OVERBOARD
There was no visible object which seemed to suggest a name for the
miniature sea; but just then the band began to play "Washington's
March."
"Call it Washington Sea, boys," said Mrs. Sedley.
The name was given, but the geography lesson could not proceed while
the music continued.
"Stand by to lay on your oars!" Frank commanded. "Oars!"
The oarsmen levelled their oars, feathering the blades, and listening
to the march. The Bunkers, attracted by the music of the band, followed
the Sylph at a respectful distance. The presence of Uncle Ben and Mrs.
Sedley was a restraint upon them, and they conducted themselves with
tolerable decorum. The band ceased playing, and Mrs. Sedley continued
her instructions.
"What is a gulf or bay?"
"A portion of the sea extending into the land."
"Can you give me an example?"
"Weston Bay," replied Fred, laughing.
"And perhaps, before the expedition concludes its voyage, we shall find
something which may be called a gulf."
"I know where there is a gulf," said Charles.
"Now, Frank, you may go through the strait," said Fred.
"Is it safe? I don't know how deep the water is."
"I am glad to see you are careful," said Mrs. Sedley. "You can ask
Uncle Ben."
"Sylph, ahoy!" shouted Frank, rising.
"What boat's that?" roared Uncle Ben, in reply.
"The Zephyr, of and from Rippleton," returned the coxswain. "Can you
tell me what depth of water there is in this passage?"
"Where's your chart?"
"We must have a chart of the lake," suggested Fred.
"That we must. Who shall draw it?"
"Fred Harper."
"We have no chart. Will you give me the depth of water inside the
island?" continued Frank.
"Short fathom," replied Uncle Ben.
"We are none the wiser," interposed Charles. "How much is a fathom?"
"Six feet," answered Tony.
"But he don't say how much short."
"Can we go through in safety, Uncle Ben?"
"Ay, ay; but trail your oars."
Frank let the crew pull several smart strokes, and then ordered them to
trail. The Zephyr darted through the narrow passage.
"Now for the name of the strait," said Frank.
"You seem to be at a loss for names; I think you had better call these
divisions after the members of the club," suggested Mrs. Sedley.
"So we can; the memory of great travellers and navigators has been
handed down to their posterity by geographical names,--Hudson Bay,
Mount Franklin, Cook's Straits, for example," said Fred Harper,
laughing heartily.
The proposition received a ready assent; and the strait was called
Graham Strait, after the boy who pulled the second oar.
"But the island?" said Charles.
"Paul Spencer pulls the third oar; we will call it Spencer Island."
The position of the boat was a favorable one for observing the
conformation of the country, and Mrs. Sedley improved the opportunity
to point out the various divisions of the land.
Half-way between Centre Island and the north shore was another island;
and after coasting along by the banks of the lake, applying names to
miniature sounds, bays, gulfs, and seas, the Zephyr arrived at its
southerly side.
"Here is a channel," said Frank; "a passage of water wider than a
strait."
"Fred's turn; we must call it Harper Channel," replied Tony.
"And the island?--we are out of names," continued Frank.
"We will call it Mary's Island, after Mary Weston."
"Agreed!" cried a dozen boys at once.
"I thank you for the compliment," said Mary, blushing.
The excursion was continued, the boys rowing leisurely, and pausing
frequently to listen to the music of the band, and discuss the
geographical formation of the lake and its shores. They passed entirely
round the lake, and had given so many names to the various divisions of
land and water, that it seemed improbable they could ever remember
them.
As they came round to the boat-house, Mrs. Sedley was landed, and the
club rowed up to Weston Bay, to leave the widow and her daughter. Both
the passengers were delighted with their excursion, and were profuse of
their thanks to Frank and his companions for their kindness and
consideration.
"What shall we do now?" said Charles, as they pushed off.
"Hadn't we better give up for to-day?" suggested Frank.
"Let us go down to Rippleton for your father," added Fred.
"I will do that," answered Frank; and the Zephyr dashed away towards
the village.
They had scarcely passed the boat-house before they discovered the
Thunderbolt, directly ahead of them. Uncle Ben had landed the band at
Rippleton, and had housed the Sylph, so that the Bunkers would no
longer be restrained by his presence and that of Mrs. Sedley. But there
was no way to avoid them, and Frank continued his course with some
misgivings as to the consequences.
"Bunkers ahead!" said he.
"Never mind them, Frank," added Fred Harper. "We won't say anything to
them."
"Tim will get his revenge upon us for this morning if he can,"
suggested the coxswain.
"We can keep out of his way, though I don't like the idea of running
away from them," replied Fred.
"I like it better than I do the idea of fighting with them. But the
lake is narrow near the village," said Frank.
"We can row two rods to their one."
"They have improved a great deal by their day's practice. They are
resting on their oars, waiting for us."
"Let them wait; we will mind nothing about them."
The Zephyr continued on her course. It was necessary for her to pass
within a short distance of the Thunderbolt, and Frank feared they would
retaliate upon them for their discomfiture in the forenoon.
"Let every member of the club mind his oar," said he, as the boat
approached the vicinity of the Bunkers; "I will watch them; I want you
to mind what I say, and work quick when I speak."
"We will," answered the boys.
"I suspect, if they mean anything, that they intend to rush upon us
when we pass them. Yes, there is Tim bringing her head round so that
she lies broadside to us, and every one of them has his oar ready to
pull," Frank explained.
"Can't you cut across the lake, and avoid them?" asked Tony.
"We must pass them somewhere; and they can cut us off, whatever course
we take."
"Smash them if they come too near," said Fred.
"No, no, Fred; that wouldn't do. When I tell you to stop and back her,
do it promptly, and we can easily get away from them. Pull steady."
The boys rowed leisurely, and the Zephyr in a short time reached a
position which was exposed to the assault of the Thunderbolt.
"Pull," cried Tim Bunker, with energy.
Her course was at right angles with that of the Zephyr. Tim had
apparently made a nice calculation in regard to his intended movements.
He had started so as to come up with his rival when she reached the
point in her course directly ahead of him.
The Bunkers pulled with all their might, and the two boats were rapidly
nearing each other. Tim's plan had been well conceived, and the
collision seemed inevitable. Frank saw that he had rightly interpreted
the intentions of the Bunkers, but he still continued his course.
Suddenly, as the Thunderbolt was on the point of pouncing upon her
prey, Frank, with startling energy, gave the command,--
"Way enough! Hold water! Stern all!"
Every boy, expecting the orders, was ready to execute them. The oars
bent under the violent exertion they made to check the farther progress
of the boat.
When the collision seemed unavoidable, Tim abandoned the helm, and
leaped forward into the bow of the boat. He had a large stick in his
hand; and it was evidently his intention to use it upon poor Tony, for
his glance was fixed upon him with savage ferocity.
Frank's plan worked well. He had withheld the order to stop and back
her till the last moment, so that Tim should have no time to change the
course of the Thunderbolt, and thus derange his plan. As it was, it was
a very narrow escape, and nothing but the promptness with which the
order was executed averted the impending catastrophe.
The Thunderbolt passed across the course of the Zephyr, not three feet
from her bow. Tim saw that he was foiled; and enraged at his
disappointment, he aimed a blow at Tony with the long stick, as his
boat shot past.
Tony was beyond his reach; he leaned over the gunwale of the boat in a
vain attempt to accomplish his malignant purpose. But in doing so, he
lost his foothold, and was precipitated head foremost into the lake!
He disappeared beneath the dark surface of the deep water, and his boat
passed over the spot. The Zephyr, impelled backward by the vigorous
strokes of her crew, was several rods from the place before the club
fully realized the nature of the unfortunate occurrence.
The Thunderbolt was much nearer the place where Tim had disappeared
than the Zephyr; but her crew seemed to be utterly paralyzed by the
event, and unable to render the slightest assistance. One of the
Bunkers took the helm, and endeavored to rally his companions; but in
their confusion they were incapable of handling their oars; some pulled
one way, and some another, and instead of urging the boat ahead, they
only turned it round in a circle.
"Way enough!" shouted Frank, as soon as he discovered the accident.
"Give way! Tim Bunker has fallen overboard!"
The crew, though affected to some extent as the Bunkers were, used
their oars with skill and energy. The presence of mind which Frank
displayed inspired them with courage, and the Zephyr darted forward
towards the spot where Tim had gone down.
"There he is ahead!" exclaimed Frank, with frantic earnestness; "pull
with all your might!"
"Help! Save me!" cried Tim, as he rose to the surface.
The boats were both several rods distant from him. He did not swim, but
seemed to struggle with all his strength, apparently with a spasmodic
effort, as though he had entirely lost his self-control.
"Tony, stand by with your boat-hook," shouted Frank.
But Tim struggled only for an instant on the surface, and then went
down again.
"Way enough!" said Frank, as the Zephyr approached the spot. "Hold
water! Oars!"
The boat, under the skilful management of the resolute young coxswain,
lost her headway, and lay motionless on the water near the spot where
Tim had last appeared.
"Do you see him, Tony?"
"No."
"Fred, forward with your boat-hook," continued Frank.
Fred took the boat-hook, and went forward to the bow of the Zephyr.
"There he is!" exclaimed Tony, as he caught a sight of the drowning boy
beneath the surface.
Fred dropped his boat-hook into the water intending to fasten it into
Tim's clothes.
"He sinks again!" cried Tony, throwing off his jacket and shoes.
Before any of the crew could fully understand his purpose, so quick
were his movements, he dived from the bow of the boat deep down into
the water.
The boys held their breath in the intensity of their feelings. One or
two of them had dropped their oars, and were leaving their places.
"Keep your places, and hold on to your oars!" said Frank sternly. "Ned
Graham, take the other boat-hook."
"Back her a little--one stroke," said Fred Harper. "We are passing over
the spot."
Frank ordered the boat back, as desired.
"Here they rise! Tony has him!" exclaimed Fred, as he hooked into Tim's
clothes. "Grasp the other boat-hook, Tony."
Tim was drawn into the boat, apparently dead.
Tony was so exhausted that he could not speak, and sank into the bottom
of the boat.
"Give way!" said Frank, heading the Zephyr towards Rippleton.
The sad event had been observed from the shore, and before the arrival
of the club boat quite a number of persons had collected. Scarcely a
minute elapsed before the Zephyr touched the bank, and the lifeless
body of Tim Bunker was taken out, and conveyed to the nearest house.
"How do you feel, Tony?" asked Frank, lifting the noble little fellow
from his position.
"Badly, Frank; I want to go home," replied he faintly.
Among other persons who had gathered on the shore of the lake was one
of the physicians of Rippleton. He followed the party that conveyed Tim
into the house, and applied himself vigorously to the means of
restoring him. It was a long time before there were any signs of life,
and the people in the meantime believed him dead.
While Dr. Allen was at work over Tim, Fred Harper came to request his
assistance for Tony. Fortunately Dr. Davis, another physician, arrived
at this moment, and accompanied him to the boat.
"What ails him, Dr. Davis?" asked Frank.
"Exhaustion and excitement have overcome him."
"Is it anything serious?"
"I think not. We must get his wet clothes off, and put him to bed."
"Will you go home with him? We will row you up and back again."
The physician was very willing to go, and the boat put off. The club
pulled with all their strength, and the distance to Tony's house was
accomplished in a very few moments. Mrs. Weston was greatly alarmed
when Tony was brought in, but the doctor assured her it was nothing
serious. He was put to bed, the doctor prescribed for him, and when the
boys were ready to leave, they had the satisfaction of knowing the
patient was much better.
When they reached Rippleton, they found that Tim had been restored, and
conveyed to his father's house. Captain Sedley came in the last train,
and the boys rowed him home.