NORA GOES TO SEA
“I mustn’t tell, oh, I mustn’t tell! If they find out it will get Mummy
into dreadful trouble.” That was what Nora had been telling herself
over and over again for the past five minutes, as she lay in a little
disconsolate heap on the cabin sofa, while Mr. and Mrs. Carew and Sarah
all seemed to be talking at once. They were all angry, she was sure,
she could tell that from their voices, but how much more angry would
they be if they knew they were carrying off the wrong little girl.
In the first moment when Nora had realized that the ship had actually
started, she had forgotten everything else, and, with a piercing
scream, had tried to reach the door, with a wild idea of somehow making
her way back to the shore. But Mr. Carew had held her last, and, with a
gentle shake, had laughingly told her not to be a little goose. She was
going to her father in Bermuda; it had all been planned for a wonderful
surprise. Then suddenly, the full meaning of the situation had burst
upon Nora, and she had flung herself on the sofa, and cried, and cried
as if her heart would break.
“You certainly are a most unaccountable child, Kathleen,” scolded Mrs.
Carew. “Here we have all been planning this, ever since last week,
when your daddy’s letter came, telling us to bring you. We thought we
were going to give you the surprise of your life, and now here you
are crying as if something dreadful had happened. I really cannot
understand you at all.”
“She’s contrary,” said Sarah; “nobody ever knows what’s going to please
her. Come now, Miss Kathleen, stop crying and behave like a sensible
child. If Miss Joy or Miss Gladys had ever had such a beautiful
surprise planned for them, I guess they’d have known how to appreciate
it.”
Nora made a great effort to check her sobs. After all, these people
meant to be kind. They had expected to give Kathleen a wonderful
pleasure. If Kathleen had been there in her place, she would doubtless
have been very happy. Oh, if she could only tell them the truth; they
might manage somehow to send her home, but the memory of her mother’s
words checked the rising impulse, and again she repeated the old
refrain: “I mustn’t tell, oh, I mustn’t tell!”
“It--it was all so sudden,” she faltered, lifting her head from the
sofa cushions, and straightening her hat, which had fallen on one side.
“I--I didn’t want to go to Bermuda. I wanted to--to take Muriel Trevor
for an automobile ride.”
Mrs. Carew laughed in spite of her annoyance.
“You silly child,” she said. “As if that mattered. Sarah telephoned
the Trevors yesterday afternoon, and Muriel was told all about the
surprise. She thought you would be wild with joy at the prospect of
going to Bermuda.”
“But she was mistaken--you were all mistaken!” cried Nora, lifting her
big pleading eyes to Mrs. Carew’s smiling face. “I don’t want to go to
Bermuda, I can’t possibly go; there’s a reason why I can’t. Oh, please,
please make them stop the ship for a minute. I must get off, I really
must.”
“Oh, Mr. Captain, stop the ship, I want to get off and walk,” sang Mr.
Carew, his eyes twinkling with fun. “I’m sorry the grand surprise has
turned out a failure, Kathleen, but I am afraid you will have to make
the best of it. This boat won’t stop again till she gets into Bermuda
harbor day after to-morrow.”
Nora sank back on the sofa with a little moan. She looked so
frightened, and so utterly miserable, that Mr. and Mrs. Carew began to
feel really sorry for her.
“I am afraid the surprise was too much of a shock,” Mr. Carew remarked
in a low tone to his wife. “The poor child is quite bowled over.”
“I can’t understand her at all,” said Mrs. Carew. “I was sure she would
be out of her head with joy. Come, Kathleen dear,” she added kindly,
“don’t look as if you had lost your last friend. You will spoil the
whole trip for us all if you don’t cheer up. Let Sarah take you to see
your cabin; it’s just across the gangway.”
Nora rose slowly. She was very white, and words still came with
difficulty, but at that moment she was making the biggest effort of her
life.
“I’ll try not to spoil your trip,” she said, “and--and I’m sorry you
were disappointed, but you see, you don’t understand.”
“No, I certainly don’t understand,” said Mrs. Carew. “Haven’t you been
fretting for your daddy ever since he went to Bermuda, and didn’t you
write him a letter begging him to send for you? It was that letter
that decided him to let you come with us. He told us to make all the
arrangements, and not to let you know what was going to happen until
you were actually on the boat. You once told him you loved surprises,
and he wanted to give you one you would never forget.”
“And such a time as I had keeping you from suspecting anything,” chimed
in Sarah. “That was why I sent you out with Selma yesterday afternoon.
I did most of the packing while you were gone, and got the trunks sent
off to the ship. I did have a turn when I heard you tell Selma you
wanted to put on that dress you wore at the birthday party, for it was
down at the very bottom of that trunk.”
Nora gave a long sigh. It was all quite plain and simple, of course,
and if she had only been Kathleen, she would have been very happy, and
very grateful to these kind friends, who had been planning to give her
pleasure. But she was not Kathleen; she was only little Nora O’Neil.
Kathleen was at the studio with Mummy, and she was being rapidly
carried away from home and friends. But whatever happened, she must not
get Mummy into trouble; she must keep on playing her part just as long
as she possibly could. So she made no objections to being led away by
the still indignant Sarah, to another cabin, very much like the one she
had left, which Sarah told her they were to share during the voyage.
“I guess we’d better stay here till I get things straightened out a
little,” remarked the maid. “It’s sure to be rough as soon as we pass
Sandy Hook, and I’m never any good after the ship begins to roll.”
Nora sat down, and meekly folded her hands. There really didn’t seem
to be anything else to do. She felt utterly helpless. Every moment
was taking her farther from her mother, and yet she dared not utter
another word of protest. Nora was only twelve, but she had always been
an independent, resourceful little person, and was, in many ways, old
for her age. She loved her mother with all the strength of her warm
little Irish heart, and it seemed to her that anything--yes, anything
in the world--would be better than to let Mummy suffer from any fault
or mistake of hers.
Sarah’s voice broke in on her reflections.
“I wish to goodness they’d told you all about it in the beginning,”
grumbled Sarah. “I’m sure I’d have been glad enough to stay on in New
York, for if there’s one thing I do hate more than all others, it’s
being on a ship when it’s rough. And I’ve always heard this Bermuda
trip was about the roughest there is.”
“What happens when it’s rough?” inquired Nora, listlessly. She didn’t
really care very much what did happen; she was so utterly miserable
already.
“People get seasick,” said Sarah, shortly.
Nora asked no more questions, and in a few minutes Mr. Carew came to
ask if she would not like to go on deck with her aunt, while Sarah
finished her unpacking.
Without a word, Nora rose and followed him. She had decided that the
wisest plan would be to do exactly as she was told. Then no one could
be angry with her, and perhaps they would leave her alone, and not ask
embarrassing questions.
The deck was crowded, and all the passengers were chatting and
laughing, as if they were thoroughly enjoying themselves. It was a
lovely morning, and the fresh sea air and bright sunshine did much to
restore Nora to herself. They were still going down the Bay, and as
they stood by the railing, gazing out over the beautiful harbor, Mr.
Carew pointed out the different forts, and was so kind and pleasant
that she began to lose some other terror of her new surroundings. After
all, this was a most exciting adventure, and Nora had never had many
adventures. Mrs. Carew had joined some acquaintances, but in a few
minutes she came up to her husband and Nora, accompanied by a lady and
gentleman.
“Here are Mr. and Mrs. Starr, Stephen,” she said. “You remember meeting
them at Bar Harbor last summer. Isn’t it delightful to find them on
this boat?”
Mr. Carew agreed that it was very delightful, and shook hands with Mr.
and Mrs. Starr. Then Mrs. Carew turned to Nora.
“This is my brother’s little girl,” she said; “we are taking her to
join her father in Bermuda.”
Mrs. Starr smiled kindly at Nora, and then she glanced over her
shoulder, as if in search of some one.
“I am looking for my boy,” she said; “he was here a minute ago. Henry,
dear, where do you suppose Reggie has gone?”
“I haven’t an idea, but he is sure to turn up all right,” answered her
husband, laughing. “He can’t very well swim ashore, so I wouldn’t worry
about him if I were you.”
Mrs. Starr did not look altogether satisfied.
“We have had such a bother with Reggie,” she explained to Mrs. Crew.
“He simply hated to leave New York. I have never left him in his life,
and I simply wouldn’t leave him this time, so his father and I insisted
on his coming. But I am afraid it was very much against his will.”
“Not unlike my little niece,” said Mrs. Carew, and she launched forth
on an account of the wonderful surprise, and its disastrous results.
She had just concluded her story, and Mrs. Starr was remarking that one
never could count on what children would do, when they were joined by
a boy of twelve or thirteen, whose sober, rather sullen expression of
countenance certainly did not convey the idea that he was having a good
time.
“Oh, here is Reggie,” exclaimed Mrs. Starr in a tone of relief. “Reggie
darling, here is a nice little girl for you to play with. What is your
name, dear?”
Nora gave a little frightened gasp. She had never told a lie in her
life, and yet if she said that her name was Nora O’Neil, what would the
Carews think? Fortunately, however, the question was settled for her by
Mrs. Carew, who, attributing her hesitation to some new, unaccountable
shyness, answered promptly--
“Her name is Kathleen Crawford.”
Reggie--who evidently had good manners, even if he did look rather
sulky--stepped forward and held out his hand.
“How do you do?” he said, frankly. “Do you like going to that beastly
Bermuda?”
“No, I don’t like it at all,” returned Nora, with equal frankness, and
the two children were friends from that moment.
“Let’s go and see the pilot get off,” suggested Reggie, and, although
he still looked rather cross, Nora noticed that his face had brightened
perceptibly. It was a rather nice face, too, she decided, and there was
a great relief in talking to some one who did not know Kathleen. At
least she could be herself with this boy, and not fear making mistakes.
So she made no objection to accompanying her new acquaintance to where
quite a crowd had collected to see the pilot leave the ship.
“We’re at The Hook now,” Reggie explained. “We shall be out at sea in a
little while, and then I suppose it’ll begin to be rough.”
“Does it make you seasick when it’s rough?” inquired Nora, remembering
Sarah’s fears on that subject.
“Not a bit. I never was seasick in my life, and neither was Father.
Mother has a bad time of it, though. I can’t see why she wanted to
come.” And Reggie’s face clouded again at the recollection of past
troubles.
“I’ve never been to sea,” said Nora. “Does it hurt very much to be
seasick?”
“I guess not, or people wouldn’t keep on going. Mother’s always sick,
and she’s crossed the ocean fourteen times. I’ve been to Europe three
times, and one winter we went to Egypt.”
“How very interesting,” said Nora. “I didn’t know Americans ever went
there unless they were missionaries, or people like that. I thought it
was only the people in the Bible who went to the Land of Egypt.”
Reggie laughed. He was beginning to find this new acquaintance most
amusing.
“I suppose you’re thinking of Moses and The Children of Israel,” he
said. “They did live there, of course. Why, I saw the place on the Nile
where Moses was found in the bulrushes. I saw the pyramids, too, and
the Sphinx. A little English kid and I got lost on the desert once.”
“Oh, do tell me about it!” cried Nora, to whom an exciting story was
as the very breath of life, and Reggie, nothing loath, plunged into a
thrilling tale of how he and a little English girl had run away from
their nurses, one afternoon when staying at a hotel close to the great
pyramids, and gone to pay a visit to the Sphinx. They had been lost on
their way home; had made friends with some children in an Arab village,
and after wandering about for several hours, and at last falling asleep
in the sand of the desert, had been rescued by some Englishmen who were
out on a hunting expedition, one of whom was the father of “the English
kid,” as Reggie called his little companion. “That was four years ago,”
Reggie concluded, “and I was only eight, but I wasn’t much scared,
except just for a minute when I thought those gentlemen were Arabs, and
might be going to shoot us.”
“You must be very brave,” said Nora, and there was so much admiration
in her tone that Reggie--who was really quite a modest boy--blushed.
“But how can you travel so much in winter?” Nora added. “Don’t you go
to school?”
“Oh, yes, but you see Mother’s always having nervous prostration, and
whenever she feels an attack coming on, the doctor sends her away
somewhere, and Father and I have to go with her. I rowed a lot about
coming this time, but Mother wouldn’t hear of leaving me at home, and
when she began having nervous attacks, Father said there wasn’t any
help for it, and I must come along. The Easter holidays begin next
Thursday, and we’re only to be away three weeks, so I won’t have to
lose much school this trip.”
“Do you like school?” Nora inquired, politely.
“Not much, but I like being on the baseball team. I only got taken on
this term, and I hate to miss the games. We play every Saturday.”
At that moment Nora caught sight of Sarah bearing down upon her.
“I’ve been looking all over the ship for you, Miss Kathleen,” she said,
reprovingly. “You mustn’t run off with strange boys; don’t you know
that?”
“I’m not a strange boy,” declared Reggie, indignantly. “My mother knows
her aunt. We came over here to see the pilot get off, and he hasn’t
gone yet. Don’t you bother. I’ll look after her all right.”
“You needn’t,” said Nora, flushing; “I can look after myself; I always
do.”
“You do, do you?” said Sarah. “Well, this is the first time I’ve heard
it. Come right back with me to your uncle and aunt. They’re in their
deck-chairs, and they’ve engaged two for us.”
Nora would have much preferred remaining where she was. She liked this
pleasant, frank-faced boy, with whom she could talk naturally, without
the constant fear of making some terrible mistake, which would betray
her as a little impostor. But she dared not disobey the stern Sarah,
so, with a sigh of regret, she turned to follow the maid back to the
rest of her party.
“What a disagreeable person,” remarked Reggie in a low voice. “Do you
have to mind her?”
“I don’t believe she means to be disagreeable,” said good-natured Nora.
“She’s afraid she is going to be seasick, and that makes her crosser
than usual.”
“I know,” said Reggie, with a comprehending nod. “They’re apt to be
like that when they think they’re going to be sick. Mother begins to
get nervous the minute the ship starts, and a nurse I had when I was
a kid always thought she was going to die. But see here, if she’s
sick, she won’t be able to boss you around, and we can have some fun
together.”
Nora’s face brightened.
“Will you tell me some more of your adventures?” she asked, eagerly.
Reggie said that he would, but felt obliged to admit that the Sphinx
adventure was by far the most exciting experience he had ever had. By
this time they had reached the part of the deck where the Carews and
Starrs were settled in their steamer-chairs.
For the next hour Nora was chained to Sarah’s side. Reggie went
away with his father, but did not ask her to accompany them, and the
little girl spent the time trying to accustom herself to her strange
situation. Having recovered from her first shock, she was beginning to
find a good deal that was interesting in the adventure. All her life
she had longed to travel; to see places and people she had read about;
and now here she was, actually on a ship bound for Bermuda. If it had
not been for the thought of her mother’s anxiety, and the fear of not
being able to “play Kathleen,” she felt she would be almost enjoying
herself. But every time she let her thoughts wander back to Mummy a
lump would rise in her throat, and she would have to wink hard to keep
back the rising tears. Everybody was kind to her, in an easy-going,
indifferent sort of way, but, remembering Kathleen’s instructions about
not talking much, she merely answered questions, and made no voluntary
remarks. This was really very hard, when there were so many things she
wanted to talk about, and she wished that Reggie would come back, and
they could be together again. Reggie was the only person on board with
whom she could be at her ease, and free from the dread of being found
out.
The steamer was by this time well out at sea, and was beginning to
rock quite perceptibly. Nora rather enjoyed the motion, but not so her
companions. Mrs. Carew and Mrs. Starr both departed for their cabins,
and Sarah turned pale and leaned back in her chair with closed eyes.
“Don’t you feel well, Sarah?” Nora inquired, sympathetically.
Sarah shook her head.
“I’m afraid I can’t hold out much longer,” she said, faintly, “but you
mustn’t be left here all by yourself.”
“I’m not by myself,” said Nora, looking very much surprised at the
idea. “There are lots of people here. What could possibly happen to me?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” admitted Sarah, “but it’s the looks of the
thing. Your father is so particular.”
“Then I suppose I shall have to go down to the cabin with you,” said
Nora, regretfully. “I wish I could stay here, though; it’s so lovely.
But perhaps I can help you if I go with you.”
Sarah looked the astonishment she felt.
“Well, now, that’s real sweet of you,” she exclaimed in a tone of such
warmth that Nora wondered why her perfectly natural suggestion should
be so much appreciated. “I don’t need any help, though,” she added.
“All I want is to lie down. I’d leave you with your uncle, but he’s
gone off to the smoking saloon.”
“Here come Reggie Starr and his father,” said Nora, eagerly; “perhaps
they’ll let me stay with them.” And, somewhat to Sarah’s consternation,
she sprang from her chair, and ran to meet the approaching figures.
“Oh, Reggie,” she cried before the maid could stop her, “Sarah’s
beginning to be seasick, and she wants to go and lie down. She says I
can’t stay here by myself, so, please, may I stay with you?”
“Of course you may,” said Reggie, and Mr. Starr added kindly to Sarah:
“We will look after the little girl with pleasure until her uncle comes
for her.”
So the matter was settled; Sarah took a prompt departure, and Nora
spent a very pleasant half-hour with her new friend. Reggie proved a
most interesting companion, for, delighted at finding such an admiring
listener, he told stories of other voyages he had taken, and of his
experiences in foreign lands, until Nora almost forgot that she was
“playing a part.” But even with Reggie there were embarrassing moments,
as, for instance, when he suddenly inquired if she didn’t know the
Campbells.
“No, I never heard of them,” answered Nora, innocently.
“Oh, don’t you? I thought you and Marjorie might be friends. She and
Bobby are in Bermuda, and we’re going to meet them. Their uncle and
aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Allen, took them. They’ve both had diphtheria, and
couldn’t go back to school till after Easter. Bobby and I are great
chums.”
Nora said nothing, and just at that moment Mr. Carew came to look for
his supposed niece, and take her to luncheon.
By this time the steamer was rolling so heavily that many of the
passengers had retired to their cabins, but neither Nora nor Reggie
were troubled by qualms of seasickness, and Nora ate such a hearty
luncheon that Mr. Carew looked at her in astonishment.
“You are a famous little sailor, Kathleen,” he said, as they left the
dining-saloon. “Now what would you like to do next? Shall I take you on
deck again?”
“I think I’d better go and see how Sarah is,” said Nora. “Perhaps she
may need me to take care of her.”
Mr. Carew laughed.
“Since when have you developed a talent for nursing?” he inquired,
but he did not seem to expect a reply, and Nora, fearing she had made
another mistake, was glad to escape.
She found Sarah very miserable indeed, and not only Sarah, but Mrs.
Carew as well.
“If I could only manage to get my hair down and my boots off,” moaned
poor Aunt Kitty. “I almost wish I had brought Celestine, after all,
even if she isn’t much use. The stewardess is so busy, there is no use
in ringing for her. I have rung three times, and no one has answered.
I felt so badly when I came down that I just threw myself on the bed,
without trying to undress, and I am getting worse every minute.”
“Oh, do let me help you!” cried Nora, and, without waiting for
permission, she was on her knees, unbuttoning Mrs. Carew’s walking
boots.
Ten minutes later Aunt Kitty was comfortably in bed.
“Thank you, dear,” she murmured feebly, as Nora bent over her to
arrange the pillows. “I had no idea you were such a good little nurse.”
“I like nursing,” said Nora. “I helped take care of the Judsons when
they had the measles.”
She stopped, aghast at her mistake, but Mrs. Carew did not appear to
have noticed anything unusual.
“I think I’ll try to sleep for a little while,” she said. “You had
better get Sarah to take you on deck.”
And Nora departed, only too thankful to have escaped so easily, and
secretly resolving to be more careful of her words in future. But she
was only twelve, after all, and mistakes were bound to occur. Had it
not been for the fact that both Mrs. Carew and Sarah were far too ill
to notice small things during the next twenty-four hours, Nora would
never have reached Bermuda without betraying her identity. Mr. Carew
was kind, but rather absent-minded, and except at meals, he saw little
of Nora, whose time was divided between ministering to his wife and
Sarah, and walking the deck with Reggie Starr.
“She’s an awfully jolly girl,” Reggie informed his father that first
evening. “There isn’t a bit of nonsense about her. You’d never suppose
she’d been spoiled and given in to, the way Mrs. Carew told Mother she
had. She’s just as pleasant and good-natured as she can be, and not one
bit stuck-up, or anything like that.”
“I never was so mistaken about a child in my life,” was Sarah’s inward
comment, the next morning, when Nora stood at her bedside, with a cup
of steaming black coffee, which she had ordered from the steward. “It
just shows one shouldn’t judge. She’s the best-hearted little thing
that ever lived. Even Miss Joy couldn’t beat her.”
But Sarah--who did not approve of flattering children--kept her
conviction to herself.