Nautilus Part 10

The Skipper sat smoking, and watched with a quiet smile the gambols of the three young creatures, as they sped here and there about the rigging, chattering, laughing, shrieking with glee.

"Laugh, my son!" he said to himself, between the puffs of his cigar.

"Laugh and play, my little son! Far too little laughter has been in thy life so far; here thou shalt be as gay as the sun is bright on the Bahamas. Of what use to be a sailor, if not to rejoice, and to see with joy the works of G.o.d and His glory? Laugh, Colorado, the sound is music in my ears!"

But by-and-by the play must cease. Orders were given, and Rento and Franci set to work in good earnest. The wind was fair, the tide was setting out. What should keep them longer here? The sails were hoisted to the tune of "Baltimore," and Rento's gruff ba.s.s and Franci's melting tenor were mingled for once in friendly harmony.

"I wish I was in Baltimore!

lo!

A-skating on the sanded floor.

A long time ago!

Forever and forever, lo!

Forever and forever, boys, A long time ago!"

Just as the cables were about to be cast off, a hail was heard from the wharf, and Mr. Bill Hen Pike appeared, purple and breathless.

"Schooner ahoy!" he gasped; and then fell against a post and mopped his brow.

"Senor!" responded the Skipper, coming to the stern, and greeting his guest with a wave of the hand, "you come to bid us farewell? It is kindly done! Or you bring us, perhaps, a message from our revered uncle?

Speak with haste, Senor, the tide waits not!"

"I--I brought this!" said Mr. Bill Hen, holding up a small object. "I went up into his room, to see if there was anything he might like, and there warn't nothing but just this. I thought you'd like to have it, Johnny, to take along with you."

The good man's voice faltered; John ran to the stern, and held out his hands eagerly, tenderly, crying,--"Oh, thank you, dear Mr. Pike! thank you so very, very much!"

For it was the china poodle that Mr. Bill Hen had brought. When the treasure was safe in the child's hands, Mr. Bill Hen breathed more freely.

"Now you'll have something to remember us by, Johnny!" he said. "We've lotted on ye a good deal, here to the village; more maybe than you thought on. I--I'll miss ye consid'able, off and on, ye see, off and on.

You'll think about us nows and thens, won't ye, Bub?"

"Oh, yes, indeed!" cried little John, eagerly. "I shall think of you a great, great deal, Mr. Bill Hen! You have always been so good and kind to me, and I shall miss you, too, and Lena, and lots of people. And--and how is Cousin Sc.r.a.per, please, Mr. Bill Hen? Does he miss me, do you think?"

"He's all right!" replied Mr. Bill Hen, gruffly. "Doosn't seem none the worse for his tantrum. No, if you ask me, I can't say as he seems to miss ye, not anyways to hurt him, that is. He'll be out again to-morrow all right, doctor says; and besides bein' rather uglier than common all day, I don't see no difference in him."

John sighed, but not very heavily.

"I suppose if I had been nicer he might have missed me," he said; "but then, on the other hand, if he missed me, he wouldn't be so comfortable at my going away; so, you see!"

Mr. Bill Hen did not see, but he said it was of no consequence. Then, coming to the edge of the wharf, he shook hands all round, never noticing, in the preoccupation of his mind, the knife that Franci flashed and brandished in his eyes as a parting dramatic effect. He held John's hand long, and seemed to labour for words, but found none; and so they slipped away and left him standing alone on the wharf, a forlorn figure.

Down the river! Sailing, sailing over the magical waters, past the fairy sh.o.r.es, already darkening into twilight shades of purple and gray. The white schooner glided along, pa.s.sing, as she had come, like a dream. In the bow stood the Skipper, his eyes bent forward, his hand clasping fast the hand of the child.

"We go, Colorado!" he said. "We go, my son, to new worlds, to a new life. May a blessing be upon them, as my heart feels there will be.

Behold, my friend, the ways of G.o.d, very wonderful to men of the sea. I come up this river, with what thoughts in my heart? Partly of curiosity, that I see the place where my mother, long dead, was born, came to her womanhood; partly of tenderness for her memory, regard for her wish; partly, also, for anger at the villain brother, my uncle, and desire for revenge, for my rights. I come, and I find--a child! A brother for my present life, a son for my age, a friend for my heart! Living upon the sea, Colorado, a man has much time for thought; the sea speaks to him, the sky, the wind and wave. What is the word they say, each and every one, in the ear of the sailor? 'Glory to G.o.d!' That is it, my son. Let us give thanks, and begin with joy our new life together!"

Down the river! The banks fade into shadow, the breeze sinks away, but still the tide flows free, and the schooner slips along like a spirit.

Now comes up the white fog, the fog out of which she came gliding that first morning; and it receives her as a bride, and folds her in its arms, and she melts into the whiteness and is gone. Was it all a dream?

Or does there still come back to us, faintly borne, sweetly ringing, the song of the sailors?

[Music]

For-ev-er and for-ev-er I--o, For-ev-er and for-ev-er boys, A long time a-go.

[Ill.u.s.tration]