A SEA ADVENTURE
That afternoon tea-party in Miss Hastings’ suite was one of the nicest
things that had ever happened to Agnes Kenway. She had dreamed of being
entertained by a person like the Back Bay girl, served tea and cakes
from a tea-wagon and by a French maid in beruffled cap and an apron not
much bigger than a special delivery postage stamp!
Neale said that Agnes began to purr like a satisfied kitten almost as
soon as she had shaken hands with the Back Bay girl. Once convinced that
she had not been intentionally slighted on the boat (for Miss Hastings
could tell of her dental predicament now with honest laughter), the
beauty sister proved herself to be one of the most attractive girls in
the world.
“I’ve wanted to know you, Miss Agnes, and Miss Kenway, ever since you
came aboard the _Horridole_,” Nalbro Hastings said, in a winning way.
“And I must thank you girls first of all for lending me Mr. O’Neil, who
is a very efficient aid in almost anything social, I fancy.”
“Easy on the Mister O’Neil stuff,” growled Neale. “I’ve got a first
name, you know.”
“We have trained him very well,” said Ruth demurely, “save in language.
He uses the most atrocious slang.”
“But he’s a good worker,” admitted Agnes, staring coolly at Neale. “We
have brought him up to be useful.”
“Good in the pinches,” muttered the much maligned Neale, but grinning.
It was a jolly occasion in every particular. Agnes perhaps had her eyes
opened regarding the manners of Back Bay society girls. Nalbro Hastings
was just as friendly and demure a girl as the flyaway Kenway had ever
met. The latter continued somewhat subdued, herself.
During the next few days the Kenways saw a good deal of Miss Hastings.
They searched out all the interesting parts of the old town together.
The settlement dated back to a time soon after the coming of Columbus to
the West Indies. It was not so old as Nassau; but there was an old fort
at the harbor’s mouth; a monastery, grim enough of appearance, that
might be turned very easily into a fortress overlooking the town; and a
nunnery of dazzling white outer walls, but glowing with color inside,
where the girls almost wrecked their pocketbooks buying fancy work.
Luke had to attend Professor Keeps on his first jaunt into the interior
of the island, and was gone a week. Meanwhile Mr. Howbridge had several
conferences with a business friend whose grapefruit plantations dotted
the island. It was to see this man and arrange for the investment of
some of his loose capital in the States that the lawyer from Milton had
made this trip to St. Sergius.
So Neale was left alone to “beau the girls around.” He did his duty
nobly, nor were all the ventures he engineered too tame. There were only
twenty miles of auto road on the island; and, although a few people had
small cars, it was no paradise for motorists. But the trails over the
hills and along the verge of the chalk cliffs were wonderful.
The natives had bred small donkeys, or burros, in the comfortable
saddles of which the tourist could observe nature, at sea and ashore, in
an agreeable way. The Corner House girls, often with others, including
Nalbro Hastings, and under Neale’s protection, traveled miles by
donkey-back over the trails of St. Sergius.
The trails were bordered by jungle, it was true; but that was because a
cleared spot in the jungle would return to its primeval state in two
years. But little plantations dotted the ways—a cabin, palms, a
grapefruit orchard, and a tiny vegetable garden, all over-run with naked
babies of all shades from deepest ebony to a saddle-color tan.
“I don’t see how anybody can be so black as the black ones are,” sighed
Agnes. “And so shiny. Their skin shines, and their teeth shine, and
their eyes shine. Even Uncle Rufus’ Petunia, as black as she is, doesn’t
glisten like these darkies.”
All the adventures the Corner House girls had were not on shore. There
were both sail and power boats in the bay for hire. Neale felt himself
able to handle a sailing craft, and they ventured out in one. But he
obeyed Mr. Howbridge’s injunction and did not go beyond the fort.
During this first week at the resort letters arrived from Milton and one
of them was of particular interest to the girls and Neale O’Neil. It was
from Mrs. Oscar Pendleton and was addressed to Ruth.
The troubled woman said in part:
“We have many things to be thankful for, and are especially indebted to
you, Miss Ruth, and your sisters. Don’t think us ungrateful. But it does
seem too bad that Mr. Howbridge asked my husband to work for Peter
Conroy, and without learning first how Peter felt about Mr. Pendleton’s
affairs. It seems he gave Mr. Pendleton a job just because he felt
himself obliged to do so. He was under obligation, he said, to Mr.
Howbridge. He told Mr. Pendleton so.
“All the time he was watching him, and counting the money in the
cash-drawer over and over, and not letting Mr. Pendleton wait on cash
customers. It was very embarrassing for Mr. Pendleton and sometimes
forced him to explain to people who were quite strangers, his misfortune
in having to work for Peter.
“And finally Peter miscounted the sacks of potatoes that were delivered
to the store and came right out and accused Mr. Pendleton of carrying
off a 180 pound bag of potatoes! He accepted his dismissal before Peter
found the miscounted bag, and I told Mr. Pendleton he should not go back
to work for the old curmudgeon. I hope you will say I was right, Miss
Ruth, although it does seem that as long as these accusations hang over
him we shall continue in straits.”
The letter was somewhat rambling; but it gave the older girls the
impression that Mrs. Pendleton was dreadfully worried. And if her
husband was again out of work it was no wonder that she was anxious.
“I know that old fellow who keeps the store on Plane Street. He’s just
as ill-tempered as Billy Bumps,” declared Neale O’Neil. “I guess Mr.
Howbridge did not know Peter Conroy, or he would not have sent Mr.
Pendleton to work there.”
This proved to be the case, as the lawyer admitted when he returned to
the hotel at the end of the week.
“I am sorry for Pendleton. I had a personal interview with him before we
left home and he seemed patient and willing. I am waiting now to hear
from my clerk whom I instructed by wireless to look up the personal
character of Mr. Israel Stumpf.”
“Oh!” murmured Ruth, in some trouble, “I only felt a suspicion of him. I
do not really know anything about Mr. Kolbeck’s stepson.”
“No. Neither do I,” said Mr. Howbridge dryly. “But I mean to.”
“I know Mr. Pendleton has been ill used,” declared Agnes, with her usual
energy. “And Mrs. Pendleton is a dear.”
“Carrie and Margy are real nice,” said Tess, who overheard the
discussion. “I guess their father must be, too.”
“Anyway, he is the only man we ever saw that fell out of a tree,” Dot
observed. “He’s real int’resting, I think.”
Ruth and Agnes were very much worried, and talked the matter over
together before retiring.
“I am sure I don’t know what poor Mrs. Pendleton is going to do if the
money stops coming in,” said Ruth.
“It will certainly be a hardship for them,” answered Agnes. “He hasn’t
been at his job long enough to have saved any money.”
“Saved money! Why, Agnes, they’re not out of debt yet for what they owed
to the butcher and the grocer and a whole lot of other people!”
“Yes, and think of its being in the dead of winter, too!” went on the
sister, with a troubled face. “I do hope they’ve coal and wood enough in
the house to keep warm.”
“Yes, and clothing too. Think of those children going out in the bitter
cold winter weather only about half clad!”
Nothing at present could be done, however, by any of them to help the
Pendletons. Matters would have to take their course. Mr. Howbridge knew
that his clerk would be informed of Oscar Pendleton’s loss of employment
and would take steps to aid the family accordingly. But nothing vital
could be done for the Pendletons until the truth about the robbery of
the Kolbeck & Roods warehouse was discovered.
Luke came back with Professor Keeps from their first expedition for the
study of the flora of the island. The botanist was delighted with his
discoveries, and he was intent upon classifying and mounting his
specimens during the next few days, so his young assistant was excused
from attendance upon him.
The Kenway party planned a voyage around the island, for Mr. Howbridge’s
business friend owned a large motor-boat and had put the craft at the
disposal of the party from the North.
Both Neale and Luke had some knowledge of the management of a launch,
and the Kenway party got under way early one morning, provisioned for a
voyage of at least forty-eight hours. That they took no native seaman
along was a misfortune rather than an oversight. The caretaker of Señor
Benno’s motor-launch had been taken ill during the night and lay
groaning in his hammock unable to go with the “Americanos.”
“Shucks!” grumbled Neale, “we don’t need him. He wouldn’t be much good
anyway, like enough.”
“I suppose he would know the shoals and tides better than we do,” said
Luke.
“I’ve got the newest chart,” declared Neale. “And we will have a care in
getting near the islands. Now, don’t say anything to scare the girls.”
“How will you scare them?” Luke wanted to know. “Agnes will always take
a chance, and Ruth really isn’t much afraid of anything. As for the
kids——”
“Well, then,” Neale added, grinning, “say nothing to Mr. Howbridge or he
will want to send up to the hotel for Hedden. And Hedden, you know,
would want to serve afternoon tea at five, even if we were wrecked on a
desert island.”
They laughed over the possibilities of catastrophe, without considering
that anything may happen upon a voyage like this, and in these tropical
but treacherous seas.
The day was gloriously fair, and the motor at first acted as though
charmed. The craft, named _Isobel_, made the circuit of the island long
before evening. They had kept well off shore and were then in sight of
the string of pearl-like islets that extended farther than they could
see into the southeast. Palm-fronded, edged with white ruffles of water,
and in the distance hazed in blue, they made an entrancing picture.
“We must see them all,” Ruth declared. “Doesn’t your chart tell you
where there is a cove, or bay, where we can spend the night in safety,
Neale?”
“Of course. And we can get there before nightfall,” declared Neale.
“What do you say, Mr. Howbridge?” Ruth asked their guardian.
“It seems quite safe to venture,” the lawyer returned. “Is the engine
acting all right, boys?”
“Don’t see anything the matter with it,” replied Luke.
But one can never prophesy regarding a motor-boat engine.
St. Sergius was twenty-five miles behind them, and the nearer of the
chain of small islands was not less than ten miles away, when the power
went wrong on the _Isobel_.
“That comes of blowing about how fine she worked without knocking wood,”
grumbled Neale O’Neil.
“Is it going to keep us long?” asked Agnes.
“What a ridiculous question that is!” rejoined her friend. “Am I a
prophet, or the son of a prophet? What do you say, Luke?”
Luke had been scanning the horizon to westward. He stepped down into the
cockpit of the _Isobel_ with some haste.
“I tell you what I think about one thing, Neale,” he whispered in the
latter’s ear. “There is going to be a change in the weather—and a big
change—within a very short time.”
“For the worse?” asked Neale, startled.
“It couldn’t be for the better,” replied Luke. “We’ve had a perfect day;
but the end of it is going to be squally. And I’ve heard that even at
this time of year, which is not the hurricane season, the weather in
this part of the Caribbean can be distinctly nasty.”