BETTY WYNDHAM, ACTRESS
With the incoming tide, the “Boojum” had righted herself and was soon
under way. The tremendous rain had ceased as abruptly as it had begun
and the sun shone valiantly as if to make up to the little party for
the trick the tide, vassal of the moon, had played on them the past
night. The winds had churned the water into choppy little waves that
foamed against the “Boojum’s” eager bow.
“I just adore this jerky motion,” Jane confided to Frances. “But I
wonder how long I’ll adore it. It reminds me of the time I went on a
hunt on a Standard-bred trotter. I got there in time to see the dogs
nab the poor fox, but I’m here to say I took an oath that that was the
last time I would ride anything but a saddle horse.”
“I like this too,” agreed Frances. “It’s the most exciting sail we
have had yet. We are certainly scooting along. Whee! look at the spray
come flying up over the bowsprit. Let’s go and get on the grating. I
don’t believe either one of us is going to be sick, ’specially if we
stay up on deck.”
These two were nearly always to be found lying flat on the grating in
the bow when they were sailing. As a concession to Mr. Wing, they had
agreed to hold on to each other with one hand and on to the grating
with the other.
“Are you two young tars feeling fit still!” Mr. Wing asked them.
“Ellen and Jack are below looking pretty miserable and, of course, no
power on earth will drag them up in the air. Ellen said that, if she
saw the waves, she knew it would be all over with her.”
“Yes, we saw them, when we went below to get extra sweaters. I believe
Jack would like to come up, but he doesn’t want to leave Ellen. Ellen
would be much better off by herself, but she doesn’t like to hurt
Jack’s feelings. There is nothing to do with people like that so we
might as well forget them. It won’t be so long before we fetch
Provincetown and then they will be all right.” And Jane dismissed the
tragedy of the seasick lovers with a grin.
Mr. Wing had been watching a fast little schooner ahead of them. “Hey
you, Charlie!” he called to the man at the wheel. “You stop talking
to Mabel, and watch what you are about. We are pointing lots higher
than that white schooner. Mabel, you come up here and play with these
kids and Charlie and I will see if we can’t overhaul that boat on our
next tack.”
Obediently Mabel slid and skidded along the slippery, slanting deck,
and sat down with one arm around the mast.
“Daddy is so funny,” she said. “We would have got there just as
quickly if we had gone on as we were. We are a little off our course
now, but Daddy likes to use every puff of wind.”
“And I am going to as long as I sail a yacht. If I ever get to running
a steamboat or a ferry to Jersey, I might change, but as long as I run
the ‘Boojum’ she sails.”
“Well hush your fuss and run along now. You can sail backward if you
want to,” giggled Mabel, who always had the attitude that her father
was her kid brother.
“Honestly, Mabel, this is the most wonderful day of all, but then it
seems that every day is better than the last,” said Jane.
“And won’t it be fun to see old Betty Wyndham? We ought to have some
kind of Camp Fire party. The only thing that I have against the
‘Boojum’ is that we can’t have a camp fire on her.”
“But s’pose Betty has got too grown-up to like that sort of thing,”
ventured Frances.
Jane shook her head at this. “I had a letter from her just before we
left and she told me that she had just been to a clambake with some of
the players, and, if she likes that, I know she will like to have a
regular old-timer with us.”
“She will be surprised to see us. Can’t you just see her eyes widening
behind those big bone glasses?” Mabel stretched her own eyes wide.
“And look, I can just see the monument to the Pilgrim Fathers now. We
will be there soon.”
“Oh!” Frances sighed. “Much as I want to see Betty I wish this sail
would never end. I get so excited I can hardly stand it and, when the
spray lands on me, I want to shout.”
“You are just a modern pagan,” said Mabel looking at Frances’ vivid
color and sparkling eyes, “and a mighty pretty one too.”
“Away, thou perfidious flatterer. And me freckled as a guinea egg!
Jane, pinch her for me.”
“You young’uns get the anchor free. We are going to drop it soon as
we lose our way,” called Mr. Wing.
Jane jumped up from her place and took off the ropes that held the
anchor, and, balancing it with one hand in a thoroughly professional
manner, began spitting over the side in the way she had found so
ridiculous in Breck and Mr. Wing a few days since.
“All the way is lost now,” Jane cried in semi-nautical tones that made
Breck smile as he pushed the anchor over the side.
Little fishing boats were moored and anchored all around the “Boojum”
and soon men had come up on all the decks after the fashion of sailors
to see what the latest ship looked like.
Jane and Frances were at the davits, letting down the dinghy as Jack
and Ellen came up from below, looking as Frances said rather “pale and
pellucid.”
“Now, gents,” began Mabel bouncing up to the little group at the
davits, “we girls are going ashore and see Betty and we are going to
have a regular reunion of the Camp Fire Girls and we don’t want any of
you, much as we love you separately and collectively, to bother us.
We’ll take the dinghy and spend the night with Betty if there is room
and if there isn’t we’ll take her to a hotel for, goodness knows,
there isn’t room on board for another thing.”
“And Jane and I are the ablest little seawomen in the bunch so we are
going to row you and Ellen, Mabel,” and Frances steadied the dinghy
with a far-reaching foot and leg, while Jane dropped over the side and
put in the rowlocks. These two had long since waived the formality of
the sea-ladder.
“Breck!” called Jane to the sailor, “you put over the sea ladder and
we’ll row around to starboard and take on our middle-aged passengers.”
“Middle-aged passengers nothing,” shrieked Mabel. “You just hold the
dinghy steady and we’ll get over here. As if I wasn’t doing this long
before you were born!”
“Well, doesn’t that prove your middle age?” teased Frances.
“I’d drop this little grip on your head, Captain Kidd, if I wasn’t
afraid I’d upset my fellow sufferer, Mabel,” announced Ellen, as she
handed the little grip that held their nighties down to Frances. “I am
so thoughtful, none of you remembered that you ought to have
toothbrushes and combs if we are going to stay on shore tonight. How
would you get on in this world without useful me to think about
everything for you?”
“Be sure to allow enough rope for the drop in the tide,” Jane
cautioned Frances as she made the painter fast to a big iron ring sunk
in the dock.
“Plain Jane, now you just hush up. I’d like to know who it was that
tied the dinghy at Newport the time we came back from the movies and
found the poor thing standing on its stern with its nose up in the
air?”
“Let’s go to the post office first, and see if there is any mail for
us at general delivery,” suggested Ellen. “Then we can set about the
search for our little pal Betty.”
Just as the girls were going into the post office, a hurrying girl ran
into them. “Pardon--well of all things!” she cried.
“Why, Betty, what luck. Why didn’t you knock us down?”
“What fun to see you again,” they all said at once and drew amused
smiles from the group in the post office.
“Come on to my room. I’m staying with the dearest little old lady in
the world. Several of the other players have rooms with her too and
we tear off a lot of fun when we aren’t working,” Betty told them as
they went along the street.
“What ducky little houses these are,” Jane said to Frances. “But not
as charming as Plymouth do you think, Betty?”
“I think that the Greenwich Villagers, who come here for the summer,
leave their mark just as they do everywhere. It is really more
attractive in the winter when just the natives themselves are here,”
explained Betty.
Soon they were all in Betty’s neat room, lolling about on the bed,
eating chocolates, and examining Betty’s new snapshots and possessions
and exchanging adventures. After Betty had been duly told of the upset
at Plymouth, they all began to plan how they were to hold their
reunion. At last, they decided on a clambake as the best.
The little old lady who owned the house agreed to let them have a room
with a double bed in it and by doubling up in one room and tripling up
in the other they thought they could pass the night ashore.
As soon as the sun set, the five friends trooped down to the beach
and, gathering driftwood enough to bake all the clams in the world,
started a huge campfire.
“Um, I think baked clams are the most delicious things in the world,”
said Jane as she ate her last one.
“Honestly, children, I am just too glad that you came by to see me. I
was wondering how I was going to get through the summer without seeing
at least some of the Camp Fire Girls,” Betty smiled at the girls.
“I wish you had time to go for a few days’ sail with us. Don’t you
suppose you could?” Mabel begged.
“It is dear of you to ask me and you know there is nothing in the
world I would like better, but I really am too busy. You know I am
working particularly hard so I can get to New York to hear Emmeline
sing.”
“We will see you then at any rate, ’cause we are going to be back in
time for that too,” and Mabel gave Betty a clammy hug.
“Doesn’t that driftwood make the most gorgeously colored flame?” Ellen
asked dreamily. “I always wonder about driftwood, what it was before
it was cast up on the beach.”
“It is rather terrible to think how much of it was once ships, and by
the way, would you mind if I said you a piece I ran across the other
day? It isn’t exactly cheerful but I like it,” and Betty began a
weird minor wail in her rich deep voice--
“Whew! what a blood curdler!” interrupted Jane. “Stop it! stop it! It
gives me the creeps.”
“Let’s save it until a sunny day and have something soothing to go to
bed on,” suggested Ellen, shivering. “Why don’t we end this reunion by
singing some of our own Camp Fire songs?”
The five Camp Fire Girls began their favorite Good Night song:
“Now our Camp Fire fadeth,
Now the flame burns low,
Now all Camp Fire Maidens
To Slumberland must go.
May the peace of the lapping water
The peace of the still starlight,
The peace of the firelit forest
Be with us through the night.
The peace of our firelit faces
Be with us through the night.”