AN AFTERNOON WITH WILLIAM
William’s family was staying at the seaside for its summer holidays.
This time was generally cordially detested by William. He hated being
dragged from his well-known haunts, his woods and fields and friends
and dog (for Jumble was not the kind of dog one takes away on a
holiday). He hated the uncongenial atmosphere of hotels and boarding
houses. He hated the dull promenades and the town gardens where walking
over the grass and playing at Red Indians was discouraged. He failed
utterly to understand the attraction that such places seemed to possess
for his family. He took a pride and pleasure in the expression of gloom
and boredom that he generally managed to maintain during the whole
length of the holiday. But this time it was different. Ginger was
staying with his family in the same hotel as William.
Ginger’s father and William’s father played golf together. Ginger’s
mother and William’s mother looked at the shops and the sea together.
William and Ginger went off together on secret expeditions. Though
no cajoleries or coaxings would have persuaded William to admit that
he was “enjoying his holiday,” still the presence of Ginger made it
difficult for him to maintain his usual aspect of gloomy scorn. They
hunted for smugglers in the caves, they slipped over sea-weedy rocks
and fell into the pools left by the retreating tide. They carried
on warfare from trenches which they made in the sand, dug mines and
counter-mines and generally got damp sand so deeply ingrained in
their clothes and hair that, as Mrs. Brown said almost tearfully, they
“simply defied brushing.”
To-day they were engaged in the innocent pursuit of wandering along
the front and sampling the various attractions which it offered. They
stood through three performances of the Punch and Judy show, laughing
uproariously each time. As they had taken possession of the best view
and as it never seemed to occur to them to contribute towards the
expenses, the showman finally ordered them off. They wandered off
obligingly and bought two penny sticks of liquorice at the next stall.
Then they bought two penny giant glasses of a biliousy-coloured green
lemonade and quaffed them in front of the stall with intense enjoyment.
Then they wandered away from the crowded part of the front to the empty
space beyond the rocks. Ginger found a dead crab and William made a
fire and tried to cook it, but the result was not encouraging. They
ate what was left of their liquorice sticks to take away the taste,
then went on to the caves. They reviewed the possibility of hunting
for smugglers without enthusiasm. William was feeling disillusioned
with smugglers. He seemed to have spent the greater part of his life
hunting for smugglers. They seemed to be an unpleasantly secretive set
of people. They might have let him catch just one....
They flung stones into the retreating tide and leapt into the little
pools to see how high they could make the splashes go.
Then they saw the boat....
It was lying by itself high and dry on the shore. It was a nice little
boat with two oars inside.
“Wonder how long it would take to get to France in it?” said William.
“Jus’ no time, I ’spect,” said Ginger. “Why, you can _see_ France from
my bedroom window. It must jus’be _no_ distance--simply _no_ distance.”
They looked at the boat in silence for a few minutes.
“It looks as if it would go quite easy,” said William.
“We’d have it back before whosever it is wanted it,” said Ginger.
“We couldn’t do it any harm,” said William.
“It’s simply _no_ distance to France from my bedroom window,” said
Ginger.
The longing in their frowning countenances changed to determination.
“Come on,” said William.
It was quite easy to push and pull the boat down to the water. Soon
they were seated, their hearts triumphant and their clothes soaked with
sea water, in the little boat and were being carried rapidly out to
sea. At first William tried to ply the oars but a large wave swept them
both away.
“Doesn’t really matter,” said William cheerfully, “the tide’s takin’ us
across to France all right without botherin’ with oars.”
For a time they lay back enjoying the motion and trailing fingers in
the water.
“’S almost as good as bein’ pirates, isn’t it?” said William.
At the end of half an hour Ginger said with a dark frown:
“Seems to _me_ we aren’t goin’ in the right d’rection for France. Seems
to _me_, Cap’n, we’ve been swep’ out of our course. I can’t see no land
anywhere.”
“Well, we mus’ be goin’ _somewhere_,” said William the optimist, “an’
wherever it is it’ll be _int’resting_.”
“It _mightn’t_ be,” said Ginger, who was ceasing to enjoy the motion
and was taking a gloomy view of life.
“Well, I’m gettin’ jolly hungry,” said William.
“Well, I’m _not_,” said Ginger.
William looked at him with interest.
“You’re lookin’ a bit pale,” he said with over-cheerful sympathy,
“p’raps it was the crab.”
Ginger made no answer.
“Or it might have been the liquorice _or_ the lemonade,” said William
with interest.
“I wish you’d shut up talking about them,” snapped Ginger.
“Well, I feel almost _dyin’_ of hunger,” said William. “In books they
draw lots and then one kills the other an’ eats him.”
“I wun’t mind anyone killin’ an’ eatin’ me,” said Ginger.
“I’ve nothin’ to kill you with, anyway, so it’s no good talkin’ about
it,” said William.
“Seems to me,” said Ginger raising his head from his gloomy
contemplation of the waves, “that we keep changin’ the d’rection we’re
goin’ in. We’ll like as not end at America or China or somewhere.”
“An’ our folks’ll think we’re drowned.”
“We’ll prob’ly find gold mines in China or somewhere an’ make our
fortunes.”
“An’ we’ll come home changed an’ old an’ they won’t know us.”
Their spirits rose.
Suddenly William called excitedly, “I see land! Jus’ _look!_”
They were certainly rapidly nearing land.
“Thank goodness,” murmured Ginger.
“An uninhabited island I ’spect,” said William.
“Or an island inhabited by wild savages,” said Ginger.
The boat was pushed gently on to land by the incoming tide.
Ginger and William disembarked.
“I don’t care where we are,” said Ginger firmly, “but I’m goin’to stop
here all my life. I’m not goin’ in that ole boat again.”
A faint colour had returned to his cheeks.
“You _can’t_ stop on an uninhabited island all your life,” said
William aggressively, “you’ll _have_ to go away. You needn’t go an’ eat
dead crabs jus’ before you start, but you can’t live on an uninhabited
island all your life.”
“Oh, do shut up talkin’ about dead crabs,” said Ginger.
“Here’s a hole in a hedge,” called William. “Let’s creep through and
see what there is the other side. Creep, mind, an’ don’ breathe. It’ll
prob’ly be wild savages or cannibals or something.”
They crept through the hedge.
There in a wide green space some lightly-clad beings were dancing
backwards and forwards. One in the front called out unintelligible
commands in a shrill voice.
William and Ginger crept behind a tree.
“Savages!” said William in a hoarse whisper. “Cannibals!”
“Crumbs!” said Ginger. “What’ll we do?”
The white-clad figures began to leap into the air.
“Charge ’em,” said William, his freckled face set in a determined
frown. “Charge ’em and put ’em to flight utterin’ wild yells to scare
’em--before they’ve time to know we’re here.”
“All right,” said Ginger, “come on.”
“Ready?” said William through set lips. “Steady ... Go!”
* * * * *
The New School of Greek Dancing was a few miles down the coast from
where William and Ginger had originally set forth in the boat. The
second afternoon open-air class was in progress. Weedy males and
æsthetic-looking females dressed in abbreviated tunics with sandals
on their feet and fillets round their hair, mostly wearing horn
spectacles, ran and sprang and leapt and gambolled and struck angular
attitudes at the shrill command of the instructress and the somewhat
unmusical efforts of the (very) amateur flute player.
“Now run ... _so_ ... hands extended ... _so_ ... left leg up ... _so_
... head looking over shoulder ... _so_ ... no, try not to overbalance
... that piece again ... never mind the music ... just do as I say ...
_so_ ... _Ow_ ... _OW!_”
[Illustration: WILLIAM AND GINGER RUSHED OUT FROM BEHIND A TREE AND
CHARGED WILDLY INTO THE CROWD OF ÆSTHETIC AND BONY REVELLERS.]
“_Go!_”
Two tornadoes rushed out from behind a tree and charged wildly into
the crowd of æsthetic and bony revellers. With heads and arms and legs
they fought and charged and kicked and pushed and bit. They might have
been a dozen instead of two. A crowd of thin, lightly-clad females ran
screaming indoors. One young man nimbly climbed a tree and another lay
prone in a rose bush.
“We’ve put ’em to flight,” said William breathlessly, pausing for a
moment from his labours.
“Yes,” said Ginger dispiritedly, “an’ what’ll we do _next?_”
“Oh, jus’ keep ’em at bay an’ live on their food,” said William
vaguely, “an’ p’raps they’ll soon begin to worship us as gods.”
But William was unduly optimistic. The flute player had secured some
rope from an outhouse and, accompanied by some other youths, he was
already creeping up behind William. In a few moments’ time William and
Ginger found themselves bound to neighbouring trees. They struggled
wildly. They looked a strange couple. The struggle had left them
tieless and collarless. Their hair stood on end. Their faces were
stained with liquorice juice.
“They’ll eat us for supper,” said William to Ginger. “Sure’s Fate
they’ll eat us for supper. They’re prob’ly boilin’ the water to cook us
in now. Go on, try’n _bite_ through your rope.”
“I have tried,” said Ginger wearily, “it’s nearly pulled all my teeth
out.”
“I wish I’d told ’em to give Jumble to Henry,” said William sadly,
“they’ll prob’ly keep him to themselves or sell him.”
“They’ll be _sorry_ they took my trumpet off me when they hear I’m
eaten by savages,” said Ginger with a certain satisfaction.
The Greek dancers were drawing near by degrees from their hiding places.
“_Mad!_” they were saying. “One of them _bit_ me and he’s probably got
hydrophobia. I’m going to call on my doctor.” “He simply _charged_ me
in the stomach. I think it’s given me appendicitis.” “_Kicked_ my leg.
I can _see_ the bruise.” “_Quite_ spoilt the atmosphere.”
“William,” said Ginger faintly, “isn’t it funny they talk English?
Wun’t you expect them to talk some savage language?”
[Illustration: MR. BROWN PAID VAST SUMS OF HUSH MONEY TO THE POLICE
FORCE AND BROUGHT IN HIS SON BY THE SCRUFF OF THE NECK.]
“I speck they’ve learnt it off folks they’ve eaten.”
From the open window of the house behind the trees came the loud tones
of a lady who was evidently engaged in speaking through a telephone.
“Yes, _wild_ ... absolutely _mad_ ... _must_ have escaped from the
asylum ... no one escaped from the asylum? ... then they must have been
_going_ to the asylum and escaped on the _way_ ... well, if they aren’t
_lunatics_ they’re _criminals_. Please send a large _force_.”
* * * * *
It was when two stalwart and quite obviously English policemen appeared
that William’s bewilderment finally took from him the power of speech.
“Crumbs!” was all he said.
He was quite silent all the way home. He coldly repulsed all the
policemen’s friendly overtures.
Mrs. Brown screamed when from the lounge window she saw her son and his
friend approaching with their escort. It was Mr. Brown who went boldly
out to meet them, paid vast sums of hush money to the police force and
brought in his son by the scruff of his neck.
“Well,” said William almost tearfully, at the end of a long and painful
course of home truths, “’f they’d reely _been_ cannibals and eaten me
you’d p’raps have been _sorry_.”
Mr. Brown, whose peace had been disturbed and reputation publicly laid
low by William’s escort and appearance, looked at him.
“You flatter yourself, my son,” he said with bitterness.
* * * * *
“What’ll we do to-day?” said Ginger the next morning.
“Let’s start with watchin’ the Punch and Judy,” said William.
“I’m not goin’ in no boats,” said Ginger firmly.
“All right,” said William cheerfully, “but if we find another dead crab
I’ve thought of a better way of cooking it.”