CHAPTER IX.
A GAME OF GROMETS.
"Who wants to pitch gromets?" cried Dwight. (He pronounced it as ifspelled "gruments," as most sea-going men do spell it, we believe, butlet us follow the dictionary!) "Mr. Malcolm's offered a prize for theone that lands it square in the bucket the most times, and Uncle Dwightsays he'll give a consolation prize to the poor wretch who doesn't hitit once."
"What's gromets?" asked young Donelson, springing up.
"Oh, don't you know?" said Hope. "Father used to play it with us whenwe were little--you know what the gromets themselves are, don't you?"
"Haven't an idea?"
"Why, rope rings--Dwight, Dwight! Isn't that one sticking out of yourpocket? See how firm and neat it is!"
"Well, it's just pitching those into a bucket, set a long way off. Ifyou can make it go into the bucket plump, it counts you 10; lodginganywhere on the edge or bail is 2, and inside the chalk ring drawnaround the bucket is 1--at least, that's our game."
"And outside?"
"Of the ring? Oh, nothing at all; and five throws outside will put outtill next innings. Each side has a certain number of trials, you see."
"Why, that's something like quoits."
"Well, so it is--sea quoits."
"That's easy, I'm sure."
"Oh is it? Wait till you try it!"
"You, see there's a special twist"--began Faith, but her sister stoppedher.
"No, no, don't tell. Let him try it first; it's easy, you know!" and,laughing mischievously, she ran after Dwight.
Pretty soon two tawny boys appeared, one with an ordinary fire-bucket,such as are seen hung everywhere on shipboard, and the other with acluster of rope rings hung on one arm. Behind them came Hope, with Mr.Malcolm and Dwight in tow, the former carrying a small blackboard; allin great good-humor over something.
"I am requested to announce," called out the steward in a high"lecture-hall voice," as Dwight named it, "that all those present whowish to pitch gromets are invited to join the game. Each side willselect a captain; Huri and Tegeloo, here, will pick up the rings thatgo astray; I will chalk up the tally on this blackboard, and after thegame is over the persons showing the biggest and smallest scores shallbe given prizes by the captains of the winning and losing teams. Speakup for your captains, please!"
"Why not have the twin sisters?" called out Mr. Lawrence, and at thesame instant a voice proposed, "Mrs. Campbell for one!"
But this suggestion was drowned in a shout of applause.
"Yes, yes, let it be the twins--the captain's daughters!" and so it wasdecided.
Blushing and beautiful, the girls stood up opposite each other, andbegan calling up their teams.
"Mrs. Vanderhoff," cried Hope.
"Lady Moreham," said Faith.
"Mrs. Poinsett."
"Mrs. Windemere."
"Miss Vanderhoff.
"Miss Windemere."
"Oh but see--see here!" laughingly protested Mr. Lawrence. "Is thisfair play to us men? I want to join this game somehow, if--"
"Mr. Lawrence!" shouted Hope archly, showing her pretty teeth anddimples.
"Mr. Traveler!" quickly added Faith, only of course she gave the man'sown distinguished name.
And so they proceeded, while, quite without intention but with no lessoffense, Mrs. Campbell and the young attache were not called until thevery last.
He sprang up eagerly enough, but she barely glanced around.
"Thanks," she drawled, "but it is too warm to play; don't you think so,Mr. Allyne?"
Now, the young fellow did not think so, by any means, but he felt itwould be rude to leave the lady alone, and besides he would make an oddone on Faith's side. So he sank back into his chair again with areluctant, "Much obliged, but I'll look on a while," and the gameproceeded without them.
It was rather warm work, but luckily a breeze had arisen which somewhatcooled their flushed cheeks. Presently the captain strolled along andstood near, to watch the players, laughing silently as he noted theawkward work they made of it.
"Why don't you join us, Captain?" cried Mrs. Vanderhoff. "Come, Hope,call up your father," but Faith returned quickly,
"No, indeed! Papa can bucket it every time. It wouldn't be fair toour side at all."
"No, Captain," called Mr. Lawrence, who could not get the twist of thewrist that makes the square toss, and was in convulsions over his ownawkwardness, "don't you come and show us up to ignominy by contrast.Your daughters are proficient enough to prove what their teacher maybe, and I hate to be so outdone."
"I'm catching on, though, uncle Dwight--don't you see?" cried hisnephew, and amid a shout of laughter Mr. Malcolm released the boy'sgromet from the bucket-bail, remarking, "Catching on's the word, sir!"as he marked up a large 2 opposite the lad's name.
It was funny to watch the different ones, and Huri's eyes danced withenjoyment as he ran after the wilder tosses with swift feet. TimidMrs. Windemere would advance to position, look all about in dazedfashion, gather her skirts closely as if about to breast a hurricane,then with a long breath would shut her eyes tightly, and surgeforward--when the gromet would either drop ignobly at her feet, or gomadly flying off to right or left, perhaps hitting poor little Tegelooon the nose. Mr. Donelson assumed an airy indifference and a carelesstoss, and lo! the contrary thing went whirling between his feet, aft.Lady Moreham actually burst into laughter as, after careful aim in ajudicial manner Mrs. Poinsett set hers spinning--and knocked CaptainHosmer's cap off, while all were convulsed as she, herself, after slowand accurate aiming, sent the ring square against poor Texas, chainedto his perch, knocking him down and causing his hoarse and naughtycomment, "You old fool!" in quick return.
So it went merrily on, the girls, Dwight, and the traveler makingseveral half-scores, and the rest occasionally tallying. Mrs.Windemere had never succeeded in getting even the direction, when,after several throws, she took her position once more, protesting itwas of no use, she did her side more harm than good.
"And remember, if you fail this time you'll be put out!" shouted Laura,somewhat cruelly.
The little lady looked distressed, but Faith leaned over and whisperedquickly,
"Did you ever make tatting, Mrs. Windemere?"
"Why, yes, of course I have," surprisedly, wondering what tatting couldhave to do with the present game.
"Make believe you're throwing your shuttle and then let the gromet fly.Be quick and firm!" she added, pretending to fix a loose pin at thelady's throat. "Remember!"
Mrs. Windemere turned towards the goal with a helpless air, but obeyed,and heard a sort of gasp, then a shout that rent the air. She openedher eyes and looked around dazedly. Her gromet was in the bucket, andamid the wild cheering Mr. Malcolm was chalking up a 10 nearly a footlong. This gave the score to Faith's side and Mrs. Windemere wasdeclared the prize winner.
Mr. Allyne could not resist the excitement and hurried up with hiscongratulations, while even Mrs. Campbell smiled and grew betternatured as she, too, came forward and with graceful tact, of which shewas a mistress, caught a ribbon from her waist, wound it about one ofthe gromets, and setting it lightly upon the victor's head led her to achair.
"Behold our queen!" she shouted merrily, and all joined in the huzzasthat followed, while little Mrs. Windemere, who had never received somuch notice in her whole life, actually had to wipe the springing tearsfrom her eyes.
Then Mr. Malcolm appeared with the prize, and what do you suppose itwas? A lively young porker, nestled down in a lidded basket streamingwith gay ribbons!
Amid shouts of laughter Faith gravely presented the prize, alwaysreferring to it delicately as "our hampered friend," in supposedreference to the basket, or perhaps, as Mr. Lawrence slyly remarked,"to the other quarters of the beast." She solemnly informed the winnerthat from time immemorial live prisoners had been considered speciallyacceptable gifts along the Mediterranean shores, and suggested that, ifshe should not know what to do with hers, she might be magnanimous,
make a feast, and call her neighbors in, at which there was greatcheering and clapping.
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Windemere, taking the piggy-wiggy, who reallybehaved quite well, only squealing occasionally by way of emphasis, "Inever made a speech in my life, but I'm ever so much obliged, and Ishould be delighted to give you all a feast of roast pig, if ourcaptain will furnish the cook and the extras."
"The ship, with all its men and stores, is at your disposal, madam,"said Captain Hosmer, doffing his cap with a low bow.
"Then," cried the little lady, rising to the occasion, and lookingreally pretty with her pink cheeks and brightening eyes, "I invite youall, victors and vanquished, players and non-combatants, to dine onroast pig with Captain Hosmer and myself, to-night at seven o'clock."
"We accept!" came in a tremendous shout from deck-house to bow.
"And may Heaven have mercy on our digestions!" added Mrs. Campbell,rolling up her eyes in horror. "Roast pig in this weather!"
But Laura turned to her younger sister with enthusiasm.
"Do look at ma! Did you ever see her so bright and jolly? She looksdownright pretty. She can hold her own better than I thought shecould."
"You are seeing her under altogether new conditions, you know," saidMrs. Campbell sweetly, as she stepped off with light tread andnon-committal face towards a merrily-laughing group, further on.
"Now, what did she mean by that?" asked Janet in a puzzled tone. "I dowish Zaidee wouldn't be so mysterious!"
"Mysterious?" snapped Laura, who was quicker than her sister. "Why notwish she needn't be so hateful?"
Yet she followed the woman, who could always lead in spite of herpeculiar disposition, because of innate charm and tact.
They found the merriment to be over the fact that Mr. Lawrence had thesmallest score, and must accept his own prize, already in the hands ofMr. Malcolm.
"Oh, that's too bad!" he cried, weary from his exertions and merriment."Why rub it in so hard? Is it not enough to be beaten by theseyoungsters--must I also be made the laughing-stock of passengers andcrew? Ah! 'tis indeed a cruelty to load a falling man!"
"Well, uncle, if you're going to quote Wolsey, keep on," laughed hisniece mischievously. "'I charge thee fling away ambition!' You seeyou have soared too high, my lord."
"_Et tu Brute_?" He turned upon her quickly. "Well, well, 'completemy shame.' Where is the prize orator, anyhow?"
"Here, here!" called Hope, coming rapidly forward from a conferencewith Mr. Malcolm; and amidst a sudden hush she said in a gentle,serious tone, as if reluctantly discharging an imperative duty,
"The prize we have to offer you needs no explanation. As it isfamiliar to you I will only say it appropriately illustrates one wordyou have amply understood to-day, and that word is--_whipped_!"
She held aloft one of those clock-work toys one may pick up in Germany,or Switzerland--a severe dame in a flapping cap, with a youngsteracross her knee whom she vigorously belabors with a neat little bundleof switches. Mr. Lawrence took it with meek 'Thank you,' and amidstthe laughter, explained,
"I bought the thing as an object-lesson for a friend at home who, doesnot believe in corporal punishment for her spoiled child, and to-daythought I would divert it to the purpose of a consolation prize forsome of you fellows who couldn't pitch gromets. Like most people whodig a pit for others I have fallen into it myself! And now--may I givethis to one of the babies? I never want to see it again."
"I think you may," laughed Hope, and a little curly-pate close by wasmade happy with the toy, which seemed destined to manifold uses.
All Aboard: A Story for Girls Page 9
