The "Araminta," which was the name of Captain Perez's power dory--a name, so the captain invariably explained, "wished onto her" before he bought her--chugged along steadily if not swiftly.The course was always in protected water, inside the outer beaches or through the narrow channels between the sand islands, and so there were no waves to contend with and no danger.Jed, in the course of his varied experience afloat and ashore, had picked up a working knowledge of gasoline engines and, anyhow, as he informed his small passenger, the "Araminta's" engine didn't need any expert handling.
"She runs just like some folks' tongues; just get her started and she'll clack along all day," he observed, adding philosophically, "and that's a good thing--in an engine.""I know whose tongue you're thinking about, Uncle Jed," declared Barbara."It's Mr.Gabe Bearse's."Jed was much amused; he actually laughed aloud."Gabe and this engine are different in one way, though," he said."It's within the bounds of human possibility to stop this engine."They threaded the last winding channel and came out into the bay.
Across, on the opposite shore, the new sheds and lumber piles of what was to be the aviation camp loomed raw and yellow in the sunlight.A brisk breeze ruffled the blue water and the pines on the hilltops shook their heads and shrugged their green shoulders.
The "Araminta" chugged across the bay, rising and falling ever so little on the miniature rollers.
"What shall we do, Uncle Jed?" asked Barbara."Shall we go to see the camp or shall we have our chowder and luncheon first and then go?"Jed took out his watch, shook it and held it to his ear--a precautionary process rendered necessary because of his habit of forgetting to wind it--then after a look at the dial, announced that, as it was only half-past ten, perhaps they had better go to the camp first.
"You see," he observed, "if we eat now we shan't hardly know whether we're late to breakfast or early to dinner."Barbara was surprised.
"Why, Uncle Jed!" she exclaimed, "I had breakfast ever so long ago!
Didn't you?"
"I had it about the same time you did, I cal'late.But my appetite's older than yours and it don't take so much exercise; Iguess that's the difference.We'll eat pretty soon.Let's go and look the place over first."They landed in a little cove on the beach adjoining the Government reservation.Jed declared it a good place to make a fire, as it was sheltered from the wind.He anchored the boat at the edge of the channel and then, pulling up the tops of his long-legged rubber boots, carried his passenger ashore.Another trip or two landed the kettle, the materials for the chowder and the lunch baskets.
Jed looked at the heap on the beach and then off at the boat.
"Now," he said, slowly, "the question is what have I left aboard that I ought to have fetched ashore and what have I fetched here that ought to be left there?...Hum....I wonder.""What makes you think you've done anything like that, Uncle Jed?"asked Barbara.
"Eh?...Oh, I don't think it, I know it.I've boarded with myself for forty-five year and I know if there's anything I can get cross-eyed I'll do it.Just as likely as not I've made the bucket of clams fast to that rope out yonder and hove it overboard, and pretty soon you'll see me tryin' to make chowder out of the anchor....Ah hum...well....
'As numberless as the sands on the seashore, As numberless as the sands on the shore, Oh, what a sight 'twill be, when the ransomed host we see, As numberless as--'
Well, what do you say? Shall we heave ahead for the place where Uncle Sam's birds are goin' to nest--his two-legged birds, I mean?"They walked up the beach a little way, then turned inland, climbed a dune covered with beachgrass and emerged upon the flat meadows which would soon be the flying field.They walked about among the sheds, the frames of the barracks, and inspected the office building from outside.There were gangs of workmen, carpenters, plumbers and shovelers, but almost no uniforms.Barbara was disappointed.
"But there ARE soldiers here," she declared."Mamma said there were, officer soldiers, you know.""I cal'late there ain't very many yet," explained her companion.
"Only the few that's in charge, I guess likely.By and by there'll be enough, officers and men both, but now there's only carpenters and such.""But there are SOME officer ones--" insisted Babbie."I wonder--Oh, see, Uncle Jed, through that window--see, aren't those soldiers? They've got on soldier clothes."Jed presumed likely that they were.Barbara nodded, sagely."And they're officers, too," she said, "I'm sure they are because they're in the office.Do they call them officers because they work in offices, Uncle Jed?"After an hour's walking about they went back to the place where they had left the boat and Jed set about making the chowder.
Barbara watched him build the fire and open the clams, but then, growing tired of sitting still, she was seized with an idea.
"Uncle Jed," she asked, "can't you whittle me a shingle boat? You know you did once at our beach at home.And there's the cunningest little pond to sail it on.Mamma would let me sail it there, Iknow, 'cause it isn't a bit deep.You come and see, Uncle Jed."The "pond" was a puddle, perhaps twenty feet across, left by the outgoing tide.Its greatest depth was not more than a foot.Jed absent-mindedly declared the pond to be safe enough but that he could not make a shingle boat, not having the necessary shingle.
"Would you if you had one?" persisted the young lady.
