Part 4 (2/2)
”Weel,” said the Scotsman cautiously, ”I wouldna say but what they are suitable to the climate, but they're terrible gay like.”
”Oh, you should see Bess's evening frock. It's perfectly lovely--chiffon, with pink insertion; it suits her dark hair splendidly.”
”There, Tommy, that'll do,” said the Captain; ”such talk isn't suitable aboard this vessel. You're unruly minxes, and what I'll do with you in London I don't know.”
”You'll soon get used to it, Uncle dear, and I really wouldn't worry if I were you. We'll keep you straight.”
”A happy girl, Purvis,” said the Captain, when they were alone.
”Ou, ay, she is that.”
They spent a couple of days in Buenos Ayres while Captain Barton was unloading part of his cargo and settling his affairs. When they left, a certain young electrical engineer asked to be allowed to call on them when he returned to England, and looked very crestfallen when Elizabeth told him that they had no address. They were almost disappointed when they rounded the terrible Cape Horn without encountering a storm.
After a short stay at Valparaiso, the Captain set his course direct for the Pacific Islands. Interested as the girls had been hitherto, they became intensely excited now. Mary knew a great deal about Captain Cook and other early navigators, and all the girls had read a volume of Stevenson's on the South Seas, which their uncle had brought home once in a colonial edition. The romance of this quarter of the globe had captured their imagination, and they looked eagerly forward to seeing the strange men and women, the gorgeous scenery, the many novel things which their reading and their uncle's stories had led them to expect.
CHAPTER V
A MIDNIGHT WRECK
”Well, now, I'm real glad I brought you girls with me,” said Captain Barton, as they sat on deck one evening. ”Many's the time I've felt a bit lonesome at night between sunset and turning in, but you do help to pa.s.s the time away.”
”Pastimes, are we?” said Tommy, with affected indignation. ”Toys!
Dolls! I won't be called a doll.”
”Very well, my dear, you shan't,” replied her uncle, slipping one arm round her waist, and the other round Mary's. Elizabeth sat on her deck-chair opposite them, knitting the second of a pair of socks.
”But, now,” continued the Captain, ”you'd better be turning in. 'Tis latish, and sleep, you know, 'it is a precious thing, beloved from pole to pole'; and if you don't get your full eight hours you'll be neither useful nor ornamental, Miss Tommy.”
”Oh, Uncle! It's such a lovely night,” pleaded Tommy, leaning back on his arm, and looking up into the brilliant sky--a sky such as is seen in the South Pacific, and nowhere else in the world.
Here a heavy figure approached the group from forward.
”Gla.s.s is dropping fast, sir,” said Mr. Purvis.
Elizabeth's needles ceased clicking.
”That means a storm, doesn't it, Uncle?” she said.
”A bit of a blow, maybe,” said the Captain. ”Now, girls, off with you.
I'll just make things snug. You go below, and sleep through it, and you'll come up fresh as paint in the morning.”
Tommy grumbled a little, declaring that a storm was impossible with such a clear sky and no wind; but she went below with her sisters, and soon all three were fast asleep in their snug little cabin.
It was perhaps two hours later when Elizabeth awoke suddenly. There were strange noises overhead, and the s.h.i.+p was rolling and pitching with a violence new to her. Every now and then she heard a hoa.r.s.e shout, and a scurry of feet on deck. The little appointments of the cabin rattled, and presently, as the vessel gave a particularly heavy lurch, the gla.s.s water-bottle slipped from its rack, and fell with a crash to the floor.
”What is it?” cried Tommy, sitting straight up in her bunk.
”The sea is rather rough,” said Elizabeth quietly, ”and has sent the water-bottle spinning.”
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