Author: Sewell Ford
Category: Humorous
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CHAPTER XVI
TORCHY TAKES A RUNNING JUMP
Course, it don't sound natural. A merry sunrise party is an event thatain't often listed on the cards, unless it's a continuous session fromthe evenin' before. But this wasn't a case of a bunch ofnight-bloomin' gladiolas who'd lasted through. Hardly. AlthoughAuntie does have something of a look like the parties you see lined upat Yorkville Court, charged with havin' been rude to taxi drivers; andMr. Ellins might have been passin' the night on a bakery gratin' with asportin' extra for a blanket.
We was a long, long ways from either taxis or traffic cops, though. Wewas on Nunca Secos Key, with the Gulf of Mexico murmurin' gentle behindus, and out in front a big red sun was blazin' through the black pinesthat edge the west coast of Florida. Five of us, includin' Vee andCaptain Rupert Killam and me; and each in our own peculiar way wasregisterin' the Pollyanna-Mrs. Wiggs stuff.
Why not? For one thing, it's about as handsome a December mornin' asyou could dream of--the air soft and mild, with a clean, salty smell toit that sort of gives you a romantic hunch every sniff you pump in.
But the big reason for this early-mornin' joyfest of ours-- Well,there's the pirate treasure, almost enough to load a pushcart with.You know how you feel when you pluck a stray quarter from the L stairs,or maybe retrieve a dollar bill that's been playin' hide-and-seek inthe gutter? Multiply that by the thrill you'd get if you'd had yoursalary raised and been offered par for a block of industrials that hadbeen wished on you at ten a share, all in the same day. Then you'llhave a vague idea of how chirky we was at 5:30 A.M. as we stood aroundin front of that mound we'd torn open, gawpin' first at the heap ofloot and then at each other.
Simple way to pass the time, eh? But, somehow, we couldn't seem totake it in that we'd actually done the trick. I know I couldn't. I'vealways kidded myself along, too, that I was something of a speed artistwhen it came to framin' up a situation. I expect we all hand ourselveslittle floral offerings like that. But when we get up against anythingreally new--that is, some sensation we ain't happened to meetbefore--we find we ain't such hair-trigger propositions, after all. Wecatches ourselves doin' the open-face act, while the little strangeridea stands tappin' patient on the wood.
Course, treasure huntin' was just what had lured us so far from home.For nearly three weeks, now, that had been the big notion. Butcruisin' around in a yacht lookin' for pirate gold as sort of a freakylark is one thing, while actually diggin' it out and seein' it heapedbefore you on the sand is another.
Maybe Captain Killam was expectin' to carry the game this far. He'sjust cocky enough for that. But it's plain to see that Auntie and Mr.Ellins had been playin' a long shot just for the sport of holdin' aticket and watchin' the wheel turn. As for me and Vee, we'dpooh-poohed the idea consistent from the very start, and had only beenlet in along towards the last because we'd happened to be useful. Idon't know that we was any more staggered, though, than the rest of'em. One sure sign that Old Hickory and Auntie was excited was thefact that they'd begun callin' each other by their given names.
"Cornelia," says he, "we've done it. We have achieved adventure."
"In spite of our gray hairs--eh, Matthew?" says she.
"In spite of everything," says Old Hickory. "True, we haven't beenshipwrecked, or endured hardship, or spilled any gore. But we haveoutfaced a lot of ridicule. If the whiskered old sinners who hid awaythis stuff had met as much they might have given up piracy in disgust.Who knows?"
With that Mr. Ellins snips the end from a fat black cigar, jams hishands in his pockets, and spreads his feet wide apart. He's costumedin a flannel outing shirt open at the neck, and a pair of khakitrousers stuffed into hip rubber boots with the tops turned down. Alsohis grizzly hair is tousled and his face is well smeared up with sootor something. Honest, if he'd had a patch over one eye and gold ringsin his ears he could have qualified as a bold, bad buccaneer himself.Only there's an amiable cut-up twinkle under them shaggy brows of his,such as I'd never seen there before.
"Killam," says he, "why don't you chortle?"
"I--I beg pardon?" says Rupert.
He's sittin' on a log, busy rollin' a cigarette, and in place of hisusual solemn air he looks satisfied and happy. That's as much as hecan seem to loosen up.
"Great pickled persimmons, man!" snorts Old Hickory. "Let's be human.Come, we're all tickled to death, aren't we? Let's make a noise aboutit, then. Torchy, can't you start something appropriate?"
"Sure!" says I. "How about doin' a war dance? Yuh-huh! Yuh-huh! Getin step, Vee. Now we're off. Yuh-huh! Yuh-huh!"
"Fine!" says Old Hickory, droppin' in behind Vee and roarin' out theSagawa patter like a steam siren. "Yuh-huh! Yuh-huh! Come, Captain.Fall in, Cornelia. Yuh-huh! Yuh-huh!"
Would you believe it? Well, Auntie does. I never thought it was inthe old girl. But say, there she is, her gray hair streamin' down overher shoulders, her skirts grabbed up on either side, and lettin' outthe yelps easy and joyous. Even Rupert has to grin and join in.
Round and round that treasure heap we prances, like so many East Sidekids 'round a Maypole in Central Park, with the yuh-huhs comin' fasterand louder, until finally Auntie slumps on the sand and uncorks theonly real genuine laugh I've ever known her to be guilty of. No wonderVee stops and rushes over to her.
"Why, Auntie!'" says Vee. "What's the matter?"
"Matter?" says Auntie, breathin' hard and chucklin' in between. "Why,my dear child, I haven't done anything so absurd as this since--since Iwas forty, and--and it has done me a world of good, I'm sure."
What do you know about that? Admits she carried on as late as forty!And here I'd supposed she was born scowlin' about the time tabascosauce was invented. Well, once more I got to revise my ideas abouther. Maybe she ain't any frostier underneath than the rest of us.
"Allow me, Cornelia, to present you with the palm," says Mr. Ellins,handin' her a palmetto leaf. "As a war dancer you betray evidence ofprevious proficiency. Doesn't she, Torchy?"
"I'll bet she could have had Mrs. Sittin' Bull crowded into the backdrop," says I grinnin'.
And Auntie returns the grin.
You might know it would be Rupert who'd break the spell.
"I am wondering," says be, "just how we are going to get all thistreasure on board the yacht without the crew knowing all about it."
"Why wonder?" says Old Hickory. "Leave it to Torchy."
"Ah, say!" I protests.
"No alibis," insists Mr. Ellins, slappin' me encouragin' on theshoulder. "Strategy is what we want from you, young man. Plenty of itunder that brilliant hair of yours. We'll give you three minutes."
And of course, havin' it batted up to me that way by the big boss, andwith Vee gazin' at me expectant, I had to produce.
"You'll stand for any little tale I tell 'em, eh?" I asks.
"Absolutely," says he.
So we gets to work with the dozen or more canvas sacks that Rupert hasbeen foxy enough to bring along. In the bottom we puts a shovelful ofsand; then we dumps in the gold pieces and jewels promiscuous, withmore sand on top, not fillin' any sack more'n a third full. That made'em easy to handle, and when they was tossed into the launch there wasno suspicious jingle or anything like that.
Half an hour later we was chuggin' away from the little natural jackpotthat we'd opened so successful, headed for the _Agnes_. And, believeme, the old yacht looks mighty homey and invitin', lyin' there in thecalm of the mornin' with all her awnin's spread and a trickle of bluesmoke driftin' up from the forward galley.
"Any orders?" asks Mr. Ellins, as we starts to run alongside.
"I got a few words to say to them early-bird sailors that'shouse-cleanin' the decks," says I. "I'm goin' to ask you to stay inthe boat, Mr. Ellins, and look worried. The rest can go aboard.Captain Killam might rout out the chef and get action on an earlybreakfast."
"Ay, ay, Captain Torchy," says Old Hickory. "Here we are, with asmiling reception committee to greet us, as
usual."
There was five in the scrubbin' squad, includin' the second mate, apie-faced Swede by the name of Nelse; and, while they seems mighty busywith pails and mops and brass polishers, I notice they all manages todrift over to our side of the yacht. You couldn't exactly accuse themof wearin' grins, but they did look as though something amusin' hadoccurred recent. Which shows we was still doin' duty as human jokes.But that's just what I makes my play on.
As soon as I can dash up the landin' steps, I beckons the second mateto follow me aft.
"Call your bunch back here, too," says I, "So there'll be no boneheadplays made."
Then, when I gets 'em together, I tips Nelse the knowin' wink.
"You ain't supposed to know a thing about what's been goin' onto-night, eh?" I asks.
Nelse, he shrugs his shoulders.
"Aye yust know about work," says he, lyin' free and easy.
"That's a swell motto to pin on the wall," says I. "But listen, Nelse,while I put a case to you. Suppose, now, you'd been tipped off that ifyou dug under a certain bush in a certain back yard you'd find--well,something worth luggin' away? Ah, never mind shakin' your head! Thisis only supposin'. And we'll say the neighbors were wise; they'dwatched you go out with your spade and lantern. And after you'd nearbroke your back diggin' you found you'd been buffaloed. Are youfollowin' me?"
Who says a Swede is all solid maple from the neck up? Nelse'sbuttermilk blue eyes flickers with almost human intelligence. Some ofthe men smother a snicker.
"Well," I goes on, "we'll say you was sensitive about it. In order toduck their frivolous remarks when you came sneakin' back, maybe you'dbe deceitful enough to bluff it through. You might lug something homein the bag, even if it was only some loose real estate. I don't sayyou would, mind you. You got such an honest, cash-register face. Butthere are shifty parties who could do that and never bat an eye. Iain't mentionin' any names."
I didn't need to. To a man, they glances over the rail at Mr. Ellins.
"Then that's all," says I. "Only you got to lay off with them merryexpressions when you lug those sacks aboard. Handle 'em careful andreverent, and stow 'em in the main cabin where you're told. If you doit well I expect there'll be more or less in it for all of you. Now,then, got your cues, have you?"
They salutes respectful.
"Then get busy with the stevedore stuff," says I.
And say, if they'd been coached by a stage manager they couldn't havedone better. Course, I did catch 'em passin' the wink to each other astwo of 'em marches across the deck holdin' a sack tender between 'em;but that was when they knew nobody but me could see. While they wasdown where Old Hickory had his eye on 'em, they was as solemn aspallbearers. But I'll bet it wasn't many minutes after they got totheir own quarters before the hearty haw-haws was turned loose in fourdifferent languages.
Meanwhile Auntie and Mr. Ellins has been lookin' on without gettin' theplot of the piece.
"I must say," Auntie comes out with, "that I see no very subtlestrategy about that performance. Those men must have suspected. Whatdid they think they were carrying on board so carefully?"
"Sand," says I.
"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory.
"You said you'd stand for it," says I. "And all you owe 'em is abouttwo apiece for helpin' you save your face."
"My face, eh?" says Old Hickory.
"Someone had to be the goat," says I.
"Why, to be sure," cuts in Auntie, beamin' good-natured again. "And Ithink Torchy managed it very cleverly."
"Thanks, Mrs. Hemmingway," says I. "Maybe you'll do as much for mesome time, eh?"
"Why--er--certainly I will," says Auntie, catchin' her breath a little.
I had just sense enough to let it ride at that, for you can't push athing too far before breakfast. But I didn't mean to let this grandlittle idea of mine grow cold. It struck me that, if ever I was goin'to call for a show-down from Auntie, this was the day.
So, when I finally turned in for a forenoon nap, I was busier plottin'out just how it ought to be done than I was at makin' up lost sleep. Iain't one of them that can romp around all night, though, and then dothe fretful toss on the hay for very long after I've hit the pillow.First thing I knew, I was pryin' my eyes open to find that it's almost1:30 P.M., and with the sun beatin' straight down on the deck overheadI don't need to turn on any steam heat in the stateroom.
A good souse in a tubful of salty Gulf water wakes me up all over, andwhen I've dolled myself in a fresh Palm Beach suit and a soft collaredshirt I'm feelin' like Winnin' Willie.
As it happens, Vee and I has the luncheon table to ourselves that day,neither Auntie nor Mr. Ellins havin' shown up, and the others bein' allthrough. And somehow Vee always does have that look of--well, asthough she'd just blown in from the rose garden. You know, kind ofclean and crisp and--and honeysuckley. Maybe it's that pinky-whitecomplexion of hers, or the simple way she dresses. Anyway, she looksgood enough to eat. Don't do to tell 'em so, though.
"Good morning, Torchy," says she, chirky and sweet.
"Wrong on two counts, young lady," says I, ticklin' her ear playful asI passes.
"Really?" says she, delayin' her attack on a grapefruit. "Just how?"
"It's afternoon, for one item," says I. "And say, why not ditch thatjuvenile hail? Torchy, Torchy! Seems to me I ought to be misteredto-day. Someone ought to do it, anyway."
"Why to-day any more than yesterday?" asks Vee.
I waits until the dinin'-room steward has faded, and then I remarkshaughty: "Maybe it ain't come to you that I'm a near-plute now."
"Pooh!" says Vee. "You're not a bit richer than I am."
"Boy, page the auditin' committee!" says I. "How strong do you tallyup?"
"I'm sure I don't know," says she. "Neither do you, Mister Torchy."
"Oh, yes, I do," says I. "I've got just the same as you."
Vee runs out the tip of her tongue at me.
"That's the sort of disposition," says she, "which goes with red hair."
"Towhead yourself!" says I. "What kind of a scramble has the cook goton the eggs to-day?"
"You'd better order soft-boiled," says Vee. "I'll open them for you."
"Will you?" says I. "Just this once, or does that stand?"
"This--this is so abrupt!" says Vee, snickerin'.
"You tell it well," says I. "Just as though I hadn't been doin' mybest to dodge the net! But what chance has a man got when he'scornered at breakfast and she offers to-- Ouch!"
Vee springs one of them boardin'-school tricks of hers, shootin' ateaspoonful of water accurate across the table.
"Rough-houser!" says I, moppin' my eye with the napkin. "If yourAuntie can't train you, maybe she'll let me try."
"Oh, no doubt she would," says Vee.
"I might ask her," I suggests.
"I'd love to be around when you did," says she, rollin' her eyes impish.
"Meanin' I wouldn't dare, eh?" says I.
Vee only dabbles her pink finger-ends in the little glass bowl, andchuckles like she was rememberin' something funny.
"Suppose I did and got away with it?" I asks.
Vee gives me a quizzin' glance from them gray eyes, one of the kindthat sort of warms me up under my vest.
"I couldn't decorate you with the Victoria Cross," says she.
"But would you take a chance on the results?" I asks.
"One of the silly things I've learned from you," says Vee, lowerin' hereyelids fetchin', "is to--to take a chance."
"Vee!" says I, startin' to dash around the table.
"Hush!" says she, wavin' me hack. "Here come your eggs."
Say, what went on durin' the rest of the day I couldn't tell. I expectit was a good deal the same kind of an afternoon we'd been havin' rightalong, but to me it was three X double A with the band playin'. I waslight in the head and I had springs in my heels. Everything andeverybody looked good to me.
I jollied Old Hickory into lettin' me tip the sa
ilors that had luggedthe sacks aboard, and I threw in some of his best cigars just by way ofrelievin' my feelin's. Whenever I passed Captain Rupert Killam Ihammered him on the back folksy and told him he sure was somediscoverer. I even let Mrs. Mumford feed me an earful about how thelate dear Mr. Mumford always remembered to send home a bunch of roseson their weddin' anniversary. Rather than revisit the scene himself, Isuppose.
But when it come to playin' opposite Auntie--say, I was right therewith the Percy-boy stuff: givin' her a hand up the stairs when she cameon deck, leadin' her to a chair on the shady side, and hintin' how shelooked mighty chipper after an all-night session such as we'd had.Talk about smooth stuff! I had the inside of a banana peel lookin'like a nutmeg grater.
Auntie falls for it, too. She has me whisper in her ear just where thetreasure is stowed and how complete we'd thrown the crew off the trail.I works up that sketch of my talk with the Swede second mate until Ihad her shoulders shakin'.
"What a boy you are!" says she, gaspy.
"Don't overlook the fact that I'll be votin' next year," says I.
"How absurd!" says Auntie.
"We do grow up, you know," says I. "It's a habit we have. And now,how about a glass of that iced pineapple the steward fixes so well?Sure! Lemme fetch a couple."
The climax was when she got me to holdin' a skein of yarn for her. AsOld Hickory strolls by and sees me with my hands stuck out, I thoughthe was goin' to swallow his cigar.
Still, I couldn't get just the right cue. Not that I'd mapped outanything definite. I only knew I had something special and particularto say to Auntie, but I couldn't spring it unless I got the properhunch. So the afternoon petered out, and the sun dropped into theGulf, and folks begun disappearin' to dress for dinner.
The word had been passed that this was to be a special event to-night,so it's full white flannels for the men and evenin' gowns for theladies. You see, we hadn't told the outsiders a word. In fact, theydidn't even know we'd been away from the yacht durin' the night.
It's a swell feed the steward puts on, too, considerin' where we was.Nothin' dry about it, either; for, while Mr. Ellins ain't a great handto overdo irrigation, he's no guide to the Great Desert. There wassilver ice buckets on the floor, and J. Dudley Simms lost a side bet toProfessor Leonidas Barr on namin' the vintage. He was five years tooyoung.
Not until coffee had been served did Old Hickory give any hint thatthis was to be a regular celebration, with post-prandial doin's. Thenhe proceeds to chase out all the help, lockin' the doors behind 'em.Next he has me pull the shades over the cabin windows.
"Friends," says he, "you all know what it was that we came down herefor. It sounded foolish in New York, I acknowledge. Even in thesesurroundings, our enterprise may have appealed to some of you as a bitfantastic. But--Torchy, will you and Captain Killam bring those sacks?"
Did we have 'em goggle-eyed? Say, when we dumped peck after peck oftreasure and sand in the middle of the dinner table, and they got topawin' over those weird old gold pieces and them samples of antiquejewelry, it was a knockout for fair.
"My word!" gasps J. Dudley. "You must feel like successful bankrobbers."
"Wonderful!" says Professor Barr, breathin' excited through hiswhiskers. "Why, some of these doubloons must have been coined duringthe reign of--"
"Cornelia," breaks in Mrs. Mumford, "will you look at that old brooch.It's exquisite!"
"Then it is yours as a souvenir of the trip," says Auntie--just likethat.
Next, Dudley and the Professor was asked to pick out a trinket. Afterwhich Mr. Ellins suggests that they divide the loot into five equalpiles, and that we draw numbers to see who get which. Rupert wasn'tstrong for this free and casual way of splittin' the gate receipts, buthe gives in. And when we each has our heap in front of us, with thesand scraped into the middle of the cloth, Old Hickory has the glassesfilled once more, and starts up that pirate song of his:
"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest-- Yo-ho-ho! and a bottle of rum."
Right in the middle of the festivities, too, I takes my runnin' jump.Pickin' out a quaint old ring from my collection, I slips around besideAuntie and snuggles up confidential.
"Well, Torchy," says she, "what is it?"
"It's a big favor," says I. "See this? I want you to let me ask Veeto wear this for--for keeps. Can I?"
"You--you mean--" she begins.
"Uh-huh!" says I. "Until some time I can fit one on--well, one thatthe best man hands me. Come on, Auntie. Have a heart!"
"You ridiculous boy!" says she. "If you must, though--"
Say, I wasn't lookin' for that next move of hers. Think of it--Auntie!And she lands one right on my cheek, too. Everyone sees it. And,while I'm pinkin' up like a cranberry tart, Old Hickory sings outgleeful:
"Tut, tut, Cornelia! What is this all about?"
"I suppose," says Auntie, "that we must drink a toast to theseyoungsters of ours. That is, if Verona insists on being so foolish."
"How about it, Vee?" I whispers, capturin' her left hand. "Do we let'em drink?"
"Silly!" says she. "The other finger."
It's a bit public, I admit. Might as well have hired a hall. But theyall seems to enjoy handin' us the jolly. Mr. Ellins makes a reg'larspeech, tellin' how fond he is of both of us and how this event pleaseshim more'n findin' the buried treasure. He winds up by askin' ifeverybody ain't about ready to start back for New York. The vote isunanimous.
"Why not to-night?" asks J. Dudley.
"To-night it shall be," says Old Hickory.
"Say, Mr. Ellins," I breaks out just then, "lemme pass the word onthat, will you?"
And, when I gets the nod, I breezes out on deck and up to the Captain'sstateroom.
"Cap," says I, "welcome words from the boss."
"Sailing orders?" he asks.
"Yep!" says I. "You're to tie her loose from Florida as quick as youknow how, and head her straight for the wet end of Broadway. Get me?Broadway! Say, but don't that listen good?"