The Motor Girls on Crystal Bay Part 4

But, though the motor girls tried to be merry, the little cloud of Freda's trouble overshadowed them all the way to Crystal Bay.

CHAPTER III

CRYSTAL BAY

"Here we are!"

"Where's the bungalow?"

"Me for that motor boat of Cora's!" cried Jack.

"No, you don't!" exclaimed his sister. "Not till I try her first."

They had alighted at the station, and there was the confusion that always follows engaging a carriage and seeing that the baggage has safely arrived. Cora found time to slip off for a minute and whisper words of cheer to Freda. Then she rejoined her chums, and made ready for the trip to the bungalow.

The boys, with a fine disregard of housekeeping responsibilities, were already making plans to go fis.h.i.+ng that afternoon, having spied a man who took out parties in his launch.

But finally order came out of chaos. The girls found themselves at their bungalow, surrounded by their belongings. The boys, after seeing that their possessions were piled in the tent, slipped on their oldest garments and began overhauling their fis.h.i.+ng tackle.

"Aren't you going to do anything toward getting a meal?" asked Cora of Jack, as she went over to the tent to borrow a corkscrew with which to open some olives.

"We thought maybe you'd ask us over," he answered, craftily, as he adjusted a reel on his rod.

"Oh, Jack!" she cried. "We can't! We've got so much to unpack.

Besides, we're only going to have a light lunch now."

"A _light_ lunch! Excuse me. I know--crackers, pickles and olives.

Never! We'll go to the town delicatessen, sister mine!"

"Thank goodness there is one," murmured Cora.

She hastened back to the bungalow. And then began a series of strenuous happenings.

Somehow trunks and suitcases were unpacked; somehow rooms were picked out, rejected, taken again, and finally settled on. Then, between the nibblings at the crackers and pickles Jack had despised, the girls settled down, and at last had time to admire the place they had selected for their Summer stay.

A woman had been engaged to open the bungalow for them, and she had provided most of the necessaries of life, aside from those the girls brought with them. Cora and her chums had been satisfied to have her attend to everything from buying food to providing an oil stove on which to cook it.

There were a number of conveniences at Crystal Bay. Stores were not out of reach, and supplies could be procured with little trouble. A trip across the bay brought one to the sh.o.r.es of a real village, with school house, post-office and other accessories of civilization. A trip down the bay opened into eel pots in August, bluefis.h.i.+ng in September and deep sea fis.h.i.+ng later on, when the Summer colonists had departed.

Very early in the morning after the arrival of the motor girls at Crystal Bay, house, tent and bungalow were deserted--it was all a matter of motor boat. Moored to the brand new dock, at Tangle Turn, a brand new motor craft heaved with the incoming waves and tugged at its ropes whenever a sufficiently strong motion of the water gave it excuse to attempt an escape.

This was the _Chelton_, the "up-to-datest" little-big motor boat possible to own or acquire, according to the verdict of the young men from Chelton who had just now pa.s.sed judgment, and the wise decision of Cora and her girl friends who had actually bought the boat, after having taken a post-graduate course in catalogs and hardware periodicals, to say nothing of the countless interviews they had found it necessary to hold with salesmen and yacht agents.

They were all there, even Freda, who declared she ought to be busy with other matters, but that the call of the colony was too strong for her that one morning, at least.

"Of course we know how to run her," insisted Cora to Ed, the latter having expressed doubt as to the girls' ability to manage so important a craft. "Didn't we run the _Pet_?"

"Oh, yes, but this--this is a deep-sea boat," Ed explained, "and you might run yourselves away to other sh.o.r.es."

"And land on a desert island? What sport!" exclaimed Lottie, to whom motor boating was an entirely new experience. "I hope we make it Holland. I have always longed to see a real, live Holland boy. The kind who are all clothes and wooden shoes."

"We might make one up for you," suggested Belle. "I think Wallie would look too cute for anything in skirty trousers and polonaise s.h.i.+rts.

Just let his locks grow a little--Look out there, Bess! That's water around the boat. It only looks like an oil painting. It's real--wet!"

Bess was climbing over the dock edge, and of course the boys could not allow her that much exercise without pretending that she was in danger of going overboard. After Belle unhooked the hem of her sister's skirt from an iron bolt, thereby giving Bess a sudden drop to the deck of the _Chelton_, however, Bess declared she knew water when she saw it, and also the difference between a water color and an oil painting.

"What did you call her _Chelton_ for?" asked Walter. "I thought you decided to take the name from the first remark the first stranger should make about her."

"Yes, and what do you think that was?" laughed Belle.

"'Push'!" promptly answered Freda. "An old fisherman came along as Jack was arranging the painter, and he just said 'push'!"

"That would be a handy little name," commented Walter.

"Next some boys, out clamming, saw her," said Jack, "and they said 'peach.'"

"Either of which would have done nicely," declared Ed. "Peach would have been the very name--after the girls----"

"_Chelton_ is dignified and appropriate," interposed Cora; "besides, if we should stray off to Holland they would know along the Dikes that we belonged in Chelton."

"Now don't forget that the wheel is a sea wheel and turns opposite to the direction you want to go," cautioned Jack.

"How is that?" inquired Lottie, who had joined the other in examining the boat.

She was shown with patience. The boys were plainly glad that one of the girls, at least, did not know all about running a motor boat.

"And oh, what is that?" gasped Marita. "That cunning little playhouse!"

"Playhouse!" repeated Cora. "That's our living room--our cabin. Those fixtures are to cook with, eat with, live with and do all our housekeeping with."

"Also die with," added Walter. "I think that electric toaster might be all right for fudge, but for real bread--Now say, Cora, can you really cook pork and beans on that?"

"These are the very latest, most improved and most expensive electric attachments on the market," answered Cora, with a show of dignity, "and when you boys take a meal here, if we ever invite you to, I think we can easily prove the advantage of electrical attachments over campfire iron pots."

The cooking apparatus was examined with interest. A motor boat cabin fitted up with such a "kitchenette" was indeed a novelty.

"You see," explained Cora, "we have two ways of getting power. We can take it from the storage battery, or from the little dynamo attached to the motor."

"Lovely!" exclaimed Lottie, to whom a "current" meant little, but who wanted to seem interested.

"That is to provide for the various kinds of cooking," Jack said, jokingly. "Now eggs are weak, they cook by storage; but a Welsh rabbit is done by the dynamo."

"It means something else," Captain Cora remarked, "namely, if we have company for supper, and the storage current gives out, we will not have to make it a progressive meal, extending into the next day. The course can be continued from the extra current."

"For the love of Malachi!" exclaimed Walter. "What's this?"