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Read Ebook: The pearl divers and Crusoes of the Sargasso Sea by Stables Gordon
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Ebook has 2504 lines and 77986 words, and 51 pages
"And how did I come here?"
"Well, that I just can't tell, you see. On your legs, I suppose. They are strong and sturdy ones, anyhow."
"And you're not really a--a--ghost?"
"Ghost? Never a ghost. You see, lad, one wants to be dead before he adopts the profession of ghost; and I've never been dead at all yet, though I've been pretty near death's door more than once. Shake hands. There, that doesn't feel like a ghost's hand, does it?"
"No, I was a little fool to be frightened; but I'm better now. Is it dark? I want to get home to mother and Phoebe."
"So you shall, dearie; and there is a great big, big yellow moon to let you see your way."
The boy's face brightened at once. "I'll have such a romantic story to tell mother and Phoebe when I get home," he said laughingly.
The queer little man laughed too.
"I think," he said, "you're a clever boy. Who is Phoebe?"
"Oh, Phoebe is my sister, you know. And we live high up the hill yonder, in the white little cottage among the green, green trees and the wild flowers."
"And what does your father do?"
"Oh, I don't know what he does now."
"Has he gone away, then?"
"Yes, years and years ago. He went to heaven, you know, and I don't know what they do there."
"Poor boy!"
The lad sighed, and a tear glistened in his eye.
"Now," he added, with all the frankness of boyhood, "I think mother is just pretty poor, though she never says so."
"Well, now I must let you go. Will you come and see me here to-morrow at twelve?"
"What! do you live here?"
"No, but I'm going to."
The boy opened his blue eyes very widely indeed, and stared wonderingly at the little man.
"What! live in an old windmill?"
"Yes, lad, yes. I'm a student, you know, and I want quiet, and this old house will just suit me. I'm going to work out some wonderful problems. Then I'm going to make a big, big fortune. And pray, boy, what are you going to be?"
"Well, you know, Dr. Parker wants to take me as an apprentice, but I don't like nasty physic, and so I'm going to be a sailor.
"'The sea! the sea! the open sea! The blue, the fresh, the ever free.'
"You know that verse, sir, I suppose. But it isn't fresh at all. It's dreadfully salt, because when I have fallen off a rock I have swallowed big mouthfuls of the water, and oh, it was nasty!
"Yet I love the sea all the same, and the beautiful birds that go skimming and wheeling over it or float on the blue smooth water. Oh, shouldn't I like to be a sea-bird, just. That is, you know," he added, after a pause, "if mother and Phoebe could be sea-birds too. Then we would all fly away together and be happy ever after."
The queer little man laughed.
It wasn't an ordinary laugh his. It was a kind of weird cachinnation in a piping voice. I have heard just such laughter proceeding from the dark recesses of gloomy forests in Africa. Birds, perhaps. Perhaps apes or baboons. But this little man's voice seemed to be far, far older than himself.
"And now, dearie," he said, "do you feel strong enough to go home?"
"Oh yes."
"Shall I help you up?"
"No, sir, I'm a man. I'm fourteen." Then he sprang to his feet and prepared to start.
"Good night, dearie."
"Good night, sir." And away went Barclay Stuart.
I think he ran home all the way at a kind of swinging trot.
"My dear Barclay," said his mother, "we were feeling so uneasy about you."
"Ah! but see what a string of fish I have. And they were all so hungry. And--so am I, mother. Oh, I've such a jolly queer adventure to tell you about. But I'm so hungry, I must keep it till after supper."
Phoebe was a child of ten, with hazel eyes and long flowing locks of beautiful auburn hair.
She had had her supper long ago, but she must needs sit down opposite her brother to talk or prattle to him and see him eat. This little lass had a skin like alabaster, as auburn-haired girls nearly always have. But her cheeks were rosy, and so were her lips.
A most intelligent child, and always cheerful and full of merriness and life.
Phoebe thought there was no one in all the wide, wide world half so clever, so brave and handsome, as her brother Barclay, and the boy fully reciprocated the fondness she bestowed upon him.
Well, as soon as supper was over Barclay got a footstool and sat down by the fireside by his mother's knees. Phoebe squatted on the hearthrug beside the great honest-faced tabby. Then the lad told them all about his adventure in the old windmill. He told his little story graphically, and embellished it almost theatrically, but he spoke nothing but the truth.
When he finished by saying that he was going to meet the little man next day at twelve, a shade of uneasiness spread over Mrs. Stuart's face.
"I think, Barc," she said, "you had better not go. Who can tell what this strange being may be?"
"Oh, he's not a ghost anyhow, mother. His hand is as hard as yours or mine, and you could run right through a ghost, you know."
"No, boy, I didn't mean that he might be a ghost, but he may be some evil man."
"Oh no, mother. He was so, so kind and gentle, and besides, I promised."
"Well, dear boy, if you did promise, you must go, and I know you'll take care of yourself. Now, Priscilla, if you'll bring the Book we'll have prayers."
They were a very simple family this--would there were more like them. Evening prayers are, I fear me, much neglected in England and in Lowland Scotland, though far away in the wild Scottish Highlands and Islands every night you may hear the hymn of praise rising skywards, as rises the blue peat-smoke from the humble cottars' huts. Heigh-ho! I fear that as a nation we are not so good as we used to be.
After prayers, preparations for retiring were commenced.
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