, marm.
A death fetch is a warning, marm. There is no truth in such stories,
marm; my mother taught me never to believe 'em, marm, and she was an
honest, Christian woman, marm, and she used to say that a person who
always did right had nothing to fear. I would believe my mother's word
against the world, marm. She died in peace, marm, and I want to be just
like her."
"'Liza, what is Halloween?"
Brister Miller stopped shelling corn. The company on the settle snuggled
up close to each other, and the poor cat uttered a faint little "meow,"
and received another slap from her mistress, which seemed to be comfort.
"Ghost night, marm. The night when good spirits visit their friends,
marm. It is All-Hallow eve--the eve of All Saints' day."
"'Liza, remember that you are a bound girl."
"I never forget it, marm."
"Now, tell the truth. What do they do on Halloween?"
"They put apples into deep tubs full of water, and bob for them with
their heads, marm; and they puts 'em also on sticks like a wheel, and
hangs the wheel from the ceiling, with a burning tallow candle on one
side of the wheel, and you catch an apple in your mouth as the wheel
turns, marm, or else get smutched with the candle, marm, which is more
likely, and then you gets laughed at, marm. And you pare apples, and
throw the paring over your right shoulder, and it makes the first letter
of the name of the man that you are to marry, marm."
Mrs. Miller lifted her hands.
"And you eat an apple before a looking-glass, holding a candle in your
left hand, and the one you are to marry comes and looks over your
shoulder into the glass, marm. And they tell you to find fern-seed, and
you will become rich, marm. But there ain't any fern-seed to be found,
marm. And they do lots of things."
"'Liza, what do the saints have to do with such doin's as these?"
"They like to see young folks enjoy themselves, I expects, marm."
"It is the ghost of the living that seem to come, 'Liza."
"All the more interesting, marm."
"Oh,'Liza! 'Liza! such things bode no good! Mercy! what was _that_?'"
There came a succession of loud raps on the door.
"I hope that Halloween is not coming here," said Mrs. Miller.
The door suddenly opened with a gust of wind. A tall girl appeared out
of breath, and said, "Please, Mrs. Miller, Mrs. Hopgood's very sick. Ma
wants to know if you'll let Obed go for the doctor?"
"Yes, yes, yes. Obed, you put the horse into the wagon, and go!"
"Yes," echoed Mr. Miller. "Obed, you go!"
Obed's face was filled with pain and terror. English Eliza saw the
expression, and she understood it. Obed stood up, but did not move.
"Why don't you go?" said Mr. Miller, severely.
"It is that night!"
"What?"
"Halloween," he added. "And I'll have to go by the way of the
grave-yard."
English Eliza's heart was full. "I'm sorry I said these scary things,
marm. Let me go with him, marm. I ain't afraid of anything, marm, and I
do not wonder that Obed is afraid after such stories as they tell in
this new country, marm."
"Yes, 'Liza, you may go. I can trust you anywhere."
Obed's cords seemed to unloose, and his feet flew. In a few minutes Obed
and English Eliza were mounted on the carriage seat, and were soon
speeding away towards the doctor's, which was in the centre of the town.
"Now, Obed, you shall keep Halloween. Young people in England sometimes
ride on this night by lonely places just to test their courage. Obed, I
believe that you have only one fault, and that is what my poor mother
would have called superstitious fear. I think it is wrong to tell such
stories to children as they have told you in this country. It will unman
you."
It was a still cool night. The wind after a changing day had gone down.
The moon hung high in the heavens, now and then shadowed by a fragment
of a broken cloud. The road was filled with fallen leaves, which
deadened the sound of the wheels. The walnut-trees with their falling
nuts sent forth a pleasant odor, and there was a cidery smell about the
old orchards that here and there lined the way. They emerged at last
from a wood, and came into full view of the old country grave-yard on
the hill-side, when something really surprising met their view.
Obed dropped the reins, and Eliza caught them. His knees began to shake,
and he chattered, "Prophets and apostles!"
The horse trotted on.
"Whoa! What is that?"
"Go long!" said English Eliza, in a firm voice.
"Turn round--quick," said Obed.
"I can't, Obed; the road is too narrow. And I am on an errand of duty to
a sick woman, and I will not do it."
"Eliza, it is awful. I shall go mad if you go on. My brain is turning
now."
The sight indeed was a wonder. As it appeared from the road under the
hill, a white horse arose from the grave-yard on the hill-side, and
stood on his hind legs with his forefeet in the air.
"He is _pawing_ the sky," said Obed; "never did any mortal man see a
sight like that. He is climbing a shadow. I shall go crazy. Whoa!"
Eliza shook the reins, and said, firmly, "Go along!"
"Eliza, it must be that Halloween. My nerves are all shaken up. I've
heard of white horses before. I tell you, stop! We'll get out of the
back of the wagon, and run home."
"Never!" said Eliza.
"Well, I am going, anyway." Obed leaped from the wagon, exclaiming,
"I'll give the alarm!"
"I am going for the doctor," said Eliza.
Obed flew. It was indeed a fearful tale that he had to tell when he
reached the farm-house. We think that there seldom ever was heard a
Halloween tale like that.
"It was a white horse, standing in the grave-yard, with his hind feet on
the graves and his paws in the sky," said he, "and under him was a
shadow like a cloud, and--"
"But where is Eliza?" asked Brister Miller.
"She rode right on after the doctor!"
"And you left her to meet such a sight as that!" said Mr. Miller.
"She would do it; she's onerary. There was no need that _both_ of us
should go for the doctor!"
Brister Miller called his hired people together, and they alarmed the
neighborhood. At midnight a company of men had gathered before the
house, who should go and see what this remarkable story could mean.
"I always thought that the girl was rather strange," said Mrs. Miller.
"There may be some witchery or other about this Halloween."
Eliza, brave girl that she was, rode firmly towards the hill-side
grave-yard. As she came nearer to it the white horse did not appear to
be so large as when she first saw it. It was indeed a horse, a live one;
it had its forefeet on the lower limbs of an old apple-tree, which limbs
were bent downward toward the ground. It was eating apples off the high
branches, reaching its long neck up to pick them.
Horses are very fond of apples, and try in every way to get into
orchards when they have gained a taste for the fruit. They have been
known to unhead apple barrels, and they will eat apples from the lower
limbs of a tree, and reach high for the apple limbs after the fruit on
the lower limbs are gone. They like sour apples, and in this way become
cider drinkers.
Eliza stopped the wagon. She got out of it, and tied the horse to a tree
by the roadside. It was midnight--Halloween. She thought of English
merrymakings, of the games with apples, of the curious old stories and
songs that she had heard on such nights as this in her girlhood. She
hurried past the graves and came to the white horse, and said, "Jack!
Jack!" The horse seemed alarmed, let his raised body down to the ground,
snorted, and trotted away.
Eliza stood there all alone at that still midnight hour.
The moon rode clear in the heavens now; the woods were still, and around
her were graves. Did she believe in spirits? Yes, in her mother's, and
as soon as she thought of that she recalled that she had been sent for
the doctor, and that it was her duty to hurry on. Her heart would have
been light, but for her pity for Obed. He had indeed proved a coward,
but he had been wrongly taught and trained.
She rode to the doctor's house, roused the doctor, and brought him back
with her to the neighborhood, and left him at poor Mrs. Hopgood's, and
then rode home.
She was surprised to see a crowd of men before the door. Obed stood
among them. They awaited her coming in intense interest, but in silence.
She got down from the wagon, saying, "Some one will have to carry the
doctor back again."
"Who will go?" asked Mr. Miller.
There was no response. No one wanted to meet a white horse with his body
on a cloud and "his feet in the sky" on this mysterious night of
Halloween.
"I will go," said Eliza, firmly.
"Yes, Eliza, you go," said Mr. Miller. "You are a brave girl."
Eliza mounted the wagon seat.
Obed stepped up to her, and whispered, "Say, Eliza, what was it?"
"I will never tell; remember, now remember once for all, for your sake,
Obed, I will never tell. You played me a mean trick, Obed; but other
people were to blame for it; you never had any one to teach you like my
mother. For your sake, Obed, left, as you are, all alone in the world, I
will never say another word. Now I have done my whole duty, Obed, and,
although I cannot trust you, I will always be your friend."
Obed turned away.
"What did she say?" asked the people.
"She said that she would never tell what she saw," said Obed.
"I shall keep a close eye on that girl hereafter. There may be witches,
and she may be one. This is a very strange night, this Halloween." So
said Mrs. Miller.
Obed had received an arrow in his heart. "_Although I cannot trust
you_," the words spoken by Eliza haunted him. He went about a dull,
absent-minded young man, and the people attributed his sadness to the
sight that he had seen in the midnight ride.
Eliza was always very kind to him. She never spoke to him of the night
that he had deserted her but once. It was on the eve before she united
with the village church.
"Obed," she said, "I have something on my conscience. I owe it to you to
say that what I saw on that Halloween night would never have harmed you
or me."
This confession added to his depression of spirits. He had indeed been a
coward, and forfeited the trust of the best and truest heart that he had
ever known.
The Revolution came. A new flag leaped into the air. Obed had heard the
cannon of Bunker Hill, and seen from afar the smoke of the battle as it
arose on the afternoon of that fateful day.
There was a call for minute-men. A horseman came riding into Medfield,
blowing a horn, and calling upon the farmers to volunteer.
Obed started up at the sound. He knew what was wanted.
He called Eliza out under the great elms.
"English Eliza, I am going. I shall never come back. You will never see
me again. I shall never come back. Some one must die in this cause, and
who better than I? Coward you think me, but you do not know me. I am not
afraid to die. We were thrown upon the world together, and I have
thought well of you. Don't you remember how we used to go sassafrasing
with each other?"
"Yes, Obed."
"And looking for Indian-pipe when we were not looking for anything?"
"Yes."
"And picking blue gentians in the old cranberry meadows?"
"Yes."
"And listening to the bluebirds when the maples were red; and to the
martin birds when the apple-trees were in bloom; and to the red robins,
and all?"
"Yes, yes."
"And we used to sing out of the same book on Sundays."
"Yes."
"You remember; I do. Eliza, I want you to make me one promise."
"I always thought well of you, Obed. I would die for you."
"I am going away, and I shall die for the cause. Some day the news will
come back to ye that I am dead; that I fell on the field somewhere. I do
not know where it will be. Will you forgive me, then, for being a coward
on that Halloween night when I was a boy and you was a girl? Promise me
that now."
"I forgave you long ago. I believe you to be a brave, true-hearted man,
Obed. I think the world of you."
"But you don't _know_ that I am not a coward. You will know. You will
forgive all, then?"
"Yes; there is nothing between us now."
"'Yes,' you say. That word is all that I desire in this world. I am now
ready to go."
He fell fighting bravely at Monmouth. Then English Eliza for the first
time told the story of the midnight ride on Halloween, and what it was
that Obed saw, and she added in tears,
"_But_ he was a brave man, Obed was!"
HER FIRST SEA VIEW.
She walked across the glistening sands,
Beneath the morning skies,
With tangled sea-weed in her hands,
And sunshine in her eyes.
Far off--as far as she could see--
The snowy surges beat,
And once--she laughed delightedly--
The water kissed her feet.
She tossed her pretty curly head--
Her lips, half-open buds--
"It's mermaids' washing-day," she said;
"The sea is full of suds!"
Then part in glee, and part in doubt,
And wholly in surprise,
She added, "When the wash is out,
I wonder how it dries?"
MARTHA T. TYLER.
HOW TO FIND AND MOUNT SIGNETS.
[Illustration: SCARABAEUS.]
There is nothing prettier or more attractive, hanging on the walls of
one's parlor or chamber, than a group of signet impressions in
sealing-wax of various colors, artistically arranged and handsomely
mounted; while the pleasure to be derived in seeking them is quite as
keen as that which the coin or stamp hunter enjoys, without the expense
attached to them, for our seals cost comparatively nothing. The outfit
is simple, consisting of a dozen sticks of sealing-wax in different
colors--black, brown, red, gold, white, and green, making a charming
combination with any other shades that take the fancy of the collector.
A light wooden or strong pasteboard box to carry the articles, a box of
matches, a white taper (cut in half for convenience' sake), and, later
on, a piece of stiff white card-board (16 x 22, 22 x 28 being good
sizes) to mount them on.
[Illustration: SEAL OF CONFEDERATE STATES.]
Keep in the bottom of the box containing the wax a dozen or more pieces
of thick, white, unruled writing-paper cut into ovals, circular, oblong,
and square shapes, varying in size from one-half inch in width to two
inches in length. This is all that is required. Now for our hunt. As you
meet friends and acquaintances notice their rings and watch-charms. When
any are discovered with a figure, title, handsome monogram or initial on
it, borrow it, and make your impression. This is accomplished by laying
a piece of your writing-paper, at least half an inch larger than the
seal to be used, on some smooth surface like a table. Then take a stick
of wax between the thumb and forefinger of the right hand. With the left
hand light a match or taper, and bring them together just on the paper
where the wax melts sufficiently to drop freely, rub the end of the
sealing-wax quickly over the middle of the paper. Then moistening the
seal with the tongue to prevent the stone adhering to the burning wax,
press it firmly into the hot bed prepared for it, a second or so, being
careful to lift it straight up when taken off, thus securing a clean
edge. If this is properly done a fine impression of your subject is
secured. Repeat this operation several times, taking different-colored
wax for duplicates, which will enable you to make exchange with other
collectors, who are unable to get these same figures, but have others
not in your collection.
In this manner one is able to secure rare and beautiful heads of men and
women, animals, birds, and fishes. These should be placed in a box by
themselves carried for the purpose--as fast as taken. When the writer
started his group, which was mostly made in Washington, D.C., a few of
the young people met one evening at a friend's house and decided to
begin together, which greatly enhanced our amusement. Some one suggested
we should assemble once a week at each other's homes, and bring our
friends with us, so that all could see the impressions and make
exchanges.
[Illustration: KNIGHTS OF GOLDEN CROSS.]
This was carried out an entire winter, and we found such a course added
immensely to our finds and pleasure, as there is no collecting that
adapts itself better for club purposes than this for both boys and
girls. The capital proved, too, a particularly good field for us, being
full of people who had seals gathered from all parts of the world.
English, French, German, Italian, and Spanish coats of arms were found,
besides quite a variety of exquisitely cut heads in antique rings,
gathered from the tombs and curiosity shops of Greece, Italy, and Egypt.
In most cities the seals may be found in museums and private
collections, and as the act of making an impression in wax is not
injurious to them, and requires but little time, we found people
generally very willing to allow it. When a sufficient number of seals
are gathered, _i.e._, enough to fill a card-board, they are mounted by
first marking the place where they are to go faintly with a lead-pencil.
Begin by making a square-cut line in the centre of the board, a little
smaller than the writing-paper which contain the seal impressions. This
is for the largest of them, then, according to size, graduating to the
smallest.
[Illustration: Socrates.]
The others may be clustered around the first, which should have the most
space about it, with at least an inch of border. When the outlines are
all drawn take a sharp knife and, following the pencil marks, cut
entirely through the mounting-board.
[Illustration: Homer.]
The seals are placed in their proper position by covering the outer
edges of the paper they are on with mucilage and then pressing the
card-board on to them, taking care that the seal shows through the
centre of the cut space.
[Illustration: Treasury Dept. Con. States.]
For a pretty effect, if the largest seal in the middle is red, surround
it by a circle of yellow ones, followed by blue, gold, brown, and black,
giving a harmonious whole. Some collectors run a line of blue or red ink
about the card-board, with ornamental curves at the corners as a
finishing touch.
Have it framed in some light wood, like ash, oak, or holly, three and a
half to five inches in width, with a glass over it.
SEA RANGERS.
BY KIRK MUNROE,
AUTHOR OF "ROAD RANGERS," THE "MATE" SERIES, "SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES,"
"FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH," ETC.
CHAPTER IX.
THE RANGERS HAVE DEALINGS WITH PIRATES.
When the rest of the Rangers were awakened to the fact that there were
others on the island besides themselves, they were so certain that
Captain Crotty had returned, and so excited over the prospect of being
rescued from their unpleasant situation, that but for Will Rogers they
would have rushed to the beach at once with shouts of welcome.
"Hold on, fellows," he said, in a low tone. "I don't believe the skipper
is down there, for, you know, he never swears--at least we never heard
him--while those men are swearing like pirates. The rest of you wait
here while Hal and I slip round to that far point, where we can get
close to them without being discovered. Come on, Hal."
The other boys were not at all satisfied with this arrangement, however,
and the two scouts were hardly out of sight before Mif Bowers said:
"Look here, fellows, I don't see why we should be left behind doing
nothing. We are just as anxious to know who those men are as anybody.
Besides, supposing they should go off before Will and Hal got to the
point. Then we'd be as bad off as ever, and I, for one, am too sick of
this plaguey island to be left on it any longer. So I'm going to sneak
down a little closer, and make sure they don't get away without our
knowing it."
As the speaker started to carry out this intention the others followed
him. Only little Cal Moody, who was afraid to go, and almost equally so
to stay alone, remained behind. The others had not got more than
half-way to the beach before they saw a tall figure coming directly
toward them.
"Lie low, fellows!" whispered Mif Bowers, throwing himself flat amid a
growth of bayberry and sweet-fern. The rest of the boys instantly
followed his example, and the approaching figure had almost passed them
without discovering their presence, when it stopped to listen to a sound
of pattering feet and an anxious voice calling in suppressed tones:
"Mif! Fellows! Wait for me!" The next moment little Cal Moody ran with a
startled cry plump into the stranger's arms.
[Illustration: "ANSWER ME INSTANTLY, YOU YOUNG RASCAL, OR I'LL THROTTLE
YOU."]
"Hello!" cried the latter. "What's this? Who are you? and what are you
doing here? Answer me instantly, you young rascal, or I'll throttle
you."
"Please, sir, I didn't mean any harm," gasped poor Cal, frightened
nearly out of his senses. "I'm only a Road Ranger-- I mean a sea-- That
is, I'm only a boy, and the others left me behind, and I got scared, and
was looking for them. But I'll go right back, if you'll only let me go."
"So there are others, are there?" remarked the stranger, at the same
time keeping a tight hold of Cal's arm. "Who are they? and where are
they?"
"Only boys, sir, like me, and we're camping out, and waiting for Captain
Crotty to come for us, and we've drunk up all our water, and are 'most
out of everything to eat, so we thought, perhaps, you--"
"Where is your camp?" interrupted the stranger.
"Right back here a little way."
"Then come along and show it to me."
So Cal and the stranger started toward the tent, and the hidden Rangers
crept after them to see what was to be done with their youngest member;
only Cracker Bob Jones sped swiftly away in the direction taken by Will
and Hal to notify them that the camp was discovered, and bring them back
to its defence in case the new-comers should prove aggressive.
As Will and Hal were moving slowly, and with all the caution of scouts
approaching an enemy's camp, Cracker Bob overtook them before they
reached the point toward which they were making their way; and, on
learning of the new turn of affairs, they hastily retraced their steps.
By this time daylight was appearing, and when the Ranger scouts neared
their camp they saw the other boys gathered about a strange man, who did
not appear either ferocious or inclined to enmity. In fact, they were
all chatting and laughing in the most friendly manner.
As the three late comers approached, the stranger stepped forward, and
extending his hand said, "So this is Captain Will Rogers is it? I am
happy to meet you, my lad, and glad that I am in a position to offer you
some assistance out of your present difficulty. My name is Bangwell,
Zenas Bangwell, at your service, and I am the owner of this island,
having recently purchased it. I am about to erect a summer residence
here, and have just run over from Newport in my yacht _Whisper_, for the
purpose of selecting a building site, getting acquainted with the
harbor, and so forth. The season being so well advanced, I have got to
hurry things, and took advantage of the calmness of the night to strip
my yacht of her interior fittings, and fetch them ashore, as I intend to
bring over my lumber and supplies in her. Now I am about to return to
Newport, which is, as you doubtless know, only a couple of hours' run
from here, and if you want to take passage with me I shall be most
delighted to have you do so, especially as my young friend here tells me
you are all good sailors. That will enable me to leave my crew behind,
to begin clearing a place for the foundation of my cottage."
"But," said Will Rogers, doubtfully, "we are expecting some one--"
"Oh!" interrupted the glib stranger, "I forgot to say that I met your
friend, Captain Crotty, who was forced to take his sloop, the
_Millgirl_, to Newport for docking, and as he cannot be ready for sea
under several days, he begged me to bring you back with me, always
supposing that you were ready to leave the island. Now as I am in a
great hurry to be off, for I hope to go to Newport and return to this
place again before night, I must ask you to gather up your traps as
quickly as possible, while I return to the beach and have a boat got
ready to take us to the yacht, where you will find breakfast waiting,
and, of course, plenty of fresh water. You need not bother to bring
anything except your personal belongings, as I shall make Captain Crotty
a handsome offer for the Camp as it stands, to be used by my workmen. In
five minutes I shall be ready."
Thus saying, Mr. Bangwell took his departure, waving his hand pleasantly
to the boys as he went.
"Isn't this the biggest kind of luck?" cried Mif Bowers. "I tell you
what, Will, you are altogether too suspicious. Now, I didn't think those
chaps were pirates or anything of the kind from the very first."
"Well," replied the Ranger Captain, "it may be all right; but I'm not
wholly satisfied yet, and I don't know as we ought--"
"Oh, yes, we ought, fast enough," interrupted Mif Bowers. "We'd be great
fools if we didn't take this chance, when Captain Crotty has sent for us
too. Anyhow, I for one am not going to stay here any longer to die of
thirst, let alone hunger."
"Nor I," and "Me, too," shouted others.
So Will yielded to the voice of the majority, and busied himself with
rolling up his blankets. If he had not been so very thirsty he might
still have argued the question, but no argument could prevail against a
vision of the yacht's water-tanks. And, after all, Mr. Bangwell's story
was very plausible. If at that moment he could have been present at an
interview on the beach between the stranger who had just left them and
several tough-looking men who had suspended their work to gather about
him, the young Ranger's misgivings would have been replaced by
certainties of a very disquieting character. The speaker was saying:
"You see, mates, I suspicioned that some of the kids we heard of as
camping out on this island might still be here, so I just strolled up to
have a look. Sure enough, I found them, or, rather, another lot, I take
it, who are waiting here for some craft to come along and take them off.
They are green as grass, though, and I pumped them dry in a hurry. As
quick as I found that they are as anxious to get away from here as we
are to have 'em, I faked up a yarn about having just bought the island,
and being in a hurry to get back to Newport in my yacht for supplies.
They claim to be first-class sailors, though, between you and me, I
don't believe they know enough to navigate a scow at anchor. It gave me
a lead, though, and so I invited them to help me sail the yacht over to
Newport, while my crew--you fellows, you understand--staid behind to
begin building operations. They jumped at the chance, and will be down
in a minute with their plunder. So we want to be ready for them, and set
'em aboard at once without giving them a chance to examine any of this
stuff." Here the speaker pointed to a miscellaneous pile of boxes,
barrels, and bales, with which the other men had been busy.
"I'll sail far enough with them to get 'em well started," he continued,
"and then give 'em the slip some way, and I don't believe they'll know
enough to get back again, even if they want to. So we'll get rid of
them, and the yacht, too, before the schooner comes, as well as throw
any craft that's hunting us off our track, till we've had plenty of time
to get clear, for they're certain to sight the yacht and follow her. Oh,
it's a fine graft, and we want to work it for all it's worth! So,
Scotty, you take the yawl up to the far end of the beach, and I'll take
the gig, while you other fellows lie low till we are off."
The plan thus arranged was carried out to the letter, and ten minutes
later the Sea Rangers found themselves once more afloat in a natty
schooner-yacht, evidently brand new, with Mr. Bangwell at the wheel, and
the gig towing astern, while the second boat was being rowed back to the
beach by an evil-looking man, who answered to the name of "Scotty."
In his haste to be off, Mr. Bangwell had not waited to get up the
anchor, but had slipped the cable, saying that he could pick it up on
his return.
The yacht was not more than a mile outside the harbor, and Mr. Bangwell
was just informing Will Rogers that the course for Newport was east by
south half south, when the former noticed a dingy-looking schooner
approaching them from dead ahead. Without drawing attention to her, he
exclaimed:
"By-the-way, boys, breakfast is ready in the cabin, so just tumble down
and pitch in without waiting for me. I'll steer till one of you can come
up and take the wheel."
The Rangers having quenched their thirst immediately on getting aboard,
were feeling more than ever hungry, and so needed no second invitation
to breakfast. Thus in another minute Mr. Bangwell had the deck to
himself. With a muttered excuse for so doing, which the boys only heard
indistinctly and heeded not at all, he drew the companion-hatch and
closed the cabin doors. Then he lashed the wheel in a certain position,
cast loose the painter of the gig, slipped into the boat, and rowed
rapidly away toward the on-coming schooner, leaving the yacht to take
care of herself.