Chapter IX

PLAYING AT BEING PIRATES--A STORM AT
SEA--THE WRECK.

Frank Fielding's life was not quite like his friend Fred's in one particular; for Frank could always have a holiday when he wanted one. His father was an easy-going, non-ambitious man; he possessed all the comforts of this world, and very much enjoyed them. If you had asked him about his son's prospects in life, he would have told you that he was pleased enough to let the boy enjoy himself; that very likely there was a career of some kind before him when he developed; but that meanwhile he left all his educational affairs to his--the boy's--mother.

Poor Frank! The mother might have been doing her best, but to keep constantly sending a lad from school to school was not advancing his interests.

Fred had only the regular holiday given at Scottish schools, the summer one being the chief, and indeed the only one worthy of the name, because it lasted for six weeks.

Well, anyhow, Frank had found a companion after his own heart, and Fred had found a real friend. It was almost strange, a psychologist would have thought, how very much those two lads had come to love each other in so short a time. It was in a good many ways a case of extremes meeting, but they had a deal in common nevertheless.

Both loved Nature most ardently, although Fred knew ten times more about the habits of the wanderers in wood and field than did Frank. Every wild flower he met was an old acquaintance of Fred's, and so was every bird that sang or did not sing.

Fred was a great bird-nester. But, mark this, he never took a single egg, far, far less a helpless fledgling. But he knew where they all built their nests or laid their eggs without ever bothering about building a nest, in forest, in mountain, on moorland, or by stream. There was no pine tree or larch high enough to prevent Fred from getting to the top thereof, and in Scotland these trees are at home, and grow their very tallest. He and Toddie had other friends in the wilds as well as birds, so numerous indeed that I begrudge space in which to name them. But there were bees of all kinds, and beetles of every hue and shape; there were frogs and toads, charming lizards and lovely great snakes. Not adders. Even in the heather Toddie was as often barefooted as not, because she preferred "feelin' around with her foots as Tippetty did." So she said, and Eean would not thwart her.

Well, during the holidays they had many a long day in the woods and wilds; other days were spent at sea in the yacht, where they played at being pirates, and ran down and pretended to capture fishing-boats, and once they even overhauled a Royal Navy cutter that was dodging off the point. Fred lowered sail and boarded her, and when asked what he wanted, he boldly pointed to a black flag with skull and cross bones that Frank had hoisted; told the bos'n he was "The Pirate of the Western Wilds," and he must submit to give up his craft and walk the plank. There was no little laughing at this; but finally the _Water Baby_ was taken in tow, and the children spent a downright madcap afternoon with the sailors on board the cutter.

When it was getting near sunset farewells were said, and over the side went the pirates bold, the men giving them three cheers as their fairy-like yacht bore away for Methlin Bay.

Once it was caught in a puff of wind, and had to run for harbour; but the way Frank and Fred took in sail was a pretty sight indeed, while Toddie sat at the tiller with Tippie at her side.

Oh, I can assure you this playing pirate was fine fun! But I think, on the whole, Frank had more sense of the humorous than had Fred. He took a less serious view of life in general, and was always up to some lark or another. Once, for instance, he met Bunko in a neighbouring village with a creel of lovely lobsters, and, right or wrong, Frank must have that creel, and did have it, and, with Fred and Toddie following up in the rear, he marched boldly through the little country town, crying, "Lobsters, all alive O!" They were all dead and boiled, but that didn't matter. Frank--a laird's son--selling lobsters! Every woman and child ran out to see him, and in half an hour he had sold the lot.

How proud he was of his success! and how Bunko did laugh to be sure!

Now Frank did not wear the ordinary Highland garb such as gentlemen wear while shooting or fishing. It pleased his mother to put him into a real tartan kilt, with black jacket of velvet, skean dhu and sporran, so you may fancy what sort of a figure he cut with a creel on his back. But it wasn't all over yet; for, another day he actually bought a creel for himself, and having made some private arrangement with Bunko, the two set off together to see who would sell out the sooner.

Fred and Toddie were there as usual; but, lo and behold! just in the midst of the fun, who should drive up the street but his father and mother in the landau.

Not a bit taken aback, Frank walked right up to the carriage.

"Buy any beautiful lobsters to-day, madam?" he said, with true fisher "twang."

The lobsters were red, but Mrs. Fielding's face grew redder.

"Oh, Frank! Frank!" she cried, "how could you----"

"Quite fresh, madam, I assure you. Only boiled this morning. Feel the weight of this one, my lady."

His father could hardly speak for laughing, and the coachman's fat sides shook till he nearly fell off the dickey.

Mr. Fielding himself bought that lobster, and the carriage drove on.

Frank looked after it with a very comical expression on his face.

Then he laughed as he turned to Fred.

"I shall have that lobster to-night for supper," ha said, "and such a wigging with it from mother, you know. Father is fond of fun. Come on, Bunko. 'A man's a man for a' that.' Lobsters, all alive O!"

* * * * * *

"I fink," said Toddie one morning as she stood looking at the sea with her thumb in her mouth, "I fink, Fled, it will blow a ten-knot bleeze to-day."

"Yes," said Fred, with a glance at the sky as if he had been a hundred-years-old fisherman, "it may blow a ten-knot breeze, but bless you, Tod, we haven't got the press of canvas to carry us anything like ten knots."

"No, oo's twite light [right], Fled, we tan't do it. We tould tally more tanvas too."

"Now, Tod, don't put on airs. Skip. Frank'll be here in a minute."

Toddie and Tip did skip, and after running stark staring mad on the sands for a quarter of an hour they went to say "Dood-bye to the tsilden dolly fishes" in the aquarium.

The blennies were waiting to be stroked, and all waiting to be fed.

"Dood-bye, dolly-fishes;" cried Toddie, waving her hand as she stood in the cave mouth. "Be dood tsilden till oo mammy tomes back, and oo'll all have something nice."

Frank was careering over the sands on the Shetland pony looking for Toddie, and he gave her just one wild gallop before they embarked.

"Don't go far out to-day, bairns," cried Eean. "I'm not sure it isn't going to blow, bright and all as it is. And the breeze is off the land too."

After they had made a good offing, Fred said, "Let us stand right away to the west for a few miles, then tack back. That'll make a nice long sail of it."

The breeze was very light, and they were about five miles from the coast in an hour, a long way decidedly for children to be out on an uncertain day, albeit two of them were children of the sea.

Fred now had the mainsail lowered, and they just kept moving while Frank made coffee, and undid a package containing a splendid veal-pie.

What a delightful feast that was! And the sea and sky and shore looked somehow even more lovely after their hearty meal than they had done before. Even Tip must have thought so too; for he stood with his two fat feet on the gunwale, and barked in a daft kind of way at the sea-gulls.

What glorious tints of blue and opal and purple and green overspread seascape and landscape!

They were looking at all this in a dreamy happy way, when Fred suddenly pointed towards the mountains. "Look! look!" he cried, "at those great white clouds rising like giant's heads, looking over the hills."

"Dust like diants," said Toddie.

"Let her come round, Todd. Thank you."

The mainsail was hoisted, and she came round like a swan.

Tippetty was sent below, and Toddie too, and Fred took the tiller himself.

In less than half-an-hour the storm was over them. Fred saw it coming, and knew he couldn't face it, and so got round to scud all in good time.

The wind had gone round points and points, and the wee yacht fairly flew before it, lying over till the gunwale nearly touched the water--aye, and did at times.

"Don't be afraid, Todd," shouted Fred, laughing. "It will soon be over. Cheer up, Frank!"

Honest Fred! he knew the danger they were in, but kept the secret to himself.

Well, the _Water Baby_ proved a grand little sailer. Fred really felt proud of her as she rose so nimbly to each green sea, and dashed the spray from her bows.

He would have been happy but for thinking of the anxiety of those at home. However, he managed to keep Toddie in the dry; and Frank and he got their oilskins and sou'-westers, and perfect little tars they looked now.

In about an hour they were far away at sea and no land in sight; but the wind had settled down to a steady blow, the seas raced up behind them, the sails were as stiff as pasteboard, and all danger seemed past.

"Aren't we going from home rather?" said Frank. Fred laughed, though he felt it was rude.

"We can't beat," said Fred, "we must run; but we've no cloth to speak of."

"Oh!" said Frank, "it is well to know that."

"I mean, you know, it is impossible to get back till this bit of a summer puff blows over. All right down there, Toddie?"

No answer. Toddie and Tip were fast asleep on the cushions.

Frank began to nod next, and finally collapsed, half in half out, of the little cabin. Fred pulled a tarpaulin over him, and then felt very lonely indeed.

It must be remembered Fred was only a youngster, though strong for his age. One thing anyhow I am quite sure of, he was not afraid; a better sailor he might have been, but fear--no.

Westward and westward with a bit of south in it went the _Water Baby_ all day long.

Just as it was getting near to gloaming a haze spread over the ocean, obscuring everything except the green seas close aboard. Fred did not like this new turn of events. He liked it less when suddenly dark rocks loomed like gigantic black castles over him--over him--on both sides--around him. Swish! Crack! Dash! The yacht had run on shore, and the mast went by the board.

The seas hissed around the wreck--if wreck she was--like snakes, but a big kindly wave at last came sweeping on, and lifted the _Water Baby_ high and dry on the sands.

Fred knew it was high-water just then, so there was no more danger to be apprehended.

Somehow or other the _Water Baby_ lay on an even keel, with the wreck of the mast and the tattered sail astern of her. Frank was certainly frightened. It was a terrible awaking for anyone; but it might have been worse.

"I fell asleep sayin' my players," said Toddie, emerging from the cabin. "And poor Tippetty are both so hungly."

"Do you know where you are, Toddie?" said Fred, taking the child on his knee. There was little else to be done, he thought, but nurse Toddie, and he was so very, very tired.

"Oh yes, of course I do! We is all shipwlecked maliners now."

"Well, Toddie, don't sleep again. Let us get on shore for a run. Perhaps there is a house somewhere near."

A reddish mist appeared seawards, between the giant rocks they had been so fortunate as to escape, and Fred knew the sun had set.

The wind appeared going down with it too, so his spirits rose.

It was only a small island after all. They searched about and called and shouted, but no sound or sight of human life could be discovered; so they returned together towards the little cove, and prepared to make the best of it.

"Get on board, Frank, and light the lamp, and boil some water for tea. Toddie and I will go and gather dulse."

"All right, Captain Fred," said Frank, who really appeared now to be enamoured of their romantic situation.

When Toddie and Tippie and Fred got back from the beach it was nearly dark; but the little cabin seemed quite cosy, and after some delicious tea, and the rest of the pie, they all felt as happy as happy could be.

They had books in the cabin, and so Fred volunteered to read a story, after talking for some hours. The story was one of their favourites--_Sinbad the Sailor_.

It must have been long past nine when Toddie began to nod; so Fred put her to sleep with Tip on the little sofa, and covered her over with a plaid.

By this time the wind had quite gone down; so after a turn on deck, as Fred phrased it, the boys went below and turned in all standing. More of Fred's phraseology, meaning that they lay down on the floor with their clothes on. And the sun had risen, and was shining yellow into the cabin before they ever moved again.