“Why, Mr. Morgan,” said she, smiling now, and turning her candid eyes to me, “I thought we had just decided not to leave the island for some months. I am very sure that we,—my father and I and you can never become strangers. We must always be the best of friends whatever happens. It is not so easy to forget a good friend as you seem to imagine. And you have surely been one to us,—and especially to my poor father in his helplessness. But the dew is falling fast, and I must now go in. Good night, my friend, my good friend.”
I sat long after that, alone in the moonlight, with the dew sparkling on each leaf in silvery lustre, thinking of my new found love, and hoping and despairing by turns, until the regular and peaceful breathing of the old man reminded me that I was uselessly dissipating precious hours that should be devoted to sleep.
CHAPTER XIV.
A REMARKABLE CURE.
AS the weather was now so fine, I thought it best to begin the gathering of calabashes, before going regularly to the work of rope-making. I should need an immense quantity of these gourds, and they must be as dry as possible and perfectly sound, or they would be unserviceable for my purpose. The collection and transportation of these gourds would have proved an immense task but for a happy thought which occurred to me; that was to make the stream do the major part of the labor. With this view I drove a row of stakes across the creek just above where the boats were moored. These stakes were placed close enough together to catch every gourd that floated down stream. After this precaution was taken I went with my axe to the calabash grove and began the work of gathering the gourds, throwing them into the water of the stream. Soon they were bobbing along down stream in a steady procession. I worked faithfully at this for more than half a day, and until I had just time to get home before supper. When I arrived I found that Alice Millward had been busy fishing out the floating gourds, and had a huge pile on the sand, and that the creek was still literally filled with them for several rods above the row of detaining stakes. In coming home I had followed down the stream, wading, with a pole to dislodge all that had caught on the way.
Wet and tired and hungry though I was, I went immediately to work throwing the gourds out on the bank where they might begin drying and hardening, and it was long after sunset before I finished this disagreeable labor. I was very glad to change my wet clothing and to sit down to the cheerful supper-table which the patient Alice had kept waiting for me.
“You must have worked very steadily, Mr. Morgan,” said she; “there has been a constant stream of those great calabashes coming down all the afternoon.”
“I see that you also were not idle,” said I. “The great heap of gourds I found taken out must have kept you pretty busy.”
“Oh, indeed, I was very busy, and kept the creek clear for quite a while,” said she; “but then they began to arrive like a marching army, and soon overwhelmed me. I suppose you have enough of them collected now, have you not?”
“No, Miss Millward, perhaps there is half enough. I shall go again to-morrow.”
“The sight of that immense number of calabashes makes me better able to realize the magnitude of the task we have undertaken,” remarked the old gentleman, in a thoughtful tone.