Hitty, Her First Hundred Years/Chapter 7

I have often wondered if any other doll was ever called upon to play such a rôle as mine? Here I was suddenly chosen to be god to a tribe of savages and with no more idea of what was expected of me than they would have had of how to behave in the church on Meeting House Hill. But in all fairness I must admit that I have seldom been treated with more consideration. They made me a little temple of green leaves and bamboo shoots to which I was conducted with great ceremony. I was set upon a sort of altar, trimmed with pink hibiscus flowers. As soon as these drooped, fresh ones were brought, also small offerings in the way of fruits and shells. If the responsibility of saving the lives of Phœbe Preble and all the rest had not weighed so heavily upon me, I fear that all this attention might very easily have turned my head.

As it was, I let the natives do as they wished with me, trusting to Providence that I might survive this experience as I had the others so far. I cannot say I was altogether happy when the Chief, who seemed to have my welfare very much at heart, removed my garments, one after the other, until I sat shamelessly upon my altar clad only in my muslin chemise. The only reason this had been spared to me was because of the red cross-stitch letters of my name, which in spite of salt water and sun had miraculously managed to keep some of their color. These seemed to attract their attention. I suppose they considered them some magic sign or spell, that must not be broken. How I blessed the day that Mrs. Preble had suggested Phœbe’s sewing them there!

I was also forced to undergo some rather trying attempts at decorating my complexion according to South Sea Island ideas of ​beauty. Bright juices were squeezed from various berries and smeared on my face and body, till I dared not think of the outlandish appearance I must be cutting. But this I endured, as I would have endured far more, for the sake of those whose safety depended upon me. I did not object so much to some leaves and flowers they added or to a lump of red coral they hung about my neck on a thread of grass. This I took to be some sacred talisman. I trusted that my being of mountain-ash wood might keep off any evil power it possessed. In fact, I found myself counting for a great many things on those good properties which the Old Peddler had said were inme. Those were days in which I had need of all the power I could summon.

It is rather lonely to be a god for days on end. Perhaps I should have felt differently about this if I had been able to understand what the brown men said to one another when they made their queer gruntings before my temple. But they never knew if I felt bored or frightened. I continued to smile down upon them as serenely as if I had been back on a State of Maine mantelpiece. I had been made with a pleasant expression, so it was really no credit tome. I longed above all else to know what had become of Phœbe and the others, but only once or twice did I catch the sound of familiar voices among the trees not far away, and once I thought I recognized Bill Buckle and Jeremy in the distance. How many days and nights passed thus I do not know, for I soon lost count of them in my new position.

But it was during this time that I came to know monkeys and their ways as I never should have come to know them otherwise. At first, it made me very uneasy to have them clambering about in the branches all round me, with their crazy chatterings and their lean and supple tails. They had a way of coming close and staring me almost out of countenance, and some of the bolder ones even poked me with their skinny paws. Their fingers were thin and inquisitive and they used them for all the world like human beings. This made me both uncomfortable and envious. I did not think it fair for these wild creatures to have ten whole fingers, while I must get ​along as best I could with my two clumsy wooden mittens. However, as I became more lonely and the monkeys grew more used to me, we struck up a sort of friendship. The kindliness and delicacy of their hands reassured me in time and I came to enjoy the touch of their fingers when they stroked me curiously, as they sometimes did. There was one smallish monkey with a silvery-white face and an especially active tail, who paid me considerable attention. I almost came to understand his chatterings, and his visits helped to break the monotony of my days and nights. Once I remember he even brought me a present. I think it must have been a nutmeg, at any rate it looked like those I have met with since on pantry shelves. I think he expected me to eat it, but though I was unable to show him my thanks in this way, I let it lie in my lap till one of his more mischievous mates made off with it.

Bright tropic birds flew and sang about me, shining green lizards sometimes slid about my temple floor, and so I continued this life until the night of my rescue. Of this I had had no warning whatever. Indeed, I had been able to learn nothing of the fate of my family, nor had I caught even a glimpse of them of late. I had no idea whether they knew where the natives had hidden me. I only hoped they did.

Then one night, as my captors slept in a circle not far from my temple, I heard the unmistakable sound of stealthy human footsteps coming nearer and nearer. There was no moon, scarcely any light except from a star or two that showed through the branches of the palm trees. I had no idea whether it was friend or foe, but something told me that I should know before many more minutes passed.

After a while I felt a stirring in the branches below me. My temple was set rather high upon woven shoots and these now began to shake perilously. I felt fearful that the savages might hear and become roused. I had no wish to be in the midst of a skirmish, for those natives’ clubs would make short work of me.

Some one was drawing short, panting breaths quite close to me now. I felt them warm on my face. Then a hand closed round ​me. I felt myself being lifted off my perch and borne away still in the hot, clutching hand.

As we sped through the hot, soft darkness, something about that hand seemed to reassure me. I knew I had felt its touch before, and even in the midst of such danger, I felt more secure than I had in many days and nights. Now we had cleared the thicker palm trees and I was able to make out the features of my rescuer—dim, but unmistakably Andy.

He sped toward the shore, moving stealthily in his bare feet and looking over his shoulder every once in so often to make sure no one was following us.

“Fooled ’em that time,” I heard him mutter with satisfaction as he ran.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, as it seemed, arose the form of Jeremy Folger. I could have wept for joy at the sight of his crooked back.

“What you doin’ here?” he asked in a whisper. “I thought you was along of the rest.”

“I went back a ways after somethin’.” Andy spoke evasively and kept me behind him. “Ain’t the boats ready yet?”

“Most,” Jeremy told him. “One’s sprung a bad leak though. Looks like we’ll all have to crowd in one, an’ that’s not so good when it comes to makin’ time.”

From more of their whispered words I gathered that a vessel was in sight. At least it had been that afternoon. Captain Preble had dared not make any attempt at signaling or putting off in the boats for fear of rousing the natives, who had not been acting in any too friendly a way of late. However, it was now or never, they all agreed. It was a desperate chance, for should they not be able to reach the ship in time to signal for help, the natives would no doubt be hostile if they returned. It had been necessary to wait for darkness to get the boats out of hiding. Even now there was no knowing when some savage might surprise them at their preparations and alarm the rest.

Now we were on shore, in a small, sheltered cove, well hidden from view. I could just make out the dark shapes of Captain ​Preble and the rest. Phœbe and her mother were already in the stern seat of one boat and the men were standing up to their thighs in the water, loading in the few belongings still left us. This must be managed with great care to keep the boat trimmed well. The Captain spoke tensely. I knew from the tones of his voice that he was more worried than he would have admitted. When he caught sight of Andy he began giving him a piece of his mind for having left them.

“You’re a fine sailor,” he scolded, “runnin’ off at a time like this. If I wasn’t so pressed I declare I’d give you a whippin’ you wouldn’t soon forget. ’T would serve you right to get left behind to spend your days with the savages.”

Andy took this scolding in good part. But when the Captain was through he drew me out from behind his back.

“I went after Hitty,” he explained, holding me out. At this Phœbe started up in the boat, so that it rocked perilously.

“Sit down, Phœbe!” commanded her father. “Yes, it’s Hitty, right enough.”

He took me from Andy and turned me about in his hands a moment before he passed me on to Phœbe.

“So that’s what you were up to?” he asked Andy in quite a different tone. “Didn’t you know you might have got yourself killed for touchin’ her?”

“Yes, sir,” said Andy rather sheepishly, “but I found out where they was keepin’ her an’ when Phœbe cried ’bout havin’ to go off an’ leave her behind, I thought I’d try to fetch her along.”

“It’s a wonder we ain’t all dead now,” put in Bill Buckle.

“’T won’t be no afternoon tea party if they find she’s gone and put out after us!” warned Reuben.

“Yes,” I heard Jeremy agree, “our lives won’t be worth much ’round here once they find out, but I swear I’m glad he done it. That doll deserves a chance to get saved as much as the rest of us.”

“You’re right,” Captain Preble said. “Get in and pull for all you’re worth, boys, and Andy, you set ’s far up the bow ’s you can and watch out sharp for lights ahead. That vessel wasn’t makin’ ​much headway this afternoon. I hope to heaven she ain’t been beatin’ it up any since.”

Phœbe had me in her hands again as we slid out into the waters of the little cove.

“Oh, Mother,” she sighed, “I’ll never be cross to Andy again as long as I live, and when we get home I’m going to give him my silver mug and porringer to keep forever and ever.”

“Mercy, child,” her mother sighed, “how can you talk of things like that when we don’t even know if we stand a chance o’ sightin’ that ship, an’ if we don’t———”

She did not finish her sentence, but I knew what was in her mind. It was perhaps the most dangerous of all the situations we had been in, for if that vessel had got out of our reach we should be in a pretty pickle indeed. Once the natives found me gone, it would be certain death to return to the island. In that case there would be nothing left to do but float at sea till our supply of food and water gave out or we all went to the bottom. I knew all this and yet, despite everything, I would not have exchanged my place in Phœbe Preble’s lap for the most beautiful temple of ivory and sandalwood ever fashioned by the most admiring tribe of savages. But I suppose that is the nature of dolls. I am sure anyone would have felt as I did during that long, eventful night.

It was very crowded and uncomfortable with all of us in the boat, and it sat so low in the water that a particularly big wave often drenched us. I did not mind this so much as the others, however, for I hoped these wettings would remove some of my outlandish berry-juice decorations before it was light enough for Phœbe to see them. There was very little wind, and while this made it useless to hoist our small canvas sail, still it meant that the other ship would have to tack and veer to make any headway. If conditions continued like this and the men could keep steadily at their oars, the Captain thought our chances of hailing the ship were about even. They worked in shifts—first the Captain and Jeremy would pull at the oars and the others steer and keep a lookout, then they would change about and Bill Buckle and Reuben would row ​while the others watched and kept us on our course by means of the small compass. Captain Preble had his lantern in readiness. Fortunately, he had kept it safely with a small supply of oil, which he had hoarded against just this need. He had his flint and steel in his pocket and the moment the ship’s light was sighted he intended to begin signaling.

The stars that hung low on the horizon often confused even such seasoned old sailors as Bill and Jeremy into believing they saw the longed-for light. After each such mistake, the spirits of all in the boat-load would drop, though the men never slackened at their posts. The warm tropic water was alive with the most brilliant phosphorescence I have ever seen. Each time our oars dipped and rose again they made showers of shining miniature stars on either side. Phœbe said they were fishes’ eyes looking up at us from the dark water. But her mother did not think much of the sight. She said it made her dizzy to look, and there was only one light that would do us any good. And still the men pulled on and still there was no sign of it.

Worn out, Phœbe fell asleep at last, against her mother. I continued to stay bolt upright in her lap, for I could not but feel still that much depended upon me, though in this case I must admit that all the credit went to the men as they bent and pulled with aching arms and backs.

“We’d ought to sight her any minute now,” the Captain kept tellomg them. But as the minutes turned into hours and still no masthead lantern loomed ahead, they grew more and more silent, pulling doggedly and wasting no breath on words or questions.

Andy lay huddled in the bow. I supposed he, too, had fallen asleep, when suddenly he gave a cry.

“There ’t is,” he shouted, “on our port side, plain’s anything!”

“He’s right,” Jeremy affirmed. “I can just make her out.”

Instantly the men were all alertness again. They gave a shout or two to express their feelings and then bent to their oars with renewed vigor. Mrs. Preble trembled and Phœbe woke and hugged me close for joy.

​“She’s still a good ways off,” Captain Preble said, squinting through his glass. “Give me that oar, Reuben, while I lash the lantern to it.”

After this had been done, he began trying to light the wick. This took some time and he cursed and muttered under his breath as he struggled. Finally he had it lighted, but it flickered feebly.

“That’ll never do us no good,” he decided as he watched it. “Wick must’ve been poor to begin with and I guess salt water ain’t improved it any. Whose shirt’ll we burn first?”

By this time there was very little clothing left to any of the party. Reuben had gone stripped to his waist ever since we had left the Diana-Kate, Bill Buckle’s shirt had fallen away to nothing on the Island, and Jeremy’s was little more than a tattered lacework on his back. However, he peeled this off and handed it over without a word. Captain Preble poured on it a little of the precious oil from the lantern and soon it was blazing on top of the hoisted oar. When it was almost gone, the Captain’s went the same way. After that, his wife removed her petticoat. That burned for a long time and made a fine blaze once it got going. In the queer, high light from these makeshift torches I could see the men’s faces, streaked with sweat, as they pulled toward our goal. They were very tired now. Each stroke was slower and more of an effort than the last, in spite of all they could do. And still that light showed only like a far star beyond our port bow.

“Seems like we’ll never get there at this rate,” Andy said at last. “Ain’t they ever goin’ to sight us?”

It was the same thought in all their minds, but none dared venture more lest they lose what little strength they had left.

It even seemed to me that the light looked farther away than it had an hour or so before, and I knew that if this were true and they did not sight our flares before daylight, we were indeed in a sorry plight. I think I must almost have read the thoughts going on in the Captain’s mind, for presently he said:

“Oil’s ’most gone now, so bring out what you’ve got and we’ll make one more try.”

​I wondered what more the men could give, since by this time they were nearly as bare as the natives. Mrs. Preble must have wondered, too, for I heard her speaking above me.

“Here, Dan’l,” she said, “take my bonnet ’n’ shawl. And here’s my other petticoat, too. This ain’t any time to worry over appearances.”

The Captain collected these and Phœbe’s little muslin waist. I saw Mrs. Preble give a last regretful look at the shawl as it lay between her feet. It was her best and she had tied her belongings in it when we left the Diana-Kate. Somehow it seemed like our last link with the old days. She watched it soaked in the oil and set alight without a murmur and none of us saw anything funny in the sight of her beaver bonnet blazing away along with it on top of the oar. They made a great light as the Captain and Reuben held it hoisted as high as their arms could reach.

“If that don’t fetch ’em, we might’s well throw the oars overboard an’ ourselves after ’em,” I heard Bill Buckle say to Jeremy in a low tone. I would gladly have offered my chemise too, but common sense told me that it would make no more light than a firefly.

Now the torch was burning out. When the last flame wavered and failed, I saw Captain Preble drop the little knot of shriveled, black cloth into the water. No one moved or lifted a hand to the rowing. We all realized there would be no use in that. Every eye was fixed on that far speck of light that meant so much to seven souls and a wooden doll.

Suddenly I saw the Captain’s hands go out in a quick gesture. Another light had appeared beside the other. Now another and another shot up.

“They’ve sighted us, praise be!” he cried. “They’re sendin’ up flares to tell us they’re comin’.”

He was trembling so he could hardly reach for the oar. Reuben had slumped down in his seat with his face between his hands, and Bill Buckle and Jeremy were sobbing like Mrs. Preble and Phœbe. I would have cried. too. if I had been able.