THE GOLDEN HOURS
Long before ten o'clock Saturday morning--the hour for sailing--Mr.
Hartley and his party were on board the big steamship which was to take
them to New York. Here, again, new sensations and new experiences
awaited the Happy Hexagons, not one of whom had ever been on so large a
boat.
"I declare, I do just feel as if I was going abroad," breathed Cordelia,
in an awestruck voice, as she crossed the gangplank.
"Well, I'm sure we _are_, almost," exulted Genevieve. "We're going to
have a hundred hours of it. You know that little pamphlet that told
about it called it 'a hundred golden hours at sea.' Oh, Cordelia, only
think--one hundred golden hours!"
"You'll think it's a thousand, if you happen to be seasick," groaned
Tilly. (Tilly was looking rather white to-day.) "And they won't be
golden ones, either--they'll be _lead_ ones. I know because I've been to
Portland when it's rough."
"Well, we aren't going to be seasick," retorted Genevieve, with
conviction. "We're just going to have the best time ever. See if we
don't!"
"Now, dearie," said Mr. Hartley, hurrying up at that moment, "I engaged
one of the suites for Mrs. Kennedy, and I think Miss Tilly had better be
with her. The bed will be much more comfortable for her poor arm than a
berth would be, and Mrs. Kennedy can look after her better, too, in that
way. The little parlor of the suite will give us all a cozy place to
meet together. There are two berths there which they turn into a lounge
in the daytime. I thought perhaps you and Miss Cordelia could sleep
there. Then I have staterooms for the rest of us--I engaged them all a
week ago, of course. Now if you'll come with me I reckon we can set up
housekeeping right away," he finished with a smile.
"Setting up housekeeping" proved to be an absorbing task, indeed. It
included not only bestowing their belongings in the chosen places, but
interviewing purser and stewards in regard to rugs, steamer chairs, and
other delightfully exciting matters. Then there was the joy of exploring
the great ship that was to be their home for so many days. The luxurious
Ladies' Parlor, the Library with its alluring books and magazines, the
Dining Saloon with its prettily-laid tables and its revolving chairs
(like piano stools, Tilly said), the decks with their long, airy
promenades, all came in for delighted exclamations of satisfaction which
increased to a chorus of oh's and ah's when the trip really began, and
the stately ship was wending its way down the Great River to the Gulf of
Mexico.
First there was to be seen the city itself, nestled beyond its barricade
of levees.
"Dear me!" shuddered Cordelia. "I don't believe I'd have slept a wink
last night if I'd realized how _much_ below the river we were. Only
fancy if one of those levees had sprung a leak!"
"Why, they'd have sent for the plumber, of course," observed Tilly,
gravely.
"Of course! Still--they don't look very leaky, to me," laughed
Genevieve.
"Was it here, or somewhere else, that a man (or was it a child?) put his
arm (or was it a finger?) in a little hole in the wall and stopped the
leak, and so saved the town?" mused Bertha aloud dreamily.
"Of course it was," answered Tilly with grave emphasis; and not until
the others laughed did Bertha wake up enough to turn her back with a
shrug.
"Well, it was somewhere, anyhow," she pouted.
"As if we could doubt that--after what you said," murmured Tilly.
"But they have had floods here, haven't they?" questioned Alma Lane.
Genevieve gave a sudden laugh. At the others' surprised look she
explained:
"Oh, I'm not laughing at the real floods, the _water_ floods they've
had, of course. It's just that I happened to think of something I read
some time ago. They had one flood here of--molasses."
"Mo--lass--es!" chorused several voices.
"Yes. A big tank that the city used to have for a reservoir had been
bought by a sugar company and turned into a storage for molasses. Well,
it burst one day, and a little matter of a million gallons of molasses
went exploring through the streets. They say some poor mortals had
actually to wade to dry land."
"Genevieve! what a story," cried Elsie.
"But it's true," declared Genevieve. "A whole half-mile square of the
city was flooded, honestly. At least, the newspapers said it was."
"How the pickaninnies must have gloried in it," giggled Tilly, "--if
they liked 'bread and perlashes' as well as I used to. Only think of
having such a _big_ saucerful to dip your bread into!"
"Tilly!" groaned Genevieve.
They were at Port Chalmette, now. The Crescent City lay behind them, and
beyond lay the shining river-roadway, with its fertile,
highly-cultivated plantations bordering each side, green and beautiful.
"How perfectly, perfectly lovely!" cried Elsie. "And I'm not sick one
bit."
"Naturally not--yet," laughed Tilly. "But you just wait. We don't sail
the Mississippi all the way to New York, you know."
"I wish we did," said Genevieve, her eyes dreamily following the shore
line. "But we're only on it for a hundred miles."
"I don't," disagreed Elsie. "I want to see the Gulf Stream. They say
it's a deep indigo blue, and that you can see it plainly. I think a blue
river in a green sea must be lovely--like a blue ribbon trailing down a
light green gown, you know."
"Well, I want to see the real ocean, 'way out--out. I want to see
nothing but water, water everywhere," declared Alma Lane.
"'And not a drop to drink,'" quoted Tilly. "Well, young lady, you may
see the time when you'd give your eyes for a bit of land--and just any
old land would do, too, so long as it _stayed put_!"
"What does it feel like to be seasick?" asked Cordelia, interestedly.
"It feels as if the bottom had dropped out of everything, and you didn't
much care, only you wished you'd gone with it," laughed Tilly.
"Who was it?--wasn't it Mark Twain who said that the first half-hour you
were awfully afraid you would die, and the next you were awfully afraid
you wouldn't?" questioned Elsie.
"I don't know; but whoever said it knew what he was talking about,"
declared Tilly. "You just wait!"
"We're waiting," murmured Genevieve, demurely.
"You young ladies don't want to forget your exercise," said Mr. Hartley
smilingly, coming up at that moment with Mrs. Kennedy. "We've just been
five times around the deck."
"It's eleven laps to the mile," supplemented Mrs. Kennedy with a smile.
"What's a lap?" asked Cordelia.
"Sounds like a kitten on a wager with a saucer of milk," laughed Tilly,
frowning a little as she tried to adjust her sling more comfortably.
"Well, young ladies, we'll show you just what a lap is, if you'll come
with us," promised Mr. Hartley; and with alacrity the girls expressed
themselves as being quite ready to be shown.
On and on, mile after mile, down the great river swept the great ship
until Forts Jackson and St. Philip were reached and left behind; then on
and on for other miles to the narrow South Pass where on either side the
Eads Jetties called forth exclamations of wonder.
"Well, you'd better 'ah' and 'um,'" laughed Genevieve. "They happen to
be one of the greatest engineering feats in the world; that's all."
"How do you know that?" demanded Bertha.
"Don't worry her," cut in Tilly, with mock sympathy. "Poor thing! it's
only a case of another guidebook, of course."
"Well, all is, just keep your weather eye open," laughed Genevieve, "for
when we make the South Pass Lightship, then ho! for the--"
"Broad Atlantic," interposed Tilly.
"Well, not until you've passed through the little matter of the Gulf of
Mexico," rejoined Genevieve; while a chorus of laughing voices jeered:
"Why, Tilly Mack, where's your geography?"
"Don't know, I'm sure," returned Tilly, imperturbably. "Haven't seen it
since I studied up Texas," she finished as she turned away.
The first night aboard ship was another experience never to be forgotten
by the Happy Hexagons. In the parlor of the suite Genevieve and Cordelia
kept up such an incessant buzz of husky whispering and tittering that
Mrs. Kennedy came out from the bedroom to remonstrate.
"My dears, you mean to be quiet, I know; but I'm sure you don't realize
how it sounds from our room. Tilly is nervous and feverish to-night--the
day has been very exciting for her."
"And she has tried so hard to keep up, and seem as usual, too," cried
Genevieve, contritely. "Of course we'll keep still! Cordelia, I'm
ashamed of you," she finished severely. Then, at Cordelia's amazed look
of shocked distress, she hugged her spasmodically. "As if it wasn't all
my fault," she chuckled.
In other parts of the boat the rest of the party explored their strange
quarters to the last corner; then made themselves ready to be "laid on
the shelf," as Elsie termed going to bed in the narrow berth.
"I shall take off my shoes to-night," announced Bertha with dignity,
after a long moment of silence. "If anything happens here we'll get into
the water, of course, and I think shoes would only be a nuisance."
For a moment Elsie did not answer; then, almost hopefully she asked,
"I suppose if anything did happen we'd lose our clothes--even if we
ourselves were saved, wouldn't we?"
"Why, I--I suppose so."
"Yes, that's what I thought," nodded Elsie, happily. Elsie, at the
moment, was engaged in taking off a somewhat unevenly faded green
chambray frock.
* * * * *
It was on the second day of the trip that Cordelia took from her
suit-case a sheet of paper, worn with much folding and refolding, and
marked plainly, "Things to do in Texas."
"I suppose I might as well finish this up now," she sighed. "I'm out of
Texas, and what is done is done; and what is undone can't ever be done,
now." And carefully she spread the paper out and reached into her bag
for her pencil.
When she had finished her work, the paper read as follows:
See the blue bonnet--the Texas state flower. Find out if it really is
shaped like a bonnet. Didn't.
Bring home a piece of prairie grass. Did.
See a real buffalo. Did. (But it was in a park.)
Find Hermit Joe Sanborn's son, John, who ran away to Texas twenty years
ago. Didn't.
See an Osage orange hedge. Did.
See a broncho bursted (obviously changed over from "busted"). Did.
Find out for Mrs. Miller if cowboys do shoot at sight, and yell always
without just and due provocation. Did. They do not. Cowboys are good,
kind gentlemen; but they are noisy, and some rough-looking.
See a mesquite tree. Did.
Inquire if any one has seen Mrs. Snow's daughter, Lizzie, who ran away
with a Texas man named Higgins. Did. (But could not find any one who
had.)
Pick a fig. Didn't.
See a rice canal. Did.
Find out what has become of Mrs. Granger's cousin, Lester Goodwin, who
went to Texas fourteen years ago. Did.
See cotton growing, and pick a cotton boll, called "Texas Roses." Did.
See peanuts growing. Did.
Inquire for James Hunt, brother of Miss Sally Hunt. Did. (But could not
find him.)
See a real Indian. Did.
Look at oil well for Mr. Hodges, and see if there is any there. Did.
(But there wasn't any there like the one he wanted.)
* * * * *
The paper completed, Cordelia looked at it with troubled eyes.
"It doesn't sound quite right," she thought. "Somehow, the things _I_
wanted to do are 'most all done, but I didn't find but just one of those
people, and seems as if I ought to have done better than that. Besides,
I'm not at all sure Mrs. Granger will be satisfied with what I did find
for her--a cowboy, so!" And she sighed as she put the paper away.
The trip across the Gulf of Mexico to Dry Tortugas Light was nothing but
a rest and a joy to everybody. It was still delightful and wonderfully
interesting all the way around the City of Key West and up by the
southeastern coast of Florida with its many lights and coral reefs.
Here Genevieve's guidebook came again into prominence.
"The Sand Key Light 'way back there is our most southern possession, and
only fifty-seven miles from the line of the Tropics," she announced
glibly one day. "We're coming to the American Shoals Light, the
Sombrero Light, Alligator Light, Carysfort Light and Fowey Rock Light."
"Mercy! Didn't you sleep _any_ last night?" inquired Tilly,
sympathetically.
"I suppose you mean you think it must have taken all night to learn all
that," laughed Genevieve. "But it didn't."
"Maybe you know some more, now," hazarded Tilly.
"Certainly. After we strike Jupiter Light, we veer off into the Atlantic
out of sight of land."
"I thought lighthouses were put up so you wouldn't 'strike' them,"
observed Tilly, with smooth politeness; "but then, of course if you do
strike them, it is quite to be expected that you veer off into the
Atlantic, and never see land again. Besides, I found all those
lighthouses and things on a paper last night, but it was the southern
trip that did all that. Maybe we, going north, don't do the same things
at all. I sha'n't swallow all you say, anyhow, till I know for sure."
"Children, stop your quarreling," commanded Bertha Brown, sternly. "Now
I've been learning something worth while. _I_ know the saloon deck from
the promenade deck, and I can rattle off 'fore' and 'aft' and 'port' and
'starboard' as if I'd been born on shipboard!"
"Pooh! You wait," teased Tilly. "There'll come a time when you won't
think you're born on shipboard, and you won't know or care which is
fore or aft--any of you. And it will come soon, too. Those were
porpoises playing this morning--when Cordelia thought she saw the sea
serpent, you know. I heard a man say he thought it meant a storm was
coming. And if it does--you just wait," she finished laughingly.
"Oh, I'm waiting," retorted Bertha. "I like waiting. Besides, I don't
think it's coming, anyhow!"
But it did come. Off the coast of South Carolina they ran into a heavy
storm, and the great ship creaked and groaned as it buffeted wind and
wave.
In the little parlor of the suite the entire party, banished from wet,
slippery decks, made merry together, and declared it was all fun,
anyway. But gradually the ranks thinned. First Mrs. Kennedy asked to be
excused, and went into the bedroom. Alma Lane went away next. She said
she wanted a drink of water--but she did not return, and very soon Elsie
Martin, looking suspiciously white about the lips, said she guessed she
would go and find Alma. She, too, did not return.
Tilly went next. Tilly, naturally, had not been her usual self since the
accident, in spite of her brave attempts to hide her suffering. She
slipped away now without a word; though just before she had made them
all laugh by saying a little shakily:
"I declare, I wish Reddy were here! He'd think he was riding his
broncho, sure."
Just when Mr. Hartley disappeared, no one seemed to know. One moment he
had been singing lustily "Pull for the Shore"; the next moment he was
gone. There was left then only Bertha with Genevieve and Cordelia in the
little parlor; and certainly the last two were anything but sorry when
Bertha rose a little precipitately to go, too, saying:
"I--I think, Genevieve, if you don't mind, I'll go and take off my
shoes. They sort of--hurt me."
"Honestly, Cordelia," moaned Genevieve, when they had the room to
themselves, "I reckon we're not caring just now, whether we're fore or
aft!"
It was not really a serious storm, after all, and not any of the party
was seriously ill. They were all on deck again, indeed, smiling and
happy, even if a little white-faced, long before the journey was ended.
It was during the very last of the "golden hours" that Tilly, her eyes
on Bartholdi's wonderful Statue of Liberty just ahead of them, in the
New York Bay, choked:
"I declare, I'd just like to give that lady our Texas yell. Only think,
girls, our Texas trip is almost over!"