To-day, however, it was as serene and smiling as the Islands of the Blest. The southwest wind stirred the pine needles gently, making a pleasant quiet song. The tiny waves, as they lapped the sides of the ferry, gave out a “cloop, cloop” sound that still water makes against the bow of a canoe.
“What time does the last ferry go back, Captain?” asked Ben, of the old ferryman, whose face was as weather beaten and seamed as the hide of a hippopotamus.
“Depends on the weather,” answered the old man briefly.
“How many other ferry stations are there?” asked Charlie.
“Good,” exclaimed happy-go-lucky Americus Brown. “We’ll take the one that’s nearest when the time comes to go back and ride before the wind, and beat the rain and put old Ben out of business as a weather prophet.”
The ferryman said nothing, but his small eyes twinkled with amusement.
They were the only passengers on the boat that trip, and as the motor whirled up the hard-beaten road from the ferry landing, they noticed that the bungalows and summer cottages along the shore were closed for the season.
“It’s because it’s so hard to get food,” Percy explained. He had once visited some friends at Flag Point, the first settlement, and was to be their guide this morning to the great cave, which had been used, it was said, in the days when smugglers were common in the land.
The others were familiar only with the shore, where they had come on bathing and fishing excursions, and the boys and girls were eager to explore the rocky caverns, the fort, the little inlets, where pirates were supposed to have anchored their ships, and above all the smugglers’ cave, which Percy told them was a great vaulted chamber in the rocks, with an entrance no broader than a narrow door.
“Take the road going to the right,” called Percy, as Billie paused at the top of the cliff for directions. “It’s the best one for motoring and it goes past the old rifle-pit where we can eat lunch. We can leave the car there and climb down to the caves afterwards.”
“The Comet” turned obediently to the right and shot down the interminable expanse of empty white road, like a shooting star on the milky way.
Even Mary, who had been pale and silent all morning, regained her spirits on that glorious ride, when Merry, with head thrown back, began to sing: