The Rival Campers Afloat; or, The Prize Yacht Viking

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER III. A RESCUE UNREWARDED

  Harvey, having landed on the deck of the sailboat, steadied himself bygrasping the starboard stay, and took a quick, comprehensive glance overthe situation. A foot and a half or so of the boom had split off from theend, and the mainsail was badly torn. The main-sheet had been snapped bythe jibing of the boom, but the break in the boom was beyond the pointwhere the sheet was fastened. The broken end of the sheet was trailing inthe water. The boat could be got in hand if that were regained.

  Seizing the end of the main-sheet that remained in the boat, and castingit loose from the cleat, Harvey found he had still the use of a rope ofconsiderable length. Coiling this up, and hanging it over one arm, heregained the deck, over the small cabin, and took up his position on theport side of the boat. The stay on that side had been saved from carryingaway only because the quarter of the _Viking_ had arrested the force ofthe boom. Having this stay, then, to hold fast to, Harvey leaned over theside, as far as he was able, passed an end of the rope about the boom,took a turn, and made it fast.

  Carrying the other end aft, Harvey handed it to the youth, who stoodgazing at his efforts stupidly, evidently knowing not in the least whatto do.

  "Now you hold on to that," said Harvey, "and when I tell you to, you haulas hard as ever you can."

  The youth took the rope silently and sullenly.

  Harvey sprang again upon the deck, caught the flying ends of the halyardsand ran the mainsail up. It was slow work, for the sail was soaked withwater, and the tear in it began to rip more when the strain was broughtto bear. When Harvey had hoisted the sail sufficiently so that thetopping-lift would have lifted the boom, he started for that; but it hadparted, and was of no use.

  "Well," said Harvey, "we'll get the boom up a little more, with the sail,no matter if it does tear. We can't help it."

  So he took another pull at the peak-halyard. The boom lifted a little.

  "That's enough," said Harvey. "Now haul in on that sheet lively, beforethe sail tears any more. Get that boom in quick!"

  The youth, with no great spirit nor heartiness in his movements, did asdirected, and the boom came inboard. Then Harvey once more dropped thesail.

  He was brim full of life, was Jack Harvey, and now that there wassomething here worth doing, and necessary to be done quickly, he waseager with the spirit of it.

  "Have you got anything aboard here to bail with?" he asked, hurriedly;and, without waiting for the more sluggish movements of the other, hedarted forward, through the water in the cockpit, to where he had espieda pail half-submerged under the seat. With this he began bailingfuriously, dipping up the pailfuls and dashing them out over the side, asthough the boat were sinking and he had but one chance for life in ahundred.

  Harvey was working in this way, with never a thought of his companion,when presently there came a hail from the _Viking_. He paused and lookedacross the water to where Henry Burns was standing at the wheel of thelarger craft, with a look of amusement on his face.

  "I say, Jack," called Henry Burns, drawling very slightly, as was hishabit at times when other youths of more excitable temperament wouldspeak quickly, "that other chap aboard there is just dying to help bailthe boat. Why don't you let him do his share of it?"

  Harvey glanced back astern at his companion of the sailboat. What he sawcaused an angry flush to spread over his face. But the next moment thecool effrontery of it made him laugh.

  The youth whom Harvey's surprised gaze rested upon was a rather tall,thin, sallow chap, with an expression on his face that looked like aperpetual sneer. He wore no yachting costume nor clothing of any sort fitfor roughing it. Instead, he was rather flashily dressed, in clothes moreoften affected by men of sporting propensities than youths of any age. Ina scarf of brilliant and gaudy tint he wore a large pin in the form of ahorseshoe, with imitation brilliants in it. In fact, his dress and wholedemeanour were of one who had a far more intimate knowledge of certainphases of life than he should. A telltale smear upon the fingers of hisright hand told of the smoking habit, which accounted for his thin andsallow appearance--and which habit was now in evidence.

  It was this latter that particularly angered Harvey, as he paused,perspiring, from his work.

  The youth had seated himself calmly on the edge of the after-rail, withan elbow rested on one knee. In this comfortable attitude, and smoking acigarette, he was aimlessly watching Harvey work.

  Harvey glared for a moment in amazement. Then his face relaxed.

  "I say!" he exclaimed, throwing down the pail, wiping his brow, andadvancing aft toward the other youth, "this seems to be a sort ofafternoon tea, or reception, with cigarettes provided by the host."

  "No, thanks," he added, shortly, as the other reached a hand into hispocket and proffered a box of them. "You're just too kind and generousfor anything. But I don't smoke them. Some of my crew used to. But I telllittle Tim Reardon that that's what keeps him from growing any. He's atthem all the time. Guess you are, too, by the looks of you."

  Harvey glanced rather contemptuously at the lean, attenuated arm that theother displayed, where he had rolled his cuffs back.

  "Well, you don't have to smoke them if you don't want to," said theother, surlily. "But don't preach. I'm as old as you are. My smoking ismy business."

  "Of course it is," said Harvey. "I don't care whether you smoke or not.But what I object to is your doing the smoking and letting me do thework. Your smoking is your business, and so is bailing out your own boatyour business--that is, your share of it is. Now, if you want any morehelp from me, you just break up this smoking party and take that pail andgo to bailing. I've got enough to keep me busy while you are doing that."

  The youth glanced angrily at Harvey, but made no reply. Harvey's stalwartfigure forbade any unpleasant retort. Sullenly, he tossed away thehalf-finished cigarette, slumped down once more into the cockpit, took upthe pail that Harvey had dropped, and went to work.

  "He looks like a real man now," called out Henry Burns.

  The youth, with eyes flashing, shot one glance at the smiling face ofHenry Burns, but deigned no reply.

  Harvey, without further notice of his companion, proceeded to hoist thesail a little so that he could take two reefs in it. This brought thesail down so small as to include the torn part in that tied in. The sailwould, therefore, answer for the continuation of the trip.

  "Say," asked Harvey finally, "why didn't you reef before, when it beganto blow up fresh and the sea got a bit nasty? You might have saved allthis."

  The youth hesitated, glanced at Harvey sheepishly, and mumbled somethingthat sounded like he didn't know why he hadn't.

  "Hm!" said Harvey, under his breath. "He didn't know enough.

  "Well," he continued, after a little time, "you're all right to start offagain, if you think you can get along. That sail is down so small itwon't give you any more trouble, and there is plenty of it to keepheadway on the boat; that is, if you are going on up the bay. Where areyou bound for, anyway?"

  "Up to Springton," replied the other. "Straight ahead."

  "All right," said Harvey, "you can get there if you will only be a littlemore careful. Don't try to run straight for the town. Keep off eitherway--do you see?" And Harvey designated how the other could run insafety.

  "Run on one course a way," he said, continuing, "and then put her aboutand run on the other. But look out and don't jibe her. Let her come aboutinto the wind. Now do you think you can get along?"

  "Yes," answered the youth, shortly. He had by this time finished hisbailing, and the cockpit floor was fairly free of water.

  "Well, then, I'll bid you an affectionate farewell," said Harvey, who hadtaken mental note of the fact that the youth had not offered to thank himfor all his trouble. "Sorry to leave you, but the best of friends mustpart, you know. Good day."

  "Good day," answered the youth, without offering even to shake hands.

  Harvey lost little time in regaini
ng the deck of the _Viking_. HenryBurns was still smiling as Harvey took the wheel from him.

  "We seem to have made a very pleasant acquaintance," he said.

  "Haven't we though!" exclaimed Harvey. "If we were only in some nice,quiet harbour, where the water wasn't very deep, I'd just see whetherthat young chap can swim or not. He'd get one ducking--"

  "Oh, by the way," called Henry Burns, as the two boats were separating,"you're entirely welcome to our assistance, you know. You needn't writeus a letter thanking us. We know your feelings are just too deep forthanks."

  "Little thanks I owe you," snarled the other boy. "'Twas all your fault,anyway. If you had kept off, my boat wouldn't have gone over."

  Jack Harvey sprang from his seat and shook his fist in the direction ofthe disappearing boat.

  "Hold on there, Jack," said Henry Burns, catching him by the arm. "Don'tget excited. Do you know the answer to what he just said? Well, thereisn't any. Just smile and wave your hand to him, as I do. He's reallyfunnier than Squire Brackett."

  "Oh, yes, it is funny," answered Jack Harvey, scowling off astern. "It'sso funny it makes me sick. But perhaps you'd think it was funnier still,if you had gone at that bailing the way I did, and had looked up all of asudden and seen that chap sitting back there at his ease, smoking. I'lljust laugh about it for the rest of the week. That's what I will."

  Jack Harvey certainly did not appear to be laughing.

  "Above all things," he said at length, "what do you suppose he meant bysaying it was our fault? That's the last straw for me. We didn't jibe hisboat for him."

  "No," said Henry Burns, "but he probably owns the bay, and was mad to seeus sailing on it. He acted that way."

  "Well, it has cost us about an hour and a half good time," exclaimedHarvey--"though I should not begrudge it if he hadn't acted the way hedid. We won't win that race in to Southport, by a long shot. It's abouthalf-past six o'clock, and we cannot make it in less than two hours and ahalf, even if the wind holds."

  This latter condition expressed by Harvey was, indeed, to prove mostannoying. With the dropping of the sun behind the far-distant hills, thewind perceptibly and rapidly diminished. They set their club-topsail tocatch the upper airs, but the last hour was sluggish sailing. It was afew minutes to ten o'clock when the _Viking_ rounded the bluff thatguards the northeastern entrance to the snug harbour of Southport.

  "There's no show for that warm supper to-night, I'm afraid," said Harvey,as they turned the bluff and stood slowly into the harbour.

  The immediate answer to this remark was an "Ahoy, there, on board the_Viking_!" from across the water. The next moment, the familiar canoeshot into sight and Tom Harris and Bob White were quickly on deck.

  "We beat you fellows by a few minutes," said Tom Harris, laughing atHarvey.

  "Look out for Jack," said Henry Burns, with a wink at the other two. "Hehas been having so much fun that he doesn't want any more. And, besides,he's starving--and so am I; and we might eat little boys up if theyplague us."

  "Why, what's the matter?" asked Tom, observing that Harvey washalf-scowling as he smiled at Henry Burns's sally.

  "Oh, we have been entertaining a friend up the bay," answered HenryBurns, "and he didn't appreciate what Jack did for him. Seriously now, Idon't blame Jack for being furious." And Henry Burns gave a graphicaccount of the adventure.

  When he had finished, both Tom Harris and Bob White gave vent to whistlesof surprise.

  "Say," exclaimed Bob White, "you couldn't guess who that young chap is,if you tried a hundred years."

  "Why, do you know him, then?" cried Jack Harvey.

  "Yes, and you will know him, too, before the summer is over," replied BobWhite. "That's Harry Brackett, Squire Brackett's son."

  "Didn't know he had any," exclaimed Harvey.

  "Neither did we till this summer," said Bob White. "He dropped in on usone day, early, and wanted to borrow some money. That was up in Benton.He said he must have it, to get right back to Southport; and Tom's fatherlet him have a little. But we saw him several days after that drivingabout the streets with a hired rig. So that's where the money went, and Ithink Mr. Harris will never see the money again. He's been off to schoolfor two years, so he says; but if he has learned anything except how tosmoke, he doesn't show it.

  "But, never mind that now," added Bob. "Let's get the _Viking_ in toanchorage and made snug, for you know there's something waiting for youover to the camp."

  "What! You don't mean you have kept supper waiting for us all this time?"cried Henry Burns, joyfully.

  "Oh, but you are a pair of bricks!" exclaimed Harvey, as Bob White noddedan affirmative. "I can smell that fish chowder that Bob makes clear outhere."

  A few minutes later, the four boys, weighting the canoe down almost tothe gunwales, were gliding in it across the water to a point of landfronting the harbour, where, through the darkness, the vague outlines ofa tent were to be discerned. Soon the canoe grazed along a shelf ofledge, upon which they stepped. Tom Harris sprang up the bank andvanished inside the tent. Then the light of a lantern shone out,illuminating the canvas, and Tom Harris, as host, stood in the doorway,holding aside the flap for them to enter.

  Inside the tent, which had a floor of matched boards, freighted down fromup the river for the purpose, it was comfortable and cosy. Along eitherside, a bunk was set up, made of spruce poles, with boards nailed across,and hay mattresses spread over these. There were two roughly made chairs,which, with the bunks, provided sufficient seats for all. At the fartherend of the tent, on a box, beside another big wooden box that served fora locker, was an oil-stove, which was now lighted and upon which thererested an enormous stew-pan.

  The cover being removed from this, there issued forth an aroma of fishchowder that brought a broad grin even to the face of Jack Harvey.

  "Hooray!" he yelled, grasping Bob White about the waist, giving him abearlike embrace, and releasing him only to bestow an appreciative blowupon his broad back. "It's the real thing. It's one of Bob's best. It isa year since I had one, but I remember it like an old friend."

  "You get the first helping, for the compliment," said Bob White, ladle inhand.

  "And only to think," said Henry Burns, some moments later, as he leanedback comfortably, spoon in hand, "that that was Squire Brackett's son wehelped out of the scrape. He certainly has the squire's pleasing manner,hasn't he, Jack?"

  "Henry," replied Jack Harvey, solemnly, "don't you mention that youngBrackett again to me to-night. If you do, I'll put sail on the _Viking_and go out after him."

  "Then I won't say another word," exclaimed Henry Burns. "For my part, Ihope never to set eyes on him again."

  Unfortunately, that wish was not to be gratified.