Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid Part 11

Madge was the first to act. In her hand was a large white and green striped umbrella. The girls had lately bought two of them to use out on deck as a protection from the sun, and Madge had caught up one of them as they started out. In the next instant she had climbed the fence that separated her from the field in which the teacher was running and was making for the frightened woman at the top of her speed.

But by this time Miss Jones was completely exhausted. Summoning all her will power, she staggered a few steps, then dropped to the ground, with the bull not more than four yards behind her.

On it came, its head lowered almost to the ground. Then a huge green and white monster loomed up before the animal, and with a snort of mingled rage and horror the bull stopped short in its tracks. The strange green and white object now lunging at full tilt was far more terrible than the small, red, flame-like object that fled its approach.

Rage conquering fear, the bull gave a dreadful roar and made a quick lunge at Madge. She sprang to one side but managed to thrust her umbrella full in the animal's face. With a rumble of defiance the bull dodged the umbrella and made another lunge at Madge. Its lowered horns never reached her. A rope swung skilfully forward caught the animal by the leg just in time. One swift pull and the bull went down. The owner of the animal had witnessed its charge upon Miss Jones and, rushing across the field, had roped it. The artist who had attracted Miss Jenny Ann's attention had also come to the rescue, but it was really Madge with her green and white umbrella who had saved their chaperon from the bull's horns.

Miss Jones, who had raised herself to a sitting position, stared wildly about her, still firmly clutching the red parasol.

The artist sprang to her side and raised her to her feet. "It was this that made the mischief," he said, touching her parasol. "I shouted to you to drop it."

"But I didn't hear you," defended the teacher faintly. Her two long braids of fair hair had become unfastened and were now hanging down her back, giving her the appearance of a girl. "I heard some one calling to me, or I would never have entered that dreadful field." Miss Jones eyed the artist reproachfully. "Was it you who shouted my name?"

"Was it I?" repeated the young man in astonishment. "Certainly not. I do not know your name."

"My name is 'Jones,'" Miss Jenny Ann faltered weakly. She was still feeling dazed and weak.

"And my name is 'Brown,'" the artist answered, with an expression of solemn gravity. But the corners of his lips twitched in amus.e.m.e.nt.

There was a faint chuckle from Madge that went the round of the group and, despite the fact that the chaperon's narrow escape had been far from ludicrous, the whole party burst into laughter.

"I am sorry," apologized the artist. "Please forgive me for laughing."

The farmer had in the meantime led the bull away, and now Eleanor and Lillian came running toward the group to see if Miss Jenny Ann were truly hurt. When they saw the whole party shaking with laughter, the two girls exchanged curious glances. "Luncheon has been waiting half an hour," Eleanor declared rather crossly. "Do come and eat it. We would not have come after you if we had known that you were having such a good time."

Madge glanced at their chaperon, then at the artist. He was evidently a gentleman, and she recognized that he was possessed of a keen sense of humor. It would seem rude and ungrateful to run away and leave him just as their luncheon was announced, when he had raced all the way across the meadow to a.s.sist in the rescue of their Miss Jenny Ann.

"Won't you come and eat luncheon with us?" asked Madge boldly, fearing their chaperon would be dreadfully shocked.

The artist shook his head. "I'd like to accept your invitation if Miss Jones will second it," he replied, looking at Miss Jenny Ann.

"You would he delighted to have Mr. Brown take luncheon with us, Miss Jenny Ann, wouldn't you?" Madge turned coaxing eyes upon their teacher.

"I should be very ungracious if I were not," laughed their chaperon, the color rising to her brown cheeks. "Mr. Brown will be a welcome guest."

And five minutes later Mr. Brown was triumphantly escorted aboard their beloved "Merry Maid."

CHAPTER XI

AT THE MERCY OF THE WAVES

"Don't you think it would be perfectly lovely to have a mother as rich and beautiful as Mrs. Curtis?" asked Madge, as she tied a black velvet ribbon about her auburn curls and turned her head to see the effect.

She and Phil were dressing for Tom Curtis's sailing party, to which he had invited them the day before and which was to start within the next hour.

"Almost any mother is pretty nice, even if she isn't rich or beautiful," answered Phil loyally. She was wearing a yachting suit of navy blue while Madge was dressed in white serge. Eleanor, Lillian and Miss Jones, clad in white linen gowns, were ready and waiting on the houseboat deck for the arrival of the sailing party. True to his word, Tom Curtis had brought his mother to call on the four girls the afternoon of the day before.

"I know," answered Madge slowly. "But sometimes, when I was a very little girl, I liked to think that perhaps I was a princess in disguise, and that Uncle and Aunt had never told me of it. I used to look out of the window and wonder if some day a carriage would drive up to hear me away to my royal home. That doesn't sound very practical, does it? But, when one has no memory of father or mother, one can't help dreaming things. Don't you think Mrs. Curtis is simply beautiful?" Madge abruptly changed the subject. "Her hair is so soft and white, and she has such a young face, but she looks as though she were tired of everything. Persons who have that wonderful, world-weary look are so interesting," finished Madge, with a sigh. "I am afraid I shall never have that expression, because I never find time to get tired of things."

"Come on, Madge," laughed Phil. "You can mourn some other day over not having an interesting expression."

"Girls," called Lillian, "the Curtis's boat is coming."

"In a minute," answered Madge, giving a final pat to her curls.

"Do hurry along, children. The sailboat is nearly here." This time it was Miss Jenny Ann's voice. "They signaled us several minutes ago.

They have several other persons on board."

Mrs. Curtis and Tom signaled as they approached the "Merry Maid."

Their guests were the artist, whom the girls had met the day before, Jack Bolling, and one or two strangers from the big summer hotel. Mike Muldoon, the owner of the boats, had another sailor on board to help him. Tom soon transferred the girls and their chaperon from their craft to his. The party intended to sail down the coast to a point of land known as Love Point and to eat their luncheon somewhere along the sh.o.r.e.

Mrs. Curtis sat across from Madge during their sailing trip, but every now and then she would look over to laugh at one of the young girl's amusing sallies. It was evident that the little captain of the "Merry Maid" had found favor in her eyes. Mrs. Curtis had planned a dainty luncheon, to which the steward at the hotel had given special attention, even to the sending of a man to serve it. There were delicious sandwiches of various kinds, chicken and Waldorf salads, olives, salted nuts, individual ices sent down from Baltimore and bonbons. It was quite the most elaborate luncheon the girls had ever eaten and they were rather impressed with both it and the service.

After luncheon the party sat for a long time on the clean, white sand, laughing and talking gayly. It was a perfect day and everyone was in the best possible spirits. Later on they divided into little groups.

Lillian and Phil wandered off with Jack Bolling. Eleanor found a congenial companion in one of the young women guests from the hotel, while Tom, Miss Jones and Mrs. Curtis sat under a tree with the artist, watching him sketch. Madge, alone, flitted from one group to another, a little, restless spirit.

"Why don't you take Miss Morton for a sail, Tom?" suggested his mother.

"You will have time to go a short distance out. We shall not start for the hotel until four o'clock."

"A good suggestion. Thank you, Mother," cried Tom. "Come on, Miss Morton."

Madge and Tom went gayly down to the boat. Tom's big setter dog, Brownie, dashed after them, pleading so hard to be taken aboard that Tom at last consented to have him, though he gravely a.s.sured the animal that three was a crowd, to which statement Brownie merely gave a joyful yelp and darted on board without further ceremony.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Madge and Tom went gayly down to the boat.]

It was a glorious day with a stiff breeze blowing. The water was fairly choppy, but the boat sped along, occasionally dashing the spray into the two young faces. Madge wore a white cloth cap, with a visor, such as ship's officers wear, and looked as nautical as she felt. Both Tom and Madge were possessed with an unusual fondness for the water, and their common love of the sea was a strong bond between them.

"Have you ever heard of any one who could have locked you up in the old hut that night?" Tom asked as they sailed along.

Madge shook her head. "No; I have not the faintest idea. To tell you the honest truth, I had almost forgotten that unpleasant experience.

We have been having such a beautiful time since that we haven't had time to think of disagreeable things."

"Do you think it is safe for five women to be aboard that houseboat by themselves?" asked Tom anxiously. "If your boat were farther out on the water you would be safer."

Madge laughed merrily. "Look here, Mr. Curtis, I don't think it is fair for you to question our safety when there are five of us, Wouldn't Phil be angry if she heard you say that! It makes her furious to hear a man or boy even intimate that girls can't take care of themselves.

Why, we can swim and run and jump, and we could put up a really brave fight if it were necessary. Besides, Nell and I know how to shoot.

Uncle taught us when we were very little girls. I have been duck shooting with him along this very bay. Look at that rowboat back there. I have been watching it for some time. It has been trying to follow us."

Tom turned about. The boat was only a skiff, and, though it was nearly in their course, there was no chance of its coming any closer, as their boat was sailing before the wind.

"I believe it is the same skiff I saw this morning," commented Tom. "I suppose it is some fellow who has been fishing out here. Just think of the fish in this wonderful bay--perch and pike and ba.s.s and a hundred other kinds! You must help me catch some of them some day."

"All right, I will," promised Madge merrily. As they went farther out into the bay they grew strangely silent. The spell of the sea was upon them and they were content to sail along, exchanging but little conversation. Chesapeake Bay was apparently in one of its most amiable moods and, lured on by its apparent good nature, Tom grew a trifle more reckless than was his wont and did not turn about to begin the homeward sail as soon as he had originally intended.

It was Madge who broke the spell. "I think we had better start back.

Perhaps I merely imagine it, but it seems to me that the sun isn't shining as brightly as it shone a little while ago. I know the bay so well. It is so wonderful, but so treacherous. I was once out on it in a sailboat during a sudden squall and I am not likely to forget it."

Madge gave a slight shudder at the recollection.