"Don't tell Jenny Ann, please, girls," begged Madge, as the four girls clambered aboard the "Merry Maid." "It was a very silly trick that I played. I should hate to have the cottagers at the Cape hear of it. I don't suppose I shall ever grow up."

"Girls, whatever made you stay in the water so long?" demanded Miss Jenny Ann, coming into the girls' stateroom with a big pitcher of hot chocolate and a plate of cakes. "I have been uneasy about you. You have been in the water for half an hour. That's too long for a first swim. Poor Tania is fast asleep. The child is utterly worn out with so much excitement. Think of never having been out of a crowded city in her life, and then seeing this wonderful Cape May! Tania wanted to stay up to wish you good night.

I left her staring out of the cabin window at the stars when I went into our kitchen to make the chocolate. When I came back she was asleep."

"Dear Jenny Ann," said Madge penitently, pulling their chaperon down on the berth beside her, while Lillian poured the chocolate, "it was my fault we were late. The bad things are always my fault. But we are going to have a perfectly glorious time this summer, aren't we? Just think, next year Phil and I shall be nineteen and nearly old ladies."

"I wonder if anything special is going to happen to us this holiday?"

pondered Phil, crunching away on her third cake.

"Something special always does happen to us," declared Lillian. "Let's go to bed now, because, if we are going to row up the bay in the morning to explore the sh.o.r.e, we shall have to get up early to put the 'Merry Maid'

in order. We must be regular old Cape May inhabitants by the time that Mrs. Curtis and Tom arrive."

Next morning bad news came to the crew of the little houseboat. Mrs.

Curtis had been called to Chicago by the illness of her brother, and Tom had gone with her. They did not know how soon they would be able to come on to Cape May; but within a very few days Philip Holt, the goody-goody young man who was one of Mrs. Curtis's special favorites, would come on to Cape May, and Mrs. Curtis hoped that the girls would see that he had a good time.

Neither Madge, Phil, Lillian nor Eleanor felt particularly pleased at this information. But Tania, who was the only one of the party that knew the young man well, burst unexpectedly into a flood of tears, the cause of which she obstinately refused to explain.

CHAPTER VII

CAPTAIN JULES, DEEP SEA DIVER

The "Water Witch" rocked lazily on the breast of the waves, awaiting the coming of the four girls, who had planned to row up the bay on a voyage of discovery. They were not much interested in staying about among the Cape May cottagers, after the conversation which they had innocently overheard from the deck of the launch the night before. Of course, if Mrs. Curtis and Tom had come on to Cape May at once to occupy their cottage, as they had expected to do, all would have been well. The four young women and their chaperon would have been immediately introduced to the society of the Cape. However, the girls were not repining at their lack of society. They had each other; there was the old town of Cape May to be explored with the great ocean on one side and Delaware Bay on the other.

"Do be careful, children," called Miss Jenny Ann warningly as the girls arranged themselves for a row in their skiff. "In all our experience on the water I never saw so many yachts and pleasure boats as there are on these waters. If you don't keep a sharp lookout one of the larger boats may run into you. Don't get into trouble."

"We are going away from trouble, Miss Jenny Ann," protested Phil. "There is a yacht club on the sound, but we are going to row up the bay past the shoals and get as far from civilization as possible."

Madge stood up in the skiff and waved her hand to their chaperon. The girls looked like a small detachment of feminine naval cadets in their nautical uniforms. Each one of them wore a dark blue serge skirt of ankle length and a middy blouse with a blue sailor collar. They were without hats, as they hoped to get a coating of seash.o.r.e tan without wasting any time.

"I shall expect you home by noon," were Miss Jenny Ann's final words as the "Water Witch" danced away from the houseboat.

"Aye, aye, Skipper!" the girls called back in chorus. "Shall we bring back lobsters or clams for luncheon, if we can find them?"

"_Clams!_" hallooed Miss Jenny Ann through her hands. "I am dreadfully afraid of live lobsters." Then the houseboat chaperon retired to write a letter to an artist, a Mr. Theodore Brown, whose acquaintance she had made during the first of the houseboat holidays. He had suggested that he would like to come to Cape May some time later in the summer if any of his houseboat friends would be pleased to see him, and she was writing to tell him just how greatly pleased they would be.

The "Merry Maid" had found a quiet anchorage in one of the smaller inlets of the Delaware Bay, not far from the town of Cape May. The larger number of the summer cottages were farther away on the tiny islands near the sound and along the ocean front.

The "Water Witch" sped gayly over the blue waters of the bay in the brilliant late June sunshine. Madge and Phil, as usual, were at the oars.

Tania crouched quietly at Lillian's feet in the stern of the skiff.

Eleanor sat in the prow.

"What do you think of it all, Tania?" Madge asked the little adopted houseboat daughter. Tania had been very silent since their arrival at the seash.o.r.e. If she were impressed at the wonderful and beautiful things she had seen since she left New York City, she had, so far, said nothing.

Her large black eyes blinked in the dazzling light. She was looking straight up toward the sky in a curious, absorbed fashion. "I was trying to make up my mind, Madge, if this place was as beautiful as my kingdom in Fairyland," answered Tania seriously, "and I believe it is."

"Have you a kingdom in Fairyland, little Tania?" inquired Phil gently.

She did not understand the child's odd fancies, as Madge did.

Tania nodded her head quietly. "Of course I have," she returned simply.

"Hasn't every one a Fairyland, where things are just as they should be, beautiful and good and kind? I am the queen of my kingdom."

Phil looked puzzled, but Madge only laughed. "Don't mind Tania, Phil. She is going to be a very sensible little houseboat girl before our holiday is over. Besides, I understand her. She only says some of the things I used to think when I was a tiny child. But I do wish the people on the boats would not stare at us so; there is nothing very wonderful in our appearance."

The girls were trying to guide their rowboat among the other larger craft that were afloat on the bay. They wished to get into the more remote waters. In the meantime it was embarra.s.sing to have smartly dressed women and girls put up their lorgnettes and opera gla.s.ses to gaze at the girls as the latter rowed by.

"Can there be anything the matter with us?" asked Phil solicitously. "I never saw anything like this fire of inquisitive stares."

"Of course not, Phil," answered Lillian sensibly. "It is only because we are strangers at Cape May, and most of the people whom we see about come here each year. Then we are the only persons who live in a Noah's ark, as those pleasant people on the yacht called our pretty 'Merry Maid' last night. Don't worry. Have you thought how odd it is that we won't even know them if we should be introduced to them later? We did not see either them or their boat very plainly last night; we only overheard them talking."

"But I'll know the voice of that woman who screamed," replied Madge rather grimly. "I just dare her to shriek again without my recognizing her dulcet tones."

The girls were now drawing away from the crowded end of the bay. They kept along fairly close to the sh.o.r.e. There was an occasional house near the water, but these dwellings were farther and farther apart. Finally the girls rowed for half a mile without seeing any residence save an occasional fisherman's hut. They hoped to reach some place where they could catch at least a glimpse of the wonderful cedar woods that flourish farther up the coast of the bay.

Suddenly Lillian sang out: "Look, girls, there is the dearest little house! It is almost in the water. It rivals our houseboat, it is so like a ship. Isn't it too cunning for anything!"

Madge and Phyllis rested on their oars. The girls stared curiously.

They saw a house built of shingles that had turned a soft gray which exactly resembled an old three-masted schooner. It had a tiny porch in front, but the first roof ended in a point, the second rose higher, like a larger sail, and the third, which must have covered the kitchen, was about the height of the first.

"See, Tania, I can make the funny house by putting my fingers together,"

laughed Lillian. "My thumbs are the first roof, my three fingers the second, and my little fingers the last."

The girls rowed nearer the odd cottage. The place was deserted; at least they saw no one about. Over the front door of the house hung a trim little sign inscribed, "The Anchorage."

"Dear me, here is a boathouse, and we've a houseboat!" exclaimed Eleanor.

"I wish we dared go ash.o.r.e and knock at the door, to ask some one to show us over it."

"I don't think we had better try it, Eleanor," remonstrated Phil. "The house probably belongs to some grouchy old sea captain who has built it to get away from people."

At this moment a man at least six feet tall, wearing old yellow tarpaulins, came around the side of the house of the three sails with a large basket on each arm. He sat down on a rock in front of the house and began lifting mussel and oyster sh.e.l.ls out of one of his baskets. He would peer at them earnestly before throwing them over to one side. He was a giant of a man, past middle age. His face was so weather-beaten that his skin was like leather. His eyes were blue as only a sailor's eyes can be. On one of the man's shoulders perched a wizened little monkey that every now and then tugged at its master's grizzled hair or chattered in his ear.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Good Morning" Shouted Madge.]

The man did not observe the girls in the rowboat, although they were only a few yards away.

"Good morning," sang out Madge cheerfully, forgetting the vow of silence which the girls had made that morning against the Cape Mayites. But then, the girls had never dreamed of seeing such a fascinating seafaring old mariner. Their vow had been taken against the society people.

The sailor, however, did not return Madge's friendly salutation; he went on examining his oyster and mussel sh.e.l.ls.

Madge looked crestfallen. The old sailor had such a splendid, strong face. He did not seem to be the kind of man who would fail to return a friendly good morning greeting.

"I don't think he heard you, Madge. Let's all halloo together," proposed Lillian.

"Good morning!" shouted five young voices in a mischievous chorus.