The Island House Part 1

The Island House.

by F. M. Holmes.

CHAPTER I.

OLD MANSY HEARS SOMETHING.

"I think I'll get out here, young man."

"All right, missus."

The old carrier stopped his jolting cart--an easy thing to do, for the wearied horse was glad of the chance of halting--and the pa.s.senger leisurely descended. With her descended also a bulging umbrella and numerous packages.

"Good night, young man!" she exclaimed. She thought this a very polite way of addressing men whom she regarded as somewhat beneath her in social station.

But he did not answer. He was urging on his sleepy horse, and though it was an easy matter to stop that interesting quadruped, yet it was a very different thing to make him go on again.

So she started off down a road leading out of the turnpike thoroughfare on which the carrier was travelling.

She was a tall, somewhat angular woman, with determination written on her face. In one hand she carried a number of parcels mysteriously tied together, and in the other hand her very bulgy umbrella, which she used as a walking stick, and staffed her way with it solemnly along the dim country road.

It was a summer evening, and there had been a heavy storm during the day. "Dear! dear! how dirty it be, sure_ly_," she said, as she proceeded. "Bad enough to be dirty in winter, but in summer it's disgraceful! Ha! how sweet that woodbine do smell! Now, if I could get a piece for the children!"

She stopped and began to poke about in the hedge with her bulging umbrella. At last, after much reaching and pulling, she obtained a small piece of the sweet-smelling honeysuckle, stuck it in her large, old-fas.h.i.+oned bonnet, where it nodded like a plume, and pursued her way in triumph.

"Soon be home now," she said, to encourage herself. "Won't Master Alfy be pleased with the woodbine!"

Suddenly she paused again. What was that noise?

She was at the corner of a lane branching off from the road she had been pursuing. Dimly in her ears sounded a low, sullen roar--a roar something like the murmuring noise of a mighty city heard in a quiet and distant suburb.

But here was no mighty city. She was deep in the heart of the quiet country. What was that noise?

"I never heerd the like afore at this place," she muttered to herself.

"Anyhow, I'll get on home. I shan't be long now!"

A few turns in the road brought her in sight of the house. But she stood suddenly quite still, and stared in amazement and alarm. Was that indeed the house she had left quite safely in the smiling sunlight of yesterday morning?

Now, she saw a turbid sheet of water surrounding it; and here and there the tops of shrubs and trees and hedges, looking strange and melancholy as they rose out of the flood. The dull roar she had heard previously now sounded louder than before, but she did not think of that. The children were her anxiety. "Where are the children?" she cried.

The excitement and alarm wrought upon her feelings, and she screamed aloud--

"Children! children! Where are the children?"

Perhaps it was the best thing she could have done. Anyhow, it had a good effect. Lights quickly appeared at the windows, and she heard shrill, childish voices sounding over the water.

"Mansy! Mansy! is that you? Oh! we are glad you have come! Where does all the water come from?"

"Are you all safe?" she screamed.

"Yes, yes; but we have scarcely anything to eat."

"I have something in these parcels!" she shouted. "Oh, thank G.o.d the children are all safe!"

"How are you to get here, Mansy?"

That was the difficulty; and Mansy, as she looked at the dull, sullen water, felt she could not answer the question. First she thought of boldly plunging in and wading up to the house door. But, strong-nerved as she was, she shrank from this, and after carefully plumbing the depth a little way with the bulging umbrella, she shrank from it still more. It might be too dangerous.

In the dim twilight of that cloudy summer evening she stood on the water's brink and watched the flood go swaying past. She felt stupefied and bewildered. Whence came the flood, and how? A more unexpected thing had never happened to her. And now she knew that the children were safe, the unexpectedness of it, the amazement of the whole thing, seemed almost to benumb her senses.

But she soon roused herself, when across the water sounded a shrill boyish voice, which shouted--"I'll bring you over, Mansy. I'm coming for you. Look out!"

"Bless the boy! that's my Master Alfy. Whatever is he up to now?"

And the good woman strained her eyes in the direction of the house to see what her favourite boy was doing.

She heard numerous childish exclamations, shouts, and laughter, and noises as of something knocking against the walls of the house. Then a splas.h.!.+

"Whatever is that boy doing?" cried Mansy. "Don't you get drownded!"

she screamed. "Do take care, Master Alfy! I'd rather stay here all night than you should come to harm!"

"All right, Mansy dear," shouted the shrill voice of the boy. "I'm coming, safe and sound, Mansy."

"Now, what is he a-comin' in?" cried the good woman, gazing into the dusk. She saw the dim outline of something which soon she recognised.

"Why, bless the boy! he's in the big was.h.i.+ng tub! My! and how clever he do manage it!"

Mansy was quite right. The plucky little lad had hit on this expedient of ferrying the old nurse and housekeeper over the flood to the house!

He had obtained two large kitchen ladles, and with these he was propelling and guiding the unwieldy round tub, which bobbed about provokingly on the turbid water, and made but little progress. It would have been still less, perhaps, but for the fact that the water flowed from the direction of the house past the old nurse.

But the difficulty the boy had soon to encounter was to guide the tub to her, for it was in great danger of being carried past. The house stood in a small valley or depression of ground, which rose to the lane up which Mansy had been walking. She was now standing on the verge of the water, which appeared to surround the house entirely, and completely obliterated the lawn and garden, except for the trees and shrubs, and the boundary hedge which stood above the turbid flood.

"Now, Mansy, look out!" cried Alfy. And whirling through the air came a thin rope, which, before she was aware, struck her shoulder.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "what's that? What are you doing, Alfy?"

"Catch tight hold of it--quick, Mansy!"

Mansy's energy and common-sense were returning, and she was on the alert in a moment. She caught the rope, and held it firmly. "The new clothes line!" she exclaimed, "Bless the boy! what next?"

"Pull, Mansy dear, pull!" he shouted. She pulled hard, and the tub slowly floated towards her.

"That's right; jolly!" exclaimed Alfy, as the tub, with its bright, brave little burden, came close to Mansy and touched the ground before her.

"My dear boy," exclaimed the good old woman, "how did this water happen? And I am so glad to find you all well."

"Yes, all right, Mansy. Now get in the tub, quick! Is it not fun?"