johnny blossom was entirely at a loss. here it was the best part of the vacation and not a bit of fun going on. it rained nearly every day—such disgustingly long showers that if they did ever hold up, it was too sopping wet in the grass and everywhere to do anything. besides the wind blew very hard, but that was rather pleasant, there was so much you could do when there was a good wind—fly kites, for instance.
but though kites were great fun, there was something else tellef and he had thought of. they had not done it yet, but they had often talked about it; and their plan was that some day, when there was a good brisk wind, they should take that enormous, old-fashioned umbrella tellef’s grandmother had, and use it for a sail! it would work beautifully.
they were not allowed to sail with real sails, but with an umbrella—pooh! nobody could object to that, surely. he would hold the umbrella and tellef would steer.
it was easy enough to get possession of the umbrella, and out at sandy point there was always a boat to be had just by turning over your hand, so to speak. today there was exactly the right kind of a breeze. possibly it was a little strong, but that would be only the more fun. so johnny blossom took to his heels and sped over the hill to tellef.
the umbrella and the boat were soon procured and the boys started out. first they rowed in very proper fashion past the tongue—a rather high point of land; but when they were well hidden by this point, they pulled in the oars and put up the umbrella in a flash.
pshaw! what a beastly wind! he could scarcely hold the umbrella, and as for tellef’s steering, it was downright stupid. oh, oh! was the boat going to upset? it was a lively time. the boat flew like an arrow, the waves were high, the wind—really he could not hold the umbrella much longer. my, oh, my! how far out they were now. the boat took in water every minute—whole buckets full. johnny blossom’s blouse was sopping wet.
oh!
away went the umbrella, right out of his hands, and only by a hair’s breadth did the boat escape capsizing. tellef, as quick as lightning, had thrown his weight to the upper side of the careening boat or they would have gone straight into the water.
over the sea sailed the umbrella—and there were johnny and tellef in the rocking boat far out from land.
“ugh! boy!” said tellef.
“ugh! boy!” said johnny.
“that wasn’t much to do,” said tellef. what it was that wasn’t much to do, tellef didn’t say. johnny only stared out over the gray-blue splashing waves.
only think! he might have been lying under those waves now!
and all at once the truth smote him: he ought not to have done this; he had known all the time that he ought not, and yet—he had done it.
it was only an excuse when he had told himself that it was all right to sail with an umbrella. he knew perfectly well that it wasn’t. ugh! how disobedient he had been, he who was heir of kingthorpe, too! before, it didn’t matter so very much if he were disobedient; but everything was different now that he was the kingthorpe heir. he must not be disobedient any more, for it was shameful. how sorry, how sorry he was!
all this time they were striving as hard as they could to turn the boat toward shore. johnny’s thoughts ran on:
it wasn’t because the wind blew so furiously or that the waves dashed so high or that the umbrella had floated away, that made him so sorry! no indeed. pooh! nor was it that they sat drenched in the tossing boat far out among great white-capped waves. if he only had not been so awfully disobedient.
suppose he had been drowned. it would have been pleasant, wouldn’t it, for him, the heir of kingthorpe, to meet uncle isaac at the heavenly gate, after being so disobedient?
“this was a crazy plan,” said tellef. his cap had blown away, his hair was dripping round his ears, and he rowed with might and main.
“if we can only get behind the tongue,” said tellef.
“if we can only get behind the tongue,” repeated johnny. they rowed steadily for a while, their red faces showing the effort they made, while the wind blew more fiercely than ever.
“we can’t round the point,” said tellef.
“yes, we can,” said johnny blossom, bracing his feet more firmly against the bottom of the boat.
“shall we shout for help?” asked tellef.
“oh, that would only frighten them if they heard us,” answered johnny blossom.
the great waves were now driving the boat in towards the shore, but unfortunately to the outer, dangerous side of the tongue.
“shall we say our prayers?” asked tellef.
“not yet,” answered john.
—“for we are surely going to drown,” continued tellef.
the wind was roaring so that they could scarcely hear each other speak.
the boat was driven nearer and nearer to the shore. “it is going to strike and we must jump for the land,” screamed johnny. the instant after, the boat did strike, and tellef and john were thrown head first onto the smooth beach.
tellef had been thrown farthest up; he pulled john to where he was, and there they lay, panting, while the boat swung and tossed in the sea, a little way out.
“now we are saved,” said tellef.
but my, oh, my! how wet they were! they sprang to their feet and ran—up over the tongue, over mound and marsh; they climbed over fences and waded through thick-growing heather. now and again they glanced seaward, seeking the boat and the umbrella, but not a scrap of either was to be seen—a fine result from their grand adventure, truly!
“you’d better come into our house to get yourself dry,” said tellef.
“but the umbrella,” said johnny.
“yes—it was as unlucky as it could be,” said tellef. “perhaps it is as well not to say anything about the umbrella just at first.”
but no sooner had they come into the little kitchen where tellef’s mother was roasting coffee over an open fire than john said:
“the worst thing is about the umbrella.”
“about what umbrella?” asked tellef’s mother.
“grandmother’s. it blew away.”
tellef’s mother was very much out of patience, but she wrung the water from johnny’s blouse and hung the blouse by the fire.
“and you,” she said sharply, “the kingthorpe heir—to behave like this!”
oh, yes—it was just that that made everything worse. johnny blossom sat in his shirt sleeves close by the hearth, staring thoughtfully into the fire.
it was being heir of kingthorpe, he could plainly see, that made things difficult; for, truly, hadn’t everything been easier when he was just johnny blossom? there was so much to think of now—responsibility and all that. but still, he really wanted to be good; he really and truly did; though he hadn’t seemed to succeed very well.
johnny blossom sat crouched together on the veranda steps, mother sat on the veranda sewing, and the sun shone hotly down. long silence.
“well, john,” said mother. “what is the matter?”
how could mother know that anything was the matter? for he had just sat there stock still and had not said a single word!
“oh, there are some things that are so hard, mother.”
“yes, i know that.”
“mother dear, must i be the kingthorpe heir?”
“yes, you must, john.”
“well. i’ve been out sailing with an umbrella”—
“but john, john! you knew perfectly well that you ought not to do that!”
“yes, but i just forgot it for a minute or two, mother.”
“that’s only an excuse, john. you remembered it all the time. look me right in the eye and say whether you didn’t remember it.”
johnny blinked at a great rate, and then looked straight at his mother. yes, he had remembered it, that is to say, deep in, he had.
“exactly—‘deep in’—that was conscience, little john.”
“there is so much to remember, mother!”
“no. what father and mother tell you about right and wrong is not too much for you to remember.”
deep silence.
“the umbrella blew away, mother, and the boat is lost, too.”
“tell me all about it.”
“the waves were too high, you see—that’s the way it all came; and the umbrella was too frightfully heavy; but we landed head first, if you’ll believe it. this is the way we fell over each other.” and johnny blossom demonstrated on the veranda floor how they had been cast ashore.
“you got wet then?”
“oh, yes. you may know we were wet, sopping wet. we were almost upset in the sea, you understand; we were nearly drowned.”
“oh, john! my dear little john!” mother was so frightened that she drew him into her arms.
“yes, but you see we didn’t drown; and my blouse got dry as tinder at the fireplace in tellef’s house. just feel how dry it is!”
“but isn’t your shirt wet?”
“yes, that’s wet,” admitted johnny blossom.
the next day mother said: “father and i have decided, john, that you shall go away for a while this vacation. you shall go to visit mrs. beck at ballerud. that will be pleasant for you, and as it is an inland country place, i shan’t have to be in constant anxiety about your falling into the sea.”
