THE FOURTH OF JULY
Charles Hardy was sadly disappointed. He had given his money to the
widow Weston in the fullest confidence that it would be refunded to
him, and that he should be able to attend the celebration in Boston.
When Frank had proposed the charitable plan, his heart told him how
good and pleasant it would be to assist the poor woman. His feelings
were with his friend in the benevolent design; it was a mere impulse,
however, which prompted him to join in the act. He thought of the
sacrifice, but the hope of not being actually compelled to make it in
the end involuntarily helped him to a decision.
His father had misjudged his motive in calling him hypocritical, for he
really felt like doing the noble deed. He felt kindly towards the widow
Weston; but his principle was not strong and deep enough to enable him
to bear with pleasure, or even with a good grace, the deprivation which
his benevolent act had called upon him to suffer.
It was not so with Frank. He had given without the hope of reward; and
in staying at home on the Fourth of July, he was perfectly contented,
because it was the price he paid for the pleasure of doing good.
Charles, when he found that Captain Sedley did not come for him,
hastened over to find Frank. He and Tony Weston were on the beach.
"Hello, Charley! We have been waiting for you," said Frank, as he
approached.
"Hello, fellows! What's in the wind?" replied Charles. "What are you
going to do to-day?"
"We were just thinking about something."
"Has your father gone to the city, Frank?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing."
"Didn't he look surprised?"
"Not much. He only asked me the reason, and I said I would tell him
to-morrow. He didn't say any more about it. Got off nicely, didn't I?"
"First-rate," replied Charles coldly.
"What are you talking about?" asked Tony, to whom, of course, this
conversation was unintelligible.
"Tell you some other time, Tony," replied Charles. "Now, what shall we
do to-day?"
"I don't know. Here comes Uncle Ben; perhaps he can give us an idea."
Uncle Ben was an old seaman, who had sailed a great many years in the
employ of Captain Sedley. He was a rough, blunt old fellow, but so
honest, warm-hearted, and devoted to his employer, that when the latter
retired from the duties of his profession, he had given him a home on
his estate. Uncle Ben was a good sailor, but he had never risen above
the place of second mate. Without much ambition to distinguish himself,
or to make money, he was perfectly content to live with Captain Sedley,
even in a humble capacity.
Frank was an especial favorite of Uncle Ben; and as the old sailor's
habits were good, and as his ideas of morality and religion rendered
him a safe companion for his son, Captain Sedley permitted and
encouraged their intimacy. During the long winter evenings, he listened
with the most intense interest and delight to Uncle Ben's descriptions
of sea life and of the various countries he had visited.
With the neighbors, and especially the boys in the vicinity, the old
sailor was respected, and treated with a great deal of consideration.
He was an old man, but he had always maintained an unblemished
character. He was full of kindness and sympathy, always manifesting the
liveliest regard for the welfare of his friends; and on this account
people had got into the way of calling him by the familiar _sobriquet_
of Uncle Ben. It is true he was sometimes rude and rough, but his kind
heart atoned for the blemishes in his deportment.
Though Captain Sedley considered Uncle Ben a necessary appendage to his
estate, he did not impose upon him the performance of any very arduous
duties. He kept a pleasure-boat on the lake, and the old sailor had the
entire charge of that. Occasionally he worked a little in the garden,
groomed the horses, and did the "chores" about the house; but to use
his own expression, he was "laid up in ordinary."
"Here comes Uncle Ben," said Frank.
"I have been lookin' for you, boys. What are you up to here?"
"Nothing, Uncle Ben."
"What do you stand there for, then? Arn't this the Fourth of July?"
"It is, Uncle Ben; and we were thinking what we should do with
ourselves. Can't you tell us?"
"That I can, boys; I am goin' across the lake in the boat, and Cap'n
Sedley told me I might take you over with me if you'd like to go."
"Hurrah!" cried Charles Hardy, throwing up his cap with delight.
"That we would, Uncle Ben; and right glad we are of the chance to go,"
replied Frank.
"Tumble up to the boat-house, then," replied Uncle Ben, as he hobbled
after the boys, who, delighted with the prospect of a sail on the lake,
bounded off like so many antelopes.
The boat was cast off from her moorings in the boat-house, and the boys
jumped in.
"You will let me steer, won't you, Uncle Ben?" said Frank.
"Sartin, if you want to. Take the helm."
The old sailor hoisted the sails, and the boat stood out towards the
middle of the lake.
"Steady, there," said Uncle Ben; "keep the sails full."
Frank found it was not so easy a matter to steer a sailboat as he had
supposed; for one moment he stopped the boat by "throwing her up into
the wind," and the next ran her almost on shore by "keeping away."
"Keep her away!" cried Uncle Ben. "That will do; steady as she is. No,
no; you are six p'ints off the course now. Luff a little! Hard a port!"
"I don't know what you mean, Uncle Ben; I think you had better steer
yourself," said Frank, resigning the helm.
"I think I had."
Under the old sailor's skilful management, the boat soon reached Centre
Isle, where they decided to land.
"Now, boys, if you want to celebrate a little, here's half a dozen
bunches of crackers," said Uncle Ben, as he took a little package from
the locker in the stern of the boat.
"Bravo, Uncle Ben! We will have a nice time."
"Now, if you are of a mind to stay here and have a good time, while I
sail over to the other shore to see a sick man, I will give you a good
sail when I return."
"Hurrah! we will, Uncle Ben. Have you got any matches?"
"There are matches and a slowmatch in the bundle," replied Uncle Ben,
as he pushed off. "Now blaze away, and don't burn your fingers."
"Now for it!" exclaimed Charles, as he lighted the slowmatch. "Here
goes the first shot. Hurrah!"
The boys were in high glee. The crackers snapped admirably, and the
little forest of Centre Isle reverberated with the reports of their
mimic guns. Various expedients were devised to vary the entertainment.
Crackers were fired in the water, in the stumps, thrown in the air, or
half buried in the wet sand of the beach.
"By gracious! the Bunkers are coming!" exclaimed Tony Weston, as he
discerned the raft, navigated by half a dozen boys, approaching the
island.
"Let them come," said Charles.
"I had rather they would not come," added Frank.
"What harm will they do?"
"They are quarrelsome and disagreeable."
"Well, they won't be here this half-hour yet; that is one consolation;
and we can have a good time till they do get here," returned Charles,
as he lighted a whole bunch of the crackers.
"Go it!" cried Tony. "Hurrah! Fourth of July comes but once a year."
"Don't fire them all at once, Charley," interposed Frank.
"That is all the fun of it."
"But the fun won't last long at that rate."
"We must fire them all before the Bunkers get here, or they will take
them away from us."
And before the half-hour which Charles had given them to reach the
island had expired, their stock was entirely gone, their ammunition
exhausted, their noisy patriotism evaporated, and they seated
themselves on the grass to watch the approaching raft.
It had been a long and difficult passage, but at last the Bunkers
landed.
"Hello, Tony," said Tim, as he leaped ashore; "what are you doing
here?"
"Been firing crackers," replied Tony.
"Got any more?"
"I haven't."
"Who has?"
"None of us," replied Frank. "We have fired them all."
"You haven't!" answered Tim with an oath.
"I tell you the truth; don't I, Charley?"
"We had but six bunches, and we have fired them all," added Charles.
"I don't believe it; you long-face fellers will lie twice as quick as
one of us," said Tim, walking up to Frank.
"I have no more; I would not lie about it," protested Frank.
"Yes, yer would lie about it too. Now, just hand over some o' them
crackers, or I'll duck you in the lake."
Frank made no reply to this rude speech. He heartily wished himself off
the island, and out of the company of the newcomers.
"Hit him, Tim!" cried one of the Bunkers.
"Hit him!" repeated the others.
"Want to fight?" said Tim, doubling up his fists, and assuming a
pugilistic attitude.
"No, I don't want to fight; I will not fight," replied Frank,
retreating backward from the quarrelsome boy.
[Illustration: I don't want to fight. _P._ 71.]
"Oh, you won't fight, eh? Then, you'll git licked," replied Tim,
following him.
"I have not injured you; I don't see why you should wish to fight with
me."
"You lie! yer have. Didn't yer tell me yer hadn't got no more
crackers?"
"I have not."
"Yes, yer have;" and Tim struck Frank a severe blow which made his lip
bleed.
"Don't do that again!" cried Tony Weston, his face flushed with
indignation.
"What are you going to do about it?" said Tim, turning to Tony.
"I don't want to fight, but I won't see him abused in that shape."
"Never mind him, Tony," interposed Frank. "He didn't hurt me much. Let
us go over to the other side of the island."
"No, yer won't!" said Tim Bunker, approaching Frank again, and giving
him another blow in the face.
Tony Weston could bear no more; and springing upon the leader of the
Bunkers, he struck him several times in rapid succession.
"Don't, Tony, don't," said Frank, trying to separate the combatants.
"Fair play!" cried the Bunkers.
Tony, though younger and lighter than his antagonist, pressed him so
severely that he brought him to the ground before Frank and Charles
could draw him off. Tim instantly leaped to his feet again.
"Come on!" said he.
"Don't, Tony."
"Mind your own business!" said Tim to Frank as he renewed the assault
upon him.
Frank tried to get away; and when Tony and Charles came to his
assistance the other Bunkers attacked them, and the fight became
general.
"Give it to 'em," shouted Tim, as he struck his opponent several times
on the head.
Frank saw that he had nothing to hope for unless he defended himself.
He had done his best to prevent the fight, and now he felt justified in
resorting to necessary violence to save himself from further injury.
Suddenly springing upon his assailant, he bore him to the ground, and
held him there. In the meantime Tony and Charles were getting the worst
of it, when a loud shout arrested the attention of the combatants. They
all suspended the strife.
"It is Uncle Ben," said Charles.
The Bunkers seemed to understand the character of the old sailor; and
taking to their heels, they fled precipitately towards the other end of
the island.
"What are you about, boys?" said Uncle Ben sternly, as he landed.
"We could not help it, Uncle Ben; indeed we could not," replied Frank,
wiping his bleeding lip, and proceeding to tell the particulars of the
whole affair.
"It was my fault; I ought not to have left you here alone. What will
your father say?" said Uncle Ben, looking much troubled.
"He will not say anything; I am sure you are not to blame, Uncle Ben."
"Jump into the boat, and let us be off. These boys must be attended
to."
Uncle Ben, instead of immediately following the boys into the boat,
pushed off the raft from the shore, and attaching a line to it, made
fast the other end to the boat.
"What are you going to do, Uncle Ben?" asked Frank.
"I am going to keep them ruffians prisoners for a while," replied he,
as the boat shot away from the island with the raft in tow.
"You don't mean to keep them there?"
"I sartinly do, till your father comes home, and he may do what he
pleases with 'em. If I had my way, I'd tie 'em up to the grating, and
give 'em a dozen apiece. 'Twould sarve 'em right, the meddlesome
rascals! I like good boys, but such boys as them is worse nor marines."
"But, Uncle Ben, we can't sail with this raft dragging after us."
"We will make the shore with it, then."
The raft was towed ashore, and the boys had a fine sail the entire
length of the lake. As they passed Centre Isle, they could see the
Bunkers gathered in a ring, apparently discussing their prospects; and
on their return, Tim hailed them, begging to be taken ashore.
"What do you say, boys? Shall we forgive 'em?" asked Uncle Ben.
"Yes!" exclaimed all three.
Uncle Ben landed at the island, and took them in, and during the
passage read them a severe lecture on the error of their ways. They
gave good attention to him, and seemed very penitent. But no sooner had
they got ashore, and out of reach of the old sailor, than they insulted
him by hooting his name, coupled with the most opprobrious epithets.
"No use to be easy with 'em. The better you use 'em the worse they
sarve you," said Uncle Ben, as he hauled the boat into its house.