CHAPTER NINE

THE NIGHT OF THE MASKED BALL

The night so anxiously anticipated came at last. As there was no moon everything lay in velvety blackness. This was considered opportune as it helped to hide the maskers when the launches landed them on the wharf of Isola Bella.

Fudge Attic presented a bright contrast to the darkness out of doors, for it was gay with lights and coloured bunting and the paraffine waxed floor all ready waiting for impatient feet. Bridget, stationed just off the landing of the stairway, queened it over a huge punch-bowl filled with lemonade, while the laundry had been transformed into a buffet given in charge of Mose.

The music was furnished by the two captains, one with his fiddle and the other with a concertina. As it was impossible for both to play and keep time together, they alternated in the demonstration of their art.

Lanciers and quadrilles were the popular dances with the captains, so they tuned up for a grand march to begin with. The maskers, in couples, waited to take part although “every couple was not a pair.”

A Grand Pasha with a diamond sunburst in the front of his turban led a Red Cross nurse around the attic; following came a Knight in (tin) armour with a Gypsy Maiden. Then came a Happy Hooligan and a Girlie Girl; next, Little Red Riding Hood and a Pumpkin Clown and directly at their heels ran the two bears on all fours, sniffing eagerly at the basket carried by their prospective victim.

The Trail of the Lonesome Pine came stately and slowly all by herself--the branches taking up such a spread of room. After her danced the Yellow Kid with the Spanish Maid who shook a tambourine tinkling with bells. A bewitching Japanese consorted with a well-filled Laundry Bag and the News-of-the-Day came with a Breton peasant carrying a swaddled babe. Last but not least the Pirate of Penzance marched with a Pierrette.

With an excruciating wail from the fiddle, the march ended and a breathless instant ensued when every one tried to pierce the disguise of the others. No one would speak for fear of being identified by “next friends.” The two bears could growl of course, and this they did to their own great satisfaction.

Captain Ed shouted in his most nautical voice, “Take yer pardners for the lanciers!”

In feigned tones cavaliers invited Nurse, Bag and Jap to step the light fantastic with them, while Bears clung to a Pine and Red Riding Hood until the sets were all made up.

At the command “Salute pardners!” heads bowed low and the two bears swayed bearfully from side to side. Then at the call “Swing corners!” both bears tried to hug the little Jap girl so closely that she cried out to the Pasha for help.

During this lively dance the Lonesome-Pine Flo-Flo left much of her Trail upon the floor and Mose found it necessary to hurriedly sweep up the branches with a broom.

Before the lanciers ended most of the maskers were identified and therefore were known by their Christian names. The Pasha, however, insisted upon the deference due his rank and resented the familiar appellation of “Uncle Bill.”

Suddenly, from the admiring circle drawn up about the Grand Pasha, Miriam’s voice piped forth: “Why, papa! You’ve got on mamma’s sunburst of diamonds!”

“S-sh--you impertinent Jap! Don’t you know that Girlie Girl hasn’t discovered my decoration? Let me bask in its rays while I may,” came from the Pasha in wary accents.

At that moment the Tin Knight rattled up while the Polar Bear growled out, “Listen to the Ford Car approaching.”

As Red Riding Hood turned to watch the Knight in Armour trying to keep his tin-can plates in order, a revelation came to her and she cried, “Oh, _now_ I know what all that hammering in the pump-house was for! But where did you find all the old empty cans, Fred?”

The concertina now squawked out to its full length and caused every one to choose a mate for the dance. Captain Benton bawled, “All ready for a polker,” and started the musical atrocity wheezing. At the same time his body swayed and pitched like a ship in a storm, keeping time with every long-drawn out extension of the bellows. As his vivid imagination pictured the old-time dances he used to step so merrily with his best girl, the faster sounded the wails from the concertina and more erratic grew the time, until finally, the dance ended in a wild riot.

Uncle Bill decided this was the time to calm excitement by refreshing the inner man, particularly as the little tots had to go to bed. So every one trooped down to the well-filled laundry table where Mose was kept busy handing our refreshments. Then once more back in the attic, the fun waxed fast and furious until Uncle Tom called for attention!

“I am now about to distribute slips of paper for each one to write down the name of the costume considered the winner. Whoever receives the most votes will be presented with a prize. The one considered having the funniest or oddest costume will also receive a prize.”

This announcement was received with loud acclamations of satisfaction and surprise, for it was not known before. During the comparative quiet while all were pondering the merits of the costumes, a loud “Boom! Bang” came like a blast from the back bay.

Every one rushed to the eastern windows of the attic and Captain Ed, being there first, yelled, “Fire! Fire!”

The others gazed wildly from the windows as a long sheet of flame forked up into the darkness of the night.

“Boom! Boom! Bang!” came again and a mighty Fourth of July display glittered back of the dark firs fringing the shore. By this time, the Pasha, grabbing a large fire-extinguisher, tore down the stairs and went headlong down to the beach. The rest of the maskers were not slow to follow so that before the third explosion sounded they all were near enough to see by the reflection of the flare that a blazing launch was stranded on Isola Bella and already, like a torch, one of the fir trees was burning fiercely.

The danger was evident to all for even the youngest Islander knew that if once the firs caught fire, the entire island was doomed; not only the trees and buildings but also the peat-like soil would burn off of the rocks.

The frantic Pasha, minus turban and sunburst and with only one Turkish shawl trailing from his shoulders, plied the chemicals incessantly while the Tin Knight and the dusky Major-Domo of the buffet tore down blazing fragments of neighbouring trees and the erst-while musicians bravely exerted their muscular strength in pushing off the burning launch from the wharf. And they finally succeeded but at the cost of hair and hands. Uncle Tom, Yellow Kid and the Two Bears quickly formed a bucket brigade of all the other maskers, and with their aid the last spark burning on the island was deluged and extinguished.

After the terrific battle and excitement with the fire had calmed down a forlorn group were discovered huddled on the rocks near the wharf. The owner of the doomed launch gazed hopelessly at the burning boat while his wife cried pitifully by his side.

Their story was soon told. The man was returning from Belfast with three barrels of gasoline on board. The gasoline caught fire--how, he could not tell.

Uncle Bill concluded that a back-fire from the engine ignited the fumes from a leaky tank and of course it took but a moment to wrap the entire launch in flame.

The man and his wife had taken to their small boat as soon as the fire burst forth, knowing of the awful danger incurred from the presence of the three barrels of gasoline. Even though they had escaped before the explosions, both of them were burned, the man’s hands being severely blistered.

It was long after midnight before the burns and blisters had been given first-aid treatment; then a smudged and frazzled Masquerade Party were free to go to bed.

The water-soaked Yellow Kid escorted a smoke-streaked Pierrette and a skeleton Pine--nothing now but a few threads and sticks left of the green plumes--to the Orion and home. Thankful indeed, were they that the fire had left them the Orion in which to go home.

As for the Sunset Islanders: they were so excited that no thought of sleep was entertained. It was nearly dawn before the last whisper was silenced in their tents. And then, Bill was heard to say, “Let’s go over to Isola Bella the first thing in the morning and have a look at the wreck!”

And his mother called, “If you boys don’t go to sleep there won’t be any morning, because you’ll sleep into the late afternoon.”

However, boys never fail to wake up early if there is a circus or some other great excitement to be enjoyed, so all of the Island boys were up and ready to start for Uncle Bill’s the moment breakfast was over.

Their intent was to view the wreck and take pictures of the charred remains, but once having landed on the wharf they found Uncle Bill with downcast expression--a most unusual thing.

“Boys,” said he, taking them into his confidence, “you remember the Pasha’s diamond sunburst of last night?”

Yes, they all did.

“Well, somehow, the Pasha in his undignified exit from the ball-room lost his turban. Of course the sunburst was with it. The turban has been found but no sunburst!”

“Gee! What did Aunt Miriam say?” cried Billy, sympathetically.

“Well--she is annoyed!”

“We’ll help you look for it, Uncle Bill,” instantly volunteered the boys from Sunset Island.

“Start right in now--the sooner the quicker for me!” replied Uncle Bill.

But the most careful and minute search by the boys failed to locate anything like a brooch. Finally, every one on Isola Bella was enlisted in the campaign, but without success. Several old croquet balls, some tennis balls, a lost doll of Betty’s and other valueless miscellany were combed out from the tall ferns but no diamonds.

Then Bill yelled with joy. “I’ve got it! Here is the bunch of sparkles!”

Every one ran swiftly to be in “at the death,” but it turned out to be a bit of broken cut-glass that lay hidden in the dew-covered green moss.

The indefatigable work of the hunters had to be rewarded whether the pin was found or not, so all were invited to sit down to a well-laden table for lunch.

They sat discussing all possible and impossible places where the diamonds might be, but Aunt Miriam refused to be comforted and Uncle Bill seemed quite unnatural in his rôle of penitent.

“Well, Miriam, you may have lost the diamonds but still you are more fortunate than that poor man and his wife who lost their launch last night,” remarked Uncle Bill, surprised at his wife’s unusual persistence in harping on her loss.

“But _I_ didn’t lose it--you are the guilty one!” said she.

“If I had that blamed old sunburst in my hand to make you happy again, I’d help stake that poor old duffer to a new launch! I swear I would!” declared Uncle Bill, recklessly.

Quietly then, Aunt Miriam rose from her chair and came around the table to lean over his shoulder. He thought she was about to pat him consolingly on the head and say, “Never mind, dear.”

So he raised his hand to clasp hers in token of her ready sympathy when his fingers closed over something that gave him a sharp jab.

“Ouch--by heck! That pesky pin!”

He held it out and looked hard at the cause of his recent generous offer while every one laughed freely at his predicament.

“Oh, thou false and treacherous woman! Had I back once more the salty tears I shed o’er yon ferns while seeking for this glittering bauble! Moved by your pretended distress we have wasted the golden moments of this glorious day for naught!”

The Islanders laughed again while Aunt Miriam smiled.

“But it was not wasted time nor loss of tears--for both impelled you to act the Good Samaritan,” said his wife.

“Boys, how much do you suppose I’ll _have_ to donate now, to ease off my conscience regarding that launch?” asked Uncle Bill.

Opinions varied. Billy, taking the part of his namesake thought the man deserved little because of his evident carelessness in carrying gasoline in barrels on his launch.

Fred suggested that every one chip in to help, but Fred had a larger allowance than the younger boys, so Paul, Billy and Dudley made no reply to this plan.

Then, as usual, the feminine contingent carried the vote in the interests of charity and Uncle Bill was mulcted a goodly sum.

“But what I want to know is, ‘Where did Aunt Miriam find that sunburst?’” queried Fred.

And amid appreciative smiles, that fair lady told how, amid the excited rush from Fudge Attic the night before, she had found the diamond brooch sparkling on the floor. She had quietly retrieved it but had no thought of playing any joke on the Pasha until she saw his very preoccupied manner and his avoidance of conversation with her. She was not supposed to have missed the jewel and he was postponing the evil time as long as possible.

After lunch, several games of tennis were enjoyed and when it came time to return to Sunset Island Elizabeth said, “I may as well sail back with you, I suppose.”

“Yes, ’cause we’re all going to Belfast in the morning to replenish the commissary department,” answered Fred.

“Who’s going?” demanded Paul, eagerly.

“Everybody who wants to--we are taking the Medric and expect to spend the day.”

“I suppose you’ll see us up there too, then, as we are going to Belfast to shop before Uncle Bill goes away--he expects to leave here next week, you know,” said Aunt Miriam.

“Oh, won’t we have fun in Belfast--all together!” cried Miriam.

Billy seemed to be thinking of a plan formed the moment he heard Uncle Bill would be in Belfast the next day. So now he turned to ask a question.

“Say, Uncle Bill, you know, one time father said I could have the old engine that was taken from the launch he sold two years ago. Do you think you could help me sell that engine in Belfast and get enough for it to help mother think she can afford to add the rest of the price for a launch?”

Uncle Bill’s eyes twinkled. “Well, not a brand new launch exactly, but it will help buy that old one you’ve had your eye on for the past month!”

“How much does the owner want for it, Billy?” asked Fred.

“Sixty dollars--and every one says it’s the biggest bargain at that price!” exclaimed Billy, eagerly.

“That’s a good business idea of yours, Billy--about the old engine. Suppose you take it with you to-morrow and we will see how much we can raise on it,” responded Uncle Bill.

“Thanks, awfully, Uncle Bill!”

When it came to trading the old launch engine the next day Uncle Bill and his namesake proved themselves to be almost as good Yankees at bargaining as the man who bought it. And the fifteen dollars paid Billy looked mighty good to him as it meant that he was so much nearer the goal of his heart’s desire.

The chief reason for the Islanders being so eager to go to Belfast was soon revealed after the arrival of the boats. An earnest pilgrimage started at the ironmonger’s the moment the trade of the engine was consummated, and continuing up the hilly street ended at the ice-cream soda-fountain of the drug store.

The proprietor made his own syrups and cream and the cooling beverages he dispensed were like nectar. The adults of the party appreciated this fully as much as the juveniles.

Much to Teddy’s joy, they all happened to be in Belfast the day which was the one advertised by the druggist offering a balloon to every one who made a ten-cent purchase. Thus it came to pass that the downward trail of the Sunset Islanders was marked by shreds of exploded rubber “Zeppelins.”

Loaded down to the gunwales so that the “lee-scuppers ran with blood” of beets, tomatoes, corn, onions and other fruit (?) the Medric turned her prow to the south and Sunset Isle.

A peaceful calm brooded over the members of the party--the lunch at the Belfast tea-room had been supplemented by many extras in the grocery store so that no one missed Mose’s generous midday fare.

“Say, Billy, got any more of them cocoanut jumbles?” asked Dudley, wistfully, after a silence.

“No--I only got a dozen. Ask Edith for some of her ginger-snaps.”

“I’ve got a bag of peanuts--Virginia Jumbos. Want some?” asked Elizabeth.

“Children, _do_ remember your poor weary stomachs! They will be crying for rest if you don’t!” sighed Mrs. Remington.

And the ever thoughtful children, wishing to allay their mother’s sighs and fears, rather than limit their gustatory joys moved forward where the Captain stood with Fred steering the boat.

“It’s a lucky thing for us that this Belfast trip only happens once in a while,” remarked Anna, meaningly.

While cracking and chewing the two quarts of hot peanuts offered by Elizabeth, the Islanders bethought them of one of the Captain’s stories.

“Say, Captain, how about those pirates that sailed the seas--any up around here in olden times?” hinted Billy.

“We-ll, I’ve hearn tell of some. They do say that Cap’n Kidd plied his trade in these waters, too. But the worst feller ever known was Manum. Why, he was so wicked there’s a song about _him_! And my father said it didn’t half do the pirate justice, either!”

“Oh, do let us hear it, Captain!” urged the children.

With deprecatory coughs and some clearings of the throat the Captain began singing in a nasal tenor the ballad of Bold Manum, a curious rhyme with a salty flavour:

BOLD MANUM

Bold Manum went to sea one day And it was dreary too, The dreariest day that ever was seen-- All in the foggy dew.

Oh, we spied a lofty sh-i-ip, To the leeward of us she lay; “And it’s up with our main-topsails, lads, And after her away.”

Oh, we bore right down upon her, And sheered up ’longside; And with a speaking tru-um-pet, “Where are you bound?” he cried.

“Where are you bound,” cried Manum, “Be sure you answer true, For I have lost my longitude Way back a day or two.”

“Oh, we are the ‘Fame of New York,’ To Lisbon we are bound; Our captain’s name is R. D. Craig, A native of that town.”

“You lie, you lie,” cried Manum, “For such a thing can’t be; Come lower your top-sails on your caps And fall down under my lee.”

Oh, these bold and thirsty pirates With their swords right in their hand They leapt aboard the merchant man And murdered every man.

Oh, these bold and thirsty pirates, They ransacked everything, Until they found a fair damsel, Aft in the waist cab-ing.

She sat playing on her ha-a-rp, Right merrilie did she sing: “Home, Home sweet ho-o-me, There’s no place like home. I followed my true lover Which caus-ed me to roam.”

Oh, some they cursed, and some they swore They’d have her for a wife: When up stepped Bold Manum, saying, “Oh, I will end all strife!”

Oh, he rushed upon that fair damsel. Without any fear or dread, And catching her by her long fair hair, He slivered off her head!

Captain Ed sang the pirate’s song with such vivid interpretation and dramatic gesticulations that his audience felt a delightful shiver run along their spines. When he finished, a wild applause rewarded his effort.

Then Elizabeth was stirred to emulate the Captain’s donation to music so she offered to sing another old-time sailors’ song called “Strike, Strike the Bell.”

This was a favourite with Fred and Billy so they joined in and soon every one took up the refrain:

STRIKE, STRIKE THE BELL!

Forward is the lookout man walking on his beat Up and down the fo’castle with cold hands and feet. Thinking of his father, and mother as well, And wishing you would hurry up, and strike, strike the bell!

Refrain:

Strike the bell now, second mate, and send the watch below, Look away to windward and you’ll see it’s going to blow. Look in the glass and you’ll find it as well, And a-wishing you would hurry up and strike, strike the bell!

Aft is the steersman a-standing at his wheel Tapping now at his toe now at his heel; Thinking of his true-love who in her home doth dwell And wishing you would hurry up and strike, strike the bell.

Refrain:

Strike the bell now, second mate, and send the watch below, Look away to windward and you’ll see it’s going to blow. Look in the glass and you’ll find it as well, And a-wishing you would hurry up and strike, strike the bell!

The song ended, the peanut bag was emptied, and the crackers all gone, when the Medric came to glide up close to the float-stage. The passengers jumped off and rushed up to the bungalow calling for Mose.

“Supper most ready, Mose? We’re all as hungry as wolves!” cried each and every one of the young Islanders; but Anna exchanged looks with Mrs. Remington, who shook her head over the ever-recurrent question: “Are the stomachs of young people lined with a metal that never wears out?”