Charlie Bell, The Waif of Elm Island Read online

  CHAPTER III.

  JOHN GOES TO SEE THE NEW BOY.

  One of old Mr. Yelf’s grandsons was going as cook with John Strout; andin the morning, when John came alongside his vessel, after his returnfrom Elm Island with the net and fish, he found the old gentleman onboard, who had come to bring his grandson. He told the old man thestory as it really was, but he was quite hard of hearing, and Johnwas in a hurry, and could not stop to repeat and explain, and thus heobtained a very confused and incorrect account of it. John made sailand went out fishing, and the old gentleman hastened ashore to give amost exaggerated account,--to which, every one adding a little as itwent from mouth to mouth, it at length assumed monstrous proportions.

  Captain Rhines was as anxious to get accurate information as anybody,but felt no alarm, because all the reports agreed in this, that thepirates had the worst of it, and that neither Ben nor Sally wasinjured. He could not leave to go on, as he had stripped the shinglesfrom the roof of his house, and was trying to get it re-shingled beforea storm should come. John had heard about the new boy, and that JohnStrout was very much pleased with him, and he was very anxious to geton there and see him, for he had a presentiment that they were made foreach other, and was prepared to like him, even before seeing him.

  Captain Rhines, at length worn out with the solicitations of John,which were aided by his own desire to know the truth of the matter,went over to Uncle Isaac’s, and said to him, “I wish you would takeJohn and my canoe, and go over to the island (for I can’t go), and seehow many Ben’s killed, or if he’s killed anybody; and about that boy,or if there is any boy. John is teasing me to death about it, and hewon’t be able to do any work till that is settled; for he’s thinking somuch about it, he can’t drive a nail into a shingle without poundinghis fingers.”

  “Well, I should like to know myself as much as anybody; I’ll be alongright after dinner.”

  “I’m going to put some squashes and potatoes in the canoe, for hehasn’t planted a hill of anything this year; I don’t see how people canlive so. I should think, when he has such a nice place for a gardenunder the ledge, he would have a few peas and potatoes.”

  “Ben believes in doing one thing at a time; and a mast that he can cutin an hour will buy as much garden stuff as he would raise in a wholesummer. He won’t dabble with farming till the island is his, and thenyou’ll see some of the tallest kind of farming, or I’ll miss my guess.”

  All the way to the island John was remarkably silent, apparentlyengaged in deep thought. At length he said, “Uncle Isaac, is it rightto like an Englishmun?”

  “Bless me! yes; what is the boy thinking about?”

  “We’ve just done fighting and killing the Englishmun, and they’ve beenkilling our people, and wanted to hang General Washington, and I didn’tknow as it would be right to like ’em; and they say this boy is anEnglishmun.”

  “It isn’t the nation, John, it’s the character, that makes a persongood or bad; your grandfather and mine were both Englishmun; so youneed not be afraid to like him on that account.”

  When they landed Ben was eating supper. “You’ve come in good time,” hesaid; “sit down with us.”

  The moment supper was over, Uncle Isaac said, “Now, I want to hear allabout the pirates, for there are all sorts of stories going; it’s allcome through Uncle Yelf, and he has drunk so much rum that he’s lostwhat little wit he ever had; and he never had brains enough to cover abeech leaf, and is deaf to boot.”

  They told him the story from beginning to end.

  “It was a good thing for me, at any rate,” said Ben, in conclusion;“for they left a new cable and anchor on the beach, and a first-ratelittle boy behind them.”

  “It’s amazing how things will gain by going,” said Uncle Isaac. “Weheard that there was a dozen pirates landed, and that one of them gotSally by the hair, pulled her down on her knees, and was going to cuther head off with his cutlass, when you come running in from the woods,and broke his neck short off over your knee, smashed another one’sbrains out against the jambs, and threw the grindstone at another andkilled him; the rest run to the vessel, but before they could get theanchor you was on board; then they run below, and you fastened themin; that there was a woman and a little boy in the vessel, that theyhad prisoners; and that they fired at you and missed, and the bulletwent into her side; and that then you took the boy, and fastened themall into the cuddy, and brought the ones you had killed ashore, and setfire to the vessel, and burnt them all up together; and a great manybelieved it, because they saw a fire on here; but your father said hedidn’t believe a word of it, for you wasn’t such a fool as to burn up avessel; and if the men were armed they could have shot you.”

  “I was burning some brush that was in my way,” said Ben; “that was thefire they saw.”

  “So this is the boy,” said Uncle Isaac, turning to Charlie; “well, Iwish you well; I hear that you are a good boy, and industrious, andthose are great things. I was a poor boy at your age, and had nothingbut my hands, as you have; but, by God’s blessing, I have got along,and so will you, and be happy and respected, for you’ve come to agood country, a better one for laboring people than the one you haveleft. Poor men get rich here, but poor people grow poorer there, andsometimes starve to death, which is awful in a place that pretendsto be a Christian country; but you see there’s too many sheep in thepasture--they are too thick; it ain’t so here--there’s room enough.”

  In the mean time the two boys stood--the one beside Sally’s chair, andthe other by Ben’s--eying one another, and each longing to hear theother speak. John thought he had never seen a finer looking boy thanCharlie, and Charlie was internally paying the same compliment to John.

  “Uncle Isaac,” whispered Sally, “how shall we get these boys together?shall I introduce them?”

  “Nonsense; I’ll soon fix that. Ben, have you got a bushel basket?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, let this youngster--What’s your first name, my lad?”

  “Charles, sir.”

  “Well, let Charles go down with John to the canoe, and fetch up somethings your father sent over. That’s the way,” said Uncle Isaac; “theydon’t want any of our help; they will take care of themselves.”

  The two boys took the basket, and proceeded to the canoe. John, feelingthat as he was a native, and Charles a stranger, it was his duty tospeak first, by way of breaking the silence, which was getting to beoppressive, said, “How old be you?”

  “Fifteen,” was the reply.

  “I’m fourteen,” said John; “shall be fifteen in July.”

  “I shall be sixteen next Michaelmas.”

  “What do you mean by Michaelmas, Charles?”

  “Why, St. Michael’s Day, the 29th of September.”

  “Well, what does it mean?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is, that in England everybody that can get iteats a goose that day, and if you do you’ll have enough all the yearround. Do you know how to row?”

  “Yes; I can row cross-handed, and scull. Can you scull a gunning float?”

  “I never saw one; what are they for?”

  “They are made like a canoe, only smaller and lighter; and there’s ascull-hole in the stern, just above the water, to put the oar through;and then we lie down on our backs in the bottom, and take the oar overour shoulder, and scull up to the sea-fowl, and shoot them. Don’t theygo gunning in your country?”

  “The great folks do; but the poor folks and common people are notallowed to.”

  “That’s a queer country; I wouldn’t like to live in such a country asthat. Do you know how to shoot?”

  “No; I never fired a gun in my life; you couldn’t shoot a sparrow--Iwas going to say a ‘bumble-bee’--in England, without being taken up.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I made baskets. Can you wrestle?”

  “Yes. Wouldn’t you like to learn to shoot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ll show you some time
what I know. Do you know how to mow orreap?”

  “No.”

  “Nor chop?”

  “No. I’ve got a plenty to learn--haven’t I?”

  “I should think you had.”

  They were a long time getting up the things; but when they were all up,Charles said to his mother, “Can John and I go over to the White Bull?”

  “Yes; and when it is time to come back I’ll blow the horn for you.”

  They had taken supper early; and as Uncle Isaac said he had as “lieves”go over in the evening as at any time, it being bright starlight, shedid not blow the horn till dark.

  “Look there,” said Sally, pointing to the shore, soon after she hadblown the horn. The boys were returning with their arms over eachother’s neck.

  “I’m so glad they take to one another,” said she. “John thinks it’s thegreatest happiness of life to come over here; we are as glad to see himas he is to come; and, if he likes Charlie, he’ll want to come morethan ever; won’t they have good times!”

  “Uncle Isaac,” said John, as they were rowing home, “don’t you love tobe out on the water in the night among the stars?”

  “Yes, I do, John; and I like to go along the edge of thick woods, whenthere’s a bright moon, and watch the shadow on the water. But I thinkthe best of all is, to go in a birch,--they don’t make any noise, andthere’s no splashing of oars; but they go along just like a bird, andthey float in so little water that you can go along the very edge ofthe beach, and listen to the noise of the water on the rocks, andthe little breath of wind among the trees. I think I have the bestthoughts then I ever have; I feel solemn, but I feel happy, too. Ithink sometimes, if ministers could be in some of the places, and havesome of the feelings we ignorant people have, and we could have some oftheir learning to go with our feelings, it would be better for both. Iam not a good man; but I have often kneeled down in the woods, in themoonlight, hundreds of miles from any house, in the trackless forest,and prayed to God, and it has done me good.”

  “Uncle Isaac, I love to hear you talk about such things.”

  “It is talk that won’t do either of us any harm, John; and I trust youare not a prayerless, as I know you are not a thoughtless, boy.”

  “I say the Lord’s prayer, as my mother taught me. Uncle Isaac, are youin any hurry to get home?”

  “No; I don’t care if we don’t get home till midnight.”

  “Then let us talk; it’s calm; let her drift; I want to tell you what Ithink. I think Charles and I were made for each other; it seems so tome, and I can’t make it seem any other way. Don’t you like him?”

  “Why, I haven’t seen enough of him to know yet; I never set eyes on himtill about three hours ago. They say a person is known by the companyhe keeps, and he certainly came in very bad company.”

  “You say that just to plague me; you don’t believe in your heart thathe went with those men because he liked them, or that he is a bad boy.”

  “I like his appearance, and I think he’ll turn out to be a good boy. Hehas, no doubt, been obliged to take up with company that was not hisown choice, for misery makes strange bedfellows.”

  “_Turn out to be a good boy!_ He’s a good boy _now_! I know he is; he’sgood clear through!”

  “Well, time will show.”

  John, finding it impossible to inspire Uncle Isaac with his ownenthusiastic confidence, let the matter drop, and for a while theyrowed on in silence. At length John said, “I tell you what makes methink that boy is a good friend for me; he knows a great many thingsthat I don’t know, and I know a great many things that he don’t. I knowhe’s tender-hearted.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I asked him if he had any mother, and he almost cried when he told meshe was dead. Now, when a boy loves his mother, isn’t it a good sign?”

  “The best sign in the world, John.”

  “And then the way he talked about her, and about good things. I don’tknow as he’s a religious boy,--what mother calls pious,--but I knowhe’s a good boy; you know anybody can tell.”

  “Well, John, I guess you’re right; you have found out more about him inone hour than I could in six months.”

  “Well, we’re bound to be thick together, I know that.”