UNCLE CHRISTOPHER'S "GREAT SCHEME."
How pleasant it was to be in dear old Norton again! and how glad
everybody was to see them! Good old Mrs. Wing said it made her feel
young again to have boys in the house. She certainly had enough of them
now; for the Norton boys could not keep away from Mark. From early
morning until evening boys walked back and forth in front of the house
waiting for him to appear, or sat on the fence-posts and whistled for
him. Some walked boldly up to the front door, rang the bell, and asked
if he were in; while others, more shy, but braver than those who
whistled so alluringly from the fence-posts, stole around through the
garden at the side of the house, and tried to catch a glimpse of him
through the windows.
All this was not because Mark kept himself shut up in the house. Oh no!
he was not that kind of a boy. He only stayed in long enough to sleep,
to eat three meals a day, and to write letters to his father, mother,
and Frank March, telling them of everything that was taking place. The
rest of the time he devoted to the boys--and the girls; for he was over
at Captain May's house almost as much as he was at the Wings'. He was
enjoying himself immensely, though it didn't seem as though he was
doing much except to talk.
If he went fishing with the boys, they would make him tell how he and
Frank caught the alligator, or how the alligator caught Frank, and how
he killed it; and when he finished it was time to go home, and none of
them had even thought of fishing since Mark began to talk.
There was nothing the boys enjoyed more than going out into the woods,
making believe that some of the great spreading oaks were palm-trees,
and lying down under them and listening, while Mark, at their earnest
request, told over and over again the stories of the wreck on the
Florida reef, and the picnic his father and mother and Ruth and he had
under the palm-trees, or of hunting deer at night through the solemn,
moss-hung, Southern forests, or of the burning of the Wildfire.
"I say, Mark," exclaimed Tom Ellis, after listening with breathless
interest to one of these stories, "you're a regular book, you are, and
I'd rather hear you tell stories than to read Captain Marryat or Paul
du Chaillu."
But there was one story Mark never would tell. It was that of his
terrible experience in the buried river. Of this he tried to think as
little as possible, and when the boys saw that it really distressed him
to talk of it they forbore to urge him to do so.
Of course Ruth did not feel as Mark did about it, and she told the
story many times, and everybody who heard it declared it was a most
wonderful experience. They also seemed to think that in some way the
mere fact that the hero of such an adventure was a Norton boy reflected
great credit on the village.
Both Mark and Ruth saw a greater resemblance in the real Edna May to
Frank March than had been shown by her photograph; but they remembered
their promise to Captain Bill, and did not speak of it except to each
other. It was very hard for Ruth to keep this promise, for Edna had
become much interested in Frank through her letters, and now asked many
questions about him. Ruth told her all she knew, except the one great
secret that was on the end of her tongue a dozen times, but was never
allowed to get any further.
Two weeks had been spent very happily by the children in Norton, when,
one beautiful evening in June, the old stage rattled up to the Wings'
front gate, and from it alighted Uncle Christopher Bangs.
"Halloo, Mark!" sung out the old gentleman, catching sight of his
grandnephew almost the first thing. "How are you, my boy? Sakes alive,
but you're looking well! Seems as if Maine air was the correct thing
for Floridy boys, eh?"
"Yes, indeed, 'Uncle Christmas,'" replied Mark, as he ran out to meet
the dear old man, "Maine air is the very thing for this Florida boy, at
any rate."
"So it is, so it is," chuckled Uncle Christopher. "Wal, I suppose
you're all ready to go to work now, eh?"
"To be sure I am, uncle; ready to begin right off."
"That's right, that's right; but s'posing we just look in on Mrs. Wing
first, and see what she's got for supper, and then, after sleeping a
bit, and eating again, and sort o' shaking ourselves together, we'll
begin to consider. There ain't nothing to be gained by hurrying and
worrying through the only lifetime we've got in this world, eh?"
The Doctor and Mrs. Wing welcomed Uncle Christopher most warmly, for he
was a very dear friend of theirs, and they never allowed him to stay
anywhere in Norton but at their house, now that the Elmers had moved
away. After supper Ruth and the Mays came over to see him, and he
entertained them the whole evening with his funny stories and quaint
sayings.
In the morning, after breakfast, they began to "consider," as Uncle
Christopher called it. First he made Mark stand in front of him, looked
him all over from head to foot with a quizzical expression, and finally
said, "Yes, you look strong and hearty, and I guess you'll do.
"Fact is, Mark, I've got to take a trip down into Aroostook, and as I'm
getting pretty old and feeble--Oh, you needn't smile, youngster, I am
old and I've made so many bad jokes lately that I must be getting
feeble. As I was saying, having reached an advanced state of infirmity,
it has occurred to me that I need a travelling companion, a young,
able-bodied fellow like you, for instance, to protect me against the
dangers of the journey. Who knows but what we may meet with an
alligator, eh? and so I want you to go along with me."
Of course Mark agreed readily to this proposition, though he had
expected one far different, and the next morning he and Uncle
Christopher took leave of their Norton friends and started for Bangor.
From there another train carried them for miles along the upper
Penobscot River, past the Indian settlement at Old Town, past the great
saw-mills and millions of logs at Mattawaumkeag, and finally to McAdam
Junction in "Europe," as Uncle Christopher called New Brunswick. Here
they took another road, and were carried back into Maine to Houlton,
the county seat of Aroostook County. After staying overnight here they
took a stage, and for a whole day travelled over pleasant roads,
through sweet-scented forests of spruce and balsam, broken here by
clearings and thrifty farms, until at last the journey ended in the
pretty little backwoods settlement of Presque Isle.
Here Uncle Christopher's lumber business detained him for a week, and
here he introduced Mark to all his friends as "My grandnephew, Mr. Mark
Elmer, Jun., President of the Elmer Mills down in Floridy," covering
Mark with much confusion thereby, and enjoying the joke immensely
himself. Now the real object of bringing the boy on this trip was
disclosed. Mr. Bangs not only wanted Mark to meet with these practical
men, and become familiar with their ways of conducting a business which
was very similar to that which the Elmers had undertaken in Florida,
but he knew that pine lumber was becoming scarce in that Northern
country, and thought perhaps some of these men could be persuaded to
emigrate to another land of pines if the idea was presented to them
properly. So he encouraged Mark to talk of Florida, and to give them
all the information he possessed regarding its forests of pine and its
other resources. As a result, before they again turned their faces
homeward, half a dozen of these clear-headed Maine men had promised
them to visit Florida in the fall, take a look at the Wakulla country,
and see for themselves what it offered in their line of business.
When Uncle Christopher and Mark returned to Bangor, the latter began to
attend school regularly; not a grammar-school, nor a high-school, nor a
school of any kind where books are studied, but a mill-school, where
machinery took the place of books, where the teachers were rough
workmen, and where each lecture was illustrated by practical examples.
Nor did Mark merely go and listen to these lectures: he took an active
part in illustrating them himself; for Uncle Christopher had explained
so clearly to him that in order to be a truly successful mill president
he must thoroughly understand the uses of every bit of mill machinery,
that the boy was now as eager to do this as he had been in Wakulla to
learn how to fish for alligators, or fire-hunt for deer.
All that summer he worked hard--two months in a saw-mill, and two more
in a grist-mill--and though he did not receive a cent of money for all
this labor, he felt amply repaid for what he had been through, by a
satisfied sense of having, at least, mastered the rudiments of what he
knew was to be an important part of his work in life for some years to
come.
About the end of September his Uncle Christopher called Mark into his
study one evening, and telling him to sit down, said, "Well, Mark, my
boy, I suppose you're beginning to think of going home again to
Floridy, eh?"
"Yes, uncle; father writes that both Ruth and I ought to come home very
soon now, and I, for one, am quite ready to go."
"So you ought, so you ought. When boys and girls can help their fathers
and mothers, and be helping themselves at the same time, they ought to
be doing it," assented Uncle Christopher, cheerfully. "Well, Mark, I've
got a scheme, a great scheme in my head, and I want you to tell me what
you think of it. In the first place, I want you and the other directors
to increase the capital stock of the Elmer Mill and Ferry Company, and
let me take the extra shares."
"Oh, Uncle Christopher!"
"Wait, my boy, I haven't begun yet. You see, as I've told you before,
I'm getting old and fee--not a word, sir!--feeble, and my old bones
begin to complain a good deal at the cold of these Maine winters.
Besides, all the folks that I think most of in this world have gone to
Floridy to live, and it isn't according to nater that a man's body
should be in one place while his heart's in another. Consequently it
looks as if I had a special call to have a business that'll take my
body where my heart is once in a while. Now my business is the lumber
business, and always will be; and from what I know and what you tell
me, it looks as if there was enough of that sort of business to be done
in Floridy to amuse my declining years."
"Yes, indeed there is, uncle."
"Well, that p'int being settled, and you, as President of the Elmer
Mills, being willing to use your influence to have me made a partner in
that concern--"
"Why, of course, uncle--"
"No 'of course' about it, young man; remember there's a Board of
Directors to be consulted. Friendship is friendship, and business is
business, and sometimes when one says 'Gee' t'other says 'Haw.' Having
secured the influence of the president of the company, however, I'm
willing to risk the rest. And now for my scheme.
"Supposing, for the sake of argument, that I am made one of the
proprietors of the Elmer Mills. In that case I want them to be big
mills. I'm too old a man to be fooling my limited time away on little
mills; consequently, I propose to buy a first-class outfit of machinery
for a big saw-mill, ship it to Wakulla, Floridy, and let it represent
my shares of Elmer Mill Company stock. Moreover, as the schooner Nancy
Bell, owned by the subscriber, is just now waiting for a charter, I
propose to load her with the said mill machinery, and whatever articles
you may think the Wakulla colony to be most in need of, and despatch
her to the St. Mark's River, Floridy.
"Moreover, yet again, as she is now without a captain, Eli Drew having
gone into deep-water navigation, I propose to offer the command of the
Nancy Bell to Captain Bill May, as his ship won't be ready for some
months yet.
"And, moreover, for the third time, I further propose to invite Mr.
Mark Elmer, Jun., President of the Elmer Mill and Ferry Company of
Floridy, Miss Ruth Elmer, Secretary of the same, Miss Edna May,
daughter of the captain, that is to be, of the schooner Nancy Bell, and
the several gentlemen whom we met down in Aroostook last June, to take
this Floridy trip on board the schooner Nancy Bell with me."
"With YOU, Uncle Christopher!" exclaimed Mark. "Are you going too?"
"Why, to be sure I am," answered Uncle Christopher. "Didn't I tell you
it was my intention to reunite the scattered members of my being under
more sunny skies than these? Now what do you say to my scheme, eh?"
"I say it's the most splendid scheme I ever heard of," cried Mark,
jumping from his chair in his excitement, "and I wish we could start
this very minute."
"Well we can't; but we can start towards bed, and in the morning we'll
look after that mill machinery."
The next two were indeed busy weeks for our friends. In Bangor Uncle
Christopher and Mark were fully occupied in selecting mill machinery of
the most improved patterns, and in purchasing a great variety of farm
utensils, groceries, and other things that Mark knew would prove very
welcome in Wakulla. Captain May, who had gladly accepted the command of
the Nancy Bell for this voyage, was equally busy getting her ready for
sea, and superintending the stowage of her precious but awkward cargo
of machinery.
In Norton, Ruth and Edna had their hands full of dressmaking, packing,
and paying farewell visits, and down in Aroostook the six families of
the six gentlemen who had accepted Mr. Bangs's invitation to visit
Florida with him were in a whirl of excitement, for to these
untravelled people the journey from Maine to Florida seemed but little
less of an undertaking than a journey around the world.
At length everything was ready, and the Nancy Bell only awaited her
passengers. Captain May and Mark ran over to Norton one day to bid the
friends there good-bye, and returned the next, bringing the girls with
them. Both the girls were as excited as they could be; Edna at the
prospect of this the first long journey that she could remember, and
Ruth at the idea of soon being at home with her own dear parents again,
and with anticipating all she should have to show and tell Edna.
A letter had been sent to Wakulla, saying that Mark and Ruth would take
advantage of the first opportunity that offered to go home, and that
Edna May would come with them; but nothing was said of Uncle
Christopher and the rest of the party, nor of the schooner and her
cargo. All this was reserved as a grand surprise.
How different were the feelings that filled the minds of Mark and Ruth
now, from those with which they had sailed down the Penobscot in this
same schooner Nancy Bell eleven months before. Then they were leaving
the only home they had ever known, and going in search of a new one in
which their father could recover his shattered health. Even they had
realized that it was a desperate venture, and that its success was very
doubtful. Now they were going to that home, already well established
and prosperous. They knew that their father was again a strong and well
man, and they were taking with them friends and material that were to
insure increased happiness and prosperity to those whom they loved most.
The first of October was a charming season of the year for a Southern
voyage, and with favoring winds the Nancy Bell made a quick run down
the coast. In one week after leaving Bangor she had rounded the western
end of the Florida Reef, and was headed northward across the green
waters of the Gulf. Here she moved but slowly before the light winds
that prevailed, but at last the distant light-house at the mouth of the
St. Mark's River was sighted. Almost at the same time a slender column
of smoke was seen rising to the east of the light, and apparently at
some distance inland. As the lamp in the light-house shed forth its
cheerful gleam at sunset the column of smoke changed to a deep red, as
though it were a pillar of fire. While they were wondering what it
could be, a pilot came on board, and in answer to their questions told
them that it was the light from the Wakulla volcano. He said that no
living soul had ever been nearer than five miles to it, on account of
the horrible and impenetrable swamps surrounding it.
Hearing this, Uncle Christopher declared that, before leaving that
country, he meant to go in there and see how nigh he could get to it,
and Mark said he would go with him.
As the breeze and tide were both in their favor, it was decided to run
up to St. Mark's that night. When, about nine o'clock, this point was
reached, it was suggested that all hands should take to the boats, and
tow the schooner the rest of the way up to Wakulla that same night, so
as to surprise the folks in the morning. The children were wild to have
this plan carried out, and finally Captain May and Uncle Christopher
consented that it should be tried.
All night long the schooner moved slowly up the solemn river through
the dense shadows of the overhanging forests. The boats' crews were
relieved every hour, and shortly before sunrise the children, who had
been forced by sleepiness to take naps in their state-rooms, were
wakened by Uncle Christopher, who said,
"Come, children, hurry up on deck. The schooner has just been made fast
to the 'Go Bang' pier, and we're going to fire a gun to wake up the
folks--a sort of a 'Go Bang' good-morning, you know."