CHAPTERIIBENNY FINDS A FRIEND
Fora moment Benny was bewildered. He could not tell what he ought to do. He had not been on a steamboat since he was quite a little fellow, and that it was possible to send him ashore was out of the question. “What will mother think?” was his first thought. “How shall I get back?” was his second. He stood looking around him, each moment increasing the distance between the steamboat and the shore.
“Hallo!” cried a voice at his side, “what are you doing here?” And looking up, Benny saw the man whom he had talked to that morning on the dock.
“I don’t know what I am doing,” hereturned, in a distressed voice. “I’m getting carried off.”
“Kidnapped, eh? Who’s the fellow that’s run you aboard?”
Benny smiled a little, and told the man his story, ending with, “And I haven’t any money to pay my way.”
“And you’re afraid the captain will throw you overboard to get rid of you. Is that it?”
Benny looked a little disturbed. He didn’t know just what the captain might do.
“Well, it won’t break me to pay fifteen cents for you,” the man said, good-naturedly. “Jim Bentley ain’t aboard. He hunted up a lot of pickers and is taking ’em down on his bug-eye; wanted to be sure of ’em this time.”
Benny was a little puzzled as to what a bug-eye might be till he remembered thatthe small sailing vessels which came up from the truck farms were so called by those familiar with the craft in the bay.
“Yes,” continued the man, “Jim’s not goin’ to let ’em get away this time. There’s no boat back this evening, so you can’t get back home to-night.”
“Oh, what will mother say? She’ll be so worried,” exclaimed Benny, looking ready to cry.
“Sho! that’s too bad. How’ll we fix it? You might find a chance to get back real late. There are lots of boats that get loaded up and start off through the night so as to get the loads in for the hucksters by sun-up or earlier; but it seems to me as long as you’ll be really down there you might as well try pickin’. I’d give you a job myself, but I don’t have any crop. I keep a store at the Cross Roads. Let me see. How’ll we fix it?” And theman rubbed his stubby beard thoughtfully.
Presently he slapped Benny on the shoulder, as a bright idea came to him. “I know!” he exclaimed; “we’ll drive ’round by Sanders’s. He’s got a telephone, and I’ll ask him to telephone up to Dick Bond’s, at the railroad station, then Dick can telegraph to your mother that you’re all right, and that she’ll hear from you later. How’ll that do?”
Benny’s face beamed. “Fine,” he responded, gratefully, although he was but half aware of the trouble and expense to which the kind man was placing himself on the little boy’s account.
“All right. It’s a go. My name is Welch. I’ll take you home with me. We’ll find a corner for you somewhere, and to-morrow you can go to see Jim Bentley. Like as not Jim’ll be over himselfin the morning. So just make yourself easy.”
It was evident that Benny’s honest little face had taken the man’s fancy, and for the rest of the trip the boy was treated as a guest by Mr. Welch.
The small steamboat was pushing its way along steadily by this time, and Benny gave himself up to the enjoyment of the occasion. Far off a broad expanse of blue water, dotted with white sails, touched the horizon; on each side could be seen banks of vivid green; an old half-ruined fort loomed up before them. Benny could see through the open gateway flowers blooming in the inclosure; a big dog lay sleeping upon a strong parapet. So peaceful and quiet did the fort look that one could scarcely imagine that there had been a time when threatening cannon pointed from those walls andthat armed men stood behind the strong embrasure.
Just beyond the fort the “Emma Jones” turned into a broad creek, along the shores of which were little landings where sailboats and rowboats were moored. The tall trees were reflected in the placid waters, and Benny caught sight of pink flowers dotting the green of the woods. It seemed a perfect paradise to him. Oh, how Kitty would like to see it! His mother had told him of just such places, but he had not half realized how beautiful they could be.
Every now and then the boat stopped to let off passengers and freight till at the head of the creek the last landing was made, and Benny followed his good friend ashore.
A motley collection of vehicles awaited the arrival of the steamer. Here was a spring wagon drawn by a mule; therea substantial looking Dayton; soberly standing under a tree were two oxen harnessed to a small cart painted bright blue. An old colored woman in a purple sunbonnet drove the oxen.
Into a big wagon Mr. Welch packed various barrels and bundles, and Benny soon found himself placed between an old colored man and Mr. Welch, while the horses trotted briskly along the white-shelled road.
“We’re going round by Sanders’s,” said Mr. Welch to the driver; and this arrangement having been complied with, all fears as to his mother’s anxiety disappeared as Benny was told by Mr. Welch that he had made matters all right. “I told Bill to turn on his ’phone, and I waited, so he’d get the message straight. I shouldn’t wonder if it was going over the wire this minute. I told him to say,‘Ben in safe hands. Made trip by mistake. Nobody’s fault.’ That’ll let her know you aren’t to blame, and it’ll ease her mind. I know how mothers feel. Had one myself.”
The little country store, before which they finally drew up, was a long white building; a pretty lawn was on one side and a garden in the rear. Outbuildings, a stable and henhouse, woodhouse and corn crib, showed that it was a true country home. There was a little church across the way, a blacksmith shop not far off, and between the two half a dozen houses were scattered. These constituted the village of Jennings’s Cross Roads.
Benny clambered down from the wagon and lent a willing hand to the unloading of it, depositing the parcels on the porch in front of the store, not pausing till the last bundle was safe.
“Hot work,” said Mr. Welch. “You’ve earned your supper, Ben; come, let’s see what mother has for us.”
A rosy-faced woman stood on a side step as Benny and Mr. Welch made their way to the pump in the back yard.
“Got back, Thad?” she said, pleasantly.
“Yes, and brought company,” was the reply. “That’s my wife, Ben.” “Got room for a city visitor, Sue?”
Mrs. Welch looked curiously at Benny. “Why, yes, I reckon so,” she answered, and then she joined them at the pump, where Mr. Welch began vigorously to wash his face and hands, telling his wife meanwhile of Benny’s adventures.
“That’s just like you, Thad,” she remarked, as he concluded. But a pleased smile showed that she approved of just such proceedings herself. “Come, supper’sready,” she said, and led the way to the dining-room.
Benny never forgot that supper. Hot biscuits and broiled ham; fried potatoes and radishes; a great bowl of huge strawberries served with thick, yellow cream; home-made sponge cake, and milk in unlimited supply.
Mr. Welch kept piling up his plate, with due appreciation of a boy’s appetite, till Benny felt that this was a land of plenty indeed, his only regret being that he could not share this feast with his mother and Kitty. Never in all his life had he eaten such a meal.
A little girl about Benny’s age sat opposite him; another, four or five years older, and a boy nearly grown made up the additional members of the family.
“Now, Jennie,” said Mrs. Welch to her younger daughter, as they rose from thetable, “take Ben with you to feed the chickens; I’ll venture to say he won’t find a nicer lot anywhere.”
Jennie smiled an invitation over her shoulder, and Benny followed her into the poultry yard, where he saw chickens of all sizes, cunning yellow ducklings, and a flock of little turkeys. Then she took him to the barn and displayed to his delighted eyes some little collie puppies.
“How I should like to have one, that dear little fellow with a white spot on his forehead, for instance,” thought Benny; and Jennie, as if reading his thoughts, said:
“Now, if you only had a place where you could keep a dog, Joe would give you one of these, I know.”
It seemed as if the whole family were interested in the welfare of this little candidate for the office of strawberry picker,for Benny’s childish confidences were given honestly and freely.
He went to sleep that night in a small attic room; a tall locust tree hanging white blooms about the little dormer window, and the sound of a whippoorwill’s cry being his last conscious recollection before he went to sleep. He was awakened by stirring sounds out of doors and in, and by the time he was ready for a descent to the lower floor found that the family were up and all at work.
Breakfast was not less bountiful than supper, and after came a second visit to the puppies, during which time he was called in the store to confront Mr. Bentley.
It was evident that the way to a conference had been well paved by Mr. Welch, for Mr. Bentley’s greeting was, “Well, boy, you want to join my pickers, I hear.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Benny.
“How will you manage about your meals? They do their own cooking, you know.”
Benny didn’t know, and his heart sank, but Mr. Welch’s kind voice came in with the question, “’Twouldn’t put you out much to let him eat with your regular farm hands, would it?”
“No-o,” returned Mr. Bentley, “I don’t reckon it would.” And then turning to Benny he said, “Well, my boy, you’ll find a pretty rough set—Bohemians, and Italians, and Poles, and I don’t know what all—but if you’ve a mind to try it, I’ll take you along and give you a chance; that’s what you want, I suppose.”
“It isn’t so hot to-day, must have been a storm somewhere, last night, Thad.”
“Yes,” returned Mr. Welch, “must have been; I saw thunder heads off towardthe northwest; they must have got it down Broad Neck way.”
“Well I’ve no time to lose,” said Mr. Bentley; “come along, boy, I’ll give you a lift over our way;” and Benny, with a strong regret at leaving this kind family at the Cross Roads, climbed up beside Mr. Bentley in his road cart, and after a ride of a mile saw a white house at the end of a long lane.
“That’s my place,” said Mr. Bentley. “I’ll let you off at the strawberry field, and when you hear the dinner horn come up to the house. That man sitting under the tree yonder is keeping tally. Every dozen boxes you pick you take ’em up there and he’ll give you a little wooden check, so that we both can keep count of what you pick. Each check means so much, and you can earn as much or as little as you’ve the will to do. There’s a board overyonder to carry your boxes on. Now, we’ll see what you can do.”
And Benny was left in the big strawberry field amid a motley crew of foreigners, strong misgivings at heart, and a little feeling of homesickness coming over him as he faced the reality of a day’s work in the hot sun, with no one to speak to him but strangers. He picked up courage, however, wondering, as he started to work, how much he could earn, and when his mother would get the queer, blotchy little letter he had written to her the night before.