Dorothy on a House Boat

But the Colonel’s protest was lost on energetic Mrs. Bruce. She tossed her comely head and retorted:

“Some folks find their rest in doin’ their duty, not in loafin’ round on other people’s time and things. Not meaning any disrespect, I’m sure, but I never did have time to do nothin’ in. I’m going right now and set to work on that dinner. I do wish the girls could see those baskets, first, though!”

“Leave them untouched, then, Mrs. Bruce. Surely, we had enough provided before we had this present.”

“Yes, Mrs. Calvert, we did have – for our own folks; and counting a little on the fish the men-folks was to bring in. Seems if they’s gone a dreadful spell, don’t it? And I heard that old Cap’n Jack say something about the Bay. If he’s enticed ’em to row out onto that big water – Oh! dear! I wish they’d come!”

The Colonel roused himself to remark:

“Squalls is right frequent on the Chesapeake. And that old man is no captain at all. Used to work on an oyster boat and don’t know – shucks. Likely they’ve had an upset. Boys got to foolin’ and – Ah! hum! Wasn’t none of ’em your sons, were they, Ma’am?”

From the moment of their first meeting there had been a silent battle between the capable housekeeper and the incapable “southern gentleman.” She had had several talks with Dorothy and Jim over the finances of this trip and she knew that it would have to be a short one if “ends were to meet.” She felt that this man, aristocrat though he might be, had no right to impose himself and his prodigious appetite upon them just because the lads had tried to buy his old mule and he had, instead, so generously presented it.

“I don’t see what good that yapping Billy does, anyway! He doesn’t work at all and he’s living on somebody else’s grass. There’ll be a bill coming in for his fodder, next we know;” she had grumbled. It may be said, to her credit, that she was infinitely more careful of Dorothy’s interests than she would have been of her own. But all her grumbling and hints failed to effect what she had hoped they would – the Colonel’s permanent departure for home along with the useless Billy.

Now all that was to be changed. Almost before he had gone, it seemed, Farmer Stillwell came steaming down stream on a small tugboat, which puffed and fussed as if it were some mighty steamship, and passing the Water Lily manoeuvred to turn around and face upstream again. Presently, a rope was made fast to the prow of the house-boat and securely tied, and Mr. Stillwell stepped aboard to announce:

“All ready to move, Ma’am. Your company all back?”

“Not all. The girls have just come but the Captain and the boys are still away. We’ll have to wait for them.”

Mrs. Calvert’s answer fell on unheeding ears.

“Guess not, Ma’am. This here tug’s got another job right soon and if we lose this chance may not be another in a dog’s age. I knowed she was around and could help us out, was the reason I spoke to you about her. I guess it’s now or never with the ‘Nancy Jane.’ Once she goes up to Baltimo’ she’ll have more jobs an’ she can tackle. Wouldn’t be here now, only she had one down, fetching some truck-scows back. Well, what you say?”

A brief consultation was held in the cabin of the Water Lily in which the voices of four eager girls prevailed:

“Why, let’s take the chance, of course, Auntie dear. We can leave a note pinned to the wharf telling the boys and Cap’n Jack that we’ve gone on to the Ottawotta. They can follow in their row-boat. And, Colonel Dillingham, can’t you ride Billy alongside, on the shores we pass? We can’t possibly take him on board, and he won’t go without you.”

But now, at last, was the doughty Colonel energetic.

“No, sir. I mean, no, madam! I go to Ottawotta? I allow my faithful Billy to set foot on that soil? No, ma’am. I will not. I will simply bid you good day. And young miss, let me tell you, what your relative here seems to have forgot; that no old Marylander, of first quality, would ha’ turned a guest loose to shift for himself in such a way as this. But – what can you expect? Times ain’t what they were and you cayn’t count on anybody any more. I bid you all good day, and a pleasant v’yage. As for Billy an’ me, we’ll bestow ourselves where we are better appreciated.”

Poor Mrs. Calvert was distressed. Not often in her long life had the charge of inhospitality been laid at her door, and she hastened to explain that she wished him still to remain with them, only —

With a magnificent wave of his not too clean hand and bowing in the courtliest fashion, the disappointed visitor stepped grandly over the gang-plank, and a moment later was ordering, in his saddest tones:

“Billy, lie down!”

Billy obediently shook his harness, disordered by the efforts of the lads to straighten it, and crumpled himself up on the sward. The Colonel majestically placed himself upon the back of “his only friend;” commanded: “Billy, get up!” and slowly rode away up-slope to his own deserted melon-patch.

“Now, isn’t that a pity!” cried Dorothy, with tears in her eyes. “I didn’t care for him while he was here, though Billy was just charming – for a mule! But I do hate quarreling and he’s gone off mad.”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish!” said Mrs. Bruce, fervently. Then shaded her eyes with her hands to stare out toward the broader water in search of the missing fishermen, while the pretty Water Lily began to move away from the little wharf which had become so familiar.

Meanwhile, out beyond the mouth of the river, within the shelter of a tree-shaded cove, the would-be fishermen were having adventures of their own. It was a spot which Cap’n Jack knew well and was that he had intended to reach when the little red “Stem” of the Water Lily was lowed away from her. Here was a collection of small houses, mere huts in fact, occupied by fishermen during the mild seasons. Here would always be found some old cronies of his, shipmates of the oyster-boats that plied their trade during the cold months of the year.

The truth was that the “skipper” was not only lonely, so far from his accustomed haunts, but he wanted a chance to show these old mates of his how his fortunes had risen, to hear the news and give it.

“Are there any fish here?” demanded Jim, when they rested on their oars just off shore.

“More fish ’an you could catch in a lifetime! Look a yonder!”

So saying, the captain raised his broken spy-glass to his good eye – he had the sight of but one – and surveyed the cove. Around and around he turned it, standing firmly on the bottom of the “Stem,” his multitude of brass buttons glittering in the sun, and his squat figure a notable one, seen just then and there. At last, came a cry from shore.

“Ship ahoy!”

“Aye, aye! Port about!” roared the Captain, and dropped to his seat again. He had succeeded in his effort to attract attention, and now picked up the oars and began to pull in. Until now he had generously allowed the lads to do the rowing, despite considerable grumbling from Gerald, who was newer to that sort of work than he had pretended. But Cap’n Jack did not care for this; and he did succeed in impressing a small company of men who were industriously fishing in the cove.

Most of these were in small boats, like the “Stem,” but a larger craft was moored at the little wharf and about it were gathered real sailors fresh from the sea. At sight of them, the three lads forgot fishing in eagerness to meet these sailors, who had come from – nobody could guess how far! At all events, they must have seen strange things and have many “yarns to spin,” which it would be fine to hear.

Events proved that the sailors had never heard of “Cap’n Jack,” and were duly impressed by the importance he assumed. On his tongue, the Water Lily became a magnificent yacht and he its famous Commodore, and though there were those among the fishermen who did know him well, they humored his harmless pretensions and added to his stories such marvelous details that even he was astonished into believing himself a much greater man than he had pretended.

That was a gala day for the three lads. Somebody proposed lunch and some fishermen prepared it; of the freshly caught fish, cooked over a beach-wood fire, and flanked by the best things the hosts could offer. Over the food and the fire tongues were loosened, and the sailors did “yarn it” to their guests’ content. At last the talk turned upon animals and one sailor, who was no older than these young landsmen, remarked:

“Speakin’ of monkeys, I’ve got a dandy pair right down in the hold now. Want to see ’em?”

Of course they did! They were in a mood to wish to see anything and everything which came from afar. For, during the “yarns,” in imagination they had followed these men of the sea into wonderful lands, through tropical forests, and among strange people, till even Jim’s fancy was kindled. As for Melvin and Gerald, their eyes fairly shone with eagerness, and when the sailor returned to the little camp-fire, bringing a wooden cage containing the monkeys, each was possessed of a desire to own them.

“For sale?” asked Gerald.

“Course. I always bring home a few. Last trip I did a hundred and fifty for a Baltimore department store. Fact! Head of the firm ordered ’em. He sold ’em for two-fifty a-piece, and they went like hot cakes. Women went crazy over ’em, I heard, and, course, it was good business for him. A woman would go in the store, out of curiosity to see the monks. See something else she’d buy, and finally be talked into buying one o’ them. Reckon I’ll lay alongside that same store and try for another consignment.”

“How much?” asked Melvin. He was thinking that if so many “women went crazy” over such animals as pets, it would be a nice thing to buy this pair and present them to Dorothy. She did love animals so!

“Oh! I don’t know, exactly. This is the last pair I’ve got – they are extra clever – could be taught to speak just as well as children, I believe, only, course, a sailor don’t have time to fool with ’em.” He might have added that not only was this his “last pair” but his only one; and that though the transaction he described was a fact, he was not the dealer who had supplied the monkey market. Besides – but there was no need to tell all he knew about monkeys to these two possible purchasers.

“Jim, don’t you want to take a chance? Go thirds with us in ’em?”

“No, Gerald. I don’t. I mean I can’t. I’ve only a little bit left in my purse on the boat, and I’ve got to get back to New York State sometime. Back to the Water Lily mighty sudden, too, seems if. Must ha’ been here a terrible time. Shucks! I clean forgot our folks were waiting for their fish-dinner while we were eatin’ our own. Come on! We must go! and not a single fish to show for our whole morning!”

“Wait a minute. It’s so late now it can’t matter. They’d have had their dinner, anyway. You won’t join?” again asked Gerald.

“Can’t.”

“I will, if he doesn’t ask too much. What’s the price, sailor? We’ll take them if it isn’t too high,” said Melvin.

The man named a sum that was greater than the combined capital of Gerald and Melvin. Then, although he wasn’t a purchaser himself, Jim tried his usual “dickering” and succeeded in lowering the price of the simians, “clever enough to talk English,” to ten dollars for the pair.

“All right! Here’s my fiver!” cried Gerald, reluctantly pulling out a last, dilapidated bill from a very flat pocket-book.

“And mine,” added Melvin, tendering his own part.

“Now, we must go, right away!” declared Jim, hastily rising.

He thought the sailor who had promptly pocketed the ten dollars of his friends was suspiciously kind, insisting upon carrying the cage of monkeys down to the “Stem,” and himself placing it securely in the bottom of the boat. The little animals kept up a chattering and showed their teeth, after a manner that might be as clever as their late owner claimed but certainly showed anger.

Indeed, they tore about their cage in such a fury of speed that it nearly fell overboard and in the haste of embarking everyone forgot the original object of this trip, till Jim exclaimed:

“Went a-fishin’ and caught monkeys! Won’t they laugh at us?”

An hour later they brought up alongside the wharf which they had begun to think was their own, so familiar and homelike it had become. But there was nothing familiar about it now. The water lapped gently against the deserted pier and a forgotten painter dangled limply from the post at its end.

“Gone!” cried one and another of the lads, looking with frightened eyes over the scene.

“Gone! Somebody’s stole – my – ship!” groaned Cap’n Jack, for once in actual terror. For that the Water Lily could “navigate” without his aid under any circumstances was a thing beyond belief.