Part 6 (2/2)
”Haven't even learned good manners!” roared the old gentleman.
Whereupon the whole school indulged in a mighty scrimmage in the water jumping over, under and upon each other and splas.h.i.+ng the spray high in the air until finally Whistlebinkie in his delight at the sight cried out,
”I-guess-sitz-the-football-team!”
”I guess for once you're right, Whistlebinkie,” cried the Unwiseman.
”And that accounts for their not knowing anything about 'rithmetic, jography or Elmira. When a feller's a foot-ball player he don't seem to care much for such higher education as the Poughkeepsie lunch counter, or how many is five. I knew the boys were runnin' foot-ball into the ground on land, but I never imagined the fish were running it into the water at sea. Too bad--too bad.”
And again the Unwiseman took himself off and was not seen again the rest of the day. Nor did Mollie and Whistlebinkie see much of him for the rest of the voyage for the old fellow suddenly got it into his head that possibly there were a few undiscovered continents about, the first sight of which would win for him all of the glory of a Christopher Columbus, and in order to be unquestionably the very first to catch sight of them, he climbed up to the top of the fore-mast and remained there for two full days. Fortunately neither the Captain nor the Bo'-sun's mate noticed what the old gentleman was doing or they would have put him in irons not as a punishment but to protect him from his own rash adventuring. And so it was that the Unwiseman was the first person on board to catch a glimpse of the Irish Coast, the which he announced with a loud cry of glee.
”Land ho--on the starboard tack!” he cried, and then he slid down the mast-head and rushed madly down the deck crying joyfully, ”I've discovered a continent. Hurray for me. I've discovered a continent.”
”Watcher-goin'-t'do-with it?” whistled Whistlebinkie.
”Depends on how big it is,” said the Unwiseman dancing gleefully. ”If it's a great big one I'll write my name on it and leave it where it is, but if it's only a little one I'll dig it up and take it home and add it to my back yard.”
But alas for the new Columbus! It soon turned out that his new discovery was only Ireland which thousands, not to say millions, had discovered long before he had, so that the glory which he thought he had won soon faded away. But the old gentleman was very amiable about it after he got over his first disappointment.
”I don't care,” he confided to Mollie later on. ”There isn't anything in discovering continents anyway. Look at Columbus. He discovered America, but somebody else came along and took it away from him and as far as I can find out he don't even own an abandoned farm in the United States to-day. So what's the good?”
”Tha.s.s-wat-I-say,” whistled Whistlebinkie. ”I wouldn't give seven cents to discover all the continents there is. I'd ruther be a live rubber doll than a dead dishcover anyhow.”
Later in the afternoon when the s.h.i.+p had left Queenstown, Mollie found the Unwiseman sitting in her steamer chair hidden behind a copy of the London _Times_ which had been brought aboard, and strange to relate he had it right-side up and was eagerly running through its ma.s.sive columns.
”Looking for more pollywogs?” the little girl asked.
”No,” said the Unwiseman. ”I'm trying to find the latest news from America. I want to see if that burgular has stole my stove. So far there don't seem to be anything about it here, so the chances are it's still safe.”
”Do you think they'd cable it across?” asked Mollie.
”What the stove?” demanded the Unwiseman. ”You can't send a stove by cable, stupid.”
”No--the news,” said Mollie. ”It wouldn't be very important, would it?”
”It would be important to me,” said the Unwiseman, ”and inasmuch as I bought and paid for their old paper I've got a right to expect 'em to put the news I want in it. If they don't I'll sue 'em for damages and buy a new stove with the money.”
The next morning bright and early the little party landed in England.
IV.
ENGLAND
The Unwiseman's face wore a very troubled look as the little party of travellers landed at Liverpool. He had doffed his sailor's costume and now appeared in his regular frock coat and old fas.h.i.+oned beaver hat, and carried an ancient carpet-bag in his hand, presenting to Mollie and Whistlebinkie a more familiar appearance than while in his sea-faring clothes, but he was evidently very much worried about something.
”Cheer up,” whistled Whistlebinkie noting his careworn expression. ”You look as if you were down to your last cream-cake. Wa.s.s-er-matter?”
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