Baby Island (4 page)

Sept. 21—At sea—expect to reach a desert island soon.

But in spite of their hopes of reaching a desert island, the day wore slowly on with not a glimpse of land. During the hottest hours, they stretched the tarpaulin over one end of the boat as a shelter for the babies, who really seemed to be enjoying the adventure. They had become so attached to Mary and Jean on board ship that now they scarcely missed their mothers at all. So much sun and fresh air made them sleepy, and, while they dozed, Mary and Jean washed out such of their garments as needed attention and dried them on oars stretched across the boat. As she worked, Jean made up a song, and this is what she sang:

“Oh, there wasn’t enough water in all the land

To wash out the clothes of Elizabeth Ann;

And Mary and Jean, they couldn’t get

Water enough to make them wet;

And the Snodgrass twins had got so black

We had to feed ’em on old hardtack.

But Mary and Jean they thought of a plan

(They always do as fast as they can);

They took the babies out on the sea

And everything there was as wet as could be;

So the babies got clean as a new penn-y.

Oh, Mary and Jean are very smart girls

(Although they have never had hair that curls).

Oh, Jean is espeshully very smart
,

She learned the twenty-third Psalm by heart.

And now they are traveling many a mile

To get to a beautiful desert isle!”

Toward evening the waves began to grow rough again, and the girls looked anxiously up at the sky, wondering what the night had in store for them.

“The Interurban car at home was never this late, Mary,” Jean declared.

“Never mind,” said Mary, trying to look cheerful. “We’ll get to land soon—I’m sure we will. Don’t you remember I told you it was only the other day (though it seems a year ago) that Mr. Snodgrass told me this part of the ocean is full of little nameless islands? Why, he said there were so many tiny ones they couldn’t even make a map of them.”

“Just the same, I wish somebody
had
made a map of them,” Jean said, “and then we’d find out where we are and steer for the nearest land. Ooh! but my legs need stretching!”

“So do mine,” admitted Mary. “But without a map, there’s no use trying to steer. Because for all we know we might
be steering ourselves just the very wrongest way. I’m going to sit right here a while longer and keep hoping the wind knows where it’s taking us.”

The sun went down with flaming colors, and a strange, clear twilight hung over the sea for a long time. It made the sky and sea look much vaster, and the girls felt small and alone as they bobbed up and down on the waves. When the sun was gone it began to grow cold, and they were glad for the blankets which they had found in the boat.

Ann Elizabeth cried a little, because her mother, having only her and the poodle to look after, had always rocked her to sleep at night. But the Snodgrass babies were used to going to bed under all sorts of strange conditions, and they went to sleep at once. Mary and Jean curled themselves together in the middle of the boat to snatch some rest. They were tired after the adventures of the previous night and the long day in the open boat. Jean fell asleep at once, and tired Mary was just beginning to doze when a long, mournful wail from Jonah brought her up with a jump. The youngest Snodgrass baby’s face was screwed into a knot of misery. He drew up his knees against his stomach and clutched and clawed with his tiny pink hands. Mary took him up with little cries of pity. But no gentle words could persuade him, and neither rocking nor jouncing did any good. Mary began to be frightened. He was evidently in
great misery, and it wrung Mary’s heart to see him suffer and not be able to help him.

“Wake up, Jean,” she cried. “You’ve got to help me. Oh, I do wish I knew what is the matter with him!”

Jean sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Sheashick,” she muttered.

“Oh, no, surely not seasick,” worried Mary. “Babies don’t know whether they’re upside down or right side up. So how could he be seasick!”

“Colic!” Jean said next.

Mary was struck by this remark, even though she knew that Jean was half asleep when she made it.

“What makes you think it’s colic?”

“Mishush Schnodgrash,” mumbled Jean.

“That’s right!” said Mary, thinking rapidly. “I’ve heard Mrs. Snodgrass say it myself. ‘Jonah is subject to the colic,’ she said, ‘if his milk doesn’t agree with his stomach or if a cold draught blows on his head.’ Goodness knows, the poor lamb has had enough cold draughts on his head today, and there’s no telling how this canned milk agrees with his stomach. It must be the colic!”

“Whatsh colic?” asked Jean, beginning to take a sleepy interest in things.

“It’s a terrible stomachache, that’s what it is!” said Mary, cuddling the screaming baby.

“Too bad you couldn’t have let me sleep, Mary,” grumbled Jean. “Listening to him howl isn’t going to help
him
any, and it certainly hurts
me
a lot.”

“Oh, Jean! Aren’t you ashamed? Think now! See if you can remember what Mrs. Snodgrass does for the colic.”

Jean tried hard, but every time she began to remember she dozed off to sleep.

“It’s no good,” she said at last, “my thinker’s gone to bed.”

“Oh, dear!” sighed Mary. “I don’t know if colic is ever fatal, but he’s certainly got an awful case. Oh, I wish Mrs. Snodgrass were here!” For some time poor Mary rocked and struggled with the unhappy baby. Then she decided to heat some water over the lantern. She handed the squalling baby to Jean, who took him in a daze, holding him gingerly at arm’s length.

“Of coursh you know what they did to Jonah in the Bible, Mary,” she remarked.

Mary was too busy trying to warm her water to pay much attention to Jean’s remark. “What did they do?” she asked. “I hope it was a good cure for colic.”

“I guess it was,” said Jean. “You know there was an awful storm, and the ship was about to be wrecked, and the sailors prayed to the Lord to save them, and He said, ‘I will save you, if you’ll throw Jonah overboard.’ And they did, and He did, and the storm ceased.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with colic.”

“Yes, but it had a lot to do with Jonah. Maybe if the captain of the
Orminta
had thrown Jonah Snodgrass overboard in time, we wouldn’t be out here now floating around in a lifeboat.”

“Jean!” shouted Mary. “You aren’t thinking of throwing Jonah overboard?”

“Well, it’s an idea,” said Jean.

Mary gave a little scream and caught the baby out of Jean’s arms. In her excitement she flung him sharply against her shoulder.

“Glub! glub!” said Jonah, with a gasp and gurgle like air escaping from a toy balloon. Immediately he stopped howling. Mary was so alarmed at this sudden silence that she felt sure she must have killed him. But, when the moon came struggling out of the clouds, she discovered that he was looking at her with calm round eyes and peacefully sucking his thumb.

“Oh, Jean!” she cried, “he’s coughed up his misery!”

Just then the cup of water, which she had set on top of the lantern, began to bubble, and in a moment she had succeeded in giving him a little warm water. He cried fitfully for half an hour after that, but now Mary was no longer worried. She knew how to put him against her shoulder and pat his back until he gulped up the troublesome gas. Presently he fell asleep, and it seemed as if the waves of the sea and all the stars in the firmament had suddenly grown calm now that Jonah had ceased to howl. Much relieved, Mary put him snugly to bed and looked around to see what had become of Jean. All she could see was a dark bunch in the bottom of the boat. Jean had melted into a heap of slumber just where she sat.

Several days later Mary asked Jean if she remembered wanting to throw Jonah into the sea. Jean looked at her in indignant surprise.

“Why, Mary,” she said, “you must have been dreaming!”

CHAPTER FOUR

A
FTER
her troubled night, Mary slept late next morning. When she woke at last, the sun was shining brightly. It dazzled her for a moment and she couldn’t think where she was. Something strange had been happening to her for the last few days, but she couldn’t quite remember. Then somewhere in the distance she heard Jean singing one of her made-up songs, and somebody was tugging at her sleeve. She opened her eyes wider and found herself gazing into the earnest round face of the Pink Twin. Then Mary remembered that she was at sea in a lifeboat with Mrs. Snodgrass’ twins. When the Pink Twin saw her awake, he began to bounce himself up and down with excitement.

“Bye-bye, Me-me, bye-bye!” he exclaimed.

“Darling thing,” said Mary, trying to kiss him, “we can’t go bye-bye.”

But he wriggled from her embrace, and pointed a dramatic finger, crying: “Bye-bye! Me-me, ba-ba bye-bye!”

Suddenly a tremendous idea flashed into Mary’s mind. The boat was no longer moving! She could hear the waves
lapping against it, but the boat itself was quite still. With a little cry, she sprang up and gazed about her. To her astonishment she saw that they were safely lodged on a sandy shore, just at the edge of the dancing, sparkling waves. She could see a long stretch of shining sand, and then a fringe of graceful palm trees and vegetation. Running in and out among the first of these trees, she could see Jean, gleefully capering, shouting, and singing.

Mary sat down again, perfectly flabbergasted.

“Well,” she gasped, “we got here!” Then she added fervently, “Oh, thank you, Lord!”

Ann Elizabeth and Jonah were still asleep. The Blue Twin had clambered over the side of the boat and was toddling after Jean. The Pink Twin still pulled at Mary’s skirt and cried, “Bye-bye! bye-bye! bye-bye!”

“All right, Pink,” cried Mary happily. “I don’t know how we got here, but we aren’t going to let Jean and Elijah beat us. No siree!” Casting a glance at the sleeping babies, she caught Pink up under her arm and ran after the other twin, who had fallen on his nose in the soft sand.

“Oh, twinsies!” she said, setting them both right side up again. “What a wonderful sandpile! Aren’t you the lucky babies!” The twins may not have understood her words, but they understood her happy tone of voice, for they
clapped their fat hands and squealed with delight. “Just see,” she went on, catching up handfuls of the sand, “what castles we can make. I guess not even the richest millionaire in America has such a sandpile as this in
his
backyard for
his
babies!”

Pink began digging like a little dog, throwing the sand out behind, between his fat legs, and Blue amused himself by pouring sand in his hair and chuckling with delight when it ran tickling down the back of his neck.

Just then Jean came running from the group of trees, shouting at the top of her voice and waving something yellow which she held in her hands.