The Blue Lagoon Part 9

"We'll bring all the lot of the things out on deck, and see what's worth keepin' an' what's worth leavin'," said Mr b.u.t.ton, taking an immense armful of the old truck; whilst d.i.c.k, carrying the top-hat, upon which he had instantly seized as his own special booty, led the way.

"Em," shouted d.i.c.k, as he emerged from the doorway, "see what I've got!"

He popped the awful-looking structure over his head. It went right down to his shoulders.

Emmeline gave a shriek.

"It smells funny," said d.i.c.k, taking it off and applying his nose to the inside of it--"smells like an old hair brush. Here, you try it on."

Emmeline scrambled away as far as she could, till she reached the starboard bulwarks, where she sat in the scupper, breathless and speechless and wide-eyed. She was always dumb when frightened (unless it were a nightmare or a very sudden shock), and this hat suddenly seen half covering d.i.c.k frightened her out of her wits. Besides, it was a black thing, and she hated black things--black cats, black horses; worst of all, black dogs.

She had once seen a hea.r.s.e in the streets of Boston, an old-time hea.r.s.e with black plumes, trappings and all complete. The sight had nearly given her a fit, though she did not know in the least the meaning of it.

Meanwhile Mr b.u.t.ton was conveying armful after armful of stuff on deck.

When the heap was complete, he sat down beside it in the glorious afternoon suns.h.i.+ne, and lit his pipe.

He had searched neither for food or water as yet; content with the treasure G.o.d had given him, for the moment the material things of life were forgotten. And, indeed, if he had searched he would have found only half a sack of potatoes in the caboose, for the lazarette was awash, and the water in the scuttle-b.u.t.t was stinking.

Emmeline, seeing what was in progress, crept up, d.i.c.k promising not to put the hat on her, and they all sat round the pile.

"Thim pair of brogues," said the old man, holding a pair of old boots up for inspection like an auctioneer, "would fetch half a dollar any day in the wake in any sayport in the world. Put them beside you, d.i.c.k, and lay hold of this pair of britches by the ends of em'--stritch them."

The trousers were stretched out, examined and approved of, and laid beside the boots.

"Here's a tiliscope wid wan eye shut," said Mr b.u.t.ton, examining the broken telescope and pulling it in and out like a concertina. "Stick it beside the brogues; it may come in handy for somethin'. Here's a book"--tossing the nautical almanac to the boy. "Tell me what it says."

d.i.c.k examined the pages of figures hopelessly.

"I can't read 'em," said d.i.c.k; "it's numbers."

"Buzz it overboard," said Mr b.u.t.ton.

d.i.c.k did what he was told joyfully, and the proceedings resumed.

He tried on the tall hat, and the children laughed. On her old friend's head the thing ceased to have terror for Emmeline.

She had two methods of laughing. The angelic smile before mentioned--a rare thing--and, almost as rare, a laugh in which she showed her little white teeth, whilst she pressed her hands together, the left one tight shut, and the right clasped over it.

He put the hat on one side, and continued the sorting, searching all the pockets of the clothes and finding nothing. When he had arranged what to keep, they flung the rest overboard, and the valuables were conveyed to the captain's cabin, there to remain till wanted.

Then the idea that food might turn up useful as well as old clothes in their present condition struck the imaginative mind of Mr b.u.t.ton, and he proceeded to search.

The lazarette was simply a cistern full of sea water; what else it might contain, not being a diver, he could not say. In the copper of the caboose lay a great lump of putrifying pork or meat of some sort.

The harness cask contained nothing except huge crystals of salt. All the meat had been taken away. Still, the provisions and water brought on board from the dinghy would be sufficient to last them some ten days or so, and in the course of ten days a lot of things might happen.

Mr b.u.t.ton leaned over the side. The dinghy was nestling beside the brig like a duckling beside a duck; the broad channel might have been likened to the duck's wing half extended. He got on the channel to see if the painter was safely attached. Having made all secure, he climbed slowly up to the main-yard arm, and looked round upon the sea.

CHAPTER IX

SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT

"Daddy's a long time coming," said d.i.c.k all of a sudden.

They were seated on the baulks of timber that c.u.mbered the deck of the brig on either side of the caboose. An ideal perch. The sun was setting over Australia way, in a sea that seemed like a sea of boiling gold.

Some mystery of mirage caused the water to heave and tremble as if troubled by fervent heat.

"Ay, is he," said Mr b.u.t.ton; "but it's better late than never. Now don't be thinkin' of him, for that won't bring him. Look at the sun goin' into the wather, and don't be spakin' a word, now, but listen and you'll hear it hiss."

The children gazed and listened, Paddy also. All three were mute as the great blazing s.h.i.+eld touched the water that leapt to meet it.

You COULD hear the water hiss--if you had imagination enough. Once having touched the water, the sun went down behind it, as swiftly as a man in a hurry going down a ladder. As he vanished a ghostly and golden twilight spread over the sea, a light exquisite but immensely forlorn.

Then the sea became a violet shadow, the west darkened as if to a closing door, and the stars rushed over the sky.

"Mr b.u.t.ton," said Emmeline, nodding towards the sun as he vanished, "where's over there?"

"The west," replied he, staring at the sunset. "Chainy and Injee and all away beyant."

"Where's the sun gone to now, Paddy?" asked d.i.c.k.

"He's gone chasin' the moon, an' she's skedadlin' wid her dress brailed up for all she's worth; she'll be along up in a minit. He's always afther her, but he's never caught her yet."

"What would he do to her if he caught her?" asked Emmeline.

"Faith, an' maybe he'd fetch her a skelp an' well she'd desarve it."

"Why'd she deserve it?" asked d.i.c.k, who was in one of his questioning moods.

"Because she's always delutherin' people an' leadin' thim asthray.

Girls or men, she moidhers thim all once she gets the comeither on them; same as she did Buck M'Cann."

"Who's he?"

"Buck M'Cann? Faith, he was the village ijit where I used to live in the ould days."

"What's that'"

"Hould your whisht, an' don't be axin' questions. He was always wantin'

the moon, though he was twinty an' six feet four. He'd a gob on him that hung open like a rat-trap with a broken spring, and he was as thin as a barber's pole, you could a' tied a reef knot in the middle of 'um; and whin the moon was full there was no houldin' him." Mr b.u.t.ton gazed at the reflection of the sunset on the water for a moment as if recalling some form from the past, and then proceeded. "He'd sit on the gra.s.s starin' at her, an' thin he'd start to chase her over the hills, and they'd find him at last, maybe a day or two later, lost in the mountains, grazin' on berries, and as green as a cabbidge from the hunger an' the cowld, till it got so bad at long last they had to hobble him."

"I've seen a donkey hobbled," cried d.i.c.k.

"Thin you've seen the twin brother of Buck M'Cann. Well, one night me elder brother Tim was sittin' over the fire, smokin' his dudeen an'

thinkin' of his sins, when in comes Buck with the hobbles on him.

"'Tim,' says he, 'I've got her at last!'