Latitude 19 degree Part 9

"_I!_"

Cynthia turned upon me a glance of most withering scorn and horror.

"You hear what this honest sailor says, Mr. Jones?"

"Tell you how it was, ma'm," said Tomkins. "I come on deck this mornin', long 'bout 'leven o'clock, and I see we was goin' straight for the land.

Skipper was below, you was below. Mr. Jones, he had the wheel. I says, 'Fer Gord's sake, Mr. Jones,' I says, 'what are you a-doin', sir?' He says, says he, 'You, Tomkins, mind your da--, mind your busi----'"

"Shut up, Tomkins!" said the Skipper. "If you're goin', you'd better get ready."

Cynthia turned on me.

"What could possess you to do such a thing?"

"I was so anxious to get home to see William Brown," said I. "Haven't we had enough of this farce, Miss Archer?"

The Skipper laughed aloud, and I saw the backs of some of the men shaking.

"Don't be any more kinds of a fool than you can help, Cynthy. Sit down and keep cool until we can get rid of those rascals. Thank G.o.d they've elected to go! The sooner they take up their march the better for all hands."

"Do you mean to tell me, Uncle Tony, that you don't believe Tomkins on his oath?"

"What!" The Skipper's voice had the rising inflection. The word was uttered in a tone between a roar and an incredulous scream. "Believe a sailor?" roared the Skipper. "What are you talking about, Cynthy?

Believe a sailor? O Lord!"

The men saw the Skipper's amus.e.m.e.nt, and doubtless judged of the cause.

"No use in threatening Tomkins," he said in my ear. "Better treat it as a joke, and let them go."

"As you say, Captain Schuyler; but when Mr. Tomkins and I meet again, there will be a reckoning that he won't forget, I'll warrant."

"Perhaps he really thought so," said Cynthia. "Hadn't they better wait until morning? It's getting so late now. They might be lonely without us."

"Now, Cynthy, don't you go and suggest any such a thing. We shan't be lonely without _them_. We shall be well rid of 'em, the Lord knows.--Here, you, Cook, fry some pork for those lunatics! Give 'em two days' rations, and let each man carry his own."

While the Cook was frying the pork, I noticed that the men were busy behind some guava trees at a little distance from the place where we were sitting. I had placed the pillow and blanket at the root of an enormous tree, and had made as comfortable a seat for Cynthia and the Skipper as my limited means would allow. The Skipper had his coat off, and was fanning himself with his great panama hat. The sun was broiling down upon us, but Cynthia looked as cool as a piece of ice from the Pa.s.saic River. I never saw such a provoking girl. While every one else was sweltering, she appeared perfectly comfortable. I was trying to balance myself upon a rather sharp piece of rock and to keep the men in my eye at the same time. We could not see much of them. They were stooping down, with their backs toward us.

The Skipper turned lazily round. Suddenly he straightened himself and glared at the group in the bushes.

"What have you got there, Bill Ware?" shouted he.

The Skipper's tone of authority startled the men.

They arose to a standing posture. Bill Ware turned his face toward us.

"We've--we've found some guavas, sir, that's all. I'll bring you over some."

"No, no, I'll come over. I don't know as I remember ever having seen guavas growing on----"

But Bill Ware had started toward us with great alacrity.

"Don't come here, sir, for the Lord's sake! The place is alive with scorpions."

The Skipper thought better of it, and waited until Bill Ware's arrival.

The man walked across, holding something in his hand. When he came near, we discovered two very small and very unripe guavas.

He came close to Cynthia and handed the fruits to her. His face was very red. His breath was almost upon her cheek. She started back.

"Are those guavas? What a curious odour guavas have, Uncle!"

"I never noticed it," said he.

"How queerly Bill Ware walks!" said Cynthia, as she watched his return to his mates. "I never noticed it on board s.h.i.+p. I suppose he hasn't got his land legs on yet."

The Skipper raised himself and looked critically at the man.

"Those are the legs he always has on when he goes ash.o.r.e," said he.

I had my suspicions, and I saw that the Skipper had his, but I did not want to frighten the girl and anger the men. Besides, she might not be frightened. She seemed to think that she had been sent into this world to set things right, and no one knew what tack she might take next.

The Skipper took out his silver watch. "Come, men, you'd better start!

It's gettin' late. You'll want to pick out a good place for the night.

It comes down in a minute in the tropics, you know.--Cook, are you ready?"

The men arose, turned one after the other, and came lingeringly out of the bushes.

"Are there any more of those guavas?"

"It's a little early, sir," said Tomkins. "They don't ripen well until the last of May."

Bill Tomkins's tongue seemed thick and his speech halting.

"Well, it's time to start. Cook'll give you your rations. Come, now!

Good-bye, my men. Don't forget to bring those horses. We shall expect you by daybreak on Sat.u.r.day." (We had gone ash.o.r.e on a Monday.)

"Yessir, you expect us, sir," answered Tomkins.

The men took their rations from the Cook, then they one and all paid a last visit to the bushes to seek for a few more guavas before they left us, and then, with a hang-dog nod and touch of their caps, they took up their straggling march. We sat watching them as they moved westward in a wavering line.

"It must be very hard work walking up that beach," said Cynthia. "Did you remark what a difficult time Bill Ware had to get pointed straight, Uncle Tony?"

The Skipper and I sat and watched them. There was no need to answer Cynthia. The men made a line as straight as the fences which we were beginning to use about Belleville. The idea came from Virginia. We called them Virginia rail fences. As the last man of them staggered round the point and was lost behind the trunks of the cocoanut grove, the Skipper arose and approached the thicket where the mango tree stood.

I followed a close second, and Cynthia came behind.

"I thought as much!" exclaimed the Skipper. He had parted the bushes and stood looking downward. I gazed over his shoulder, and Cynthia condescended to stand on tiptoe and cast her eyes over mine.

"What is it, Uncle Tony?" asked she.

"Those blanked rascals! In the confusion, Jones, do you see? Broke into my store-room, of course. I wanted to bring some myself, but it's never safe with such a crew. Got that at Santo Domingo for medicinal purposes.