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Little Gulliver
by
“O my deary! I’se paid by dem words, and I don’t want no tanks. Jes lub me, and come sometimes to see me ef you can, it’s so hard livin’ in dis yere place. I don’t tink I’ll bar it long. I wish I was a bird to fly away, or a oyster safe in de mud, and free to do as I’s a mind.”
“I wish you could go and live with Davy on the island; he is so kind, so happy, and as free as the wind. Can’t you get away, Moppet?” whispered Gulliver, longing to help this poor, friendless little soul. He told her all his story; and they agreed that he should fly at once to the island, and see if Dan was there; if not, he was to come back, and Moppet would try to get some one to help find him. When this was done, Davy and Dan were to take Moppet, if they could, and make her happy on the island. Full of hope and joy, Gulliver said good-by, and spread his wings; but, alas for the poor bird! he was too weak to fly. For three days he had hardly eaten any thing, had found no salt water to bathe in, and had sat moping in the cage till his strength was all gone.
“What shall I do? what shall I do?” he cried, fluttering his feeble wings, and running to and fro in despair.
“Hush, birdie, I’ll take kere ob you till you’s fit to fly. I knows a nice, quiet little cove down yonder, where no one goes; and dare you kin stay till you’s better. I’ll come and feed you, and you kin paddle, and rest, and try your wings, safe and free, honey.”
As Moppet spoke, she took Gulliver in her arms, and stole away in the dim light, over the hill, down to the lonely spot where nothing went but the winds and waves, the gulls, and little Moppet, when hard words and blows made heart and body ache. Here she left the bird, and, with a loving “Good-night,” crept home to her bed in the garret, feeling as rich as a queen, and much happier; for she had done a kind thing, and made a friend.
Next day, a great storm came: the wind blew a hurricane, the rain poured, and the sea thundered on the coast. If he had been well, Gulliver wouldn’t have minded at all; but, being sick and sad, he spent an anxious day, sitting in a cranny of the rock, thinking of Davy and Moppet. It was so rough, even in the cove, that he could neither swim nor fly, so feeble was he; and could find no food but such trifles as he could pick up among the rocks. At nightfall the storm raged fiercer than ever, and he gave up seeing Moppet; for he was sure she wouldn’t come through the pelting rain just to feed him. So he put his head under his wing, and tried to sleep; but he was so wet and weak, so hungry and anxious, no sleep came.
“What has happened to Davy alone on the island all this while? He will fall ill with loneliness and trouble; the lamp won’t be lighted, the ships will be wrecked, and many people will suffer. O Dan, Dan, if we could only find you, how happy we should be!”
As Gulliver spoke, a voice cried through the darkness:
“Is you dere, honey?” and Moppet came climbing over the rocks, with a basket full of such bits as she could get. “Poor birdie, is you starvin’? Here, jes go at dis, and joy yourself. Dere’s fish and tings I tink you’d like. How is you now, dear?”
“Better, Moppet; but, it’s so stormy, I can’t get to Davy; and I worry about him,” began Gulliver, pecking away at his supper: but he stopped suddenly, for a faint sound came up from below, as if some one called, “Help, help!”