Читать книгу The Pie and the Pirate - Albert Lee - Страница 4

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This process had been barely begun, a few pots and kettles had been placed upon the stove, and the old negress was about to sit down to peel potatoes, when she was startled by two boyish voices shouting in unison, “Hello, ’Mandy!”

Turning quickly in the direction of these sudden sounds, she saw Ted and Benny resting on the windowsill in the attitude of Raphael’s cherubs. Ted, fourteen, and Benny, his cousin, twelve, had a capacity for food, especially between meals, which was one of the old cook’s chief sources of worry and dismay.

“Well?” she began, non-committally, making a pretense of resuming her work.

The boys meanwhile were moving leisurely into the kitchen and casting their eyes about, seeking what they might devour.

“What you cooking for lunch?” asked Benny, as he peered at the stove.

“Now, you Benny,” cried ’Mandy, hastening toward him, “you git away from dat stove! And you, Teddy, you quit fumblin’ round dat basket! Ef you two boys don’t git out o’ here an’ let me do my cookin’,”—arming herself with a huge wooden spoon,—“I’ll tell yo’ uncle, and yo’ father”—this to Benny.

But at about this point in her harangue ’Mandy became aware that the boys were paying no attention whatever to the dire threats she was making, but were standing there spellbound, in the middle of the kitchen, gazing right past her into space. She ceased talking, and turned slowly about to discover what might be behind her.

Standing framed in the doorway was such a figure of a man as ’Mandy had never dreamed could exist outside of the stories they tell to frighten children. He was of medium height, with a great, broad-brimmed, black felt hat pulled down at one side. His long hair fell to his shoulders, and a fierce black mustache drooped over the corners of his mouth. He wore a short coat with brass buttons, and from the top of his broad belt protruded the handles of two wicked-looking pistols. His trousers ended just below the knee, where they were met by the tops of tall sea-boots which were folded back over the boots.

One look at this apparition was enough for ’Mandy. She emitted a sort of guttural sound which might have been an invocation, and made a dive for the nearest door. It is quite probable that she meant to rush into the house for safety; but in her panic she chose the cellar door, and, as this slammed behind her, the boys and the intruder heard a large, fat body bump-ety-bump down a long flight of wooden steps and finally crash into a barrel, which, from the resulting sounds, had evidently been filled with empty bottles. After that, there was not a sound.

The boys were not quite so dismayed as ’Mandy, and they presently noticed that, in spite of his fierce make-up, the stranger bore a not unkindly countenance. This impression was strengthened when he took off his hat and remarked in quiet, serious tones:

“I am afraid I have alarmed the cook.”

“I guess you’ve killed her,” ventured Benny.

“They say it’s bad luck to kill a nigger,” continued the stranger.

Ted, who had been closely scanning their visitor, and who had noted the peculiarities of his costume, now gathered himself together sufficiently to ask:

“Are you a pirate?”

“Yes, young gentlemen,” he replied gaily, replacing his hat; “I am a pirate. I—”

“Where is your pirate ship?”

“Not far away,” the man explained, waving one arm toward the outer world; “safely anchored to a fence some little distance back. I thought you might be in need of soap—”

“Soap!” exclaimed both the boys at once, involuntarily looking at their hands, which showed the marks of a morning’s unrestricted leisure.

“Not you, young gentlemen,” quickly interposed the pirate, noticing that he had broached a tender subject; “not you. I meant the household. I thought you might require soap for the floor, for the pots and pans, for general housework.”

“Oh,” said Benny; and then in a low tone to Ted: “Do you suppose he’s a real pirate?”

“He certainly looks like one. Let’s sneak.”

But Benny was of sterner heart. “Are you a real pirate?” he asked.

“I am that,” the man answered; “a r-r-real pirate, and I’ve sailed the Spanish main—” The boys retreated slightly toward the rear of the kitchen.

“But have no fear,” he continued pleasantly; “I am not a fierce or a bloodthirsty pirate. In fact, my ways are so mild that they call me ‘Gentle Jim.’” With a sigh, Gentle Jim sat down upon a neighboring chair.

“What’s the name of your ship?” began Ted, considerably reassured.

“Ah, my ship,” he repeated, “she is the Saucy Sally, and a right good ship she is.”

“Long, black, with rakish masts?” asked Benny, in a sort of stage whisper.

“No,” stammered Gentle Jim, thoughtfully—“no; not quite that. She is smaller. She is only a schooner—a one-horse-power schooner—”

“But there isn’t any river hereabouts,” objected Ted, somewhat suspiciously.

“Ah, that’s it,” admitted the pirate, rising from his chair; “that’s just it. No raging sea or shallow stream may balk the Saucy Sally of her prey. Perhaps you would like to see her.”

“Indeed we would,” came from the boys in one breath.

“Then it will give me great pleasure to lead you to where she is anchored. But first,”—and the pirate assumed a most pained and apologetic expression,—“if I may so intrude, I omitted to breakfast this morning; and it being now nearly noon—”

“That’s right,” interrupted Benny, addressing himself to Ted; “it is nearly noon, and we’re hungry, too. Let’s look about and see if we can’t find something and we’ll all go down to the pirate ship and eat.”

An examination of the market-basket displayed nothing but uncooked vegetables and well-soldered tins. The next likely spot, naturally, was the ice-box. Ted squatted in front of it and pulled the door open. The first thing his eye rested upon was Barbara’s pie. He seized upon it and held it up to view with a shout of delight.

“Hooray!” cried Benny, “that’s enough for three!”

“Sure,” assented Gentle Jim. “Let us go.”

“How far do we have to go?”

“Well, the Saucy Sally is anchored about a quarter of a mile down the road?”

“A schooner on the road?”

“I ought perhaps to have explained,” began the pirate, with some hesitancy, “that the Saucy Sally is not exactly a sailing schooner. She is a ‘prairie schooner’—a sort of wagon, you know, with a big top—”

“Oh!” groaned Benny, casting a look of reproach toward Gentle Jim.

After a moment of reflection, Ted said:

“I’m thinking it wouldn’t just do for us to carve this pie quite so near the house. You drive your wagon down the road about a mile till you come to the stile; you’ll know the place by the four big chestnut-trees on each side of the road. That’s a good place to eat pie. Benny and I will cut across lots and get there about the same time you do. And, here, you can carry the pie.”

Gentle Jim seized the dish greedily, winked at the boys, and set forth rapidly down the path whence he had come.