The Pirate Story Megapack. R.M. Ballantyne

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СКАЧАТЬ they found a road which seemed well travelled, and appeared to run from one end of the island to the other. In a little while an old man came along on an ox-cart, who bowed with a good-natured smile, and remarked that it was a fine evening. To this they assented.

      “What’s the name of this island?” asked Bruce.

      Upon being thus questioned, the old man stopped his oxen, and, looking around upon the young faces before him, he said,—

      “What?”

      “What’s the name of this island?”

      “Tancook,” said the old man.

      “Tancook?” repeated Bruce; “and what’s the name of that other one?”—pointing to the outer island, which they had first encountered.

      “That thar?” said the old man, looking where Bruce pointed,—”that thar? Why, we call that thar island by the name of Ironbound.”,

      It was a fine name, a sonorous and at the same time an appropriate name, and deeply impressed the boys.

      “Fine farming country this,” said Bruce, once more plunging into the conversation.

      “Wal, pooty so so,” said the old man. “We ain’t got no reason to complain; though, what with diphthery, an sich, it’s mighty hard on children.”

      “A good many people here, apparently,” continued Bruce, in a lively key.

      “Wal, pooty tol’ble,” said the old man; “’bout a hundred families on this here.”

      “Farmers or fishermen?” asked Bruce.

      “Wal, a leetle of the one, an a leetle of the tother.”

      “You’ve got a church here too,” continued Bruce.

      “Yas—a meetin-house.”

      “What persuasion is that meeting-house?” asked Bruce, in an anxious tone of voice, as though the fortunes of the whole party depended on the answer.

      “Wal, mostly Baptist,” said the old man, “though not all. Were kine o’ cut off, an live mostly to ourselves. But Tancook ain’t sich a bad place, arter all, and we manage to grub along.”

      “It’s a fine bay around here,” said Bruce, with a grand, patronizing sweep of his right arm, which seemed meant to include all creation.

      “Yas,” said the old man; “there ain’t nothin like it nowhar. We’ve got three hundred and sixty-five islands, of all shapes an sizes, in this here bay—one for every day in the year. This here’s the biggest, an the smallest isn’t more than a yard long. Yas, it’s a fine bay, an a great harbor.”

      “Three hundred and sixty-five islands!” exclaimed Bruce, in a tone of surprise. “Is it possible? And one for every day in the year! How extraordinary! But is there really that exact number, or is it only fancy?”

      “Really an truly,” said the old man, with whom this was evidently the deepest conviction of his mind. “O, yas, thar’s no mistake or doubt about it. They’ve all been counted, over an over; yas, over an over—over an over.”

      “It’s very strange,” said Bruce. “It’s most extraordinary; and now I dare say,” he continued, in an insinuating way, “I dare say that, among so many islands, some of them are well worth a visit. This island of yours is a perfect wonder—so fertile, so beautiful! Are there any others that are like this?”

      “Wal, not to say jest like this; but they’re fine islands, many of them, an curous, too. Thar’s some that’s only islands at high tide, bein connected with the main land by narrer beaches an shoals at low tide; an then, agin, thar’s others that’s only islands at low tide, bein completely kivered up by the water at high tide; and so it goes; an some’s cleared an inhabited, like this; an some’s wild, an kivered with woods; an some has only one family on it; an some’s cultivated, but has no one livin on them; an so we’ve got all sorts, you see, an they’re all well wuth visitin. Thar’s Dead Man’s Island, an Quaker Island, an Oak Island, an Maple Island, an Ironbound;” and the old man went on to enumerate dozens of names in addition to these, out of which no individual one made any impression on the minds of his hearers.

      Thus far Bruce had been questioning the old man chiefly with the hope that he might drop some remark which might be of use to them in their search after the treasure island. But no such remark was forthcoming, and the string of names which was enumerated conveyed no information whatever. So Bruce made one more effort, and ventured to come a little more to the point.

      “This bay,” said he, “has been a great place for buccaneers—so I’ve heard. Do you know anything about them? Can you tell me of any island in particular that people talk of as being visited by them? There’s one, I think, that the buccaneers used to visit. Perhaps you’ve heard about them, and can tell us the name of the island, and where it is.”

      Now, this was pretty direct; indeed, all the other boys thought that it was altogether too direct, especially since they had all concluded that it was best not to ask any questions, except those of a general character. Bart and Tom both nudged Bruce very violently, to rebuke his rashness; but their nudges had no effect.

      The old man stared, then frowned, then looked blank, and then frowned again. Then he looked at Bruce, and said, in an uncertain, hesitating way,—

      “Bucker nears?”

      “Yes,” said Bruce. “Buccaneers. They used to come here, you know. Lots of them.”

      The old man wagged his old head up and down several times.

      “O, yas; I dar say. Buccar nears—an lots of other fish, that’s left us. They used to come here in shoals—likewise mackerel; but them days is over. Sometimes shad an her’n comes here now; but things ain’t as they used to be, an it’s gittin harder an harder every year for us fishermen. It’s as much as a man can do, with farmin and fishin together, to find bread an butter for himself an his children. As to them—buck—buck—buckfish, I don’t know. I don’t mind ever hearin of them, leastways not under that thar name. P’raps they’re a kine’ o’ mackerel; an I only wish they’d come now, as they used to when I was young.”

      At this extraordinary misapprehension of his meaning, Bruce stared, and seemed, for a moment, about to explain himself; but the other boys checked him, and the old man himself seemed to become suddenly lost in his remembrances of those days of youth, which might never be equalled now.

      “Won’t you jump in, an take a ride?” said he, at length. “Air you goin my way? Ef so, you may as well git a lift as not.”

      The boys thanked him, and excused themselves. They were not going his way, but in another direction. A few more words passed, and at length the old man bade them good by, whistled up his oxen, and moved forward. As for the boys, they did not feel inclined to pursue their investigations any further just then.

      “The next time we ask,” said Tom, “we’ll have to talk about Captain Kidd, plump and plain, and then perhaps they’ll understand.”

      “Well,” said Bart, “I don’t see what use there is in proclaiming to the whole world our business. We’d better cruise about for a while, and examine for ourselves.”

      “O, СКАЧАТЬ