“What shall we play?” asked Jack the moment the four were out on the veranda.
“Play—why, war of course!” responded George, placing his fingers between his lips and giving a shrill whistle.
“What’s that for?” wondered Anne.
“That’s the signal for Jim that we are going to have an engagement with the British!” replied George, watching eagerly the side of the house where the kitchens were located.
“Hist!” sounded from a thick arbor of clematis that shaded the kitchen porch.
“There he is! Come on now,” ordered George, starting for the lilac bushes across the lawn.
“Children! Come and get your overshoes! Everything is soaking wet!” cried Mrs. Davis from the library window when she saw them race through the wet grass.
“Oh, dear me! Martha, you go and bring them to us, will you?” asked George impatiently.
“I’m not Mrs. Washington yet, and she didn’t run errands for George before she was married to him,” objected Martha.
“Send Jim for them!” whispered Jack, as he saw the little fellow running with might and main to join his adored commander-in-chief.
“What will you play with if the weapons and uniforms are in the attic?” asked Anne.
At this they all stopped short, as no one had thought of the army equipment till then.
“Guess Jack and I had better go for the overshoes and then we can bring along some things for the Continental army,” ventured George.
“And send Jim on to John’s house to call him out,” added Martha.
“Yes, that’s a good plan. You, Jim, see here!” explained George. “Climb over the hedge and look for John. If you don’t see him, whistle, and when he comes out, tell him we are going to the creek to have the Boston Tea Party—see?”
“Yeh, Ah see all right!” eagerly replied Jim, nodding his woolly head energetically as he started off for the hedge that separated the Grahams’ from the Parkes’ estate.
The two girls were told to go to the barn and find some tools—axe, nails, hammers, or hatchets, and a saw, if possible.
“What for?” asked Anne.
“Don’t we have to have warships out in Boston harbor if we want a tea party like that real one was?” scorned George, as he caught hold of Jack’s hand and ran for the house.
The lilac bushes were abandoned for a time, while the girls sought for and captured various tools in the barn when the gardener was absent. The two boys tied up whatever uniforms they could conveniently carry, and Jim hid them near the Grahams’ house and gave the familiar cat-call for John.
These important errands completed, they all went to the creek that crossed the private road leading to the Parke estate.
Again assembled for play, they examined the items on hand and John said: “You can’t have ships without material.”
“I thought maybe we could rope together some of these logs the men chopped down last spring; but they look kind of heavy to handle,” replied George calculatively.
“Humph! They’d take a tackle and derrick to move. What we need is just boards and some crosspieces to tie together like a raft. I’ve made ’em in camp,” said Jack.
“Then you can help us make one now,” said Martha eagerly.
“We’ll have to find some boards and small logs then,” replied Jack, looking about in the timber heap for suitable lengths for crossbeams.
“We’ve got some boards about six feet long in the lumber house near here that I heard father say he wouldn’t use till next summer. Then he’s going to lay a new boardwalk from the garage to the barn,” suggested John.
“Just what we need. Come and show me where they are, and we four boys will bring them here while the girls roll those small lengths of timber down to the water-edge,” said Jack.
Soon all hands were working eagerly, nailing boards to some crosspieces, and then roping loose ends securely to the logs so they would not slip off when launched in the creek. The water of the stream was nearly a foot deeper than usual, owing to the heavy rains of the night and morning, so the raft would float easily if it was well built.
The battleship was ready to sail when the luncheon bell sounded over the lawns to call the British and Continental armies to mess. The children looked at each other in disgust, for now it seemed a wholesale waste of time to go home and eat!
“What have you got for tea?” asked Martha at this moment.
“We’ll have to make-believe tea,” said John.
“That won’t be as much fun as if you had some chests and boxes stacked on the boat. Maybe Jim can find some empty boxes in the store-room for us to fill with sand,” ventured Anne.
“I’se got some broomsticks hided away in a alley under de pantry. Dey kin be for guns,” remarked Jim, who hoped his news would divert the thoughts of his friends from the raid on store-room boxes. Jim felt that would be a dangerous attempt.
“Fine! Bring them out and leave them under the lilacs while you go back for the empty boxes. We’ll eat lunch and meet you where you leave the guns,” said George conclusively.
“Cain’t some uv yo’ all hep me in de store-room?” asked Jim plaintively.
“What for? You can creep in and empty some boxes out better than if a lot of us went with you,” countered Martha.
“But onny one uv yo’ all will hep a lot! Not all uv yo’. One uv us kin han’ down dose boxes an’ anudder kin shift it outen de store-room winder. Den Garge kin stan’ unner dat winder an’ run wid ’em t’ de lilacs,” explained Jim, who really was very cunning in self-defence.
“Good stunt! Martha, you go with Jim right after lunch and Jack and I will carry away the goods,” said George, waving a hand at John, who started in the opposite direction for home and luncheon.
“I’ll try to bring some things, too,” said John.
At the table that noon, the ladies suggested that they all take a nice drive about the country in the automobile. The amazed children looked at each other and then at their elders.
“Goodness me! We don’t care about scenery, mother!” objected George.
“Of course not! We want to play nice outdoor games,” added Martha.
“What have you been doing since we stopped reading?” asked Mrs. Davis.
“I didn’t hear a sound from you, so I thought you were pining for something to do; that is why I proposed the drive,” said Mrs. Parke.
“Oh, no, we never pine. First we found Jim, and then we went to John’s side of the hedge to get him. After talking over the best thing to play, we decided to build something Jack knows all about ’cause he has camped, and we are going to carpenter just as he tells us this afternoon, so you see we haven’t time to admire the scenery,” explained George.
“That is very nice, and constructive play is always to be encouraged, Kate,” remarked Mrs. Davis to Mrs. Parke.
“But there is generally something doubtful under all of the quiet and constructive plays George favors so readily,” doubted Mrs. Parke.
“Mother, if you don’t believe we are going to build something great and worth while, ask Jim. He never tells fibs!” said George, with such a disappointed expression in his eyes that said ‘My own mother hesitates to trust me,’ that both ladies hastened to assure him that they fully trusted him.
So the mothers were sent off on the drive, and the two armies continued their plans for a grand fight.
The moment luncheon was over Martha crept to the back door and thence to the store-room that was built out from the butler’s pantry. The servants were all downstairs eating lunch and talking, so the time was most opportune for a raid. Jim was already there trying to pry up lids of cereal cartons and other boxes.
“Heah’s some mos’ empty,” said he, the moment Martha appeared in the store-room.
“They’re all right! Even if there is a little oatmeal and rice in some of ’em—so much the better, cause we must try to fish ’em out of the water when the Yanks throw the cargo in,” said Martha, carrying the three boxes to the window, and dropping them out on the grass where George stood waiting.
Besides the three boxes used for cereal, Jim found a real tea-caddy, but it was more than half full, so Martha emptied the contents on a newspaper spread on the floor behind the door.
Also they found a soap box and the contents was emptied on top of the tea for want of a better place. A cardboard drum that had held dried fruit or other viands, stood on the shelf with some stuff in it—lumpy and pulverized together.
“What is this?” asked Martha, taking up a lump.
“Ah donno, but maybe yo’ kin tell ef yo’ tas’ it,” suggested Jim.
So Martha carefully touched the lump to her tongue, but the moment it came in contact with the pink tip, the washing-soda burned and smarted horribly.
Martha dropped it and held her mouth frantically, while Jim implored her not to make a noise or they would be “ketched.” But the venture was enough for Martha, who hurried out of the room to seek a drink of cooling water.
Jim, thinking it a shame to leave a nice drum there after such a painful experience, emptied the soda upon the soap and orange pekoe tea and dropped the drum from the window. He then climbed up and dropped himself out upon the grass, where George waited.
“Where’s Martha?” queried Jack.
“Makin’ soap-suds, Ah reckon,” giggled Jim.
“Making what?” demanded George, surprised.
“Wall, she’s went fer a drink an’ ef dat sody sticks to her tongue she’ll have suds all inside her mouf, won’t she?” said Jim.
Martha’s appearance quieted any fears for her safety, however, and soon after all were running to the creek with their burdens of boxes and broomstick guns.
The raft was heavy and hard to move, but finally all hands heaved and tugged and moved it inch by inch nearer the water. The bank of the stream was about three feet above the surface of the water, so when the raft was half over the bank they expected to see it plunge headlong in with a splash, but it stuck on the jagged trunk of a tree, and the children tried in vain to dislodge it.
Then Jack had an inspiration.
“We’ll use the broomsticks and pry her off!”
“Fine idea! Here, John, you stand there and pry under her with this stick. Jim can stand there just opposite you, while Jack and I, being strongest, will pry and shove from the back to shove her over,” said George.
Obediently, John took his place and Jim stood on a flat stone opposite, but on the lower side of the raft. When the signal was given by Martha, all four shoved and worked together and the raft moved an inch more nearer the water.
“Fine! Now, boys, once more!” shouted Jack.
Again the signal sounded, and all four pried and pushed. Suddenly the weight of the raft carried it forward with great momentum, dislodging the stone upon which Jim stood and pushed with his broomstick. He lost his balance and fell upon the raft just as it submerged in the creek.
Jim went with it, and as the mud that was stirred up from the bottom of the sluggish stream when the heavy corner of the raft dug down through the water immediately clung to him, Jim was an object for pity when he sputtered up from the water.
“Dear me! The first man overboard and neither side ready for the act!” sighed Anne seriously.
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Jim, to go and spoil the battle like that?” demanded Martha, justly angry.
“Huccome Ah feel ’shamed? Diden’ dat ole warship give me struggle enough widdout yo’ all blamin’ me fer a wettin’?” cried Jim defensively, trying to rub the mud from his eyes.
“Well, now that you’re wet, you’d better be the captain on the ship. Get the raft back here to shore so we can load her up with tea,” ordered Jack.
“Whose going to be British and who the Yanks?” asked John.
“I’m always George Washington in these fights,” hinted George.
“Then you’re out of this battle, ’cause Washington hadn’t a thing to do with the tea party,” returned Martha.
“You ought to be a Lord Somebody who sailed with the captain on theDartmouthwhen that tea was brought over from England,” said Jack.
“Guess I will. Jim can tow the raft over to the bank, and those of you who are colonists must hurry across the bridge to the other side. We British will stay here and pile up the cargo of tea and sail the raft across the creek.
“When we sail into Boston harbor you must try to keep us out, and that is the way the fight will begin. Whichever side wins can take the raft, and cargo and sail it wherever they like,” explained George.
It had not been Jack’s plan to have George take the first ride on the raft, nor, indeed, command the warship, but having said it he could not very well change the order, so the next best plan was to sail with Lord Somebody, with Jim the captain.
The captain, so proud of his title and position, forgot about his muddy appearance, and eagerly hauled the cumbersome raft to the bank.
“S’posin’ you girls and John be the colonists on the other bank. You must use the guns and anything you can to keep us from landing the tea,” said Jack.
As neither Anne nor Martha wished to risk their dry clothes on the tipsy-looking raft, this suggestion met with their fullest approval; but John grew sulky, as he wanted to try the raft.
“It’s made of my father’s boards, too!” grumbled John.
“What’s that?” shouted Jack, now engaged in loading the ship with chests.
“Nothing much! I don’t see any fun in this fight, that’s all,” complained John.
“Oh, but there will be! Just wait till we get in that row in Boston harbor! Hurry across and be ready for us,” cried George, who half-suspected John of jealousy, and, at the same time, felt he was guilty of selfishness himself.
The tea was stacked in its boxes on the shipDartmouth, and the three, Captain Jim and the English baronets, as passengers, set sail for Boston harbor.
On the American side, Martha had found an old apple tree near the bridge, the fruit of which had lain so long on the damp ground that the apples were rotted within and soft as pulp, the skins being the only sound part of the fruit.
“Wouldn’t they make fine cannon-balls?” exulted Martha.
“Oo-oh, let’s!” cried Anne, and John, coming up just then, felt a secret joy in planning how he would fire those cannon-balls at the men on the ship.
So, without a hint of the ammunition being quickly transferred from the apple tree to the site of Boston, the three brave and eager colonists awaited the coming of the tea cargo.
“We’re stuck!” declared Jack, as they tried to shove off from the bank now said to be England.
“And every time I push the water comes up over my shoes,” said George, looking dolefully at his soaked shoes and stockings.
“Let’s pull them off and fling them over on the bank,” suggested Jack.
George, forgetting he was not on dry ground, instantly followed Jack’s idea and sat down on the raft to remove his shoes. At the same time, Jim tried to climb aboard from the creek where he had been pushing, and the result was that the water swept over the top surface of the raft and submerged everything under six inches of water.
“Ah, say! See what you did to me!” cried George, now soaking wet to the waistline.
“Quick! Never mind the wet—there go our tea chests!” yelled Jack, trying to save the drum as it floated away from the raft.
Jim and George, over-anxious to save their cargo, suddenly leaned out to catch the bobbing cartons and boxes, when the unbalanced raft tilted treacherously over with the weight of the three boys and shot them all into the stream.
The screams and shouts of dismay brought the three Americans running to the Boston port, and as they stood laughing unfeelingly at the scene in the water, the British declared they’d get even when they landed in Boston.
“Better get here first!” called Anne.
“We’ll salute you with guns all right!” added John grimly.
“So’ll we! We’ll go back to London and find some guns and shot, too,” promised George, looking at the Americans and then at Jack, who was wallowing through the mud to gain the bank again.
“Jim, haul up your ship for us to load with ammunition,” ordered George, as soon as Jim’s head appeared from under the raft, where he had rolled when the warship keeled over.
But the clever Yanks kept all news of their ammunition from the eyes and ears of the British. Then, having found some long sticks that would answer for guns, the three mariners set sail again on their dangerous journey across the sea—a distance of thirty feet from bank to bank.
This time the raft was kept balanced, while the three stood hugging each other in the center of the boards. Their shoes and coats had been left on the woodpile, so they were not hampered with overmuch clothing.
Now, John had bided his time very patiently, and, feeling that he had been supplanted in the fun and affections of George by his cousin Jack, he determined not to wait till the ship came into port, when the boys could jump from the vessel, to land and find the pyramid of bad apples ready to fire.
So he waited until the loosely-constructed raft reached midstream, where the current of the sluggish water turned it partially around so that the boys faced back at England, and dared not turn about for fear of another submersion.
Taking careful aim, John threw a large and wonderfully squashy apple at Jack. It landed on top of his head, and the juicy, brown contents of the apple-skin ran down over his face, ears and neck.
“Ouch! What’s that?” screamed Jack, the acid of the juice blinding his eyes. He threw out his hands for help as he cried, and thus catching Jim, both slid off the raft a second time, as the craft went under on that side.
George could afford to laugh at the sight, for he still held his footing on the wet and slippery raft; but he laughed too soon. John took another aim and fired a second shot. It hit the boards of the raft just back of George, who was not aware of it, as it simply squashed all over without making a noise.
He moved back a trifle to gain a surer footing, and that action was his own undoing. His foot slipped on the slippery mush, and down he came upon the planks. Again the tipsy raft dove, and again George slid off into the stream.
The middle of the stream was swollen by the rains to a depth of four feet, and Jim only being three feet high, could not be seen, but he could paddle a bit with legs and arms in poor imitation of swimming, so George and Jack found him wildly kicking and striking the water in a vain endeavor to float.
John doubled over in glee at his marksmanship, and the two girls, running to see what the new commotion was about, saw the three boys in the creek, trying to board the raft. With every pull and extra weight on the warship, it dipped gracefully and slipped the children’s eager, clutching hands from its edges.
“You’ll have to wade back to England and sail again,” yelled John comfortingly.
“You just wait till we get over there!” threatened Jack, who suspected the power back of that apple.
“We’ll wait all right! Long time comin’, too!” roared John, slapping his knees.
While Jack pulled Jim to shallow water, George managed to haul the now water-logged raft back to the English shore. The pasteboard cartons and drum were thoroughly soaked by this time and showed signs of collapse, but the soap-box withstood the elements in a fine manner.
During the third trial to cross the tempestuous seas, the cartons holding oatmeal and hominy spread out and the cereals floated down on the face of the creek. The pasteboard sides, now flattened out and soaked, were of no use, so they were kicked off; but in the sudden jerking Jack and George clutched each other madly, or they would have slid into the water for the third time.
“I guess Boston will never get a speck of that cargo!” laughed John, both hands behind his back holding large-sized decayed cannon-balls from the apple tree.
“What’ll you bet?” challenged Jack.
“Bet you three shots to your every one that you won’t land it!” taunted John.
“Take you up! If we land anything we take three shots at you. If you keep us from landing, you have three at us,” cried George, the fire of battle shining in his eyes.
“Here, John, you wade out and upset them,” whispered Anne mischievously.
“They won’t count that as fair!” exclaimed Martha.
“I’ve got a better idea. I’ll get up on that tree-trunk leaning out over the creek and you girls can hand me some heavy clumps of dirt, wood or rocks. I’ll drop it over on the raft so it will tip and roll off the rest of the cargo,” whispered John.
The three sailors were fully occupied in balancing and bringing the raft across the stream where it should go, so they failed to see John scale the overhanging willow tree and lean down to get the rocks and fragments of tree-trunks the girls passed up to him. Not until a stone fell upon the side of the raft where the remaining boxes stood did they dream of danger from a fort.
“Ah, say, that isn’t fair!” complained Jack, not daring to look up or around.
“All’s fair in play!” laughed Anne from the bank.
A second rock landed on the edge of the raft, and then a mass of dirt and dead leaves. After this, the girls assisted in the fusillade, and the boys were not only kept busy avoiding the ammunition of the Americans; but they found the raft tilting so dangerously that another added bit of weight would roll the single remaining soap-box from the ship.
“Jack, it’s dare or die!” said George, nodding to the débris thrown on the raft and the slant of the ship under water.
“What do you say?” wondered Jack.
“Jim’s the lightest—he must take the soap-box and try to reach shore with it while we fight them for a landing out here. If they go for Jim, we can land, and if they keep up with us Jim can scramble up the bank.”
Jim was willing, and Jack thought it was a fighting chance, so the captain of theDartmouthsidled off into the water and grabbed the box which he had to safely carry up on shore—in the face of the American cannonading.
Had the creek been clear of mud and roots, the British might have landed their sea forces, and thus the history of the American colonists might never have been written as such; but which one of the combating parties could dream of the unseen menace that took a part in this tragic fight?
The two girls and John saw Jim slide off and push the soap-box in front of him, but they felt a sympathy for him, for it was apparent that Jack and George preferred to remain on the raft and let Jim try to land. Then they would claim the right to fire three shots to one at the Americans.
But the three Americans determined to fire as many of the soft apples at the two remaining sailors as they could land, so Jack and George were kept busy ducking and objecting, and Jim had gone half the distance between the raft and the gnarled root, where he hoped to climb up, when a blood-curdling yell was heard, which seemed to rise from his very toes.
British and Yanks alike forgot their enmity and shouted out: “What’s happened, Jim?”
But the little pickaninny, beating the water frantically with both hands, while continuing to howl, tried to jump up from the water.
Jack and George, too wet to mind more water, and John, with the two girls on shore, rushed for the captain to try and save him, for they firmly believed he was about to yell his last earthly breath.
Jack and George reached him first, and instantly caught his wildly waving arms to drag him up on shore. They thought that if it was his time to “climb the golden stairs” he was always singing about, he ought to begin on dry land.
But Jim’s yells grew more appalling as he was half-carried and half-dragged out of the water. Just as John and his two confederates ran up, the cause of all this frenzy was found.
A huge mud-turtle had snapped onto one of Jim’s brown, upcurling toes, and as resistance was brought to bear against this grip, the turtle held on the tighter.
George knew what to do, so he quickly broke its shell with a sharp stone, and Jim almost fainted with relief at his freedom. The girls tried to pet him and offer sympathies, but Jack and George took advantage of the situation.
“Ha! We brought meat to shore! We landed all right!” yelled Jack, dancing like a wild Indian.
“Three-to-one shot,” added George, rushing away to find the ammunition John had plied so thickly.
But most of the apples had been fired, and Jim whispered: “Ah wan’ t’ go hum!”
“Ah, don’t go home now! Your toe will soon feel better, and besides, mammy will ask you where the boxes went from the store-room,” advised Martha.
Jim looked up at her wistfully and said: “Ah’ll tell her dem British sunk ’em all!”
“That would be mixin’ American history, ’cause it was us Yanks that sunk the cargo,” corrected Anne.
“All but the fish!” chuckled Jack, pointing at the turtle.
“If Jim can’t go home, and you girls won’t let us shoot as you agreed, what shall we do, anyway?” sulked George, who felt it was an unlucky day, because no more apples could be found.
“Why not play the Battle of Lexington? That’s fun!” suggested Martha.
“We can use the raft to sail up Lake Champlain, where it can be the first warship of the American navy,” added Anne.
“All right—come on!” declared John, who was glad to postpone his being shot at by two good aims like George and Jack.
“Here, or on the other side?” asked George.
“Well, here’s a good tree for the earthworks on the hill near Boston,” ventured John.
“We won’t need it for Lexington or Concord, but we really ought to have something that would pop like shot, or it won’t seem real,” replied Jack consideringly.
“Can’t we skip those two first fights, and start right in with the burning of Charlestown and the fight on the hill? We can build a dandy bonfire for Charlestown,” said Anne.
“Umm! Never again! We had a fire once when Washington’s homestead burned down, and Jim’s just raisin’ a new crop of wool since then. My hair was frizzled to the roots, too, and our eyebrows were all gone. We looked awfully funny without winkers on our eyes or brows over them,” laughed George, the memory of his burns too fresh to attempt a second fire even in play.
“Then we can’t do it! We may as well go home and wait for the automobile to come back,” said Martha resignedly.
“I don’t see why. We can build earthworks and fight down the British as they come up the hill, and then the British can win the battle and fight us all the way back to Charlestown; and General Washington can come along and pat us on the back for courage and bravery, and then we can all plan together how to get back at the British,” exclaimed George eagerly.
“I’m wet and soggy, and Jim’s going to cry all afternoon, so I guess I’ll go back and change my clothes,” said Jack, suddenly feeling discouraged over the failure of his nation to win an easy battle.
“If we keep away from the store-room, and creep up the front stairs to change our clothes, we can be sitting on the lawn under the canopy when mother gets back,” ventured Martha.
“What about Jim?” worried several voices.
“Let John take him home and dry his clothes, then they both can join us on the lawn, and sit quietly while the sun sets. Mother says she wants us to watch the fall sunsets, as they are always so beautiful,” offered George.
The others stared in unbelief at this daring commander, who suggested quietly admiring sunsets, but each felt that it would be as well to seem meek and quiet after the raid on the boxes in the store-room.
So the good advice was followed, but Martha did not dream that Jim had dumped the washing-soda over the orange pekoe tea, so that it was impossible to sift or wash it out. Hence, the Parkes had no tea that afternoon, nor, did the cook have her fragrant beverage at each meal until the new chest came from Washington.
“Well, didn’t the Yanks sacrifice tea to their patriotism that time in Boston?” asked Jack of his mother, when the story was told.
“What shall we play to-day?” asked Anne Davis, as the four cousins emerged from the breakfast-room.
“Anything you like,” replied Martha politely.
“Did Jim come home last night?” asked Jack.
“Sure! And his mammy doesn’t know he had anything to do with that tea,” laughed George.
“Well, let’s call him and decide on some game,” said Jack. So Jim was whistled for, and his shining face soon appeared from the kitchen-areaway.
As the five playmates wandered across the lawn to the ever-welcome meeting-place of lilac bushes, they heard a shrill call and John soon appeared from the hedge through which he crept.
“We don’t know what to play,” explained Martha to John, as the latest member to the party wondered at the calm and quietness of the warriors.
“Let’s finish Bunker Hill,” he suggested.
“Oh, we’re sick of Boston! It’s all right in a way, but not for a second time,” said George, thinking of the battle of the day before.
“Then let’s have a fight on Long Island, when the British drove the Americans from Brooklyn, to cross the East River to their main army,” said John.
“I don’t want that either! Can’t we go somewhere or do something different?” asked Martha.
“If Washington’s army had only used submarines or airships like they do at present, we could have heaps of fun that way,” hinted Jack meaningly.
“Oh, say, why can’t we build an aeroplane and try it?” cried George eagerly.
“What of?” asked John.
“Where can we fly?” said Anne.
“Well, we might experiment back of the barns. There’s a telegraph wire which runs across our property there, and we can run a plane down the wire that steadies the pole,” explained George.
“Or we could stretch a wash-line near the ground from the barn-eaves to the pole, and toboggan an airship down that way,” added Jack.
“I’d rather play Washington crossing the Delaware, or at his farm when he was through being president of the United States,” said John, tenaciously clinging to the times of his ancestors.
“No one can cross the ice on the river when it’s fall!” scorned George conclusively.
“Then we can have the farm!” insisted John.
“Hoh, we have farm enough—no one wants toplayfarmer!” objected George.
“Oh, well! Play anything then—I don’t care!” snapped John.
But a call from the veranda settled all such troubles. “Children, who wants to go on a picnic?”
“I do! I do!” sounded from every throat, and the children speedily rushed over to ask questions about the proffered treat.
“Everybody secure permission at home, and meet us here in half an hour. I’ll look after the luncheon, so hurry up,” said Mrs. Parke.
Everything else was forgotten in the bustle of preparing for the unexpected outing.
“Where are we going, mother?” asked Martha.
“Why, aunty wishes to see Mount Vernon, so I thought it would be a fine drive there in the machine. We can have lunch in the woods along the road, and be home again before night,” explained Mrs. Parke.
Before she had quite finished speaking the children were shouting and jumping with delight. Jim alone stood silently by, his face expressing his state of mind, for he had no idea that he was to be included in this joyous party.
“Hey, Jim! What’s the matter? Aren’t you glad and excited about it?” cried George, catching him by his thin little arms and whirling him around in a dizzy dance.
“Whad should Ah be glad affer?” mourned Jim.
“Because you’re going, too, if mammy will consent,” said Mrs. Parke kindly.
“Me! Kin Ah ride wid yo’ all to dat Mount Wernon?” yelled Jim shrilly. Then not waiting for a reply he rushed away, and was soon out of sight around the corner of the house.
Every one laughed, and John was told to run home and get his coat and cap. In a few moments Jim was back again, talking six ways at once.
“Mammy say, da’s fine! Is Ah goin’ t’ dress up lak fo’ chu’ch? Is we goin’ right off quick? Has Ah got time t’ have granny sew buttons on m’ boiled shirt an’ get a baff?”
“Yes, yes, yes! Run along and do everything you say,” laughed Mrs. Parke, giving Jim a gentle push in the direction of the kitchen.
In half an hour’s time every one was waiting on the veranda steps for Jim. The large car was puffing impatiently to be on the road, when a gayly bedecked personage emerged from the areaway.
“Oo-oh! It’s Jim!” yelled George, clapping Jack’s back.
“So ’tis!” breathed Martha as if a louder tone would dispel the illusion.
“Is Ah dressed enuff?” asked Jim, beaming.
“I should think so—the best of the lot of us!” admired Jack.
Jim minced over to display his fine feathers to the eyes that comprised his world. He had on a pair of patent leather pumps outgrown by George, a pair of Scotch plaid socks such as were worn by children some years ago. Between the top of the socks and his claret-colored velveteen breeches, his dark-brown bowed legs made a somber break. His starched shirt was too tight, but to obviate this failure, young mammy had pinned a lace jabot in front, where the black cloth Eton opened. A straw alpine hat presented to Jim’s father by Mr. Graham, topped this unusual costume.
Although some of the children felt like giggling, they were too polite, and thought too much of Jim to let him see what they thought of his travelling costume. So, with heart bounding joyously, he climbed in “wid dee comp’ny” in the automobile.
It was a long but delightful drive to Mount Vernon, and on the way there, Mrs. Parke told the children many interesting things in connection with the Washingtons.
“Of course we all know how Mount Vernon came to belong to George Washington, don’t we?”
“We do!” exclaimed George, looking at Martha and his cousins.
“I don’t, Mrs. Parke—and I don’t b’lieve Jim does,” said John.
“Ah knows that Garge General Washerton was the fust fadder uv dis country, but Ah nebber hearn who its mudder was,” replied Jim seriously.
Every one shouted with laughter at the unexpected remark, and the chauffeur smiled, too.
“I’ll tell you about Mount Vernon first, and then we may have time to explain to Jim about the parentage of America,” said Mrs. Parke, patting the woolly head beside her.
“I have read to you how Augustine Washington, father of our famous George Washington, was twice married. Two sons of the first marriage and six children of the second marriage. At the father’s death, his estate was divided among the children. The oldest son inherited an estate near Hunting Creek, afterward called Mount Vernon by him, after his friend and beloved hero, Admiral Vernon.
“This estate consisted originally of 2,500 acres, but later considerable land was added to it, until it became one of the best country estates in Virginia.
“The second son by the first marriage inherited an estate in Westmoreland. George Washington was left the land and mansion where his parents lived at the time of the father’s death. Each of the other children inherited farms of from six to eight hundred acres.
“Soon after leaving school George went to live with his brother at Mount Vernon, the mistress of which was a sister of William Fairfax, distantly related to Lord Fairfax. In this way George became acquainted with William Fairfax, who invited the youth to visit him at Belvoir.
“During this visit George made the acquaintance of the sons and daughters of his host, and also received a recommendation to Lord Fairfax for a position of surveyor.
“The study of practical surveying formed an important part of Washington’s career, as it stood him in such good stead later in life.
“Lawrence Washington had pulmonary trouble and was told to seek a milder climate. George was a great favorite with the oldest member of the Washington family, and he induced him to accompany him to the Barbadoes to recuperate his health, but as it did no good he returned home, and shortly after passed away.
“In his will he appointed George Washington one of his executors, and the estate of Mount Vernon was bequeathed to his daughter. In case of her death without heirs the property was to pass to George. Thus it was that at the early death of the daughter of Lawrence, Mount Vernon became the property of George Washington.”
“But he didn’t need it when he married Martha Custis, ’cause you told us one day that she had a big estate of her own,” said Martha.
“Yes, she was the mistress of a fine plantation called ‘White House,’ and from this home she was married to her second husband, George Washington. But soon after this union she removed to Mount Vernon, which was ever after known as her home and family residence.
“To make this house a fitting home for the bride George ordered many items of art and luxury from his agent in England. Among other things he ordered a bust of Frederick the Great, little dreaming that not many years hence his walls would be adorned by a portrait sent him by the monarch himself and autographed with the words, ‘From the oldest general in Europe to the greatest general in the world.’
“Among the memoranda of his estate, business and house bookkeeping there can still be seen in the library or study at Mount Vernon many of the aged papers filed away since the day he first entered the items on his accounts.
“We will also see some of the ‘tabby-colored’ gowns sent to Martha Washington from England, and the laces, fans, shell combs and satin slippers worn by her and never dreaming at that time that a group of distant descendants would visit the place to gaze at the articles she once wore or handled as we do everyday things.”
“Mother, will we see some of Washington’s swords and guns?” asked George, plainly showing the bent of his desire.
“Yes, we will see many interesting things belonging to General Washington, from the time he first became owner of Mount Vernon to the day he passed away forever. Since the organization formed to protect and hold this place sacred to the memory of the illustrious Washington many things not originally belonging to the estate were received and placed on exhibition there for the public to see. Among some of these relics are the treasured articles belonging to descendants of the friends of Washington, and the interesting narratives of how they came into the possession of the articles furnished historical stories.”
Questions and answers about the general and his home so soon to be seen by the children occupied much time, and when these historical facts began to lose interest for the juvenile members of the party Mrs. Davis suggested that they stop and have their picnic lunch, after which they would conclude the trip.
This met with great approval, and soon every one was busy munching chicken sandwiches or enjoying juicy fruit. Half an hour was the time allotted for lunch, and then Mrs. Parke gave the signal for every one to climb back in the automobile.
When they arrived at the stately mansion they were impressed by the elegance of the place, and the children were overawed to find visitors there from every known part of the world.
They followed the official guide about and heard the descriptions of the articles exhibited. In the kitchen, the old-fashioned fireplace, the crane, the pot-hangers, iron pots and teakettles amused the girls. The ladies admired the old china kept in the cumbersome cupboards, and the boys smiled at the heavy solid chairs and tables once used by the slaves and servants of the Washingtons.
In the general’s private den, or study, were still found the yellow-aged papers, pens, ink horns and other items used by him in the management of his properties.
In the chambers the visitors found many interesting things to see—four-posted beds, quaint chairs, low rockers with most uncomfortable straight backs, queer dressers and wardrobes.
The garments and toilette articles were carefully protected in glass cases, and everything was labelled plainly so all could read the descriptions and dates when used.
On the homeward ride Martha said: “Well, both those ancestors seem more real to me now than ever before.”
“Yes, but it won’t be any fun playing war with broomsticks again, after seeing the great swords and other weapons shown there,” said George, feeling that he had lost much of the delusion of boyhood.
“Why don’t you ask your father for real guns—I mean the pea-shooters you can buy at a toy shop,” suggested Jack.
“Why, of course, mother. Will you ask him about it?” said George eagerly.
“If I were you, Kate, I would. Jack has a rifle that shoots peas or beans, and it takes a load of care from my mind, for I know he can’t injure anything with a dried pea. And boys will have some form of gun, you know, especially if they are forever playing George Washington, in the days of Indian wars and revolutions,” said Mrs. Davis.
“I’ll ask father and we’ll see what he thinks,” replied Mrs. Parke.
“One won’t be enough! Martha and Jim each need one, and John will have to get one, too,” reminded George anxiously.
“John had better ask his father if he will consent to this new plan of defense,” laughed Mrs. Parke.
“Ah rickon mah mammy won’t ’ject to a pea-gun ’cause it hain’t so bad as an axe, yo’ knows,” murmured Jim.
“Hoh, I guess not! And John’s folks will be glad to know he won’t be scalped again, even if we play Braddock and the Indians, like that other time,” added George, thinking of the great battle between the French and British at the time the hedge was broken down.
“If we could only have those guns while Jack and Anne are visiting us we could have the real battles of Long Island, Harlem and Jersey,” sighed John.
“Mother, you must try and have father tend to it next time he passes a toy shop in Washington, won’t you?” begged George eagerly.
“I’ll tell him what aunty said, and leave it to his own good judgment whether you should have a pea-shooter or a new form of punishment,” teased Mrs. Parke.
But George and Martha understood their mother so well that they felt sure she would advise the guns at once, so they chattered all about the forthcoming battles to be fought the moment the rifles arrived from the store.
That night Mr. Parke heard all about Mount Vernon from four excited children and the two ladies, who now and then were permitted to add a word or explain a remark; but the most interesting topic of conversation was the question of pea-shooters.
Finally Mr. Parke admitted he was defeated in his arguments against rifles in days of disarmament, so the children felt quite sure he would order the proper weapons for home defense.
A few days after the visit to Mount Vernon a large box came from a shop devoted entirely to toys and games for children. The excited juvenile members of the family stood impatiently waiting while the lid was removed, for they had expected guns, but not in such a packing case.
The first thing taken out was a long envelope addressed to “Soldiers and Defenders of America.” Upon opening it Mrs. Parke smiled and read aloud:
“‘The contents of this box to be presented to the different members of the Continental army, to wit: George and Martha Parke, Jack and Anne Davis, John Graham and Jim (Jackson) as addressed on each package herein, upon the satisfactory recital, learned by heart, of the maxims and rules learned and followed by George Washington from the time he attended Mr. Williams’ school, and written by Sir Matthew Hale under the title of “Contemplations.” As each student satisfactorily recites these “Contemplations” to Mrs. Parke and Mrs. Davis, he or she may take and become the owner of the package addressed to him or her.’”
As may be imagined, no time was lost in play or other occupations as long as those packages remained unopened in the case. From the examination of the outside George said he was sure they contained complete outfits for the army. If this surmise was correct, what a glorious time they would have when all dressed up in suitable uniforms!
“Mother, how can we all learn those maxims by heart when we have only one book to study from?” asked George.
“I thought of that, too, and asked father to have his secretary copy them on paper, so each of you could have a set to study,” said Mrs. Parke.
“Oh, then you knew all about these prizes before they came, eh?” said Martha.
“Yes, and now I’ll get the papers for you. Jim will have to have you read his aloud and help him memorize them,” replied Mrs. Parke, going over to the desk, where she took up a bundle of typewritten sheets to distribute to the children.
“I wish to read a short introduction to these rules that were such a guide to our great general. These ‘Contemplations’ formed the subject of Washington’s early study and devotions. They exerted a direct influence in the formation of his principles of action. His well-known habits of private devotion to Deity were formed somewhat by imprinting on him mind such passages as the following:
“‘An humble man leans not to his own understanding; he is sensible of the deficiency of his own power and wisdom, and trusts not in it; he is also sensible of the all-sufficient power, wisdom and goodness of almighty God, and commits himself to Him for counsel, guidance, direction and strength.
“‘I can call my own experience to witness that in the external actions, occurrences and incidents of my whole life I was never disappointed of the best guidance and direction when in humility and sense of my own deficiency, or inability to direct myself, or to grapple with the difficulties of my life, I have with humility and sincerity implored the secret direction and guidance of the Divine Wisdom and Providence.
“‘And I dare appeal to the strict observation of any man’s experience—whether those counsels and purposes which have been taken up after an humble invocation of the Divine Direction have not always been most successful in the end.
“‘Consider what it is that thou pridest thyself in and examine well the nature of the things themselves, how little and inconsiderable they are; at least how uncertain and unstable they are.
“‘Thou hast fine clothes, and this makes children and young men and women proud, even to admiration; but thou art not half so fine and gay as the peacock, ostrich or parrot, nor is thy finery so much thine as theirs is, but it is borrowed from the silkworm, the gold mines, the industry of the embroiderer, weaver, tailor, and is no part of thyself. And hast thou the patience to suffer thyself to be abused into this childish, pitiful, foolish pride?
“‘Thou hast, it may be, wealth, stores of money; but how much of it is of use to thee? That which thou spendest is gone; that which thou keepest is as insignificant as so much dirt or clay; only thy care about it makes thy life the more uneasy.
“‘Thou hast honor, esteem; thou art deceived, for thou hast it not; he hath it that giveth it thee, and which he may detain from thee at pleasure; but suppose it were as fixed a reputation as a rock of marble, and that it were the best kind of honor imaginable—the result of virtue or worth—canst thou think it reasonable to be proud of the shadow, where thou oughtest not to be proud of that worth that causeth it?
“‘Again: Thou art in great power, or place and authority; but thou art mistaken in this; the power thou hast is not inherent in thyself. One of the meanest of those whom it may be thou oppressest is as powerful as thee, and could, it may be, overmatch thee in strength, wit or policy; but thy power is invested in thee by those men whose promises, faith, or voluntary assistance thou hast. This power depends upon the fidelity or assistance of others, which, if withdrawn, leaves you like Samson shorn of his locks.Thy strength will go from thee, and thou wilt become weak, and be like another man.’”
“Mother, you have read quite enough for one day. It will likely take us a week to learn all that by heart, and that will be a week of this visit lost!” cried George disconsolately.
“But suppose I entreat father to have you learn some verses from ‘Mother Goose’ to recite to us instead of these maxims—do you think you could memorize them quickly?” suggested Mrs. Parke.
“Oh, yes, mother! Do ask him that. We can learn ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ or anything like that in no time,” hastily replied Martha.
“Ah! then it shows that the only trouble with memorizing these truly great sayings is that you won’t bother to study what is good and helpful! ‘Mother Goose’ is funny and amusing, and you promise to learn any such verses quickly; that is why father wishes you to learn these ‘Contemplations’ and afterward wear the uniform of an American soldier; because one cannot be frivolous and inclined to constant fun if he is to be the custodian of his country’s safety,” declared Mrs. Parke.
“But can’t you see that ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?’” argued George impatiently.
“Have you any proposal to make better than the one father planned for the earning of the prize packages?” asked his mother.
“Well, we might arrange it this way: For every set of contemplations or maxims we learn each day we are to receive something from those packages as a reward. If we learn a long paragraph like some you read to us just now we ought to have some big item in the package. For a short verse or paragraph you are to give us a glove or a shoe or a cap—if there are any in the boxes,” said George.
“Yes, yes! That is a fine idea!” shouted the other children in chorus, so that the ladies smiled.
“Well, as the main thing is to have you learn these valuable sayings by heart, it may be better to serve them out to you one a day, and pay the reward as you suggest. But remember, the prize is not what we are aiming at—it is the memory of the great words, that will have its effect on your after lives,” responded Mrs. Parke.
“Yes, yes, we know! We’ll let it affect our after life if you will but let us have the soldiers’ outfits right now!” retorted George, so that every one laughed at his reply.
“Well, then take the first paragraph and learn it well. As each one knows it without error we will hear it recited and give the reward for the study,” sighed Mrs. Parke, who feared the wonderful words would fail to leave an impression such as her husband hoped for.
For the rest of that day very little commotion was heard about the Parke house, but Jack appeared about four o’clock with the assurance that he had mastered the first maxim.
Mrs. Davis heard him recite it while both ladies held a copy of the paper. He had memorized the words, but seemed to have failed in understanding them, so his recital was more like that of a parrot’s speech.
“Just what I thought,” said Mrs. Parke, in an aside.
“Kate, we must add to this method of memorizing; each child should be able to explain what the words mean and how they individually interpret them.”
“Please give me my prize now and talk over the best way to impress our minds when I am gone,” cried Jack, disappointed that he had not been handed his package immediately upon rendering the maxim correctly.
With a sigh of despair his mother gave him the first reward—a khaki army coat trimmed with blue braid and brass buttons. It was a very elaborate affair, that any youthful general might be proud to wear.
The moment Jack saw it he gave a wild cheer and raced from the room to call to his companions. From the lilac bushes, from the summer house, from the cool back porch and from the hammocks swung under the maple trees ran the friends who were eager to admire the prize won by the first member of their army.
The boys had to try it on, and there followed many exclamations of delight and approval. Then, as each wished it was his they remembered the way to earn one, so they hurried back to their papers.
Thus, by learning the paragraphs in order as they came on the pages, the children not only won rewards, but also imbibed the high and excellent maxims followed by General Washington.
When the first few rules were learned Mrs. Parke gave the children new ones. As she distributed them she said: “Before you go I wish to read some splendid things Washington wrote as he supposes himself to be standing before the Seat of Judgment, answering to God for the charges given him to account for:
“‘I have given unto you all understanding and reason, to be a guide of your actions, and to some of you more eminent degrees thereof.
“‘I have given you a conscience to direct you, and to check you in your miscarriages, and to encourage you in well-doing; and I have furnished that conscience of yours with light and principles of truth and practice conformable to my will.
“‘I have given you the advantage of speech, whereby to communicate your thoughts to one another and to instruct and advantage one another by the help thereof.
“‘I have given you counsel and advice of faithful and judicious friends; good laws in the place and country where you live; the written word of God acquainting you with my will and the way to eternal life; the word preached thereof; the sacrament both for your initiation and confirmation.
“‘And the man who stands at the bar of judgment answering his God must give a true and faithful accounting of all he did or hoped to accomplish with the talents thus given him on earth.’
“Now, children, this last section of Washington’s words are to me most important, as they embody the whole basis of his religious attitude. And every one knows what an account he could render the Master for being a Good Steward in the field.
“I am sure that his harvest must have been very acceptable to God, for there were no tares mixed with his wheat,” said Mrs. Parke seriously.
“If our children—descendants of that noble character, Washington—can render as good a record of works accomplished on earth when they appear before the Throne of the Great Judge it will be a cause for great rejoicing and thanksgiving for all,” added Mrs. Davis.
“Yes, I suppose it would, aunty, but you see times change and so do folks, and ways change with them. George Washington just had to be good ’cause it was born in him, and God made him feel that he had to be an example for America. Doesn’t it show it was so, when he never wanted to quarrel in school, he never told a lie—even kept his mouth shut when something was being asked that he knew all about—and the way he sacrificed fun and good times just to study old dry stuff like these maxims? Oh, he was, indeed, a queer boy!” sighed George, rolling his eyes upward in earnest contemplation of the ceiling.
The ladies had great difficulty in maintaining serious faces at these remarks, but they felt all would be ruined if they laughed outright, so they managed, both of them, to remain stern and respectful.
“Haven’t we occasion to thank God that he was such a serious-minded boy? What would the United States have done if he had been otherwise?” asked Mrs. Parke.
“But it didn’t! If Washington wasn’t that kind God would have raised up another Moses in the Land of Bondage, to lead the poor colonists out of Egypt!” declared Martha triumphantly.
“You said yourself, while explaining some Bible reading the other day, that it wasn’t the name or mortal man that did all the great and glorious things, but the power of the Principle that influenced and operated through a being. Then I could be as great as General Washington if the test came and I was being moved to do glorious deeds through the help of God,” said George, frowning over such a theological problem.
“Yes, you could, if you understood enough of the Truth and operation of God, whoisPrinciple, to apply what you knew; but the Truth does not operate blindly, remember, and Washington would never have been guided as he was if he hadn’t applied histhoughtsseriously to finding out the ‘deep things of God’,” said Mrs. Parke earnestly.
The children showed an eagerness to get away from further preaching, so the ladies rose as a signal that the meeting was over. With grateful sighs the youngsters hurried away to learn the next dry and, to them, senseless maxim of Washington’s.
It took a full week to win every prize contained in the packing case, but only half of the maxims had been learned, as there were more “Contemplations” than rewards. When the children heard there was no more prize clothing to be won they lost interest in the learning of Washington’s rules of life.
To insure continued interest in the maxims Mrs. Davis suggested a plan.
“Now that Mr. Parke bought and gave the army uniforms, I think I’ll ‘do my bit’ also. These children ought to begin to make things and earn money for War Relief in Europe. I had thought of getting them a lightweight boat that would float on the creek, but now that every one ought to do something I think I will send for wool and needles, that the girls may learn to knit vests, caps and mittens for our boys at the front. What do you think of it?”
“Oh, George and Martha have plenty of those things, but somehow they never sit still long enough to knit more than one row a day, and the war will end before they complete a single sock. Besides, they feel as if knitting was worse than going in the trenches, so I haven’t insisted upon the work as yet. Better supply them with the boat, where they can frolic and keep healthy out-of-doors without danger to themselves,” advised Mrs. Parke.
“Quite a difference in cash between a boat and knitting outfits,” laughed Mr. Parke.
“Yes, and quite a margin in health, too, as Kate says,” replied Mrs. Davis.
“Better let us share the cost of the boat together,” ventured Mrs. Parke.
“Indeed not! I have been wondering what to buy the two children as a gift when I came through Washington, but I determined to wait and see what they would enjoy most. Now that they have the General Washington idea in their minds, I think the boat is just the thing. They can have fights at sea and use it for crossing and recrossing the Hudson, the Delaware, or Lake Champlain, as they wish—all on the creek, where the water is not half as deep or dangerous as the Hudson,” explained Mrs. Davis.
“If you wish me to select one that I think will answer all purposes for the children I will do so, as I am going down to a building concern that specializes in canoes and pleasure crafts. I have to interview them about an insurance policy which they wish to increase. At the same time I can inquire as to the price of a light-weight boat,” said Mr. Parke.
So the next evening he returned home with news for Mrs. Davis. “I saw my man who handles boats and canoes and, fortunately, he had just the thing needed for the creek. He made the boat six months ago for some children, but the father lost a great deal of money in bad speculations and couldn’t pay the balance due on it. Now, you can have that same boat for the price still owing on the bill. In this way the children get a fine boat for the same cost as a cheap or poorer one.”
“I hope you ordered it sent on?” asked Mrs. Davis eagerly.
“Yes, I did so, for now that you have spoken of the idea I wonder that I never thought of a boat before,” replied Mr. Parke.
The Davises expected to remain about three weeks, but the first week had passed so quickly and the second week was so entirely taken up with studying maxims and winning prizes that it was not until the beginning of the third week that the plan was arranged to buy the Parke children a toy which they could enjoy for a long time.
All during the third week the Provincial army dressed in its hard-earned uniforms and paraded or drilled faithfully.
As usual, George was the commander-in-chief, John was Marquis de Lafayette, Jack was General Howe, although the Englishman wore the American uniform; Jim was the whole regular army, for Martha and Anne took turns in being General Sullivan, Nathan Hale, Allen, Schuyler, and others, just according to the battles fought or the places where the army camped.
Jim’s uniform was the same as that of the general, but his hat was different, and this constituted the rank. While George had a yellow tri-cornered hat trimmed with gold braid and tassels, Jim was made to wear a cap found in the attic chest. This was a sorry trial to Jim, who fondled the gold-trimmed hat he had won by learning maxims, but was not permitted to parade with it on. As Jack sternly told him when he protested, “We’ve got to keep discipline in the ranks, and if we should let you wear any fancy hat you wanted what would the army do?”
“Ah’m shore Ah donno, cuz dey ain’t no udder ranks den me!” retorted Jim rebelliously.
That made Jack think over the situation. And the result was: “Say, general, what’s the use of having so many officers and no regulars? Make Anne and Martha play the soldier once in a while; I need some one on my side besides myself.”
But Martha and Anne felt as much pleasure in their army uniforms, which were made exactly like the boys’, as the officers did in theirs, and they would not consent to wear common caps while gay cocked hats were put on the shelf.
So the argument over proper headgear in the army and the great need of more soldiers in the ranks continued all week, but the drilling with fife and drum and the rifle practice with dried peas or beans kept up, to the great amusement of the two ladies.
Saturday a telephone message came to the house while the army was on the lawn questioning Washington’s right to choose Englishmen to help Jack. It had been decided that John take turns being first French and then British to help out General Howe, and the girls were supposed to each take a side, but they declined the honor and preferred to remain American.
In the midst of an excited explanation from George why and wherefore, stating the reason the army never amounted to anything, Jim jumped up and pointed a trembling index finger at the driveway.
The others jumped up from the grass to see the cause of his surprise, and all stood still in wonderment.
On a long-framed wagon drawn by two truck horses lay a fine boat gayly painted in red, white and blue stripes. The ladies, Mrs. Parke and Mrs. Davis, walked behind the wagon as it slowly went down a side road that led over the bridge.
But the army did not remain long in a paralyzed state. Before the teamster had covered more than five yards of the side road crossing the creek British and American officers and men yelled and ran up to tug at the two ladies, demanding to know how the boat happened to be there.
So loud was the clamor that no one heard what any one else said, and the driver reached the creek, where many hands were eager to assist him in lifting the wonderful craft from the wagon to the creek.
“No, I sent for the gardener and chauffeur to help this man. He is responsible for the safe delivery of the boat, and it is not fair to him to risk its safety by letting excited boys help carry it from the wagon,” said Mrs. Davis firmly.
The two men soon arrived and helped transfer the boat to the water, where it rode gracefully on the slow surface of the stream. The teamster and the help went away, but the army was not aware of their going—all eyes were fixed on the boat.
Mrs. Parke told the children that it was a gift from aunty, so that they could play American history with a warship better than without any.
“Who can row? Can you, Jack?” asked George.
“No, but it’s easy. You just pull back and forth on the upper end of the oar and away she goes,” said Jack.
“Well, please take off the general’s uniform before you begin practice. A bathing suit would be better to wear while you are learning,” laughed Mrs. Parke.
“Why, we won’t fall out,” said Anne.
“There isn’t any reason why you should, but there is no telling when such experts in rowing as Jack, take a hand,” said Mrs. Davis.
George, John and Jack were already in the boat, but there was but one pair of oar-locks and one set of oars, so only one could row. Seeing that Jack’s mother presented the boat, George relinquished his prerogative as commander-in-chief, and sat down to watch his cousin row.
In spite of Jack’s explanation that all you did was “to just pull back and forth,” it seemed difficult to move the boat in the right direction. After many futile attempts, he turned over the oars for George to try.
The ladies stood on the bank laughing at the general’s failure to row properly, and then John also failed.
“Do you girls want to try?” asked Mrs. Davis.
Jim stood by grinning delightedly at the boys in the boat, but not daring to hope that he would ever be invited to row. Martha saw his intense attitude and whispered to her mother, “Let’s ask Jim if he wants to try?”