THE SWEETS OF FREEDOM.
"You can do as you like, Milly; but I shall go!"
Small Herbert set his foot to the ground with a gesture of immovable
firmness. Milly watched him with admiring eyes, still halting between
two opinions.
"Oh, but, Bertie, isn't it naughty?"
"I don't care if it is. I'm going."
It was like hoisting the signal of revolt--revolt from the rule of the
elder sister. They both knew that Prissy would never go, or let them go
either, if she knew of the plan. And to slip away unknown to her, though
not a difficult matter upon a Saturday afternoon, would mark an epoch in
the life of this pair of properly-brought-up children, as both
instinctively felt, though they could not have expressed themselves upon
the subject.
"It's our holiday afternoon," said Bertie stoutly, his square face
looking squarer than ever. "Nobody's told us never to go out of the
orchard; we're allowed to know Pickle and Puck. They say they're going
out for a lark on Saturday afternoon, and I'm going with them."
Milly's eyes were growing brighter and brighter; she looked with open
admiration upon Herbert. He was younger than herself, but at this moment
he seemed the older of the pair.
"Bertie," she asked, in a voice that was little above a whisper, "what
_is_ a lark?"
Bertie hesitated a moment.
"It's something we don't ever get here," he answered, with a note of
resentment in his voice; "but Pickle and Puck know all about it, and I
mean to learn too."
"O Bertie!--and so will I!"
"That's right. I'd like you to come too. I don't see why you should be a
little cockney any more than I!"
"O Bertie! what's that?"
"Well, I don't just exactly know; but it's something I heard father
say."
"What did he say?"
"Well, I'll tell you. I was in his study learning my Latin declension;
and I was behind the curtain, and I think he'd forgotten I was there.
Mother came in, and they talked, and I stopped my ears and was learning
away, when I heard them say something about Puck and Pickle. Then I
listened."
"What did they say?"
"Mother was saying she was afraid they were naughty, rude boys, and
would teach us mischief; and then father laughed and said he didn't much
mind if they did."
"O Bertie!"
"He did, I tell you," answered Bertie, swelling himself out, as though
he felt his honor called in question. "They talked a good while, and I
couldn't understand it all; but I heard father say he'd rather I were a
bold Cornish boy, even if I did get into mischief sometimes, than grow
up a little timid cockney."
"I wonder what he meant," said Milly in an awestruck tone; "I never
heard of a cockney before."
"I think it must mean something like a girl," said Bertie, with a note
of perhaps unconscious contempt in his voice, "for mother said
something, and then father said, 'You see, you were brought up a cockney
yourself, my dear, and you can do as you like about the girls; but I
want Herbert to be a true Cornish boy, and he doesn't seem to be one
yet.' That's what he said; and now I'm going to find out what it is to
be a Cornish boy, and I'm going to be one. You can go on being a cockney
if you like."
"But I won't!" cried Milly rebelliously; "I'll be a Cornish boy too!"
"You can't be a boy, but you can come along with us if you like," said
Bertie patronizingly; "Pickle and Puck said you could, though Puck did
say he thought girls cried and spoiled things after a bit."
"I don't cry!" answered Milly sturdily; and, indeed, she had most of her
father in her of the three Polperran children. They had been brought up
under the rule of a mother who had very strict ideas of training and
discipline, and had lived the greater part of her life in towns, so that
country ways would always be more or less strange to her. They had
never run wild, even now that they had returned to their father's native
county, and were in the midst of moors and crags, and almost within
sound of the sea. They still kept to their prim little walks along the
road, and if they played out of doors, it was always in the
orchard--never on the open moorland, or by the rocks and pools of the
shore.
Prissy was really a little copy of her mother, and she had no taste for
anything strange, and was rather afraid of solitude and of the boom of
the sea. So she kept her younger pair well in hand, and they had never
seriously thought of rebellion until the arrival upon the scene of
Pickle and Puck.
From that moment the horizon of their lives seemed to widen. Here were
two boys who actually dared to call their mother Mrs. Poll-parrot to her
face, and their father the Reverend Poll! They habitually spoke of their
own father as Crump, and had dubbed the redoubtable Mr. Trelawny "Old
Bobby"!
These were flights of boldness beyond the wildest dreams of the little
Polperrans. At first they had been almost overcome with fear, but
familiarity had changed that feeling into one of growing wonder and
admiration. For these boys were not only bold in word--they were daring
beyond expression in deed. Already they had explored some of the hidden
mysteries of the Crag; they had been out lobster-catching with old
Pollard; and they had tumbled into one of the deep pools in the rocks,
and had been hauled out dripping by a fisherman who luckily chanced to
be near at hand. Now they were learning to swim, Mr. Trelawny having
decided that that must be the next step in their education; and although
they had not had many lessons, Pickle could already keep himself afloat
several strokes, and Puck was not far behind.
And all this had been done in three weeks, as well as other minor acts,
of which the heroes themselves thought simply nothing, though Bertie and
Milly were filled with admiration.
Prissy disapproved of them utterly and entirely; nor was this very
difficult to understand. She gave herself the sort of airs which Pickle
and Puck openly ridiculed. They persisted in calling her "Pretty
Polly," and she retaliated by calling them rude, ill-mannered boys, and
openly pitying Esther for the infliction of their company.
"If Prissy would be nice to them, they would be nice to her," Milly
remarked sagely once, "and then things would be better. But they always
get quarreling, and then it's no good trying to settle anything.
Everything goes wrong."
"That's because Prissy is such a cockney," cried Bertie, airing his new
word with satisfaction; "Esther would never make half the fuss about
every little thing. Pickle and Puck like Esther, though they do laugh at
her rather. But they won't have either Esther or Prissy with them when
we have our lark on Saturday afternoon. They'll only take you and me."
"Well, I'll go!" cried Milly, throwing to the winds all allegiance to
Prissy; "I want to see what a lark is like. I'm tired of being a
cockney."
"Hurrah!" cried Bertie, feeling all the glow that follows a bold stand
against domestic tyranny; "we'll all have a regular lark together, and
we'll tell father all about it afterwards. He won't scold, and then
mother can't."
Saturday afternoon was the children's holiday. At the Hermitage lessons
went on regularly now on every morning of the week, and five afternoons;
and it was the same at the rectory, where father and mother taught their
children, or superintended their lessons when not able to be with them
the whole time. But on Saturday afternoons all were free to do as they
pleased.
Prissy always went with her mother to give out the books at the lending
library, of which she was practically librarian, and very proud of her
position. Esther was always busy at home with little household duties,
which she had less time for now during the week. This left the younger
children quite free to follow out their own plans, and so far they had
spent their holiday afternoon together. Once they had played in the
orchard, and once they had gone down to the shore, where the pair from
the Hermitage had displayed to their admiring companions the progress
they had made in the art of swimming.
"I mean to ask father to let me learn to swim too," said Herbert, whose
ideas were soaring to untold heights. "I'm sure that would be one way of
growing to be a Cornish boy. All the boys and men here can swim."
Pickle and Puck, however, had no intention of wasting all half-holidays
in such peaceful and unadventurous fashion, and they had given out very
decidedly that on the following Saturday they should have "a lark." They
had not further specified what form this lark was to take, but had
merely declared their willingness that Herbert and Milly should share
it, provided they wouldn't go and talk of it beforehand.
"We don't want Miss Prig sticking her nose into our business anyhow,"
said Pickle, using a second name they had recently evolved for Prissy.
"We'll go where we like, and do what we like, and when we get home we'll
tell them all about it. That's what Puck and I always do, and it's much
the best plan. Grown-ups are always worrying after you if you say a
word. They'll be much happier if they think we are safe here in the
orchard."
It had been a moot point all the week with Bertie and Milly whether or
not they should dare to join in the projected "lark"; but Bertie's
resolution was now irrevocably taken, and Milly threw prudence and
subservience to the four winds, and swore adhesion to the new league of
liberty.
They met in the rectory orchard, whither Pickle and Puck were supposed
to be going to spend the Saturday afternoon. Esther was at ease about
them there, for she had a belief that in that house everything went by
routine, and that Herbert and Milly would restrain their comrades from
any overt acts of independence and daring. There were rabbits to be
visited, and cows to be driven in from the glebe pasture, and various
other mild delights which always seemed quite exciting to her. She let
her charges go with an easy mind; and as for Prissy, it never so much as
occurred to her that after her admonition, "Mind you are very good!"
Milly or Bertie would venture to dream of such a thing as leaving the
premises unknown to anybody in the house, and without obtaining leave.
Pickle and Puck arrived, brimming over with excitement and the delights
of anticipation.
"Where is everybody?" they asked at once.
"They're all out," answered Milly, skipping about. "There's nobody to
stop us or say 'don't.' What are we going to do? Have you decided?"
"Of course we have. We're going to get a boat, and go out to that island
where those jolly rocks are, and where nobody lives. We've got some
jolly cakes and things in this basket. We shall light a fire of dried
seaweed, and be castaways from a wreck, and have a scrumptious time till
it's time to go home again."
Bertie's eyes grew round with anticipation. Milly jumped into the air
with delight; but then suddenly looking grave, she exclaimed,--
"But how shall we get there?"
"In a boat, of course."
"But then we shall have to have a man with us, and that costs such a lot
of money."
"Come along, silly-billy!" cried Pickle with good-humored scorn; "you'll
soon see how we do things, Puck and I. A man, indeed! As though we'd
have a great lumbering gowk to spoil all our fun, and have to pay him
too! No fear!"
Pickle took a short cut across country towards the shore. It was safer
than the road in many ways, and the path he selected did not lead to the
fishing village, but to a little cove half a mile away to the right.
Milly danced beside him chattering gleefully.
"O Pickle, can you row yourself?"
"Of course I can. Puck and I rowed old Pollard's boat about for him the
other day amongst the lobster-pots. Anybody can row--at least anybody
with any sense. You only have to put the oar in the water and pull it
out again. Even a girl could do that."
"We've never been let try," said Milly. "We hardly ever go in a boat.
Mother doesn't like it. Sometimes father takes us out on a fine evening,
but not often. He's busy, and mother generally thinks it too cold or
damp or something."
"I'm glad I wasn't brought up in a poll-parrot's cage," was Pickle's
remark; "your mother seems worse than Aunt Saint, and she's pretty silly
about boys."
"I believe mother was a cockney," said Milly gravely. "Perhaps that is
why, though I don't quite know what a cockney is."
Pickle laughed, but they were going too fast for much conversation. It
was rough walking, but they did not want to lose time.
"Here we are!" shouted Pickle, as they came suddenly upon a little cleft
in the fringe of moorland they were skirting, and could see right down
to the shining sea. "Here's the place, and here's the old boat. I've
settled with the old fellow for it, and he promised to leave the oars
and things in all ready. Oh, jolly! jolly! jolly! Now we'll have a
lark!"
This little creek was an offshoot of the bay, and a small tumble-down
hut stood just beneath the overhanging crags. A boat lay rocking in the
water, moored to a ring in the rock, and the owner had been true to his
promise, and had left the oars and rudder and stretchers all in place.
With shouts of ecstasy the children tumbled in. This was something like
independence! Not a creature was there to say them nay. They were afloat
in a boat of their very own, about to row over to that enchanted and
enchanting island which Millie and Bertie had often gazed at
wonderingly and wistfully, but had never dreamed of exploring in their
own persons.
The boat was a safe old tub, heavy and cumbersome, but steady in the
water. The sea was very smooth, and the tide was falling, so that the
efforts of the youthful rowers to get clear of the creek were crowned
with success, although Pickle and Puck had only very elementary ideas as
to rowing.
Bertie took the rudder, and as he had sometimes steered the boat when
his father rowed them about the bay, he had some idea of keeping a
straight course, and avoiding rocks and buoys. The island looked quite
near to shore from the cliffs above; but it seemed rather a long way off
when the boat was on the water, slowly traveling out towards it. Pickle
and Puck soon cast off their coats and waistcoats, and the drops stood
upon their brows; but they would not be beaten, and pulled on manfully,
though they did feel as though the island must be behaving in a very
shabby manner, and retiring gradually from them as they approached.
Still, the delight of being out in a boat by themselves made amends for
much, and Milly, who had taken her place in the bows, screamed aloud
with joy and excitement.
She looked over the edge, and cried out that there were the loveliest
things to be seen along the bottom. She would have been happy enough on
the water the whole afternoon; but the two rowers were very glad when,
after prolonged and gallant efforts on their part, they at last felt the
keel of the boat grating upon the longed-for shore.
"I'm hot and thirsty, I know!" cried Pickle; "I shall have a swim first
thing. There's a jolly pool. I shall just swim about there, I can swim
across it, I believe, and it isn't deep anywhere."
"I'll come too!" cried Puck; "I'm just sweating all over!"
"Prissy says people oughtn't to bathe when they're hot," remarked Milly
doubtfully; but Pickle only laughed and said,--
"Pretty Polly talks an awful lot of rubbish. The hotter you are the
jollier it is. You come along too, Bert."
Bertie drew his breath hard. This was indeed freedom! Milly would have
loved to join the party, but desisted from motives of propriety. She had
not brought her bathing dress, and, indeed, she was hardly ever allowed
to use it at any time. So she went off to explore the wonders of the
island, leaving the boys to enjoy their bath and dry themselves in the
hot sunshine afterwards.
"I wish I were a boy too," she said to herself; "but anyhow I won't be a
little cockney, even if I am a girl."
Certainly the island was a most entrancing place. There were pools where
sea-anemones displayed their flower-like beauty, and others lined with
green seaweed that looked like moss, where little fishes swam about, and
shrimps turned somersaults, and limpets stuck tight to the side, as
though a part of the solid rock. Then on the top of the island, where
the water never came, a coarse kind of grass grew, and some little
flowers and sea-poppies; and Milly found many treasures in the way of
tiny shells, which would make lovely decorations for the doll's house at
home.
She could have enjoyed herself for hours like this; but the boys turned
up before very long, rosy and wet-headed from their bath, and declared
they must have something to eat quick, and that they must make a fire
and boil their very tiny kettle, just for the sake of feeling that they
really were castaways upon a desert island.
"I've found some water that isn't salt!" cried Milly; "it's in a deep
pool above high-water mark. It must be rain-water, I suppose; but it's
quite nice, for I drank some." And Pickle gave a shout of joy, for the
boys were terribly thirsty, and though they had provided themselves with
a kettle and some tea, they had never thought of bringing water. Puck
said that sea-water boiled would be sure to be quite nice, for boiling
was sure to take the salt out of it somehow.
Milly, however, knew better, and was proud of her find; and she and Puck
ran off to fill the kettle, whilst Pickle and Bertie set to gathering
dry seaweed, and putting it in a hole in the rocks which was rather like
a fire-grate, and over which they could easily put on the kettle to
boil.
It was tremendously exciting and interesting work--the sort of play
the rectory children had never indulged in before, though they had
secretly longed after it.
[Illustration: "Pickle soon had a merry little fire burning."--Page 95.
_Esther's Charge._]
"I'm the captain, and you're the bo'sun, Bertie," explained Pickle;
"Puck's the cabin-boy, and Milly's a passenger. Everybody else has been
drowned dead, and we've been cast ashore on the island. So we have to
light a fire as a signal to any passing ship to come and take us off."
"Oh, but we don't want to be taken off!" shrieked Milly; "we want to
stay all the afternoon! If they see our fire perhaps they'll come too
soon. We don't want that."
However, Pickle decreed that this risk must be run, as they must have
their tea, and all castaways lighted a fire when they could. He had
matches ready, and very soon the dry seaweed kindled, and a merry little
fire was soon burning in the hole. It was not long before the kettle
boiled, and very proud was Milly of being permitted to put in the tea,
and officiate at the dispensing of the liquid.
They had only one mug, and some lumps of sugar, and no milk; but that
mattered very little. Castaways could not expect luxuries, and the
cakes were excellent.
Bertie was in rampant spirits. This was true liberty, and he was eager
for remaining on the island permanently. There was a hole on the other
side where they could sleep upon a bed of dried seaweed; and then in the
mornings they could bathe in the pool, and he could learn to swim, and
Milly could cook their food, and they would catch fish, and crabs, and
shrimps, and live like princes.
Puck was rather taken by the idea.
"We shouldn't have any lessons then with the old Owl," he remarked. "I
don't like lessons. It's such a waste of time, when one might be having
fun. I can't see what good lessons are to anybody. I asked Crump once if
he remembered the dates of all the kings and queens, and he said he was
afraid he didn't, though he could have said them off pat when he was my
age. If one may forget everything as soon as one grows up, what's the
use of making such a fuss about learning them?"
"Crump says it trains the mind to learn," said Pickle, jumping up; "but
I should think living on an island and doing everything for oneself
would train it much more. Let's go and see the hole, Bert. P'r'aps we
won't stay to-day--we've not brought quite enough things; but we might
collect them here for a bit, and then when we've got enough we might
come over, and let the boat go adrift, and live like cave-men as long as
we liked. It would do for our city of refuge, you know," and he looked
across at Puck, who capered in great glee.
"Of course, of course, of course!" he shouted; "we ought to have a city
of refuge!"
"What's that?" asked Bertie eagerly.
"Oh, it's all in the Bible," answered Puck. "We found it one day, and
told Crump; and we asked if we might have one, and he said yes, if we
could find it; and so we made it. It was out on the stable roof--such a
jolly place!--no avenger of blood could ever get up there. Crump did try
once; but he stuck fast, and we sat and roared at him. It was a fine
city of refuge. We always went there when people were angry. Once we
were up there nearly all day; and if we'd had more gingerbread we'd
never have come down till they'd promised not to punish us. But Miss
Masters sat at the bottom of the ladder that time, and she whipped us
when we had to come down. That was what I call being real mean. What's
the good of a city of refuge if the avenger of blood sits waiting for
you at the bottom of the ladder? We asked Crump to tell her never to do
it again, but I don't know if he ever did. Soon after that we came here,
and the old Owl teaches us instead."
"And you haven't got a city of refuge here?" asked the breathless Milly.
"No; but I think we shall want one," said Pickle seriously. "There's
something about Old Bobby and the Owl that I don't quite like. They can
be very jolly; but they seem to think they're going to have it very much
their own way. I don't like giving in to a pair of old fogies like that.
I think this island might come in very useful."
"Prissy could never find us here!" cried Milly under her breath; "we
could do the loveliest things! Oh, do let us have a city of refuge!"
They explored the island with breathless interest. It seemed an
excellent place for their design. There was no danger of its ever being
covered at high tide; there was a rent in one side, not quite a cave,
but a deep fissure, which would give protection from wind and some
shelter from rain, and prove an excellent place of concealment. There
was the big pool for bathing in, and little pools for keeping their
treasures in the way of anemones and other sea-water creatures. And
though the tides might wash away the old treasures, there would be new
ones deposited instead, and altogether it seemed a most desirable sort
of place.
"We'll collect things here," said Pickle with decision. "That was the
worst of our other city of refuge; there was no place to keep anything.
We had just to carry up with us what we wanted, and unless we could get
down into the house without being seen we couldn't get anything more.
Once Jim, the stable-boy, brought us some apples; but he didn't
generally know when we were up there. We'll lay in a regular store of
things, and then if they get cross we can come here and stop for a
week. They'll be so frightened by that time that they'll never think of
being angry when we get back, if we don't stay here always."
"Are you sure?" asked Milly eagerly. "I feel as though mother would get
angrier and angrier the longer we stayed away."
But Pickle looked immensely wise.
"No, it isn't like that," he said; "they begin by getting angrier and
angrier, but then they get frightened, and when they're just as
frightened as they can be, then if you go back they don't scold--at
least hardly at all. They're only all in a tremble lest you've got wet
or something like that--as if one were a cat. It's very stupid of them,
but it's very convenient for us. You get more fun and less scolding that
way."
"O Pickle! how do you know?"
"Oh, we've tried it so often, and with different nurses and governesses,
and with Granny and Crump. We know all about that sort of thing. Crump
was the worst to reckon on. He would sometimes say very little that day,
but take it out of you next. But then Crump was Crump, and one never
minded much what he did. I wish we had him here now."
"Would he let you have a city of refuge out here?" asked Milly
wonderingly.
"Of course he would. Crump isn't like a pack of silly women, who always
think one is going to kill oneself. Crump likes boys to do things for
themselves, and not be always hanging round and asking other people to
take care of them. I'm going to be a soldier when I grow up, and
soldiers have to learn how to do lots of things; and Puck will be either
a soldier or a sailor. Crump said we might choose for ourselves; and
when we had chosen we must stick to it like bricks, and so we will."
"I'm going to be a Cornish boy!" cried Bertie; "my father said so.
Cornish boys can all swim, and row boats, and wrestle, and things like
that. We'll learn all about that at the city of refuge. It's the women
who spoil everything. Let's pass a law that no woman shall ever be
allowed to set foot on our island."
"Then you mustn't count me a woman!" cried Milly appealingly.
"Of course not!" answered all the boys at once; and Pickle went on
judicially--"We shan't count all girls as women--only the very stupid
ones like Pretty Polly. Tousle may come as a visitor sometimes; and you
may come always, Milly, if you'll be jolly and not tell secrets. I don't
count people like you women. You have some sense."
"And perhaps if you get regularly jolly, you won't ever be a woman,"
added Puck consolingly. "I should think there must be some way of
stopping it. When Old Bobby or the Owl are in good temper I'll ask them
about it. They have all sorts of funny things in bottles and tanks, and
they can do lots of queer things. I'll ask them if they can't do
something to stop you always being a woman. You'd like that very much,
wouldn't you?"
"Oh yes!" cried Milly eagerly. "If I could be a Cornish boy I should be
quite happy."
But time was flying fast, and, unless the children wanted their secret
to escape them too soon, they would have to be going back. They had had
a fine time out on the island, and the tide had begun to flow again,
and had floated their boat, which, for above an hour, had been lying
stranded amid the rocks.
So in they all tumbled, and rowed back homewards, reaching the creek as
the clock in the village church chimed out the hour of six.
"We shall just get home in time!" cried Milly, "and nobody will know we
haven't been playing about near home all the time.--Pickle, may we tell
father about the city of refuge--just as a secret? I'm sure he won't
mind; and if he doesn't tell mother it will be all right."
"Well, I'll think about it," answered Pickle, in his capacity of
captain; "but don't you tell anything till I give you leave."