CHAPTER VANDY AND THE MERMAID
Tippydid not go to the beach that afternoon, but Sally and Alice did.
And no sooner were their shoes and stockings taken off and they were comfortably settled in a pleasant place to dig, than along came Andy, with such a happy, smiling face that it made Sally and Alice smile, too, only to look at him.
No wonder Andy was happy, for not only did he carry a gay blue pail and shovel, but in his arms he bore a sail-boat, a brand-new sail-boat, fresh from Captain Ball’s shop not half an hour ago.
‘I am late,’ said Andy, smiling the broadest kind of a smile. ‘I am late because we went to a funny little shop to buy my boat. Isn’t she a beauty? Did you ever see a boat like her before?’
‘She came from Captain Ball’s, didn’t she?’ asked Sally. ‘I know she did.’
While Alice, not waiting for Andy’s nod, spoke up.
‘My doll, Jack Tar, came from Captain Ball’s, too.’
‘Isn’t she a beauty?’ asked Andy again. ‘Here is her name, painted on the side, just like a real boat. “The Mermaid” she is called, and I know what a mermaid is, too. Mother told me.’
‘So do I,’ said Sally proudly. ‘They are little girls and their mothers who live under the ocean, and they have tails like fish. They swim and dive and play in the water all day long.’
‘They are very pretty, too,’ added Andy. ‘Mother said so. They wear necklaces of shells and coral, and they have long hair twined with seaweed. Their eyes are green like the sea, and their arms are very white.’
‘Did you ever see a mermaid?’ asked Alice. ‘Do they ever come out of the sea?’
Sally shook her head doubtfully.
‘I never saw one,’ she admitted, ‘but perhaps Father has. He has seen everything. And I don’t think mermaids ever come out of the water, because fish never do, if they can help it, and mermaids have tails like fish.’
This satisfied Alice, but Andy had a question to ask.
‘Aren’t there any little boy mermaids like me?’ asked Andy.
‘There are men,’ said Sally, ‘mermen, you call them, but nobody seems to think much about them. Let’s sail your boat, Andy. Have you a string?’
Indeed, Andy had a string, a long one, tied to the bow of ‘The Mermaid,’ and presently the children were running up and down the beach, the gay little boat sailing bravely along, dipping and bobbing about in the waves for all the world like the big boats anchored near by.
‘The Mermaid’ was a bright little red-and-white sail-boat, with her name standing outstrongly in green. The Captain liked gay colors, you see, and so did the little boys who bought his boats. Andy was sure that he had never seen a prettier sight than his little sail-boat dancing on the waves, and he sat alone near the edge of the water letting ‘The Mermaid’ drift in and out long after the little girls had gone back to their sand-digging farther up the beach.
But Andy knew how to dig fully as well as he knew how to sail a boat. He flourished his blue shovel and fell to work with a will when he joined Sally and Alice, who sat cool and comfortable in the shade of the great lighthouse, that towered up and up into the air high above their heads.
They heaped sand piles, they dug deep holes, they built a fort. They made pies and cakes and loaves of bread, enough to stock a bake-shop.
‘We ought to have more brown bread,’ said Alice, who found that by packing her pail with sand and turning it upside-down she made asnice a loaf of bread as could be bought in Boston town.
‘I will make cakes,’ decided Sally, ‘because I like to mark them with a shell. When we have made one more row we will call your mother and Andy’s mother and my mother to come and buy. Shall we?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Alice, beating on the bottom of her pail and turning out a fresh loaf of brown bread with pride.
But Andy shook his head.
‘I’m tired of working,’ said Andy. ‘I want to sail my boat again.’
So off went Andy to launch ‘The Mermaid’ once more, and this time he ran with her far, far up the beach.
The waves came rolling in, and Andy laughed and dodged the spray. The white sails of ‘The Mermaid’ sparkled in the sunlight and the gay red-and-white hull twinkled in and out among the tumbling waves. It was all so pleasant. The sand was smooth and hard. It felt cool toAndy’s bare pink toes. He ran faster and faster and behind him on her string danced ‘The Mermaid.’
Faster, faster, faster ran Andy, and then suddenly, bump! went his toe against a great round pebble, out of his hand jerked the string, and down went Andy on his hands and knees.
He was up in a minute. Of course he didn’t cry. But, oh! oh! out on the waves sailed the beautiful ‘Mermaid,’ her long string streaming behind her in the wind.
‘My boat! My boat!’ shouted Andy, and started into the water after his ship.
But the waves rolled in so high and so fast that he ran back on the beach.
‘Come back! Come back!’ he called, dancing up and down and waving his arms about. ‘Come back, “Mermaid,” come back!’
It seemed for a moment as if ‘The Mermaid’ had heard Andy’s frantic call. A great wave bore her nearer and nearer the shore. But just as Andy ran forward, his hand outstretched tograsp the string, back rolled the great wave carrying ‘The Mermaid’ with it out of reach.
Poor Andy! His eyes grew large with dismay as ‘The Mermaid’ slowly drifted farther and farther from the shore. She looked so tiny, a gay little red-and-white dot bobbing about on the sunny sea.
A lump came into Andy’s throat. He stamped his foot, but he did not cry.
Farther and farther away floated ‘The Mermaid.’ Now a wave would hide her from sight, now she would rise, gleaming red-and-white, only to sink from view again.
‘Good-bye,’ called Andy, the lump in his throat so big he could scarcely speak. ‘Good-bye, “Mermaid,” good-bye.’
And, then, I almost think Andy would have cried if, quite unexpectedly, out of the green waves, there had not risen a snow-white arm, that caught the dancing little ship and held it firmly by the string.
Andy stared and blinked and stared again.
Yes, it was a snow-white arm—he was not dreaming—and it held ‘The Mermaid’ fast. And the snow-white arm belonged to some one dressed in green, who no sooner caught sight of Andy standing on the beach than, stroke by stroke, she came swimming slowly toward him.
Where had she come from? Who could she be?
Then, in a flash, Andy knew.
It was a Mermaid, a kind, thoughtful Mermaid, rising from her home under the sea to bring back his little ship to him again.
Nearer swam the Mermaid, stroke by stroke. Nearer danced the little boat, growing more beautiful, more red-and-white-and-green with every wave. And brighter grew Andy’s face until, when he and the Mermaid were near enough to look into one another’s eyes, Andy wore a smile as bright as the glowing sun that shone above them in the sky.
When the Mermaid saw Andy’s smile, she smiled, too—a lovely smile, Andy thought—andwaved a white hand to him in greeting.
She was now so near shore that she was halfway out of the water, and Andy could see that she was a green Mermaid, just the color a mermaid should be, of course, with a little green cap that fitted tightly over her head. Andy didn’t notice whether or not she wore a string of shells about her neck, and of course he couldn’t see her tail because she was in the water up to her waist.
‘Is this your boat, little boy?’ called the Mermaid.
She had a sweet voice, as soft as the rush of waves on the shore in the early morning, and when she shook the water from her eyes it fell all round about in silver drops as water would do for no one but a mermaid, Andy felt sure.
‘Yes, it is my boat,’ answered Andy, finding his voice at last. ‘I fell down and dropped the string and she floated away.’
‘I thought it was yours,’ said the Mermaid. ‘She is a beautiful boat.’
And with a strong push the Mermaid sent the little boat sailing toward Andy and up on the beach at his feet.
She waited until Andy held the boat in his arms. Then with a farewell smile the Mermaid turned and swam swiftly away.
‘Thank you,’ called Andy, remembering his manners, ‘thank you, Mermaid.’
A wave from a white, white hand was his only answer, and in a moment the little green cap was lost to Andy’s sight in the moving green water.
‘She has gone down home to tell the little mermaids about it,’ thought he. ‘I must go and tell Mother and Sally and all of them about it, too.’
Sally and Alice, surrounded by loaves of Boston brown bread, by pies and cakes, were slowly putting on their shoes and stockings when Andy, hot and out of breath, came running toward them.
‘Oh! Oh!’ gasped Andy, sitting down hardupon the sand. ‘I have seen a mermaid. She saved my boat.’
That was the way Andy began his story.
And when he had finished he said it over again.
‘I have seen a mermaid, all but her tail,’ said Andy.
‘Oh, I do wish I could have seen her tail,’ said he.