Jessica chanted the words to her painted oars1, bright, talkative oars that spoke3 through many vivid emblems4 painted on blade and handle by herself and her Camp Fire Sisters.
A tongue of flame licked the dripping blade of one of them, mocking the water in which it was dipped, where Sesooā had gaudily5 painted her Camp Fire symbol, so characteristic of the little fire-witch who had mastered the art of getting fire without matches.
“Dear little Sally! if I could love one girl of our Morning-Glory Camp Fire better than another ’twould be Sally, next to Olive!” So said the girl-rower to herself, answering the appeal of the spray-feathered flame. “And ’twas so nice of her to go off and leave me to myself for a little while after I’d told her all my story—what I was crying about—I do feel a step happier for telling her!” smiling tremulously. “Her going will give me time for just half-an-hour’s row, alone, before dinner. And the water isn’t very rough near shore, though there’s a wild tumble of tide out in the middle of the river. This sou’wester is a ripping breeze!”
Thus the would-be designer of a painted window, enshrining the form of a Camp Fire Girl and consecrated7 to her ideals, soliloquized as she, Jessica Dee Holley, rowed briskly out from the Sugarloaf shore toward the wild-looking water that foamed8 and leaped at the broad heart of the tidal river.
The tide was still so low that she had difficulty in shoving off her flat-bottomed dory which Captain Andy had put at the service of the girls, but the feat6 was accomplished10 at last, at the cost of wet ankles.
“Never mind! I’ll change when I get back. I couldn’t have a row after dinner; it’s going to ‘rain pitchforks,’” the girl had told herself as she finally took her seat in the boat. “It’s breezing up for a good hard blow, too—sou’westerly squall, maybe—a mighty11 bad squall when it blows off the Sugarloaf, over a hundred acres of tall sand-hills, so Captain Andy says. I sha’n’t go out far! But I love the sea when it gets an angry rake on”—again mentally quoting the captain. “I like to feel myself mistress of it in a boat—I suppose that’s my great-grandfather coming alive in me!”
It would have been so much better if this one of her dead and gone relatives who seemed to have been a power could have “come alive” outside her, to smooth her way and steer12 her girlish course, so the rower thought, and rowed on thinking about him, his adventures on the deep, his life-saving achievements when he rescued the shipwrecked crews of other vessels13. In high school she had read about Ulysses—hero of the greatest poem of antiquity—who was represented as being such a strong-hearted sailor, but Ulysses played second fiddle14 to her great-grandfather in her youthful imagination.
Thinking of the latter now, of the gallant15 shoulders in the blue coat, the dimpled chin, the hair and eyes so like her own, as everybody said—thinking of these as depicted16 in the old miniature which she had left locked in her desk in the Deering Mansion17 for safety—lent a glamor18 to the hard, short sea, wildly tipped with foam9, that was springing up about her boat.
It might well be termed the sea, that part of the tidal river on which she was vaguely19 rowing, for the sand-bar at the river’s mouth where the breakers combed and foamed and the brown, sandy point called the Neck, on which those breakers threw their white bonnets20 aloft, was less than a mile away.
And what Jessica did not realize while she spun21 romances about that sailor-ancestor of hers and while she felt the daring drop of sea-blood inherited from him revel22 in her veins23, was that the strong sou’westerly wind blowing offshore24, gaining tremendous force as it drove across the hundred acres of pale sand-hills that made up the Sugarloaf Peninsula, was sweeping25 her steadily26 down nearer to where the white fangs27 of those breakers were set in the brown throat of the Neck.
She felt comfortably safe, for the water upon which she had launched her boat, and, indeed, for nearly half a mile offshore where she was aimlessly rowing about, though choppy and white-capped, was not dangerously rough, not so rough but that she could turn back and land again when she chose, for the Sugarloaf sand-dunes28 whose highest peak rose to two hundred feet above sea-level acted as a windbreak, so that the tremendous, ever-increasing force of the squally gusts30 only struck outside that half-mile belt of comparative calmness.
How hard they hit when they did strike, lashing32 the middle of the river into a whirlpool, angered by the tide which had just turned and was feebly opposing them, the dreaming Morning-Glory, exulting33 in being mistress of them and of her boat, did not know.
She never meant to be foolhardy. She knew that to obey that stringent34 point of the Camp Fire Law: “Hold on to Health!” she must not only care for her body and steer clear of sickness when she could, but that over and above that, far more important still, she must avoid unnecessary and aimless danger, for in the latter case, nine times out of ten, she would imperil not her own life alone, but some other life more mature and in the world’s estimate more valuable—as has sadly happened once among Camp Fire ranks—a life that might be nobly given in trying to save her.
In what followed she was largely the victim of ignorance—because the word-pictures to which she had listened, painting squalls upon the tidal river near its mouth, fell so short of the reality—and of the absence of Captain Andy who had taken a party of other campers up the river in his motor-boat, as well as of her desire to work off, in rowing, the grieving depression which had clung to her on the beach.
She did fling it overboard; as the choppy waves belabored36 the dory’s nose she presently laughed aloud as she chastised37 them with her painted oars, feeling that theirs was just rough play, the wild, boisterous38 sport of a young dog, proud of his strength, who shows all his teeth in his gambols39, but will never close them upon his friends.
She laughed and chanted exultantly40 a line of some old sea-song while the gusts tore at the green pompon of her woolen41 Tam O’Shanter and tried to snatch the jaunty42, tight-fitting cap itself off her head.
“Ouch!
“‘The wind she blow a hurricane,
By ’n’ by she blow some more!’
I’m having lots of fun with you!” she sang to them. “And now I guess it’s high time for me to turn back; it must be almost dinner-hour; Gheezies, our Guardian43, and the girls may be getting anxious about me! Goodness! how the wind is whipping up the fine sand of the dunes; it’s hovering44 like pale clouds over the Sugarloaf.”
This sand-fog spreading its storm-wings above the white hills that formed the background of Camp Morning-Glory looked ominous45. She caught her breath; it tickled46 her throat, suddenly, with a feather of fear. She wished she had not come out so far.
“‘It’s a long, long way to yonder shore now!
But my heart’s right there!’”
she sang, all in a flutter, determined47 to keep her courage up, gazing shoreward toward the distant camp under whose sheltering roof her Camp Fire Sisters must be even now gathering48 for the midday meal.
“Whew! I must be getting into the really rough water, out toward the middle of the river. This—this is no joke!” she cried aloud wildly the next minute as a larger wave than any she had encountered yet not only boisterously49 showed its teeth, but seemed to fasten them cruelly in the dory, shaking the little boat until its planks50 creaked as she tried to turn it and drenching51 her from pompon to shoe-tip with spray.
“Never mind:
“‘When perils52 gather round,
All sense of danger’s drowned,
We despise it to a man!
We sing a little and laugh a little....’”
And even while she tried to sing and laugh the Peril35 was upon her.
A raving53, squalling gust31 swooped54 out from that sand-fog swirling55 over the pale hills of the Sugarloaf; it seemed to mount in delirium56 to the lowering sky—from which all the sun-rays had fled to hide—and kick over a bucket of fresh water there. Then it roared as it shook its wet wings over the sea; its dripping tail struck the puny57 dory, just far enough out to be so struck with overwhelming force—and not all the strength of girl or boy, either, could stand or make headway against it.
“Oh-h! there goes my green Tam.” It was such a heart-broken wail58, such a sob59, that the wild, wet gust must have had the heart of a fiend to withstand it and sweep the green Tam O’Shanter, which depended for safety upon the clinging fit of its woven wool, mockingly away from the boat’s side.
It was beyond girl-nature not to make a frantic60 attempt to recover it—to row after it for a few battling strokes.
But those wheeling strokes were the death-knell of safety, of safety’s last chance.
The now terrified rower saw the pretty, warm head-gear, which she had bought out of the little pocket-money given her from time to time by Cousin Anne, dance upon the wave for a moment—a green blossom upon a white tendril of foam—just beyond her reach.
She did not see its soaked collapse61; she lost sight of it, of everything without and within her, except a blinding aching terror, for, all in a moment, the dory and she were whirling at the heart of a water-spout.
The rain let loose by that last fierce gust drenched62 her sweater and short skirt.
A second gust blowing with equal ferocity offshore, and yet another, turned loose by the descending63 squall, spun her boat out toward the whirlpool heart of the river where the baby tide, like a lion’s whelp, fought the tiger gusts.
A reeling minute, the spray as well as the rain soaking and blinding her, the wind tearing loose her drenched hair, driving it across her face as if it would steal that, too, and whipping the breath out of her body, while the decorated oars wavered in her wet grasp that desperately64 tried to hold on to them, slipping between the racked row-locks which shook like chattering65 teeth!
Then those mad gusts rushed on to continue their fight with the incoming tide nearer to the mouth of the river, dragging the dory in their train, or brother-gusts, following, spun and drove it, really it mattered not which—nothing mattered now—for the fierce, wet onslaught of wind had taken, not a girl’s streaming hair, indeed, but something far more precious at the moment—one of her painted oars.
“Oh! what’s to become of me? I can’t row—I couldn’t, anyway! Will anybody see me from shore? Captain Andy might put off in a boat to save me, but he’s away up the river! The Boy Scouts66! Their camp is far over among those other dunes, near the open sea, on the farther side of them!” Wildly Jessica’s gaze swept the pale beach and dunes lining67 the opposite shore of the river from the Sugarloaf as she drew in her second symbol-painted oar2, now helpless, while the wind gnashed at its emblems and the foam hissed68 Sally’s flame.
Nowhere along the drab, rain-pelted line of beach, sands-pit and tall dune29 on either side of her was there a sign of a boat putting off—any indication that somebody saw her plight69 and would make an attempt, at least, to rescue her.
Indeed, along the whole coast of Massachusetts, north and south, no wilder or more lonely spot could be picked out than the mouth of this tidal river, left for nearly two-thirds of the year entirely70 to the harbor-seals and an occasional sportsman or professional gunner!
“Oh, I’ll be swept down—down—among the breakers on the bar!” The girl’s fingers interlocked convulsively as she cowered71 upon the middle thwart72-seat of the boat, her eyes blindfolded73 by spray, her face working, discolored by fear, her wet knees groveling at the swollen74 roar of those breakers, heard even when they were farther off and invisible, among the crystalline sand-mounds of the Sugarloaf.
They crisped and curled and reared themselves through transparent75 sheets of rain like a pale wall between her and another world. Beyond them, even if by a miracle she should be swept past and through them alive, was the foamy76 vastness of the open sea where such frail77 things as a girl and a dory must surely be swallowed up in the tumult78 and tumble.
“Oh! I can’t be drowned. I can’t be drowned.” Frightened to a frenzy79, her bent80 knees stiffened81, she made a movement to stand up in the wildly rocking boat, to shout, scream, shriek82 for help to one shore, or both—shriek her loudest against the roar of wind, rain and spray.
The fatal impulse almost overcame her. She was stumbling, staggering to her feet, when like a wave from nowhere, flooding her agonized83 consciousness, came a memory of Captain Andy’s instructions to her and her Camp Fire Sisters, how to act if ever, by any most unlikely chance, they should be caught in such a peril.
“Lie flat,” he said. “Flat as a flounder! Slip down under the thwart-seats, make yourself one with the dory’s bottom. In such a ‘fearsome fix’ a girl who couldn’t keep a grip of herself would stand up and holler! A Camp Fire Girl, with presence of mind, would know enough to lie flat!”
Trembling, this Camp Fire Girl sank back upon the shaking thwart. She closed her eyelids84 tight, the bursting tears mingling85 with the spray behind them. And the roar of the breakers was lost in the voice of prayer crying passionately86 in her own young heart.
As on one July day, nearly two months before, she had prayed desperately for physical strength to carry the dripping, bowing weight of a deaf-and-dumb child out of a playground pool, so now she prayed for soul-strength to carry her torch of presence of mind through these swirling, drowning waters—for self-grip!
And self-control came to her.
Down she slipped, down, until her shuddering87 body pressed the boat’s bottom, until she lay on her back, flattened88 out under the dripping, shiny cross-seats.
And with the obedient action came a gleam of hope, like a play of lightning through the rain, for Captain Andy had given a reason for his advice: that the dory being flat-bottomed the waves by themselves would never capsize her; neither was it likely that she would ship enough water even among the breakers to swamp her; that a girl in her—even though carried out to sea—would stand a fair chance, if she could only “hold on to herself,” of being picked up when the squall was over.
So Morning-Glory, flattened to a flounder—and wet as ever was flounder-fish yet—“held on to herself” and prayed and thought of her Camp Fire Sisters.
“I wonder if they miss me—they must—and whether they see the boat drifting down to the breakers on the bar?” she questioned as the roar of those breakers swelled89 to a crash in her ears, as she could see the white wave-tops rising furiously on either side of the boat, plucking off their ghastly head-feathers of spray and tossing them in upon her like a watery90 coverlet, while she lay on her back in her cradle, the boat’s bottom.
That was just before a change came.
Yes, her Camp Fire Sisters and their Guardian did see the driven dory, were at this moment plucking their hearts out in anguish91.
They were rending92 the streaming heavens with their cries, scouring93 the sodden94 Sugarloaf to find another boat and somebody strong to go after her while the dearest girl in their camp was being swept in a curtained drive of rain, upon a roaring bed of waves, out toward the mouth of the roar, the Bar, where the breakers curled in an ecstasy95, piling white on white, pale as climbing death.
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1
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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3
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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emblems
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| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
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gaudily
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| adv.俗丽地 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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7
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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foamed
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| 泡沫的 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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10
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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11
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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13
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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14
fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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15
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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16
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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17
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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18
glamor
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| n.魅力，吸引力 | |
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19
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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21
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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22
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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23
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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24
offshore
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| adj.海面的，吹向海面的；adv.向海面 | |
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25
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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26
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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27
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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28
dunes
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| 沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
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29
dune
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| n.(由风吹积而成的)沙丘 | |
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30
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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32
lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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33
exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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34
stringent
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| adj.严厉的；令人信服的；银根紧的 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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36
belabored
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| v.毒打一顿( belabor的过去式和过去分词 )；责骂；就…作过度的说明；向…唠叨 | |
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37
chastised
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| v.严惩（某人）（尤指责打）( chastise的过去式 ) | |
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38
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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gambols
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的第三人称单数 ) | |
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40
exultantly
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| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
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41
woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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42
jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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43
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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44
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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45
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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46
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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47
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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48
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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49
boisterously
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| adv.喧闹地，吵闹地 | |
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50
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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51
drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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52
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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53
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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54
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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56
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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57
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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58
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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59
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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60
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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61
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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62
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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66
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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blindfolded
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| v.（尤指用布）挡住（某人）的视线( blindfold的过去式 )；蒙住（某人）的眼睛；使不理解；蒙骗 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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foamy
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| adj.全是泡沫的，泡沫的，起泡沫的 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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scouring
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| 擦[洗]净，冲刷，洗涤 | |
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sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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