A MUTINY, AND A NEW SKIPPER.
Ash Burton did not believe that Tom Topover could handle the Goldwing;
and he was anxious to have him appeal to him for assistance, which,
however, he had decided not to render while the present incumbent
remained as captain. Tom was sailing the boat away from the wharf, and
two of the party at least were strongly opposed to doing so. The wind
was fair for the wharf, but Tom had not the most remote idea of the way
to bring the sloop about. His nautical education had been confined to
rowboats.
Ash walked forward to the forecastle, where Sam Spottwood had seated
himself. He was fully resolved to give the skipper rope enough so that
he could hang himself, and prove his own incompetency. There was hardly
wind enough in Beechwater to upset the boat, and the emergency was to be
something else that would call him to command.
"We are going away from the wharf," said Sam, when his friend seated
himself by his side.
"Of course we are; I am not exactly blind. Tom don't know enough to
bring the boat about, and that's what's the matter," replied Ash.
"I believe the fellow means to go off on the lake," added Sam.
"Not a bit of it! He couldn't get her down the river if he tried a week.
No; he couldn't even get her through the outlet, for at the turn he will
have the wind dead ahead," chuckled Ash.
Tom Topover at the helm looked as though he were supremely contented
with his position. He had got the hang of the wheel so far as to be able
to steer the sloop when there were no complications. By trial he found
that when he pulled the spokes towards him, sitting on the weather side,
it caused the bow to swing in the same direction. If he turned the wheel
too much, it felt as though the boat would tip over. Turning it too much
the other way, made the wind shake the sail as it was "spilled." This
was the extent of the skipper's present skill in sailing a boat.
The Goldwing moved rapidly even in a light wind, and she was soon near
the outlet. It looked as though Tom meant to go through, for he made no
attempt to check the further progress of the sloop in this direction.
Sam protested that he must not go any farther: the navigation of the
outlet was difficult, and it required all Dory Dornwood's skill to carry
her through with a west wind.
"Why don't you say something to him, Ash?" asked Sam, beginning to be
anxious about the result of the venture.
"He is the skipper, and I don't want to interfere with him," replied Ash
very decidedly.
"But he means to run away with the boat, and we don't agree to that,"
remonstrated Sam. "He don't know what to do, even if he don't intend to
take a cruise on the lake; and you ought to tell him, for you are the
only fellow on board that knows any thing about a sailboat. He will get
us all into a scrape that we did not bargain for."
"I tell you he can't get through the outlet," replied Ash impatiently.
"When he gets her aground, as you may be sure he will, all we have to do
is to jump ashore and go home."
"We had no business to come down here in the boat, and I want to get out
of the muddle before it gets any hotter," persisted Sam.
"You have a tongue in your head, and you know how to use it. Why don't
you talk to Tom yourself?" inquired Ash.
"I don't know any thing more about a sailboat than I do about making
turtle-soup," added Sam.
"That won't prevent you from telling Tom to come about and go to the
wharf by the boat-house."
Sam Spottwood had not thought of this before. If he told the skipper to
go back, he thought he must explain how it was to be done.
"This won't do, Tom Topover!" said he vigorously, as he walked aft
through the standing-room. "We are going away from the wharf all the
time, and we shall never get there at this rate."
"I suppose you don't know much about a boat, but you have to sail as the
wind will let you," replied Tom in an airy manner, as though he
comprehended the subject perfectly.
"I don't know any thing about a sailboat, but I think it is high time we
were getting near the wharf," added Sam.
"I was just thinking so myself, and I will turn her about now," said
Tom, as he cast his eyes about him like a prudent sailor before he
changes the position of his vessel.
In this part of the lake the country was more open than farther up the
creek, and the wind from the great lake came fresh over the lowlands at
the mouth of Beaver River. As Sam spoke, the breeze freshened; and, as
the boat happened to have a "good full," she heeled over till her
gunwale was very near the surface of the water. This sudden jerk
frightened all in the boat except Ash Burton; and the captain more than
any one else, for he felt the responsibility of his position.
Tom Topover was bound to do something to counteract the pressure of the
wind against the sail; and he put the helm hard up, instead of hard down
as he should have done. He neglected to cast off the main sheet, which
he had made fast to the cleat. The result was that the boat came as near
going over as she could in that amount of wind. The skipper was so mixed
up that he did not know what to do next, and he moved the wheel over the
other way as soon as the boat had gybed. A moment later the Goldwing
repeated the operation, for she was not used to being handled in this
clumsy manner.
Tom whirled the wheel from one side to the other, for he did not know
what he was about; and finally she was again headed into the outlet,
with her sail drawing on the starboard tack. He could make her go as she
had gone before, and that was all he could do.
Ash Burton was used to the movements of a boat, even when badly managed;
and he was not at all alarmed, for they were close to the shore. He
laughed at the struggles of the skipper to set things to rights.
"I thought you were going to the wharf," said Sam, as soon as he had
recovered in some measure from his fright. "You are headed the wrong
way."
"She won't go the other way," protested Tom.
"The wind is west, and it ought to take us the other way as well as
this," Sam objected.
"But it won't take us that way," replied Tom sharply. "Haven't I just
tried it?"
"But you don't know how to manage the boat," protested Sam, disgusted
with the conduct of the captain.
"Who says I don't know how?" demanded Tom, who never admitted his
inability to accomplish any thing he undertook to do.
"I say so, and you have proved it. I believe you mean to take us out on
the lake."
"Well, what if I do? I don't believe the fellows will object to a trip
on the lake in this boat," replied Tom, willing to take the clew the
mutinous hand had given him.
"I object to it, and for one I won't go on any trip on the lake. You
don't know how to manage the boat, and you will drown the whole of us."
"I guess I know what I am about; and if you don't dry up, Sam Spottwood,
I'll bat you over the head. I am the captain of this ship, and I ain't
goin' to have any feller stick his nose into my baked beans," returned
the skipper angrily.
Sam was not a coward; but he had never measured his skill with Tom, and
he did not care to quarrel in the boat. He went forward again, and he
and Ash agreed to jump ashore as soon as they got a chance.
The boat was now fairly in the outlet of Beechwater. The course for a
short distance was the same as before. The current could be felt as the
lake narrowed into a stream of less than a twentieth part of its width,
and the Goldwing increased her pace. The turn in the stream would bring
the wind dead ahead in a moment. Tom Topover kept his eyes wide open;
but he might as well have shut them tight, for he did not know where the
channel was, and he could not have kept the boat in it if he had known.
It was necessary to change the course of the sloop to prevent her from
running into the bank, and Tom shifted the helm to send her in the
direction of the most water. The sail shook, and the boat began to swing
about, as it was quite proper for her to do; but he met her with the
helm too soon, not knowing any thing about his business, and the sloop
lost her headway, so that she missed stays. The next moment she drifted
into the shallow water, and was aground close to the bank, which was a
little higher than the forecastle of the craft.
Ash Burton saw his opportunity at once, and without a word to any one he
leaped upon the land. Sam Spottwood followed him without a moment's
delay. The sail hung loosely from the gaff, and was slapping and banging
in a manner that was trying to the nerves of the inexperienced skipper.
The noise seemed to be an element of danger to him, though it was
entirely harmless. He saw the two members of his crew leap ashore, and
this step on their part contributed to complete his demoralization.
"What are you about, Ash Burton?" demanded Tom, as he saw his late
companions seat themselves on the grass.
"About to quit that trip," replied Ash. "I have had enough of it if you
are not going to the wharf as we agreed in the beginning."
"I am ready to go to the wharf, but the boat would not sail that way,"
the skipper explained.
"She would sail that way as well as the other; but you don't know how to
handle her, and you have made a mess of the whole thing," continued the
mutineer.
"Perhaps you think you can sail her up to the wharf?" added Tom, with a
withering sneer.
"I know I could before she got aground."
"No, you couldn't! What's the use of talking? You couldn't do it, for no
boat will go where the wind won't take 'em. I'll bet two cents against a
leather cabbage you can't do it!" continued Tom, who seemed suddenly to
have recovered his usual tone.
"Of course I can't now that the boat is aground, with her bottom buried
in the mud."
"We can shove her out of this in two minutes, and then I will give you a
chance to see what you can do," added Tom, who thought this was a good
way of getting out of the scrape without confessing his own
incompetency.
"All right; we will help you," replied Ash, who felt that he was gaining
his point. "I will sail the boat to the wharf if you will make me
captain, for I can't handle the sloop unless I have full power."
"All right; you shall be captain till we get to the wharf," replied Tom.
"Throw the painter ashore, and perhaps we can pull her off," continued
Ash.
Sam and he manned the line; and while those on board pushed with the
oars and boat-hook, they dragged the Goldwing into deep water, for only
her bow was in the mud. Ash and Sam returned to the boat.
With an oar the new skipper swung the boat about, and filled the sail on
the port tack. Greatly to the surprise of Tom, the Goldwing started off
on her new course at a lively rate, and a moment later was in the lake,
and headed for the wharf.