CHAPTER XXVIII
LUCILLA'S SHIP
As soon as Dickory had left off his cocked hat and his gold-embroideredcoat, the little girl Lena had ceased to be afraid of him, and the nextmorning she came to him, seated lonely--for this was a busyhousehold--and asked him if he would like to take a walk. So, hand inhand, they wandered away. Presently they entered a path which ledthrough the woods.
"This is the way my sister goes to her lookout tree," said the littlegirl. "Would you like to see that tree?"
"Oh, yes!" said Dickory, and he spoke the truth.
"She goes up to the very top," said Lena, "to look for ships. I wouldnever do that; I'd rather never see a ship than to climb to the top ofsuch a tree. I'll show it to you in a minute; we're almost there."
At a little distance from the rest of the forest and upon a bluff whichoverlooked a stretch of lowland, and beyond that the bay, stood a talltree with spreading branches and heavy foliage.
"Up in the top of that is where she sits," said the child, "and spiesout for ships. That's what she's doing now. Don't you see her up there?"
"Your sister in the tree!" exclaimed Dickory. And his first impulse wasto retire, for it had been made quite plain to him that he was notexpected to present himself to the young lady of the house, should shebe on the ground or in the air. But he did not retire. A voice came tohim from the tree-top, and as he looked upward he saw the same brightface which had greeted him over the top of the bushes. Below it was agreat bunch of heavy leaves.
"So you have come to call on me, have you?" said the lady in the tree."I am glad to see you, but I'm sorry that I cannot ask you to comeupstairs. I am not receiving."
"He could not come up if he wanted to," said Lena; "he couldn't climb atree like that."
"And he doesn't want to," cried the nymph of the bay-tree. "I have beenup here all the morning," said she, "looking for ships, but not one haveI seen."
"Isn't that a tiresome occupation?" asked Dickory.
"Not altogether," she said. "The branches up here make a very nice seat,and I nearly always bring a book with me. You will wonder how we getbooks, but we had a few with us when we were marooned, and since that myfather has always asked for books when he has an opportunity of tradingoff his hides. But I have read them all over and over again, and if itwere not for the ships which I expect to come here and anchor, I amafraid I should grow melancholy."
"What sort of ships do you look for?" asked Dickory, who was gazingupward with so much interest that he felt a little pain in the back ofhis neck, and who could not help thinking of a framed engraving whichhung in his mother's little parlour, and which represented some angelscomposed of nothing but heads and wings. He saw no wings under the headof the charming young creature in the tree, but there was no reasonwhich he could perceive why she should not be an angel marooned upon aWest Indian island.
"There are a great many of them," said she, "and they're all alike inone way--they never come. But there's one of them in particular which Ilook for and look for and look for, and which I believe that some day Ishall really see. I have thought about that ship so often and I havedreamed about it so often that I almost know it must come."
"Is it an English ship?" asked Dickory, speaking with some effort, forhe found that the girl's voice came down much more readily than hiswent up.
"I don't know," said she, "but I suppose it must be, for otherwise Ishould not understand what the people on board should say to me. It is alarge ship, strong and able to defend itself against any pirates. It isladen with all sorts of useful and valuable things, and among these area great many trunks and boxes filled with different kinds of clothes.Also, there's a great deal of money kept in a box by itself, and is incharge of an agent who is bringing it out to my father, supposing him tobe now settled in Barbadoes. This money is generally a legacy for myfather from a distant relative who has recently died. On this ship thereare so many delightful things that I cannot even begin to mention them."
"And where is it going to?" asked Dickory.
"That I don't know exactly. Sometimes I think that it is going to theisland of Barbadoes, where we originally intended to settle; but then Iimagine that there is some pleasanter place than Barbadoes, and ifthat's the case the ship is going there."
"There can be no pleasanter place than Barbadoes," cried Dickory. "Icome from that island, where I was born; there is no land more lovely inall the West Indies."
"You come from Barbadoes?" cried the girl, "and it really is a pleasantisland?"
"Most truly it is," said he, "and the great dream of my life is to getback there." Then he stopped. Was it really the dream of his life to getback there? That would depend upon several things.
"If, then, you tell me the truth, my ship is bound for Barbadoes. And ifshe should go, would you like to go there with us?"
Dickory hesitated. "Not directly," said he. "I would first touch atJamaica."
For some moments there was no answer from the tree-top, and then camethe question: "Is it a girl who lives there?"
"Yes," said Dickory unguardedly, "but also I have a mother in Jamaica."
"Indeed," said she, "a mother! Well, we might stop there and take themother with us to Barbadoes. Would the girl want to go too?"
Dickory bent his head. "Alas!" said he, "I do not know."
Then spoke the little Lena. "I would not bother about any particularplace to go to," said she. "I'd be so glad to go anywhere that isn'there. But it is not a real ship, you know."
"I don't think I will take you," called down Lucilla. "I don't want toomany passengers, especially women I don't know. But I often think therewill be a gentleman passenger--one who really wants to go to Barbadoesand nowhere else. Sometimes he is one kind of a gentleman and sometimesanother, but he is never a soldier or a sailor, but rather one wholoves to stay at home. And now, sir, I think I must take my glass andtry to pick out a ship from among the spots on the far distant waves."
"Come on," said Lena, "do you like to fish! Because if you do, I cantake you to a good place."
The rest of the day Dickory spent with Mr. Mander and his wife, who wereintelligent and pleasant people. They talked of their travels, theirmisfortunes and their blessings, and Dickory yearned to pour out hissoul to them, but he could not do so. His woes did not belong to himselfalone; they were not for the ears of strangers. He made up his mind whathe would do. Until the morrow he would stay as a visitor with these mosthospitable people, then he would ask for work. He would collectfirewood, he would hunt, he would fish, he would do anything. And herehe would support himself until there came some merchant ship boundsouthward which would carry him away. If the Mander family were anywayembarrassed or annoyed by his presence here, he would make a camp at alittle distance and live there by himself. Perhaps the lady of the treewould kindly send him word if the ship he was looking for should come.
It was about the middle of the afternoon, and Lena had dropped asleepbeneath the tree where Dickory and her parents were conversing, whensuddenly there rushed upon the little group a most surprising figure.At the first flash of thought Dickory supposed that a boy from the skieshad dropped among them, but in an instant he recognised the face he hadseen above the bushes. It was Lucilla, the daughter of the house! Uponher head was a little straw hat, and she wore a loose tunic and a pairof sailor's trousers, which had been cut off and were short enough toshow that her feet and ankles were bare. Around her waist she had a beltof skins, from which dangled a string of crimson sea-beans. Her eyeswere wide open, her face was pale, and she was trembling withexcitement.
"What do you think!" she cried, not caring who was there or who mightlook at her. "There's a ship at the spring, and there's a boat rowingacross the bay. A boat with four men in it!"
All started to their feet.
"A boat," cried Mander, "with four men in it? Run, my dear, to the cave;press into its depths as far as you can. There is nothing there to beafraid of, and no matter how frightened you are, press into its mostdista
nt depths. You, sir, will remain with me, or would you ratherescape? If it is a pirate ship, it may be Blackbeard who has returned."
"Not so," cried Lucilla, "it is a merchant vessel, and they are makingstraight for the mouth of our stream."
"I will stay here with you," said Dickory, "and stand by you, unless Imay help your family seek the cave you speak of."
"No, no," said Mander, "they don't need you, and if you will do so wewill go down to the beach and meet these men; that will be better thanto have them search for us. They will know that people live here, for mycanoe is drawn up on the beach."
"Is this safe?" cried Dickory; "would it not be better for you to gowith your family and hide with them? I will meet the men in the boat."
"No, no," said Mander; "if their vessel is no pirate, I do not fearthem. But I will not have them here."
Now, after Mander had embraced his family, they hurried away in tears,the girl Lucilla casting not one glance at Dickory. Impressed by theimpulse that it was the proper thing to do, Dickory put on his coat andwaistcoat and clapped upon his head his high cocked hat. Then he rapidlyfollowed Mander to the beach, which they reached before the boat touchedthe sand.
When the man in the stern of the boat, which was now almost withinhailing distance, saw the two figures run down upon the beach, he spoketo the oarsmen and they all stopped and looked around. The stop wasoccasioned by the sight of Dickory in his uniform; and this, under thecircumstances, was enough to stop any boat's crew. Then they fell toagain and pulled ashore. When the boat was beached one of its occupants,a roughly dressed man, sprang ashore and walked cautiously towardsMander; then he gave a great shout.
"Heigho, heigho!" he cried, "and Mander, this is you!"
Then there was great hand-shaking and many words.
"Excuse me, sir," said the man, raising his hat to Dickory, "it is nowmore than two years since I have seen my friend here, when he wasmarooned by pirates. We were all on the same merchantman, but the piratetook me along, being short of hands. I got away at last, sir" (all thetime addressing Dickory instead of Mander, this being respect to hisrank), "and shipping on board that brig, sir, I begged it of the captainthat he would drop anchor here and take in water, although I cannot sayit was needed, and give me a chance to land and see if my old friend beyet alive. I knew the spot, having well noted it when Mander and hisfamily were marooned."
"And this is Lucilla's ship," said Dickory to himself. But to the sailorhe said: "This is a great day for your friend and his family. But youmust not lift your hat to me, for I am no officer."
For a long time, at least it seemed so to Dickory, who wanted to run tothe cave and tell the good news, they all stood together on the sandsand talked and shook hands and laughed and were truly thankful, the menwho had come in the boat as much so as those who were found on theisland. It was agreed, and there was no discussion on this point, thatthe Mander family should be carried away in the brig, which was anEnglish vessel bound for Jamaica, but the happy Mander would not ask anyof the boat's crew to visit him at his home. Instead, he besought themto return to their vessel and bring back some clothes for women, if anysuch should be included in her cargo.
"My family," said he, "are not in fit condition to venture themselvesamong well-clad people. They are, indeed, more like savages than am Imyself."
"I doubt," said Mander's friend, "if the ship carries goods of thatdescription, but perhaps the captain might let you have a bale of cottoncloth, although I suppose--" and here he looked a little embarrassed.
"Oh, we can buy it," cried Dickory, taking some pieces of gold from hispocket, being coin with which Blackbeard had furnished him, swearingthat his first lieutenant could not feel like a true officer withoutmoney in his pocket; "take this and fetch the cloth if nothing bettercan be had."
"Thank you," cried Mander; "my wife and daughters can soon fashion itinto shape."
"And," added Dickory, reflecting a little and remembering the generalhues of Lucilla's face, "if there be choice in colours, let the cloth bepink."
When Mander and Dickory reached the house they did not stop, but hurriedon towards the cave, both of them together, for each thought only of thegreat joy they were taking with them.
"Come out! Come out!" shouted Mander, as he ran, and before they reachedthe cave its shuddering inmates had hurried into the light. When thecries and the tears and the embraces were over, Lucilla first looked atDickory. She started, her face flushed, and she was about to draw back;then she stopped, and advancing held out her hand.
"It cannot be helped," she said; "anyway, you have seen me before, and Isuppose it doesn't matter. I'm a sailor boy, and have to own up to it. Idid hope you would think of me as a young lady, but we are all so happynow that that doesn't matter. Oh, father!" she cried, "it can't be; weare not fit to be saved; we must perish here in our wretched rags."
"Not so," cried Dickory, with a bow; "I've already bought you a gown,and I hope it is pink."
As they all hurried away, the tale of the hoped-for clothes was told;and although Mrs. Mander wondered how gowns were to be made while amerchantman waited, she said nothing of her doubts, and they all rangleefully. Lucilla and Dickory being the fleetest led the others, andDickory said: "Now that I have seen you thus, I shall be almost sorry ifthat ship can furnish you with common clothes, what you wear becomes youso."
"Oho!" cried Lucilla, "that's fine flattery, sir; but I am glad you saidit, for that speech has made me feel more like a woman than I have feltsince I first put on this sailor's toggery."
In the afternoon the boat returned, Mander and Dickory watching on thebeach. When it grounded, Davids, Mander's friend, jumped on shore,bearing in his arms a pile of great coarse sacks. These he threw uponthe sand and, handing to Dickory the gold pieces he had given him, said:"The captain sends word that he has no time to look over any goods togive or to sell, but he sends these sacks, out of which the women canfashion themselves gowns, and so come aboard. Then the ship shall besearched for stuffs which will suit their purposes and which they canmake at their leisure."
It was towards the close of the afternoon that all of the Mander familyand Dickory came down to the boat which was waiting for them.
"Do you know," said Dickory, as he and Lucilla stood together on thesand, "that in that gown of gray, with the white sleeves, and the redcord around your waist, you please me better than even you did when youwore your sailor garb?"
"And what matters it, sir, whether I please you or not?"