Part 3 (1/2)
”Whose--the Unwiseman's?” Mollie whispered with delight.
”Tha.s.s-swat-I-think,” said Whistlebinkie.
And then the song began again drawing nearer each moment.
”Yeave-ho, Yo-ho, O I love the life so brave.
I love to swish Like the porpoise fish Over the foamy wave.
So let the salt wind blow-away, All care and trouble throw-away, And lead the life of a Stowaway Yeave-ho--Yeave-ho--Yo-hee!”
”It is he as sure as you're born, Whistlebinkie!” cried Mollie in an ecstacy of delight. ”I wonder how he came to come.”
”I 'dno,” said Whistlebinkie. ”I guess he's just went and gone.”
As Whistlebinkie spoke sure enough, the Unwiseman himself clambered out of the ventilator and leaped lightly on the deck alongside of them still singing:
”Yeave-ho, Yo-ho, I love the At-lan-tic.
The water's wet And you can bet The motion makes me sick.
But let the wavelets flow away You cannot drive the glow away From the heart of the happy Stowaway.
Yeave-ho--Yeave-ho--Yo-hee!”
Dear me, what a strange looking figure he was as he jumped down and greeted Mollie and Whistlebinkie! In place of his old beaver hat he wore a broad and s.h.i.+ny tarpaulin. His trousers which were of white duck stiffly starched were neatly creased down the sides, ironed as flat as they could be got, nearly two feet wide and as spick and span as a snow-flake. On his feet he wore a huge pair of goloshes, and thrown jauntily around his left shoulder and thence down over his right arm to his waist was what appeared to be a great round life preserver, filled with air, and heavy enough to support ten persons of his size.
”s.h.i.+ver my timbers if it ain't Mollie!” he roared as he caught sight of her. ”And Whistlebinkie too--Ahoy there, Fizzled.i.n.kie. What's the good word?”
”Where on earth did you come from?” asked Mollie overjoyed.
”I weighed anchor in the home port at seven bells last night; set me course nor-E by sou-sou-west, made for the deep channel running past the red, white and blue buoy on the starboard tack, reefed my galyards in the teeth o' the blithering gale and sneaked aboard while Captain Binks of the good s.h.i.+p _Nancy B._ was trollin' for oysters off the fis.h.i.+n'
banks after windin' up the Port watch,” replied the Unwiseman. ”It's a great life, ain't it,” he added gazing admiringly about him at the wonderful s.h.i.+p and then over the rail at the still more wonderful ocean.
”But how did you come to come?” asked Mollie.
”Well--ye see after you'd said good-bye to me the other day, I was sort of upset and for the first time in my life I got my newspaper right side up and began to read it that way,” the old gentleman explained. ”And I fell on a story of the briny deep in which a young gentleman named Billy The Rover Bold sailed from the Spanish main to Kennebunkport in a dory, capturing seventeen brigs, fourteen galleons and a pirate band on the way. It didn't say fourteen galleons of what, but thinkin' it might be soda water, it made my mouth water to think of it, so I decided to rent my house and come along. About when do you think we'll capture any Brigs?”
”You rented your house?” asked Mollie in amazement.
”Yes--to a Burgular,” said the Unwiseman. ”I thought that was the best way out of it. If the burgular has your house, thinks I, he won't break into it, spoiling your locks, or smas.h.i.+ng your windows and doors. What he's got likewise moreover he won't steal, so the best thing to do is to turn everything over to him right in the beginning and so save your property. So I advertised. Here it is, see?” And the Unwiseman produced the following copy of his advertis.e.m.e.nt.
FOR TO BE LET ONE FIRST CLa.s.s PREMISSES ALL MODDERN INCONVENIENCES HOT AND COAL GAS SIXTEEN MILES FROM POLICE STATION POSESSION RIGHT AWAY OFF ONLY BURGULARS NEED APPLY.
Address, The Unwiseman, At Home.
”One of 'em called the next night and he's taken the house for six months,” the Unwiseman went on. ”He's promised to keep the house clean, to smoke my pipe, look after my Qs and commas, eat my meals regularly, and exercise the umbrella on wet days. It was a very good arrangement all around. He was a very nice polite burgular and as it happened had a lot of business he wanted to attend to right in our neighborhood. He said he'd keep an eye on your house too, and I told him about how to get in the back way where the cellar window won't lock. He promised for sure he'd look into it.”
”Very kind of him I'm sure,” said Mollie dubiously.
”You'd have liked him very much--nicest burgular I ever met. Had real taking ways,” said the Unwiseman.
”Howd-ulike-being-outer-sighter-land?” asked Whistlebinkie.