breathless instant ensued when every one tried to pierce the disguise
of the others. No one would speak for fear of being identified by “next
friends.” The two bears could growl of course, and this they did to
their own great satisfaction.
Captain Ed shouted in his most nautical voice, “Take yer pardners for
the lanciers!”
In feigned tones cavaliers invited Nurse, Bag and Jap to step the light
fantastic with them, while Bears clung to a Pine and Red Riding Hood
until the sets were all made up.
At the command “Salute pardners!” heads bowed low and the two bears
swayed bearfully from side to side. Then at the call “Swing corners!”
both bears tried to hug the little Jap girl so closely that she cried
out to the Pasha for help.
During this lively dance the Lonesome-Pine Flo-Flo left much of her
Trail upon the floor and Mose found it necessary to hurriedly sweep up
the branches with a broom.
Before the lanciers ended most of the maskers were identified and
therefore were known by their Christian names. The Pasha, however,
insisted upon the deference due his rank and resented the familiar
appellation of “Uncle Bill.”
Suddenly, from the admiring circle drawn up about the Grand Pasha,
Miriam’s voice piped forth: “Why, papa! You’ve got on mamma’s sunburst
of diamonds!”
“S-sh--you impertinent Jap! Don’t you know that Girlie Girl hasn’t
discovered my decoration? Let me bask in its rays while I may,” came
from the Pasha in wary accents.
At that moment the Tin Knight rattled up while the Polar Bear growled
out, “Listen to the Ford Car approaching.”
As Red Riding Hood turned to watch the Knight in Armour trying to keep
his tin-can plates in order, a revelation came to her and she cried,
“Oh, _now_ I know what all that hammering in the pump-house was for!
But where did you find all the old empty cans, Fred?”
The concertina now squawked out to its full length and caused every one
to choose a mate for the dance. Captain Benton bawled, “All ready for
a polker,” and started the musical atrocity wheezing. At the same time
his body swayed and pitched like a ship in a storm, keeping time with
every long-drawn out extension of the bellows. As his vivid imagination
pictured the old-time dances he used to step so merrily with his
best girl, the faster sounded the wails from the concertina and more
erratic grew the time, until finally, the dance ended in a wild riot.
Uncle Bill decided this was the time to calm excitement by refreshing
the inner man, particularly as the little tots had to go to bed. So
every one trooped down to the well-filled laundry table where Mose was
kept busy handing our refreshments. Then once more back in the attic,
the fun waxed fast and furious until Uncle Tom called for attention!
“I am now about to distribute slips of paper for each one to write down
the name of the costume considered the winner. Whoever receives the
most votes will be presented with a prize. The one considered having
the funniest or oddest costume will also receive a prize.”
This announcement was received with loud acclamations of satisfaction
and surprise, for it was not known before. During the comparative quiet
while all were pondering the merits of the costumes, a loud “Boom!
Bang” came like a blast from the back bay.
Every one rushed to the eastern windows of the attic and Captain Ed,
being there first, yelled, “Fire! Fire!”
The others gazed wildly from the windows as a long sheet of flame
forked up into the darkness of the night.
“Boom! Boom! Bang!” came again and a mighty Fourth of July display
glittered back of the dark firs fringing the shore. By this time, the
Pasha, grabbing a large fire-extinguisher, tore down the stairs and
went headlong down to the beach. The rest of the maskers were not slow
to follow so that before the third explosion sounded they all were near
enough to see by the reflection of the flare that a blazing launch was
stranded on Isola Bella and already, like a torch, one of the fir trees
was burning fiercely.
The danger was evident to all for even the youngest Islander knew that
if once the firs caught fire, the entire island was doomed; not only
the trees and buildings but also the peat-like soil would burn off of
the rocks.
The frantic Pasha, minus turban and sunburst and with only one Turkish
shawl trailing from his shoulders, plied the chemicals incessantly
while the Tin Knight and the dusky Major-Domo of the buffet tore down
blazing fragments of neighbouring trees and the erst-while musicians
bravely exerted their muscular strength in pushing off the burning
launch from the wharf. And they finally succeeded but at the cost of
hair and hands. Uncle Tom, Yellow Kid and the Two Bears quickly formed
a bucket brigade of all the other maskers, and with their aid the last
spark burning on the island was deluged and extinguished.
After the terrific battle and excitement with the fire had calmed down
a forlorn group were discovered huddled on the rocks near the wharf.
The owner of the doomed launch gazed hopelessly at the burning boat
while his wife cried pitifully by his side.
Their story was soon told. The man was returning from Belfast with
three barrels of gasoline on board. The gasoline caught fire--how, he
could not tell.
Uncle Bill concluded that a back-fire from the engine ignited the fumes
from a leaky tank and of course it took but a moment to wrap the entire
launch in flame.
The man and his wife had taken to their small boat as soon as the fire
burst forth, knowing of the awful danger incurred from the presence of
the three barrels of gasoline. Even though they had escaped before the
explosions, both of them were burned, the man’s hands being severely
blistered.
It was long after midnight before the burns and blisters had been given
first-aid treatment; then a smudged and frazzled Masquerade Party were
free to go to bed.
The water-soaked Yellow Kid escorted a smoke-streaked Pierrette and a
skeleton Pine--nothing now but a few threads and sticks left of the
green plumes--to the Orion and home. Thankful indeed, were they that
the fire had left them the Orion in which to go home.
As for the Sunset Islanders: they were so excited that no thought of
sleep was entertained. It was nearly dawn before the last whisper was
silenced in their tents. And then, Bill was heard to say, “Let’s go
over to Isola Bella the first thing in the morning and have a look at
the wreck!”
And his mother called, “If you boys don’t go to sleep there won’t be
any morning, because you’ll sleep into the late afternoon.”
However, boys never fail to wake up early if there is a circus or some
other great excitement to be enjoyed, so all of the Island boys were up
and ready to start for Uncle Bill’s the moment breakfast was over.
Their intent was to view the wreck and take pictures of the charred
remains, but once having landed on the wharf they found Uncle Bill with
downcast expression--a most unusual thing.
“Boys,” said he, taking them into his confidence, “you remember the
Pasha’s diamond sunburst of last night?”
Yes, they all did.
“Well, somehow, the Pasha in his undignified exit from the ball-room
lost his turban. Of course the sunburst was with it. The turban has
been found but no sunburst!”
“Gee! What did Aunt Miriam say?” cried Billy, sympathetically.
“Well--she is annoyed!”
“We’ll help you look for it, Uncle Bill,” instantly volunteered the
boys from Sunset Island.
“Start right in now--the sooner the quicker for me!” replied Uncle Bill.
But the most careful and minute search by the boys failed to locate
anything like a brooch. Finally, every one on Isola Bella was enlisted
in the campaign, but without success. Several old croquet balls, some
tennis balls, a lost doll of Betty’s and other valueless miscellany
were combed out from the tall ferns but no diamonds.
Then Bill yelled with joy. “I’ve got it! Here is the bunch of sparkles!”
Every one ran swiftly to be in “at the death,” but it turned out to be
a bit of broken cut-glass that lay hidden in the dew-covered green moss.
The indefatigable work of the hunters had to be rewarded whether the
pin was found or not, so all were invited to sit down to a well-laden
table for lunch.
They sat discussing all possible and impossible places where the
diamonds might be, but Aunt Miriam refused to be comforted and Uncle
Bill seemed quite unnatural in his rôle of penitent.
“Well, Miriam, you may have lost the diamonds but still you are more
fortunate than that poor man and his wife who lost their launch
last night,” remarked Uncle Bill, surprised at his wife’s unusual
persistence in harping on her loss.
“But _I_ didn’t lose it--you are the guilty one!” said she.
“If I had that blamed old sunburst in my hand to make you happy again,
I’d help stake that poor old duffer to a new launch! I swear I would!”
declared Uncle Bill, recklessly.
Quietly then, Aunt Miriam rose from her chair and came around the
table to lean over his shoulder. He thought she was about to pat him
consolingly on the head and say, “Never mind, dear.”
So he raised his hand to clasp hers in token of her ready sympathy when
his fingers closed over something that gave him a sharp jab.
“Ouch--by heck! That pesky pin!”
He held it out and looked hard at the cause of his recent generous
offer while every one laughed freely at his predicament.
“Oh, thou false and treacherous woman! Had I back once more the salty
tears I shed o’er yon ferns while seeking for this glittering bauble!
Moved by your pretended distress we have wasted the golden moments of
this glorious day for naught!”
The Islanders laughed again while Aunt Miriam smiled.
“But it was not wasted time nor loss of tears--for both impelled you to
act the Good Samaritan,” said his wife.
“Boys, how much do you suppose I’ll _have_ to donate now, to ease off
my conscience regarding that launch?” asked Uncle Bill.
Opinions varied. Billy, taking the part of his namesake thought the
man deserved little because of his evident carelessness in carrying
gasoline in barrels on his launch.
Fred suggested that every one chip in to help, but Fred had a larger
allowance than the younger boys, so Paul, Billy and Dudley made no
reply to this plan.
Then, as usual, the feminine contingent carried the vote in the
interests of charity and Uncle Bill was mulcted a goodly sum.
“But what I want to know is, ‘Where did Aunt Miriam find that
sunburst?’” queried Fred.
And amid appreciative smiles, that fair lady told how, amid the excited
rush from Fudge Attic the night before, she had found the diamond
brooch sparkling on the floor. She had quietly retrieved it but had
no thought of playing any joke on the Pasha until she saw his very
preoccupied manner and his avoidance of conversation with her. She was
not supposed to have missed the jewel and he was postponing the evil
time as long as possible.
After lunch, several games of tennis were enjoyed and when it came time
to return to Sunset Island Elizabeth said, “I may as well sail back
with you, I suppose.”
“Yes, ’cause we’re all going to Belfast in the morning to replenish the
commissary department,” answered Fred.
“Who’s going?” demanded Paul, eagerly.
“Everybody who wants to--we are taking the Medric and expect to spend
the day.”
“I suppose you’ll see us up there too, then, as we are going to Belfast
to shop before Uncle Bill goes away--he expects to leave here next
week, you know,” said Aunt Miriam.
“Oh, won’t we have fun in Belfast--all together!” cried Miriam.
Billy seemed to be thinking of a plan formed the moment he heard Uncle
Bill would be in Belfast the next day. So now he turned to ask a
question.
“Say, Uncle Bill, you know, one time father said I could have the old
engine that was taken from the launch he sold two years ago. Do you
think you could help me sell that engine in Belfast and get enough for
it to help mother think she can afford to add the rest of the price for
a launch?”
Uncle Bill’s eyes twinkled. “Well, not a brand new launch exactly,
but it will help buy that old one you’ve had your eye on for the past
month!”
“How much does the owner want for it, Billy?” asked Fred.
“Sixty dollars--and every one says it’s the biggest bargain at that
price!” exclaimed Billy, eagerly.
“That’s a good business idea of yours, Billy--about the old engine.
Suppose you take it with you to-morrow and we will see how much we can
raise on it,” responded Uncle Bill.
“Thanks, awfully, Uncle Bill!”
When it came to trading the old launch engine the next day Uncle Bill
and his namesake proved themselves to be almost as good Yankees at
bargaining as the man who bought it. And the fifteen dollars paid Billy
looked mighty good to him as it meant that he was so much nearer the
goal of his heart’s desire.
The chief reason for the Islanders being so eager to go to Belfast was
soon revealed after the arrival of the boats. An earnest pilgrimage
started at the ironmonger’s the moment the trade of the engine was
consummated, and continuing up the hilly street ended at the ice-cream
soda-fountain of the drug store.
The proprietor made his own syrups and cream and the cooling beverages
he dispensed were like nectar. The adults of the party appreciated this
fully as much as the juveniles.
Much to Teddy’s joy, they all happened to be in Belfast the day which
was the one advertised by the druggist offering a balloon to every one
who made a ten-cent purchase. Thus it came to pass that the downward
trail of the Sunset Islanders was marked by shreds of exploded rubber
“Zeppelins.”
Loaded down to the gunwales so that the “lee-scuppers ran with blood”
of beets, tomatoes, corn, onions and other fruit (?) the Medric turned
her prow to the south and Sunset Isle.
A peaceful calm brooded over the members of the party--the lunch at the
Belfast tea-room had been supplemented by many extras in the grocery
store so that no one missed Mose’s generous midday fare.
“Say, Billy, got any more of them cocoanut jumbles?” asked Dudley,
wistfully, after a silence.
“No--I only got a dozen. Ask Edith for some of her ginger-snaps.”
“I’ve got a bag of peanuts--Virginia Jumbos. Want some?” asked
Elizabeth.
“Children, _do_ remember your poor weary stomachs! They will be crying
for rest if you don’t!” sighed Mrs. Remington.
And the ever thoughtful children, wishing to allay their mother’s sighs
and fears, rather than limit their gustatory joys moved forward where
the Captain stood with Fred steering the boat.
“It’s a lucky thing for us that this Belfast trip only happens once in
a while,” remarked Anna, meaningly.
While cracking and chewing the two quarts of hot peanuts offered by
Elizabeth, the Islanders bethought them of one of the Captain’s stories.
“Say, Captain, how about those pirates that sailed the seas--any up
around here in olden times?” hinted Billy.
“We-ll, I’ve hearn tell of some. They do say that Cap’n Kidd plied his
trade in these waters, too. But the worst feller ever known was Manum.
Why, he was so wicked there’s a song about _him_! And my father said it
didn’t half do the pirate justice, either!”
“Oh, do let us hear it, Captain!” urged the children.
With deprecatory coughs and some clearings of the throat the Captain
began singing in a nasal tenor the ballad of Bold Manum, a curious
rhyme with a salty flavour:
BOLD MANUM
Bold Manum went to sea one day
And it was dreary too,
The dreariest day that ever was seen--
All in the foggy dew.
Oh, we spied a lofty sh-i-ip,
To the leeward of us she lay;
“And it’s up with our main-topsails, lads,
And after her away.”
Oh, we bore right down upon her,
And sheered up ’longside;
And with a speaking tru-um-pet,
“Where are you bound?” he cried.
“Where are you bound,” cried Manum,
“Be sure you answer true,
For I have lost my longitude
Way back a day or two.”
“Oh, we are the ‘Fame of New York,’
To Lisbon we are bound;
Our captain’s name is R. D. Craig,
A native of that town.”
“You lie, you lie,” cried Manum,
“For such a thing can’t be;
Come lower your top-sails on your caps
And fall down under my lee.”
Oh, these bold and thirsty pirates
With their swords right in their hand
They leapt aboard the merchant man
And murdered every man.
Oh, these bold and thirsty pirates,
They ransacked everything,
Until they found a fair damsel,
Aft in the waist cab-ing.
She sat playing on her ha-a-rp,
Right merrilie did she sing:
“Home, Home sweet ho-o-me,
There’s no place like home.
I followed my true lover
Which caus-ed me to roam.”
Oh, some they cursed, and some they swore
They’d have her for a wife:
When up stepped Bold Manum, saying,
“Oh, I will end all strife!”
Oh, he rushed upon that fair damsel.
Without any fear or dread,
And catching her by her long fair hair,
He slivered off her head!
Captain Ed sang the pirate’s song with such vivid interpretation and
dramatic gesticulations that his audience felt a delightful shiver run
along their spines. When he finished, a wild applause rewarded his
effort.
Then Elizabeth was stirred to emulate the Captain’s donation to music
so she offered to sing another old-time sailors’ song called “Strike,
Strike the Bell.”
This was a favourite with Fred and Billy so they joined in and soon
every one took up the refrain:
STRIKE, STRIKE THE BELL!
Forward is the lookout man walking on his beat
Up and down the fo’castle with cold hands and feet.
Thinking of his father, and mother as well,
And wishing you would hurry up, and strike, strike the bell!
Refrain:
Strike the bell now, second mate, and send the watch below,
Look away to windward and you’ll see it’s going to blow.
Look in the glass and you’ll find it as well,
And a-wishing you would hurry up and strike, strike the bell!
Aft is the steersman a-standing at his wheel
Tapping now at his toe now at his heel;
Thinking of his true-love who in her home doth dwell
And wishing you would hurry up and strike, strike the bell.
Refrain:
Strike the bell now, second mate, and send the watch below,
Look away to windward and you’ll see it’s going to blow.
Look in the glass and you’ll find it as well,
And a-wishing you would hurry up and strike, strike the bell!
The song ended, the peanut bag was emptied, and the crackers all
gone, when the Medric came to glide up close to the float-stage. The
passengers jumped off and rushed up to the bungalow calling for Mose.
“Supper most ready, Mose? We’re all as hungry as wolves!” cried each
and every one of the young Islanders; but Anna exchanged looks with
Mrs. Remington, who shook her head over the ever-recurrent question:
“Are the stomachs of young people lined with a metal that never wears
out?”
CHAPTER TEN
FOR THE HONOUR OF THE BLACK BEARS
“Who wants to sail over to Rosemary and bring back some burlap bags
of hay?” called Fred, one rather cloudy morning when every one felt
undecided about doing anything on account of the weather.
The three younger boys hastily volunteered and were told to get ready.
“Say, this is a case of sou’westers and oilskins, boys,” called Fred,
when he saw them coming from the bungalow with caps and sweaters.
“Why do you need hay--we haven’t a horse or cow to feed?” questioned
Dudley.
“Never mind,” replied Billy; “who knows what sort of a wild animal may
be prowling around the island pretty soon.” As he spoke with a certain
air of knowledge he buttoned a sou’wester strap high under his chin.
“Say--I bet I know!” laughed Paul, eyeing Billy, then Fred carefully.
“What?” demanded Dudley.
“We’re going to stuff a bear for the Mishi-mokwa game, aren’t we, Fred?”
“Right you are! We will, if Elizabeth will help us with the sewing of
the burlap,” replied Fred.
“Oh, is that why you picked over that iron junk in Belfast and bought
all those sharp-ended rods for spear points?” added Paul.
“When can we make it and have our first game?” asked Billy.
“The sooner we get started the sooner we will have the bear finished,
and the rest depends upon that!” replied Fred.
When Uncle Tom heard about the project he willingly donated the burlap
bags and hay. Trixie, very curious as she stood in the drizzle in her
checked skirt, begged the boys to tell her all about the bear-spearing
game.
“You’re going to be invited to the next Council and then you’ll see how
to do it,” replied Billy.
“When will that be?” asked Trixie.
“Next Thursday afternoon at three o’clock,” said Fred.
“And then the Honour of the Black Bears will be upheld!” declared Billy.
“Now what do you mean by that,” again asked Trixie.
“Just come to the Council and find out,” was all Billy would say.
But Fred explained. “You see, Billy and I really belong to the Black
Bear Tribe when we are home so we are going to challenge all of the
members of the Pentagoet Tribe here and the visitors to a Bear Spearing
contest. You can join the others if you like and try to beat our score.”
Trixie followed the boys to the shore and waved farewell until they
were out of sight in the misty morning. Then she sat on the steps
oblivious alike of her damp skirt and the drops of moisture that
sparkled on her curls, longing for a camp-life and the simple fun of
the Woodcrafters. Finally she realised she was becoming thoroughly wet
from the fine rain so she went dolefully back to the house.
At Sunset Island, all hands watched Fred construct the bear. He found
he would not need Elizabeth’s help for the sewing as his practice with
sailor’s palm and needle came in good even if the stitches were uneven.
What a ludicrous creature it was when completed! A loop of rope for
a tail, another for a nose, and a third on the middle of the back.
Billy and Paul helped to swing the beast from between two tall birches
and Dudley took the first fling of a spear at it. Dudley had occupied
himself in trimming into a wooden spear one of the small standing dead
firs that crowded the underbush of the island.
This gave Fred an idea.
“Say, boys, each one of you can make a lot of those kind of spears and
we might use them for practice.”
“That’s right! The old bear will last longer than if we used the iron
spears on him,” added Billy.
As night came on the fog shut in again and Fred called the boys from
their spear-making to look after their tents for the night. That
evening the bungalow fire made a cheery spot to gather about, for the
dampness out-of-doors was chilly and unfriendly.
“Do you think it will be foggy all day to-morrow?” asked Dudley.
“I don’t think so, but we musn’t kick if it is, as we have had fine
weather right along,” replied Fred.
“I know of a fine game to play in foggy weather!” hinted Mrs. Remington.
Instantly, she had every one’s attention--as she knew she would.
“The wood-boxes need a new supply and so many valiant Woodcrafters
about here ought to be valiant woodchoppers for a change!” said she.
“Oh piffle! what a game!” sniffed Paul.
The others all laughed at his disgusted look but Fred said, “We’ll do
it, mother! Of course it’s a great sacrifice of valuable time, but we
would throw it away recklessly for _you_!”
“I am happy to have such generosity shown me, seeing that I am the only
one who ever sits before the big fireplace!” laughed Mrs. Remington.
As she seldom had time to sit down with the others when they told
stories and played games before the great fire, the children
appreciated the sarcasm. And the following morning every available
container was filled full of chopped wood.
The morning was foggy so, the wood-boxes attended to, the boys fished
off the float-stage for lobster bait. Sculpins and flounders were
caught and by this time the mist began lifting. The Captain thought
they might row out to the traps to bait them and before the last
lobster trap was baited and heaved over the side of the boat, the sun
shone out. A little breeze from the west soon scattered the remaining
curls of fog and the day turned out to be dazzlingly bright.
For all their patient working the boys found nothing but crabs and
star-fish in the traps that morning, and they began to fear that the
lobster supply around Sunset Island had been exhausted.
“I’ll tell you what we’ve got to do, we’ve got to change the traps and
put them over towards the Isleboro side,” said Dudley. “I saw a lot of
trap-buoys over that way.”
“Don’t you know those fishermen would gladly set their traps here if it
wasn’t for us being on the island?” asked Billy.
And the Captain added: “Bill’s right; and some of these men say they’re
goin’ to come and set their traps here anyway.”