A FIFTY-TWO-WEEK FEAST
[THE BEST OF MENAGERIES.]
My pa's the best menagerie
That ever any one did see;
I need no pets when he is by
To make the days and hours fly,
For any bird or beast or fish
I want he'll be whene'er I wish.
For instance, if I chance to want
A safe and gentle elephant,
He'll fasten on his own big nose
One of my long black woollen hose,
And on his hands and bended knees
Is elephantine as you please,
And truly seems to like the sport
Of eating peanuts by the quart.
Then, when I want the lion's roar,
He'll go behind my bedroom door
And growl until I sometimes fear
The King of Beasts is really near;
But when he finds my courage dim
He peeps out, and I know it's him.
And he can meow just like a cat—
No Tom can beat my pa at that—
And when he yowls and dabs and spits,
It sends us all off into fits,
So like it seems that every mouse
Packs up his things and leaves the house.
Then, when he barks, the passers-by
Look all about with fearsome eye,
And hurry off with scurrying feet
To walk upon some other street,
Because they think some dog is there
To rush out at 'em from his lair.
And oh, 'twould make you children laugh
When daddy plays the big giraffe.
He'll take his collar off, you know,
And stretch his neck an inch or so,
And look down on you from above,
His eyes so soft and full of love,
That, as you watched them, you would think
From a giraffe he'd learned to blink.
'Tis as a dolphin though that he
Is strongest as it seems to me,
And I don't know much finer fun
Than sitting in the noonday sun
Upon the beach and watching pop,
As in the ocean he goes flop,
And makes us children think that he's
A porpoise from across the seas.
And when he takes a tin tube out,
And blows up water through the spout,
The stupidest can hardly fail
To think they see a great big whale!
And that is why I say to you
My pa's a perfect dandy zoo,
The very best menagerie
That ever you or I did see,
And what is finest, let me say,
There never is a cent of pay!
Gaston V. Drake.
[THE BOY WRECKERS.]
BY W. O. STODDARD.
CHAPTER III.
THE WRECK ON THE BAR.
It was something tremendous for a young landsman to find himself away out at sea in a three-cornered boat. Captain Kroom noticed Sam's look and said:
"This 'ere isn't any mill-pond, eh? Well, my boy, all I'm afraid of is that it'll be a dead calm before we can get there and back again. What I hate is a calm. I got stuck in one once for more'n a month. It's next thing to being wrecked."
"She's a hard boat to row," said Pete; and he spoke of the Elephant.
Sam did not say anything, but it seemed to him that the face of the Atlantic might wear its pleasantest expression when it had no wrinkles at all. He would even have been willing to row a little. The Elephant thus far had wind enough in her sail for a boat of her size, and the stranded ship could be seen pretty well without any glass. So the Captain put the "binocular" back into its case and returned it to the valise. Before he did so, however, he had looked across the sea long and carefully, and he remarked:
"She's a-standing straight up, and the tugs are trying to pull her off. Guess she isn't going to break up."
Sam felt better the moment he could again take an interest in the wrecking business. After all, the ocean was reasonably good-tempered that morning, and the terrible lines of surf were now far behind him. He understood, too, that shallow water extended to a long distance out, and that the Elephant was in very good hands.
"He knows all about the weather," Pete told him; and the 'longshore boy appeared to feel altogether at home.
According to him, they were now in the very best cruising-ground for blue-fish, and even mackerel, but the Captain did not encourage trying their luck. Nearer, nearer sped the Elephant, and at last Sam ventured to remark:
"I guess it's just as you said. Is she on a rock?"
"Nary rock," growled the Captain. "But I'm worse puzzled than ever 'bout the valise. This isn't the Narragansett. This is the Goshawk, and she's from Liverpool. If we haven't come away out here for nothing! Anyhow, I'll hail her."
It occurred to Sam that it was not needful to go close to the ship to make them hear the trumpetlike voice with which the Captain demanded, "What ship is that?"
"Keep away! No loafers wanted!" came back loudly.
"Stuck in the mud, are ye?" thundered the Captain. "Some lubbers don't know how to handle a ship. I want to get some word of the Narragansett, Captain Silas Pickering, New Haven. Can any of you wreckers tell me—"
"Mate, hold on; it's old Captain Kroom."
"I say, Kroom," shouted another voice from the deck of the Goshawk, "Pickering's on board. The insurance men are in charge of this craft. That feller's nothing but her old mate. There's been more thieves—"
"Come aboard, Kroom," broke in the mate. "You're all right, but we've had the worst kind of luck."
"No, you haven't," returned Kroom, as the Elephant swept alongside the Goshawk. "I've been worse wrecked than you are. Why, you are going to save the hull and cargo!"
"That's so," said the mate, leaning over the rail; "but we lost all our sticks. Everything that was on deck. Pickering? We took him on at Liverpool. His ship had to be refixed, and the owners sold her, and he won't go aboard a steamer if he can help it."
"I guess there's the right stuff in him, then," said Captain Kroom, with energy; but the mate went on:
"He's awful, though. Some fellers came aboard soon after we struck, and they stole his kit, and there's lots of things missing. He's been sittin' 'round with a gun on his lap ever since, watching for thieves."
"Kroom," came loudly from behind the mate, "what do you want of me?"
The Captain said nothing, but he held up the valise, while Pete did the same with the trousers of the blue suit.
"Where'd you get 'em?" gasped the mate.
"Trolled for 'em," responded Kroom; but he added a pretty full explanation.
A very tall, gaunt old man was now leaning over the rail near the mate, and he did not interrupt, but when the Captain finished his account he took his hat off and held it out.
"Kroom," he said, "you can beat me spinning yarns. That stuff was on deck, and they pitched it overboard to get it away. I bought that tackle in London. Found the clothes below in my cabin, and rolled the tackle up in 'em. Don't know why. It was all stolen day before yesterday. My other luggage went in a tug this morning. Are you and the young chaps coming aboard?"
"Want to, boys?" asked Kroom. "There isn't anything worth seeing."
"Guess not," said Pete. "I'll hand him up the valise and things."
"I'd rather go home," said Sam.
"No, you needn't hand it up," said Captain Pickering. "I'm coming ashore with you. I won't be landed in a tug-boat if I can help it. I'd a'most rather swim."
"Just my thinking," rolled out at the stern of the Elephant. "I quit the sea on account of 'em—all sorts of steamers. I'm a sailor, I am. I don't want anything to do with steam."
"Fact!" whispered Pete to Sam. "He hates even a railroad. Everything but the old kind of ships."
THE START HOMEWARD FROM THE WRECK.
Captain Pickering did not bring any gun with him. Nothing but a small satchel. He came down over the side of the Goshawk by a rope, and Sam felt a little queer to perceive what an addition the tall, brawny old seaman made to the load to be carried by the Elephant. Hardly had he taken his seat in the middle of the boat before the wind was in her sail and her head was turned landward.
"It's comin' on a calm," said Pickering, "but we may get there first."
"Not across the bay," replied Kroom; "but we may get inside the bar. That was an old trick of the thieves with that spar for a buoy. No use to search their boat, you know. I've known it tried in all sorts of places."
"They reckoned on getting it again alongshore?" asked Pickering.
"Yes," replied Kroom; "but they didn't reckon on the tide through the inlet. Our bay-men pick up stuff all the while that came in that way. It's all right. Dry as a bone."
"Of course it is," said Pickering. "I say, boy, if that suit fits you, keep it. You and he can have some of the tackle."
That meant Pete and Sam, and they were ready to say "Thank you, sir"; but they were a great deal more ready to keep still while the two old sailors talked about the storm which had stranded the Goshawk, and about other storms they had known. It must have been quite a hurricane; but even before it was fully described, Captain Pickering had his valise open, and was slowly looking over some of its contents. Log-books, log-books, log-books. Sam knew what they were now, and he would have given something to know what was in them.
"That's one of the Narragansett's," said its owner, laying it down. "I sailed her for six years. One trip was 'round the world. Last ship I'll ever have. She was an old one. They're not buildin' many more of those prime clippers we used to have. It's all steam nowadays. I can't do anything with steam, Kroom. Can you?"
"I don't want any," replied the Captain. "It's taking the place of horses, too, on land. That and 'lectricity and these 'ere two-wheeled things they call cycles. I wouldn't any more ride one of 'em—"
"Did you ever ride a horse?" asked Pickering. "I did once; but I didn't know how to steer him, and we made a losin' voyage of it."
"Well," said the Captain, "I can drive. Kind o' drive. But I'd rather have some other feller navigate, as a rule. I'm most at home in a boat. Watch now. We'll be in the breakers in less'n five minutes."
"Good boat," remarked Captain Pickering. "But we're too many in her." Nevertheless, he talked right along about ships, as cool as a cucumber, even when the Elephant was making her dangerous way through the blind channel. "Glad you know where it is," he said to Kroom. "I'd ha' swamped her tryin' to find it. We're nigh half full o' water anyhow."
That was what had troubled Sam, for again and again the tossing waves of the channel had washed over in, and he and Pete had been baling their best. Not that Pete appeared to be troubled, and he had remarked to their passenger: "Captain Kroom knows every channel around this bay. He'll get through."
So he did, and they were now inside of the breakers, between them and the bar. Right ahead of them, moreover, was another cat-boat, twice as large as the Elephant, with four men in it.
"There they are!" exclaimed Pickering. "The very chaps that came aboard the Goshawk this morning. Reckon they'd been there before, too. Tell you what, Kroom, they're hunting for that spar-buoy, to get the things they hung to it."
"They won't get 'em," growled Kroom. "But every man of 'em belongs on the other side o' the bay. They are oyster and clam dredgers. Some of our fishermen are born wreckers, sure's you live. Anything they can take off a stranded ship is fair game to them."
"I guess so," said Pickering. "They thought they'd made a good find this time. That valise'd ha' been a fortune to 'em, chronometers and all. Glad you struck it."
"Sam hooked it," said Pete, "but it was Captain Kroom pulled it in. Sam thought he had the biggest kind of fish."
"Hullo, Captain!" came from the other boat. "Have ye had any luck?"
"Not any," responded Kroom. "But I want to get inside before it's calm."
"That there wreck out there's a Britisher," said the boatman. "They'll get her off. We haven't struck a fish to-day. We're goin' on in."
They were only out there fishing, all innocent, therefore, but they let the Elephant keep away a little, or they kept away from her.
"Wonder what they've picked up?" muttered Pickering.
"Look back," replied Kroom. "Don't you see something?"
"I do!" whispered Sam to Pete. "It's something white—"
"Right in the wake of their boat," said Kroom. "They must ha' let go of it just as we came out of the channel."
"That's it!" said Pickering. "That's where those life-preservers went to. One of 'em makes a better buoy-mark than any spar would."
"Captain," put in Pete, "that one isn't hitched to anything; it's running right along on the tide. It's loose."
"Fact!" exclaimed Kroom. "You've pretty good eyes, Pete. I saw 'em. They didn't pull up anything, but they tried to. It only broke loose, whatever it was."
"No, you don't!" said Pickering, sharply. "It's hitched on the bottom again. They saw us coming, and they let go. That's all."
"Get out your lines, boys," shouted Kroom. "We'll try for blue-fish, up and down here," and then he added, to the men in the other boat: "I won't go home empty-handed. Why don't you fellers throw a hook?"
"No use, Captain," came back. "We may get some weakfish in the inlet, but you'll only throw away time."
"We've got all the time there is," said Captain Kroom; but Sam and Pete were making haste, and when the Elephant tacked again their lines were out.
"Shouldn't wonder if they were kind o' mad," remarked Pickering. "But there was more'n one life-preserver on deck. They can hunt for the others."
"That's what they'll do," said Kroom; "but this one's follerin' us. Whatever is hitched to it'll anchor it in shoal water. Things have to go over the bar and into the bay at high tide. They know that, and they think they can wait."
The wide spread of water between the surf and the beach was now comparatively smooth, with long low waves playing lazily across it.
There might be fish there, but most likely not, the Captain said, and it ought not to arouse any suspicions of the wreckers that he wanted to try it.
They sailed ahead for the inlet, but Pete may have been correct when he told his shipmates, old and young:
"They're a-watching us. They mean to see if we're just after fish."
"There comes that thing!" exclaimed Sam; but Pickering caught his arm.
"Don't you point, boy! Don't anybody look at it! Fish away. I guess it isn't worth much, but they needn't see us get it."
The Elephant had not begun her remarkable voyage very early in the day, and more time had passed than her boy crew were aware of. Her commander, however, had kept track of the tides and the hours, like the sharp old fisherman that he was.
"We went out with the tide," he said to Pickering. "It's turned to run in now. Those chaps'll wait for that stuff at the other end of the inlet. I don't want 'em to guess that we know a thing about it; but it'll be good and dark before we get home."
"My folks know I went fishing," said Sam. "They won't care."
"Mine won't, if they learn that I'm with Captain Kroom," said Pete. "They know he doesn't come home early— Hullo! Blue-fish!"
He had struck one; he pulled it in rapidly, but, the moment it came within reach, Captain Kroom seized it and stood straight up in the boat, hailing the wreckers with:
"Luck! Four-pounder!"
"All right!" came faintly back over the water. "It's all you'll get."
"Guess not," grumbled Pickering. "But I wish I knew if they had anything from the Goshawk in their boat. There was another lot of chaps there, just like 'em."
"We can't help it if they have," said Kroom. "Do you know, they're not a bad kind of chap. Honest as the day on shore. Wouldn't cheat you in the weight of a fish. It was just so with the Cornish wreckers that plundered me once."
"Never was wrecked in my life," replied Pickering. "This Goshawk business wasn't mine. I wasn't in charge of the ship. It doesn't count."
"Well," said Kroom, "I wasn't ever wrecked after I got to be Captain. Most of mine came younger. I went to sea when I was a little feller. What I hate around a wreck is sharks."
If he was just about to tell a shark story, his chance for it was spoiled. He had a line of his own out now, and the next instant he exclaimed:
"Pete! Pickering! Take care of the boat while I get him in. 'Tisn't any blue-fish this time!"
The Elephant yawed and leaned over dangerously before Captain Pickering could get to the tiller, but Pete let the sail swing out like a tiptop young boatman.
"Just in time!" he said. "Sam, the Captain's got a big one!"
It was indeed a fish, but the flurry of excitement on board the Elephant had not escaped eyes that were watching her. One eye, the right eye of a pretty sharp pair, had been squinting through a pocket-telescope, such as coast-wise men of that sort are very apt to carry.
"Boys," exclaimed its owner, "old Kroom has found something. Come on!"
The next moment that cat-boat, with the four wreckers in it, was tacking as straight a course as it could make toward the Elephant.
"Meet 'em, Pickering," thundered Captain Kroom. "I'm bringing him in. They mustn't guess we are after anything but fish."
"They won't," said Pickering, "not if you can show 'em a prime sea-bass."
"That's what it is, Sam," said Pete. "I told you this was the place to get 'em. If he doesn't know all about fish!"
The Captain was putting out his strength as well as his knowledge just now. A less-experienced fisherman might have lost that splendid bass, hooking him with only blue-fish tackle. It was well, too, to have Pickering in charge of the Elephant, for she ran into rougher water while the fish-fight went on.