The Girl Crusoes, by Mrs. Herbert Strang
Title: The Girl Crusoes
A Story of the South Seas Author: Mrs. Herbert Strang Illustrator: N. Tenison
Release Date: November 1, 2011 [EBook #37903] Language: English
*** THE GIRL CRUSOES ***
Produced by
"THE GIRLS LOOKED DOWN WITH A SORT OF AWED CURIOSITY." See page 224.
THE GIRL CRUSOES
A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEAS
BY
MRS. HERBERT STRANG
ILLUSTRATED IN COLOUR BY N. TENISON
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LONDON
HENRY FROWDE
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
1912
RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,
BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, U.S., AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER THE FIRST TOMMY AND THE OTHERS
CHAPTER THE SECOND
UNCLE BEN
CHAPTER THE THIRD
LEAVING HOME CHAPTER THE FOURTH
ABOARD THE ELIZABETH CHAPTER THE FIFTH
A MIDNIGHT WRECK CHAPTER THE SIXTH
THE ISLAND BEAUTIFUL CHAPTER THE SEVENTH
A LOCAL HABITATION CHAPTER THE EIGHTH
THE FISHERS CHAPTER THE NINTH
THE LITTLE BROWN FACE CHAPTER THE TENTH
ANXIOUS DAYS
CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH
A TROPICAL STORM CHAPTER THE TWELFTH
ALARMS AND DISCOVERIES CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH
LOST
CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH
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IN THE PIT
CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH
THE ELEVENTH HOUR CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH
NEW TERRORS
CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH
THE FOUNDLING
CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH
ANOTHER BROWN FACE CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH
THE SHARK
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH
THE PRISONER IN THE CAVE CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST
A DESPERATE ADVENTURE CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND
FRIENDS IN NEED
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD THE HOME-COMING
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"THE GIRLS LOOKED DOWN WITH A SORT OF AWED CURIOSITY" (see page 224) . . . . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece
"LYING ON A PILE OF CANVAS HUDDLED A LITTLE FIGURE" "THE THREE TOGETHER DRAGGED THE BOAT UP THE BEACH" "'THERE!' SHE CRIED TRIUMPHANTLY, YET FEARFULLY"
"WITH A FINAL PULL THEY HAULED TOMMY OVER THE BRINK" "SHE FELT THAT FANGATI COULD NOT REACH HER IN TIME"
CHAPTER I
TOMMY AND THE OTHERS
At noon on a day late in September, the express train from London rested, panting and impatient, for a brief halt at the little coun-tryside station of Poppicombe. The arrival and departure of this train was the event of the day to most of the inhabitants, not only of Poppicombe, but of the surrounding villages. There were quite half-a-dozen people standing on the platform, and the station staff, consisting of two men and a boy, were moving about briskly. One man was busily engaged in handing various newspapers and
packages, which had been thrown from the guard's van, to the people who had been awaiting them; the other man, the stationmaster,
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was exchanging a few words with the guard, at the end of the platform; while the boy porter, looking about disconsolately for some doors to bang, distinguished himself by suddenly slamming the open door of the luggage van, much to the astonishment of the guard. As soon as the train had rumbled away, the young porter seized a newspaper from a pile standing on a trolly, opened it at a particular page, and, after reading a few words, let forth a wild war-whoop. Then, in spite of the glare in the stationmaster's eye, he rushed madly out of the station and looked excitedly up Longhill Avenue. There in the distance he saw, coming slowly towards the station, a young girl of twelve or thirteen years of age, seated upon a sturdy Exmoor pony. Although she sat her mount with the ease that comes only to the born rider, a close observer would have noticed that the slight droop about her slim young shoulders became more pronounced as she neared her destination. She was dressed in black, and her plain wide-brimmed sailor hat was trimmed only with a narrow band of crape.
She rode forward with an eye that seemed to ignore all outward objects, her thin, small-featured face betokening a mood of deep despondency. Her errand had been the same for many days, and day after day she had met with nothing but disappointment. A few weeks ago she had taken the journey at a canter. Now, in spite of her natural high spirits, Tommy, as she was called by her family
and friends, held the reins in such a listless fashion that the pony merely sauntered through the Avenue, as though he too shared her depression. Her lack of vigour was perhaps the more noticeable because her thin, wiry body looked framed for energy. There was an unmistakable air of health about the young girlish figure, but Tommy, although she was quite unconscious of it, was suffering from fatigue of the spirit. She had borne up bravely enough at first, but successive daily disappointments had at length proved too much for her.
Now Longhill Avenue does not belie its name. It has a hill, and the hill is long and gently sloping, with rows of tall chestnut-trees on either side. When Tommy had reached the foot of the hill, she suddenly became aware that some one was shouting lustily. She started, and looking up quickly, saw a quaint little figure, dressed in corduroys, with a peaked cap much too large for him, wildly waving a paper, and rushing towards her from the station yard as fast as hobnailed boots allowed. She touched up her pony and was soon within hail of the freckled, rosy-cheeked young porter, whose face was spread abroad with smiles.
"It's all right, miss, her be sound as bacon," he gasped breathlessly. "See then!" he added, and as Tommy came nearer to him he pointed with a grimy thumb to the Shipping Intelligence column of the newspaper which he had snatched from the pile at the station.
Tommy took the paper, and, scanning the paragraph eagerly, read: "The barque Elizabeth, thirty days overdue from Valparaiso, spo-ken by the liner Kildonan Castle, in the Bay of Biscay; all well."
As she read these few lines, the whole expression of Tommy's face changed. Her dark eyes brightened; a wave of gladness seemed to surge through her as she drew herself erect in the saddle. The smile about the corners of her rather wide but sweet-looking mouth deepened, and even her hair, which had appeared dispirited a few moments ago, now curled itself more tightly about her small dainty head.
"Ah! won't they be glad!" she ejaculated in her clear, brisk voice. "Dan, you're a cherub," she cried, "a perfect cherub; you are indeed, Dan;" and, turning her pony about, was off like the wind.
Dan Whiddon watched her admiringly.
"Her do be mortal pleased," he said to himself, "and her naming me 'cherub' be her way o' saying 'thankee,' I reckon. 'Cherub,' says she. Now what will old Berry be calling I?"
He clumped heavily back to the station.
"Now, you young stunpoll," cried the stationmaster sternly, "what do 'ee mean by rampaging off like that?"
"Miss Tommy's uncle bean't a dead 'un arter all, I reckon," said the boy. "His ship be behind time, that's all, and he'll be coming down-along soon."
Dan's reply was not a particularly lucid one, but as anybody's business was everybody's