Polly's Southern Cruise

“Some one ought to let the chef know Dalky expects to bring back guests for dinner,” ventured Polly to Mrs. Courtney.

“I think orders have been given,” replied she in a quiet tone.

“Why! How did Dalky know we expected to meet the boys whom Jack and Ray knew in France?” asked Polly, in astonishment.

“He didn’t. But he did say that he thought it would be very pleasant to have us meet the officers of the Post stationed at the Canal. It was his intention to invite them to dine at their first opportunity. Hence he left orders for the chef to prepare for extra plates every evening while we are here,” explained Mrs. Courtney.

“Oh, that will be fine!” exclaimed Polly, but Eleanor wondered if Mrs. Fabian and Mrs. Ashby, as well as Mrs. Courtney, knew of this arrangement.

Long before the females in the party came from their rooms robed in such becoming gowns as would distract any young man who, because of army discipline, had not had many opportunities to enjoy society, the men came on board and, by the hilarious manner of their conversation, suggested that apparently they had celebrated the victory of the Army baseball players in a social drink of native wine. But this was not the case. Sheer exuberance of spirits, natural not fermented, made the four boys who had known each other in France, bubble over and sparkle with wit and fun.

Mr. Dalken invited Bill and Bob to amuse themselves on deck while he and his male guests retired and dressed for dinner. Hence the two young men were lounging in the great reed chairs when Polly and Eleanor appeared. There was no time for a little flirtation, however, as Mrs. Courtney came out, looking magnificent in an American Beauty georgette gown, with her diamond neck-band and pendant earrings sparkling from throat and ears. Polly gazed in appreciative admiration at the combination of dark wavy hair, high-colored complexion, and brilliant brown eyes, with the rich crimson of the dress and the cold white of the diamonds.

Soon after this the other ladies joined the group on deck and finally the men came forth in their somber black dinner coats and immaculate white collars and cuffs. Jack came puffing and fanning himself with his handkerchief.

“Well, you girls ought to pay us a tribute for willingly going to the torture chair to-night. Stiff collars and heavy cloth coats on a torrid night as this in the Canal Zone!”

“Nobody asked you to!” retorted Eleanor.

“Maybe not, but we knew what we would get if we appeared in the lists, with our friends here in their uniform, and the rest of us in our tropical togs,” returned Jack.

“Oh, then it is mere pride that drove you to the deed?” asked Polly.

“No, it was desperate fear!” exclaimed Ray. “What chance would we stand with a bevy of wonderful orchids and two dazzling hummingbirds – meaning Bill and Bob, of course, – if we looked like sparrows from the city streets?”

Every one laughed. “Orchids are too good to be forgotten,” added Polly; “every time I see an orchid hereafter I shall remember that, for once in my lifetime, I was compared to the rare and beautiful flower.”

“Rare in New York, perhaps, but anything but rare down here!” retorted Jack.

“Oh, pshaw! Why spoil such a lovely compliment with the truth,” remonstrated Mrs. Courtney.

The constant teasing and darts of wit between Jack and Ray on the one side and Polly and Eleanor on the other, had been one source of amusement and perpetual fun for the tourists in Mr. Dalken’s party, and now that Bill and Bob had joined the others on deck that night, the quick repartee seemed tossed back and forth like a tennis ball between clever players.

A man servant now came over to announce dinner, and then, for the first time, Polly realized that the officers who were to be invited to dinner had not appeared.

“Where is the Colonel, Dalky?” asked she, wonderingly.

“Couldn’t find him anywhere, but I secured the acceptance of the other officers for dinner to-morrow night,” explained he.

“You did more than that, Dalky!” declared Jack, with a delighted glance at Bill and Bob. “You got the boys three days’ leave while we are stationed here.”

“Oh, really! Goody, goody!” cried several young voices in a chorus of joy.

“And an invitation for all to attend the usual weekly hop to-morrow night, but I can’t see for the life of me how any one can dance with the thermometer pushing the top of the mercury out of the tube,” grumbled Jack.

“Listen to him! Any one would think he isn’t the maddest one of the group when dancing is to be had!” laughed Mr. Dalken.

After finishing the first course, the host turned to his two new guests and said: “We are on the griddle for the tale of your experiences in France, boys. I know the girls have had difficulty in curbing their feminine curiosity to hear of your exploits.”

Both young men flushed, but Bob managed to say: “Bill, here, is the crack story-teller. I always take a back seat when he is on hand to do the honors for both.”

Therefore Bill was deluged with demands for the story, and having cleared his throat in a self-conscious way, he began.

But his preparations were ruined at that moment, when the Belgian lad on the yacht, now unexpectedly introduced a diversion. He had approached with a laden tray, in order to assist the man servant who had charge of the dinner party, but when he saw the two young men in uniform, he immediately sat the tray upon the floor and ran over to fall upon Bill’s neck.

CHAPTER XII – THE TALE TOLD BY THE BELGIAN

“Agh, mine goot savior! Mine beeg fine frent! I feel so full to choy dat I must cry!” The Belgian acted exactly like an overjoyed mastiff when his master returns from a long absence.

“Why, Johann! This is a surprise,” cried Bob, rising from his chair and joining Bill who still remained pinned in the arms of the happy foreigner.

The others in the party at the dinner table watched with amazement as the little tableaux came to a finish.

“Now that Johann is on the stage, it is most appropriate that he tell the story of our adventures in France. For, be it known to all present, Jo was with us when we first went over with the Canadian boys, and it was Jo’s mother who nursed me after I got away from the Hun temporary prison in Belgium.”

Bill now turned to Johann and made him understand that he was to tell those around the table of the adventures of the three buddies. Mr. Dalken immediately placed a chair for Johann, but that worthy felt he could talk louder and gesticulate better if he stood upon his long staunch legs.

“Agh! Dat wass beeg times – ven we fight so fine for my countree, eh? But now – agh! poor Johann iss no more dan a keetchen boy.”

The great big fellow shook his head despairingly and had it not been that he was deadly in earnest over the complaint, his audience would have laughed at such a dire circumstance as his being a kitchen boy.

“Yah! I tells dat story fine, Beel! Now hear me: Von day in ver early morning, I am sent to find someting to eat fer my mudder and seek seester. I like to belong to a solger’s life but eferyone say I too younk and I got’ta tak care ofer my family. Dis time I hear one farmer got a beeg peeg what he not like the Huns to eat, and he sent me vord to come carry him off and help to keel him.

“Veil, I go so far on one road dat I think pretty soon thet farm he come up and show himself, but I finds onny black smokin’ ruins wherever I go. When I think I been gone far enough on one road I say to myself: ‘Jo, now go dis way – mebbe dat man live down dis way.’ I take him. But I not find a farm – I find plenty Huns what sit and laff and eat pork what dey fry ofer a wood fire.

“I smell dat pork and I know now dey eat dat peeg what my farmer fren send vord to me to come keel for my mudder. So I go right up to dem six fat enemy, and I speak right out in him face and tell him what I feel. Mebbe dey don’t laff so much at me dat one man he say: ‘Ketch him and slit his gullet. He make a fine beeg dinner next time we eat!’

“Veil, and so, anudder Hun come ofer and stick out a hand to hoi’ my arm, but I shake him off like I feel he insult me. Den one fat feller what looks like a boss, calls out for him to put me in the peegpen where two more prisoners they keep.

“Queeck like anything four Huns ketch hold on me and push me in a leetle pen where I see here my good fren’ Beel and my nudder fine fren’ Bob. We tree mus’ live in a peeg pen all night, and nex’ day dose fat enemy tink to take us to a prison in heem own countree. But I tink difrunt.

“I say to Beel here, ‘Six Huns, tree white man. Six what so fat dey no jump, and tree of us what lean like famine.’ But we got good arm, and we stay in dat peeg pen all night and fix up sometings what make our enemy fall down er run like nudding.

“All night we vork and pull old wood from dat peeg pen and viles our enemy sleep we fix up our cloobs. I mix oop so much peeg-mud in big cannon balls like anyt’ing, and Beel he laffs so much he falls down. Bob here he not laff so much but he grin all over cause we got such a fine way to shoot dem enemy and run away.

“Veil, Beel say dis Hun bunch what he call foratch scouts – dem what should go out and bring in eat stuff. But dis crowd sit and eat what dey find, and so mebbe dey got’ta go back in the morning. Anyway, I hear the boss say late dat night, ‘You two go back and report in the mornin’ – no food yet. We four go on and keep huntin’ for more. See!’

“Yes, two men see, and I see, too! Dat’s ven I tell my plans and we vork hard all night.

“Pretty soon, when daylight comes ofer the sky, two men hurry off, and leaves four enemy to me. I got efery plan fixt so I tel Beel and Bob to be retty to hit dem cloobs hard, soon as I fire my soft mud-balls right in dem beeg fat faces of dem Chermans. Den I fixes plenty soft – ah, so soft – peeg-pen dirt-balls on my left arm, and I comes out sofly to where the Boss rolls on the grass asleep, and I stuff most his face and his mout’ all full of peeg-mud. Same time I fire mud-bullets all in the face of dem udder tree solgers, whiles Beel and Bob come right off me and whack! Bang! down coom dem peeg cloobs on top off dose Hun’s heads. One, two, fall down on the ground, and the Boss he got what Beel calls bracelets put on his hands, queeck. Bob he find dem right by the side of dat Boss, so he use ’em right!

“Veil, one man what stands oop, and dat Boss, we mek to walk queeck – oh so queeck – for the army what sits off away from the Hun side. And pooty soon, we march ofer No Man lant and Beel yell like he was mad. Eferybody mek such a beeg time ofer me, and Beel and Bob say I must go to tell the Capataine all about dem peeg mud-shots. So we go and Capataine laff, oh he laff, and he say: ‘Give Johann all the food he can take to his family.’

“But I say: ‘Agh, no, Mr. Capataine! All dem enemy now like to ketch Jo and find out how to mek peeg cannons, and I nefer again see my seester and mudder. Mebbe I like much better to dress oop like my seester and ride back to home in a peasant cart, yes?’

“Efery body laff again and say yes. So I find Beel here to go to get me a gurl’s dress, and I put him on. But Jo not so beeg den as now, and dat dress go on pooty goot, eh, Beel?”

Thus appealed to Bill agreed, but the hardly controlled laughter of the audience now pealed forth and the narrator could not be heard for a few moments. Then he resumed his tale.