CHAPTER XIII
A SAILING ADVENTURE
John Ellison, a youth of about fifteen, but of a sturdy build and mannerthat might lead one to suppose him older, stood by the gateway of theEllison farm, looking down across the fields towards the mill. It wasbusy grinding and, as its monotonous tones came up to him, the boy shookhis head sadly. An expression as of anger overspread his manly youngface, and his cheeks flushed.
"It's wrong," he exclaimed, speaking his thoughts aloud; "I'll betthere's some trick about it. Father always said we should run the millsome day. It makes me mad to see old Witham sneaking about, afraid tolook any of us in the face; but I suppose there's no help for it."
He went up the driveway to the house, got an axe from the woodshed andbegan splitting some pieces of sawed oak and hickory from a great pilein the yard. It was a relief to his pent-up feelings, and he drove theaxe home with powerful blows. He was a strong, handsome youth, with faceand arms healthily bronzed with work in the open air. He laid a big junkof the oak across the chopping-block, swung the axe, and cleft thestick with a single blow that sent the halves flying in eitherdirection.
"That was a good stroke--a corker," exclaimed a youth who had enteredthe yard and come up quietly behind him. John Ellison turned quickly.
"Hello, Henry," he said. "Where'd you come from?"
"Just had a swim," replied Henry Burns. "I see where you get all thatmuscle, now. That's good as canoeing, I guess."
"Well," responded John Ellison, looking rather serious, "I reckon I'lldo more of it from now on than canoeing; though I've done my share ofwork all along. I'm running the farm now--that is, what we've got left.Witham's got a good part of it. I suppose you know, don't you?"
Henry Burns nodded. "It's a shame," he said. "But perhaps it'll come outright in the end."
"I don't see how," said John Ellison. "Witham's got the mill, and thebig wood lot where we used to cut most of the wood we sold every fall,and the great meadow up opposite old Granny Thornton's, with thehayfield in it. We've got enough left close by here to keep us fromstarving, all right; but it isn't what it ought to be. We've had to sellhalf the cows, because we can't feed them."
Henry Burns whistled. "It's tough," he said, and added, doubtfully, "Howabout that week up at the pond? Can you go?"
John Ellison looked downcast. "I'd forgotten all about that," he said."We did plan for a week at Old Whitecap, didn't we? I'm afraid it's allup for me, though. There's haying to be done, a lot of wood to be cut,and chores. I guess you'll have to count me out. I might let Jim go fora couple of days, though," he added, speaking as though he were a dozenyears older than his brother, instead of only one.
"No, you're the one that was going," responded Henry Burns; "you couldgo if the work were done, couldn't you?"
"Perhaps," replied John Ellison; "but there's enough there to take usmore than a fortnight. Benny don't count for much; he's too lazy."
"Well, we'll get the work done, all right," said Henry Burns; "and thenwe'll take you with us."
John Ellison laughed. "You city fellows wouldn't like farm work, much, Iguess," he said.
He hardly took Henry Burns seriously, especially as the latter spoke butlittle more about the project; but, the next day, looking up from hiswork, at the sound of wagon wheels, he saw a cart coming up the hill,laden with baggage and a party of boys. Tom Harris was driving, andbeside him on the seat were Bob White and Henry Burns. In the body ofthe cart were Jack Harvey and Tim Reardon. These two were seated amidsta pile of camp stuff.
"Well, we're here," said Henry Burns, laughing, as the boys piled out ofthe cart. "Hope you've got something for us all to do. You'll find usgreen, but we won't shirk."
John Ellison stared at them in amazement. "You better go on out to thepond," he said. "I don't want to keep you fellows. Perhaps Jim and I canget out for a couple of days before you come in. Besides, you want tolook out for Benny," he added, winking at Henry Burns. "He says he'sgoing to thrash you some day."
"Oh, I'm all right," laughed Henry Burns. "I've got Jack here to help meout now. What'll we do, John? Come on, we're losing time."
"Well, if you really want to," replied John Ellison, somewhatreluctantly, "two of you can go down in the haying field and help Jim;and there's this wood's got to be split, and the corn and potatoes to behoed." He pointed, as he spoke, to two great fields of the latter."We'll set Tim catching potato bugs," he added, smiling.
"I'll catch 'em," responded Tim, heartily. "I wonder what kind of baitthey'd make for trout."
They divided up then, Tom and Bob, equipped with pitchforks, startingoff for the haying field; Henry Burns and Tim following John Ellisoninto the garden; while Harvey, his waist stripped to a faded sleevelessjersey, attacked the woodpile with a strength and energy that made upfor his lack of familiarity with the work.
He was busily engaged when Mrs. Ellison looked out at the kitchen door.
"Why," she said, in surprise, "I didn't know we had a new hand. Oh, Isee, you're one of the boys' friends."
Harvey explained.
"Well, I call that good of you," exclaimed Mrs. Ellison, her pleasant,motherly face beaming. "Let the boys go after it's done? Why, of course.They can both go. Benny will help me through the week, all right, won'tyou, Benny?"
The youth thus addressed, who had just put in an appearance, his gunover his shoulder, assented, though not with much heartiness. He scowledat Harvey, and made no offer to be friendly.
"I suppose you want to go on the pond, too," said Mrs. Ellison,sympathetically.
Benny Ellison glanced sullenly at Harvey. "Not with those city chaps,"he replied.
The "city chaps," sneeringly referred to by Benny Ellison, provedthemselves good workmen, however. Unused to farm labour, as they were,their muscles were, however, far from being soft and easily tired. Tomand Bob, who excelled at athletics, surprised Jim Ellison with theamount of hay they could stack up into cocks, or, again, the amount theycould spread and scatter; and they were tireless in following himthrough all the broad field. Henry Burns and Little Tim were of the wirysort that never seemed to weary; while Harvey made the pile of splitwood grow in a way that made Mrs. Ellison's eyes stick out.
Then, at noon, when the big farm dinner-bell rang, there was a greattable spread for them in the long dining-room, fairly creaking with anarray of good things to eat; with plenty of rich milk and doughnuts andhome-made gingerbread to finish up with. Little Tim's thin face seemedto be almost bulging when he had done; and he ate his sixth doughnut ingallant style.
He was nearly wild with delight, too, late that afternoon, when he gotpermission to fish the famous Ellison trout pool; and he came back intime for supper with a fine string of the fish, brilliantly spottedfellows, which Mrs. Ellison fried to a crisp for the crew of boy farmerswhen their day's work was over.
There came a little knock at the door when they were eating supper, andBess Thornton, come for a pitcher of milk, looked in at the group ofmerry youngsters.
"My, what fun!" she exclaimed, and speaking half to herself added, "Iwish I lived here too. Gran' said--"
"What's that? Why, I wish you did live here," exclaimed Mrs. Ellison,stepping back with the pitcher in her hands at the girl's words, andlooking into her bright, eager face with eyes that suddenly moistened."I wish you did," she repeated. "Why don't you ever come in, when youcome for the milk? Come in now and have some supper with the boys?"
But the girl started back, almost timidly.
"Oh, I can't," she said, "I didn't think what I was saying. Gran' saysnever to stay--to hurry back. She doesn't like to have me come for themilk, but she can't come, herself."
And, true to her instructions, she departed promptly, when she hadreceived the pitcher, well filled--almost double what the money she hadbrought would usually buy.
"She's a queer little sprite," was Mrs. Ellison's comment, as shewatched her go down the path; "but there's something fine and braveabout her. Who wouldn't be queer, living all alone with old GrannyT
hornton?"
The two weeks' farming that John Ellison had reckoned on was throughwith in five days, thanks to the energy of the volunteer crew. Theyenjoyed it, too; the work in the bright fields; the jolly meals at theEllison table; the nights in the big hay-barn, with blankets spread inthe mow; the evening's swim in the stream just before supper.
And, on the sixth day, John and James Ellison went away on the wagon,with clear consciences and light hearts, and with Mrs. Ellison waving afarewell to them from the door of the shed. It was cramped quarters forthem all in the wagon, with the camping equipment, jolting along thecountry roads; and they walked most of the hills. But the journey was ajubilant one, and they welcomed the first gleaming of Whitecap pond withwhoops of delight.
Whitecap pond seemed to return the welcome, too; for it twinkled allover in the light of an afternoon sun, as they set up the two tents thatwere to house them; and it sent in its light ripples dancing merrilyalmost to the very door of the tents; a splash now and then in the stillwaters told them of fishing delights to come. The white, fine sand ofits shores was soft as carpet to their feet, as they ran races alongthe shore, and took a swim by moonlight before they turned in for thenight's rest.
They liked the wildness of the loon's weird hullo, coming in at the openflaps of the tents from afar; and the clumsy fluttering and flapping ofgreat beetles against the canvas, attracted by the lantern light thatshone through. The cawing of crows just above their heads awoke themearly next morning.
They were out for perch and bass before the sun was high, and were inluck, for the fish were plenty; and the perch chowder that Bob, who wasan old and experienced camper, made for the noon meal was a wonderfulachievement, and reminded them of old times in Samoset Bay.
But there was one drawback--at least, for Henry Burns and Harvey, whowere hankering for the grip of a tiller and the thrill of a boat undersail. There wasn't a sailboat to be hired on the pond. There were notmany, and they were all engaged. Coombs, who owned the slip and theboats, said he hadn't done such a business in years. He could only letthem have two rowboats. Yet they came into the use of one, two dayslater, through an adventure.
It was early in the afternoon, and Henry Burns and Harvey and Little Timstood on the float at Coombs's landing, looking at a sailboat that layat its berth alongside. It was not exactly a handsome craft; with toogreat length for its beam, and its lines drawn out so fine astern thatit bade fair to be somewhat cranky. It had no cabin, and there wasseating room for a large party--a design calculated more for profit thansafety.
The boat was in evident poor condition, lacking paint, and its riggingfrayed, a not uncommon condition with boats to let in small waters ofthis sort. Somewhat crude lettering on the stern spelled the name,_Flyaway_.
"Looks as though she might fly away with somebody, all right, if hedidn't look out," remarked Harvey, grinning at his companions. "Wish wehad her, though, for a week. We'd take a chance, eh, Henry?"
Henry Burns nodded. "Let's see 'em start off in her," he said.
They waited about, and presently there appeared on the landing thepresent claimant of the _Flyaway_. He was a big, bluff, hearty man,florid face, loud of voice, a free and easy manner, and he was dressedfor the occasion in yachting clothes of unmistakable newness. He eyedthe _Flyaway_ with an assumption of nautical wisdom and experience.
"That's a good-looking boat, Captain Coombs," he said, in tones thatcould be heard far away. "She's all right; just what I want. I like aboat with plenty of room for the ladies to be comfortable."
"Well, I reckon she's the best boat on Whitecap pond," responded theman, while his small eyes twinkled shrewdly. "Just humour her a bit, andI reckon she'll go where anything of her size will. She's seen somerough times on this pond."
The appearance of the _Flyaway_ seemed to bear out this statement.
"Sure you can handle her all right, are you, Mr. Bangs?" added CaptainCoombs, eying his customer with a quick, sidelong glance.
"Well, I reckon," was the bluff reply.
Captain Coombs, possibly not all assured, gave an inquiring look towarda man who was busy cleaning a rowboat close by, and who seemed to be aninterested party of some sort, probably a partner. The man drew hisright eye down in an unmistakable wink, and glanced up at the sky. Thenhe nodded, shrugging his shoulders at the same time, as though he mighthave said, "There's no wind; we'll take a chance."
There was, indeed, scarcely a breath of wind blowing, and there was nopresent prospect of any.
Mr. Bangs's party began now to arrive: a somewhat fleshy, and withalnervous and agitated lady, who proved to be Mrs. Bangs; two young girls,an angular lady carrying a fat pug dog in her arms, and a small boy.
"Aha, we're all here," cried Mr. Bangs, joyfully. "Let's get aboard andbe off. Splendid day for a sail, eh, Captain Coombs?"
"Couldn't be better," replied Coombs, dryly. "Are those oars in her,Dan?"
"Why, you don't suppose I'm going to row her, do you?" laughed Mr.Bangs.
"We sometimes has to, when we doesn't want to," said Coombslaconically. "No fun staying out all night if the wind dies out."
"Oh, yes, of course," responded Mr. Bangs. "Get aboard, ladies."
"I don't believe you know how to sail a boat, Augustus," said Mrs.Bangs, eying her husband doubtfully. "Are you sure you do?"
"Nonsense!" snorted Mr. Bangs. "Don't be getting nervous, now. Don't youknow I was elected commodore of the Green Pond Fishing Club only twoweeks ago?"
Mr. Bangs refrained from communicating the fact that the principaloccupation of the members of the Green Pond Fishing Club was the mixingof certain refreshing liquids in tall glasses, and sipping them on theverandah of a clubhouse.
The party therefore embarked. Mrs. Bangs was not wholly at ease,however.
"Supposing there isn't any wind by and by, Augustus, and you have torow. Why don't you take somebody along, to help? We've got lots to eat."
This idea, at least, seemed to strike Mr. Bangs favourably. He glancedto where Henry Burns and his companions stood.
"Hello," he called, "want to go out for a sail? Got room enough. Takeyou along."
The three boys stepped toward the boat.
"Not scared of the water, are you?" queried Mr. Bangs.
"Not unless it gets rough," replied Henry Burns, with a sly wink atHarvey.
The three jumped aboard, and Coombs, with something like a grin at hispartner, shoved the boat's head off. He had got the jib and mainsail up,and they caught what little breeze there was stirring. The _Flyaway_drew away from the landing. To Bangs's embarrassment, however, the boomsuddenly swung inboard, swiped across the stern, causing him to duckhastily, and almost knocking the bonnet off the lady with the pug dog.Mr. Bangs had jibed the boat, greatly to his surprise. But no harm hadbeen done, as the wind was light.
Mr. Bangs laughed loudly. "Meant to tell you that was coming," he said."She'll sail better this way. Ever been on the water before, boys?"
Harvey nodded. "A little," he said.
"Well, the more you are used to it, the better you'll like it," said Mr.Bangs. "Don't mind if she tips a little, if we get any wind. She sailsthat way. Funny that jib flutters so. Better haul in on that rope thereand--and trim it."
Henry Burns, soberly following orders, did as requested. But it wasnoticeable that the trimming did not seem to accomplish the resultdesired by Mr. Bangs. In fact, as the _Flyaway_ was going dead beforethe wind, it was quite apparent that no amount of trimming would makethe jib draw.
"It keeps on fluttering just the same, Augustus," said Mrs. Bangs, eyingthe offending sail suspiciously. "Hadn't you better tie it some way?"
"Of course not," responded Mr. Bangs, loftily. "They will act that waysometimes. Isn't that so, my lads?"
"Oh yes," replied Henry Burns. "I've seen 'em do it, haven't you, Jack?"
But Harvey was looking the other way.
They went slowly up the pond, with Mr. Bangs holding the tiller andwatching the sail critically. He was in buoyant spirits
, and entertainedthem with stories of the thrilling adventures of the Green Pond FishingClub, in which he seemed to have figured prominently.
The wind freshened a little and the _Flyaway_ drew ahead somewhatfaster. There was just the suspicion of a ripple along the sides, and itwas pleasant sailing. Two miles up the pond they dropped the sail andanchored; got out the fish lines and tried for bass. After which, Mr.Bangs, a generous host, opened up a huge hamper and spread out aluncheon that made Little Tim's mouth water.
"Nothing like sailing to give one an appetite," exclaimed Mr. Bangs,heartily. "Pitch in, boys. There's plenty of grub. I believe in havingenough to eat, I do."
He was so busily and pleasantly engaged in eating that he paid no heedto the aspect of the sky. Nor, indeed, was there anything of veryserious import in its changes. But Henry Burns, alert as ever, sawcertain signs of wind in some light banks of cloud that began to gatherin the western sky, in the direction of Coombs's landing.
"We won't have to row home," he said presently, addressing the skipperof the _Flyaway_, who was absorbed in the enjoyment of a huge slice ofmeat pie.
"Eh, what's that?" he inquired. "What do you mean?"
"We're going to have some wind," replied Henry Burns.
"Well, that's what we want, for sailing," laughed Mr. Bangs. "You aren'tanxious to row, are you?"
"Not particularly," replied Henry Burns. "We won't have to, anyway. It'sgoing to blow some. We'll take some spray in over the bows beatingback--"
"What's that?" exclaimed Mrs. Bangs. "Augustus, do you hear? Let's startright away. We don't want to get wet."
"Ho!" sniffed Mr. Bangs. But just then a quick gust of wind swept overthem, such as comes without warning in pond waters, bordered by hills.Mr. Bangs seemed to take the hint it conveyed. "Guess we'd betterstart," he said.
The boys sprang to the halyards; the sails were hoisted and the anchorgot aboard. With Mr. Bangs at the tiller, the _Flyaway_ started on thebeat of two miles down the pond. The wind continued to freshen, comingnow and then in flaws, as the light clouds overspread the sky.
Henry Burns, noting the style of Mr. Bangs's yachtsmanship, andobserving the freshening of the wind, and the fact that the craft wasnot being worked to windward anywhere near what it would go, slippedastern beside Mr. Bangs.
"Like to have me tend that sheet for you?" he asked, carelessly.
Mr. Bangs waved him back. "Don't touch that, my lad," he cried. "Youmight upset us in a minute. Never let a boy fool with a sheet--hello!"
A sharper and heavier flaw caught the big mainsail with full force; andthen, as Mr. Bangs in his excitement threw the tiller over and headedthe yacht farther off the wind, instead of up into it, the _Flyaway_heeled dangerously, taking water over the side and causing the pug dog,which got a drenching, to howl dolorously. Mrs. Bangs gave a slightscream.
"Oh, it's all right. Don't be alarmed," said Mr. Bangs, assuringly. Hefailed to notice that prompt action on the part of Henry Burns, who hadstarted the sheet at the critical moment, had saved them from a spill;and seemed to think that somehow he had righted things himself. However,as he observed that youth calmly trimming the sail again, despite hisadmonition to let the sheet alone, he seemed to have undergone a changeof heart.
"That's right," he said, in a tone of not quite so much confidence, "youjust run that thing, while I do the steering."
It began to get rough now, and the _Flyaway_ did not seem to justifyit's owner's praise. It threw the water heavily--partly by reason of itsclumsy build and partly because Mr. Bangs did not meet the waves withthe tiller. One might have observed, moreover, that Mr. Bangs wore ananxious expression, and his hand shook slightly as he pressed thetiller.
A moment more, and he seemed almost dazed as the tiller was snatchedfrom his grasp by Henry Burns, who put the _Flyaway_ hard up into thewind, just in time to meet a squall that threw the lee rail under again.The craft stood still, almost, with the sail shivering. Then Henry Burnseased her off gently, getting her under headway again. Mr. Bangs wasdeathly pale. The spray had dashed aboard freely and drenched him.
"We've got to reef, and be quick about it," said Henry Burns, addressingthe shivering skipper. "What do you say? It's your boat."
"What's that--eh, do you think so?" stammered Mr. Bangs. "Reef her? Yes,that'll stop her tipping, won't it? Oh my! can you do it?"
His knees were wabbling, and he allowed himself to be pushed aside,sinking down, pale and trembling on the seat.
"Here, you take her, Jack," said Henry Burns. "Tim and I'll reef her. Wecan do it quick."
He relinquished the tiller to Harvey, who threw the boat up into thewind, while Henry Burns and Tim seized the halyards and lowered the sailsufficiently to take in a double reef. Henry Burns had the tack tieddown in a jiffy; whereupon Harvey drew the sail aft, hauled out on thependant and passed a lashing. Henry Burns and Little Tim had the reefpoints tied in no time. Before Mr. Bangs's wondering eyes the sail washoisted, the topping lift set up, and the boat got under way againbefore he had had hardly time to think what had happened.
It was surprising to see how easily the craft went along under competentmanagement. The spray flew some and the water came aboard, wetting theparty to the skin and causing alarm; but there was little danger. The_Flyaway_ no longer took the brunt of the waves, but headed into them alittle, keeping good headway on. What was better, she was making time,going to windward and approaching the landing.
Mr. Bangs gradually regained his colour, and took courage.
"Guess you've sailed some before," he said, with a sickly smile. "You goat it like old hands."
"We've got a boat of our own," replied Harvey. "She's down in Samosetbay. We got a big price for her for the summer, so we let her."
Mr. Bangs looked a bit sheepish.
"I'm glad you came along," he said; and added with a glance at Mrs.Bangs, and in a lower tone, "I haven't sailed very much, to tell thetruth. We do--er--mostly rowing in the Green Pond Fishing Club."
They came up to the landing in sailor fashion, and the party steppedout.
"Glad to see yer back," remarked Coombs. "Got just a bit worried aboutyou. You came in nicely, though."
Mr. Bangs smiled good-naturedly.
"Well," he said, "the fact is, I've got a crew. They are old sailors.You ought to have seen them reef her quicker'n scat. They're goingalong with me after this, for the rest of their stay--and their friends,too. My wife says she's got enough sailing."
"I should say I had," said Mrs. Bangs.
The Rival Campers Ashore; or, The Mystery of the Mill Page 13