Marmaduke thought he knew now what it meant to be in jail. For three
whole days he had had to stay in the house. For three whole days and
nights, too, it had rained--"rained pitchforks." That is what Father
said, but Marmaduke could see nothing but prongs. There were thousands
of them, coming down through the air. _Where_ were the handles?
He looked a long time, thinking that perhaps they had gotten loose
from the prongs and would come down afterwards, but never a handle
came.
They must be having haying time, the folks in the sky, to use so many
forks, he decided, and the sun must be shining for them, way up above
the clouds, or they wouldn't have haying weather. But maybe, after
all, it was wet there, too, and they had just grown disgusted, and
were throwing their forks away, every last one of them.
Yes, it was pretty lonesome and dull, staying in the house like this.
To be sure, once in a while, when the rain slackened a little and the
pitchforks didn't come down so fast, he could put on his rubber boots
and go out to the barn. But for most of the time he had been a
prisoner--in jail.
He looked out at the Pond. So much water had fallen in it that it was
swelling up like a pouter pigeon, or like the bowl that held the
Chinese Lily, when he dropped pebbles in it.
My, how Duckie the Stepchild must like this weather! There he was now,
and his father and his mother and all his relatives. All just letting
the water run off their backs and having a grand time. But Father
Wyandotte and all his family were sticking pretty close to the coops.
Funny how ducks liked water and chickens didn't, all but the Gold
Rooster on the top of the barn. _He_ never seemed to mind it a
bit. Marmaduke looked for him up in the sky, but he was almost hidden
by the rain and the gray mist, and stood there on his high perch,
swinging from East to North, and back again.
But he grew tired of watching the Gold Rooster, and looked up the
pasture for his friend, the Brook. It wasn't hard to find, for it had
grown so big and stretched almost to the fence-rails now, and was
racing along towards the Pond, growing wider and wider every
minute--just like Marmaduke's eyes.
"Crackey! Sposin' there should be a flood!" exclaimed Jehosophat.
"Wouldn't that be fine!" said Marmaduke.
"Fine!" Jehosophat cried. "What would you do? It might rise an' rise
till the barnyard'd be covered, an' the road an' all the country an'
the whole world."
"Like Noah's flood, you mean?"
"Yes, just like Noah's, only he isn't here to build any ole ark for
you to get on."
"I don't care," said Marmaduke stoutly.
"You don't care!" cried his brother. "Why, you'd drown, that's what
you'd do!"
"No, I wouldn't either--" Marmaduke seemed very sure about
this--"'cause," he started to explain.
"'Cause what?"
"'Cause the Toyman is as good as ole Noah any day," replied the little
boy. "He could build an ark as big as a house, as big as the Church,
an' the ducks'd get on an' the cows an' the horses an'--"
"Yes," interrupted his brother, "but don't you remember--there were
only two of each kind. Now Hal an' Teddy could get on, but White Boots
an' Ole Methusaleh'd have to stay off, an' Rover an' Brownie could go,
but Wienerwurst couldn't--see?"
Marmaduke looked frightened at this--at the very thought of
Wienerwurst, his little doggie, trying to swim around in a terrible
flood.
"I'd hide him under my coat," he declared.
"You couldn't get on yourself," Jehosophat insisted, "I tell you an
ark only takes two of each sort of people an' animals an' chickens and
things. Now Mother and Father could go--that's two grown-ups, an'
Hepzebiah an' me, but you an' Wienie would have to swim around in the
water just as long as you could, then go under--way under, too," he
added.
Perhaps he was only teasing, but Marmaduke didn't take it quite that
way. It seemed very serious. Then suddenly he had a bright idea.
"You forgot the _Toyman_," he shouted, "and that makes another
two, for the Toyman an' I are just alike. Didn't Mother say,--'He's
nothing but a boy.' So I'd sneak Wienie under my coat--if it was ol'
Noah's ark--an' if it was the Toyman's, why he'd let me in anyway."
Jehosophat had no answer at all for this, and all they could do now
was to watch the rain and the Pond and the Brook, but Marmaduke was
very happy picturing to himself the big Ark which the Toyman would
build, and how he would help, and the fine time, too, he and all the
animals would have, living together under the very same roof.
Of course, the rain had to stop some time. It always does in the end.
And on the sixth day the Sun came out jolly and warm again, and the
boys put on their rubber boots and went out to the Pond. They couldn't
get quite as near it as usual, for the edge was almost at the Ducks'
house now, and not so very far from the house of the White Wyandottes,
who seemed to think the end of the world had come, and looked very sad
with their draggled feathers.
For a little while the boys threw sticks in the water. When the dogs
had fetched the sticks they would shake the water from their coats and
over the boys, just like shower baths. It was all very jolly, and I
don't know which the children enjoyed more, throwing the sticks or the
nice cool showers.
But after a while they tired of this, too, and walked up the pasture
to see the Brook.
There it was, racing and romping and tearing along for dear life. It
wasn't clear and silvery now, but muddy and brown as if a thousand
cups of coffee had been spilled in it. And on it floated many strange
things,--branches of trees and a fence-rail, the roof of a pig-pen, an
old shoe, and one poor drowned sheep.
"Maybe," said Jehosophat, "maybe, if we watch long enough, some
pirates'll come sailin' along with big hats an' swords an'--"
"An' knives in their mouths," Marmaduke suggested.
"But that's not the best thing," Jehosophat went on, "they'll have a
flag with a skull an' dead men's bones painted on it."
"Crackey!" exclaimed his brother, just like the big boys. It was a
fine word, too, but only to be used on special occasions. And pirates
and skulls and dead men's bones certainly made a "special occasion."
Jehosophat seemed to think so, too, for he was singing in high glee,
"Yo, ho, ho,
And a bottle of bay rum."
As these last dread words died on the air, they thought they heard a
sound behind them. It was something like a laugh--more, perhaps, like
a chuckle. They turned and saw nothing but the high board fence of the
cowyard, and, over by the barn, the Toyman, walking very swiftly
towards his workshop. Now usually they would have wondered about that;
tried to guess what he "would make," but this morning there were
other, very grave, things taking their attention.
"Guess it was pirates--ssshhh!" whispered Jehosophat, "they may have
disbarked an' be hidin' in the bushes."
But a way of escape was open. It was coming down the stream.
Jehosophat spied it.
"The very thing!" he cried.
It was a big gate which had been carried off by the flood; and it was
tossed first to this side and then to the other by the brown water.
"I hope it catches on something an' stops," cried Marmaduke. And they
hurried down the Brook towards the Pond. They had to walk pretty fast,
too, almost run, to keep up with the gate.
Jehosophat looked ahead.
"Those big roots of the walnut tree might stop it," he said.
And sure enough the gate was caught by the roots and swung in under
the branches. The water was more quiet here than out in the stream and
it made a fine harbor for the ship. For, you see, after all, it was
not a gate but a _ship_!
But they must make sure of their prize. So Jehosophat ran to the barn
and fetched some rope. With this he made the ship fast to the trunk of
the tree, that is, to the wharf in Walnut Harbour.
But there was more work to be done, for the ship had been damaged by
the storm.
"You stand watch an' keep off all pirates," ordered Jehosophat. "I'll
be back in three shakes of a lamb's tail."
It was rather a scary thing to stand guard all alone with pirates
around, but Marmaduke stuck by the ship and Jehosophat went on his
errand.
As he entered the door, the Toyman hid something, quite hurriedly,
under a sack. Now that was very mysterious, but the messenger only
said to himself, "Guess he's making something for my birthday," then
asked aloud,--
"Please, may I have some boards and some nails?"
"To be sure, Mr. Ship's Carpenter."
It was fine to be called that, though Jehosophat wondered how the
Toyman knew what he was, when they hadn't told a soul. But then the
Toyman knew most everything, all their plans as soon as made.
It didn't take long to mend that ship. Soon the boards were nailed
across and the deck was ready for the crew.
"All aboard!" shouted Jehosophat, and then even more loudly,--
"All ashore that's goin' ashore!"
Having said this very splendidly, he turned to his brother.
"I'm Captain Kidd," he told him.
"And what's me?" shouted back Marmaduke excitedly, and excitement is
always bad for grammar.
"Oh, you! You're my slave," his brother informed him--in a very grand
manner.
This didn't seem to suit Marmaduke, and he tried hard to remember a
name Reddy Toms had told him, out of a book of Reddy's, all about
pirates and things. But he couldn't think of it at all.