THE FIRST DAY
The train steamed slowly out of Victoria Station. "Now we're off!" shouted a Cub, and he and all the others began to jump for joy, which was not easy in a railway compartment packed like a sardine-tin. Then someone began to sing the Pack chorus, and everyone joined in with all their strength:
Let the great big world keep turning,
Now I've joined a Wolf Cub Pack;
And I only know
That I want to go
To camp—to camp—to camp!
Oh, I long to set off marching
With my kit-bag on my back.
Let the great big world keep on turning round,
Now I've joined a Wolf Cub Pack!
Then someone yelled "Are we down-hearted?" and the Cubs yelled "No!" so loudly that Akela thought she would be deafened for life.
Presently the train ran out into the country, and plodded along between woods and fields. And the early morning sun shone brightly, and the sky was very blue. The country, the country! And, very soon, the sea! There were some of them who had never been to the country, and "Spongey," the youngest of the party, had never even been in a real train.
"Talk about hot!" said someone, panting, when the train had thundered on for about an hour. And, my word, it was hot! Besides, there were blacks and dust, and everyone began to get very grimy—specially the people who were eating bread-and-jam and sticky fruit, and the people who had to crawl under the seat to pick up things that had got lost.
"Never mind," said Akela, "we shall be in the sea this evening, and then we shall be cool."
That started everyone jumping for joy again, of course.
Presently the train passed Arundel Castle—its white towers and turrets and battlements rising up amidst the dark green woods like an enchanted castle in the days of knights and fairies—and the Cubs learnt that there are castles in real life as well as in story-books.
After that they began looking out of the window to see who would be the first one to catch sight of the sea. "Bunny" was the first to, and his friend Bert, the Senior Sixer, came a close second.
At last the train got to Portsmouth Harbour, and, shouldering their kit-bags, the Cubs ran down on to the steamer.
The harbour was thrilling: battleships, cruisers, torpedo-boats, the Royal yacht, the Admiralty yacht, and, most interesting of all, Nelson's ship, the Victory. As if the steamer knew that a crowd of eager Cubs were longing to see all round the Victory, it went out of its way to steam right round it, slowly and quite near, and the Cubs had a splendid view.
The boys all wanted to be the first to touch the sea, but Bunny, who had seen it first, forestalled them again, by letting down a ball of string over the edge of the boat and pulling it up all wet.
At last the ship reached the Isle of Wight, and the Cubs and their great mountain of camp luggage went down the long pier. I forgot to tell you that besides Akela there was the Senior Sixer's father and mother, who were coming to help look after the camp—they became the "Father and Mother of Camp"; and there was also a lady who was a very kind camp Godmother. The grown-ups and the luggage were soon packed into a large motor-car, and then, relieved of their kit-bags, the Cubs set out to walk the two miles along the sea-front to the village called Sea View. The way lay along a thing called a "sea-wall"—a high stone wall about six feet broad running along above the shore, with the sea lapping up against it at high tide. Along this the Cubs walked (or rather ran and jumped), their eyes big with wonder at the great stretch of blue, blue sea, with here and there a distant sailing-boat, and, above, the sky even bluer than the sea. "I didn't know the sky could be so blue!" said a Cub; and that was just how they all felt.
It was very hot walking in the midday sun. There was no hurry—nine days to do just as they liked in—so halfway along the sea-wall the Cubs and Akela scrambled down some steep stone steps on to a tiny stretch of sand not yet covered by the incoming tide. Boots and stockings were soon off, sleeves and shorts tucked up, and everybody paddling deep in the cool green water.
When they had all got thoroughly cool they went on their way, and at last arrived at the Stable.
This was where they were to sleep. It consisted of a courtyard, a couple of stalls, a coach-house, a shed, and two tiny rooms. Akela occupied one of these, and the Cubs were divided into two groups. The Stable was in charge of Bert, the Senior Sixer, and in his stall he had Bunny (a Second), Dick (a big Cub very nearly ready to go up to the Scouts), and Patsy, a small but lively Irishman. Sam, another Sixer, had in his stall four young terrors—Terry, Wooler, Jack, and "Spongey" Ward. Then there was the coach-house. This was in charge of Bill, the last Senior Sixer, now a Cub Instructor. The other occupants were Jim, a Sixer (Bill's young brother), "Mac," a Second, two brothers, "Big Andy" and "Little Andy," and a rather new Cub called Bob.
It took a good while to stuff the palliasses with straw and unpack. But when this was finished everyone had a good wash and changed into cool old clothes—shorts and cotton shirts. Tea followed, in a jolly old garden behind the bake-house. There was a seesaw in it, and the grass was long and soft, and the shade of the apple-trees very cool. Then the party ran up the hill to the camp field. Here there was a lot to do: the bell tent to be pitched, the fireplace made, wood to be chopped, water fetched, all the pots and pans unpacked, a swing and a couple of hammocks to be put up, the two great sacks of loaves to be fetched, and, oh! a hundred other things. But all the Cubs set to and did their best, and at last all was ready.
"Now for the shore!" said Akela, and everyone cheered and ran for their towels and bathing-drawers. It was only a few minutes' walk down to the most lovely shore you can imagine—stretches and stretches of golden sand and little, lapping waves. On one side you could see rocky points running down into the greeny-blue sea, with trees growing right down to the shore. An old, brown-sailed coal barge moved slowly past on the gentle wind, the many browns of its patched sails forming a rich splash of colour in the evening sun. The Cubs soon turned into "water babies." Boots and stockings had been left behind at the Stable, and now they got rid of clothes as well. How cool the sea was! That first bathe seemed to wash away all the heat and smoke and grubbiness of dear old London.
After the bathe came a splendid paddle among brown, sea-weedy rocks, and the Cubs caught their first baby crabs and found their first shells, and got just as wet as they liked.
But the sun was sinking down behind the grey line of sea, and the clock there is inside every Cub was telling supper-time. So, with hands full of sea-weed and shells, they made their way back to camp.
The camp-fire was burning merrily. "Godmother," in a large blue overall, was stirring a steaming dixie of cocoa, and "Mother and Father" were cutting up bread and cheese.
After supper there was time for a little play in the field. Then, as it began to get dusk, a whistle-blast called the Cubs in for night prayers. It was still quite light enough to read, so each Cub had a little homemade book of Morning and Night Camp Prayers. Kneeling in a quiet corner of the field, with just the evening sky overhead, with a pale star or two beginning to appear, it was easy to feel God near and to pray. The camp prayers started with "A prayer that we may pray well." It was a very old prayer, really, but it seemed just to fit the Cubs, and help them to do their best in their prayers as in all other things. The prayer was this: "Open Thou, O Lord, my mouth to bless Thy Holy Name; cleanse also my heart from wandering thoughts, so that I may worthily, devoutly, and attentively recite these prayers, and deserve to be heard in the sight of Thy Divine Majesty. Through Christ Our Lord. Amen." Then followed the "Our Father" and some short prayers. And after that the Cubs said altogether: "I confess to Almighty God that I have sinned against Him in thought, word, and deed." Then Akela read out very slowly the following questions, and each Cub answered them in his heart—not out loud, but silently, for God only to hear:
"Have I done my best to pray well when saying my private prayers and at camp prayers?
"Have I really meant to please God to-day?
"Have I done my best in my orderly duties, and in other things I have had to do?
"Have I given in to other people quickly and cheerfully when given an order?
"Have I spoken as I should not?
"Have I been disobedient?
"Have I been unkind to another boy—selfish? quarrelsome? unfair?
"Have I told a lie?
"Have I done anything else I am sorry for?"
Then, after a pause, Akela said:
"Tell God you are truly sorry, on your honour as a Cub, that you have grieved Him by the sins of to-day."
Then there was perfect silence for a moment, and after that, the Cubs said, all together:
"May Almighty God have mercy upon us, and forgive us our sins, and bring us to life everlasting."
Then they said a short psalm, and the following beautiful little hymn:
Now with the fast departing light,
Maker of all, we ask of Thee,
Of Thy great mercy, through the night
Our guardian and defence to be.
Far off let idle visions fly,
And dreams that might disturb our sleep;
Naught shall we fear if Thou art nigh,
Our souls and bodies safe to keep.
Father of mercies, hear our cry;
Hear us, O sole-begotten Son!
Who with the Holy Ghost most high
Reignest while endless ages run. Amen.
Then came "A prayer that we may be forgiven any wandering thoughts we have had while reciting these prayers," and, to end up with, "Our Father" once again, because it is the prayer that Christ Our Lord specially told His friends to use.
The nine o'clock gun booms out across the Solent as the Cubs and Akela, having bidden good-night to Father and Mother and Godmother, walk down the hill to the Stable. The sea looks like a great piece of shimmering grey silk. "Look at the little twinkle lights!" says a Cub. It is the street lamps over on the mainland, but they look like so many winking diamonds. There is quite a cluster of them on the grey ghost of a battleship, and the old, round fort has a light which looks like the red end of a cigar. "Please, please let us go down to the front and look at the little twinkling lights," beg the Cubs. So, on condition they get undressed in five minutes, Akela says "Yes."
A few minutes later the Stable and the Coach-house are having an undressing race. One of the two tiny rooms has been made into a little chapel. In less than two minutes the first Cub ready whisks once round the yard in his night-shirt, like a white moth in the dusk, and into the chapel to say his prayers. The door stands open. In the red light of the tiny lamp you can see the little white form kneeling on the floor, very quiet and devout. Presently he is silently joined by another—there is only room for two, it is such a wee chapel. Several impatient people in pyjamas think it would be fun to start jazzing in the courtyard, till Akela warns them, "No story if you start ragging."
Soon all prayers are said, and the people in the Coach-house are in bed, and ready to "invite" the Stable. The Stable having been duly invited, its eight occupants come in, and each finds a place on a palliasse. It is a warm, still night. The great doors of the Coach-house stand wide open. The stars are out thick by this time. Little black bats flit and swoop about in the darkness. If you keep very still you can just hear the gentle "hshshsh, hshshsh" of the sea. The candle flickers as the night gives a little sigh. A few Cubs are rolling about on their straw beds. "Shut up, all!" commands an imperious Sixer. "Now, miss, go ahead."
Akela is sitting on a palliasse already occupied by two people. Silence reigns, for these Cubs belong to a story-telling Pack, and it is almost the only time they are ever quite quiet. "Well," begins Akela, "many hundreds of years ago there lived a boy——"