The evening before, Mr. Miller had engaged the Hull baseball field for
this afternoon; and, as all the boys were to be allowed liberty, some
of them went down to the cabin at half-past two to ask for a little of
their money which was kept in the ship’s safe. At a quarter to three
the bugle sounded for liberty inspection, and a few of the greener boys
were found to have tied their black kerchiefs with wrong knots, causing
a laugh among the older ones.
“How do you expect your rope knots to hold, if you can’t tie your
neck-gear right?” said Jack Perkins, as they all tumbled into the
ship’s cutters and rowed ashore.
Mr. Miller and Perkins were chosen captains for the two teams, and
Boatswain Fred Hamilton was elected umpire. Then Mr. Miller and Jack
began choosing their men alternately; and, as they stood in two bunches
opposite each other, “the Blues” and “the Reds” appeared to be fairly
evenly matched.
About half a dozen boys who had not been lucky enough to be chosen for
the teams, sat on the benches and improvised score cards, hoping that
some of them might be called upon as substitutes before the game was
over. Mr. Miller himself was a good player for “the Blues.” He was more
than an average player, having served on his freshman nine at college,
and having always gone out regularly as a candidate for the “Varsity”
up to his senior year. On two or three occasions he had even played
as a substitute on the “Varsity”, and was looked upon as a valuable
and reliable man in reserve. “The Reds”, on the other hand, had a
first-rate player in their captain, Jack Perkins, who, besides being
a prize-winner at track athletics, had served as captain of his class
nine at the Northbridge High School.
Both Mr. Miller and Jack usually took the position of catcher. Mr.
Graham Wentworth, the assistant scout master, was made pitcher for the
“Reds”, and Clarence Ellsworth pitcher for the “Blues.”
At the toss up, the “Blues” won their first innings and went in with
Mr. Miller at the bat. He knocked a swift grounder, which was picked
up by the shortstop, Tom Sheffield, and thrown to first base, so that
Mr. Miller was put out at the very beginning of the inning. Chippie
Smith, who was sitting on the benches, climbed up and waved his hat
frantically at this good play of his chum’s, and the spectators, who
had now begun to gather around the stands, gave a round of applause.
Tom was surprised at himself, and began muttering “steady, now,
steady!” to keep from getting excited.
Mr. Miller felt rather queer as he sat down on the grass and watched
Ellsworth go to the bat. The latter helped the situation for
the “Blues” somewhat by making a two-base hit to left field. He
held second base all right, and the “Blues” felt a little better.
Ellsworth, however, tried to steal third, but was put out by a pretty
cross-diamond throw from the pitcher, Mr. Wentworth. This made two
out for the “Blues”, and it looked as if the first inning was to end
unluckily for them. Nobody scored, that inning, until all had been
at the bat excepting Dick Gray, who got his first base on a “single”
to right field, but then, to the astonishment of everybody, kept on
running to second. Guy Plummer, who was playing right field, picked the
ball up quickly and threw it to second, at just about the same time
that Dick dove forward on the ground to touch the base. The second
baseman, Sidney Malloy, was a good player but rather a small boy, and
immediately turned to the umpire and claimed that Gray was out; but
Dick gave him a dig in the ribs; and, at the same time grabbed the
base, loudly claiming that he had made good.
[Illustration: Dick dove forward on the ground to touch the base. _Page
70._]
The umpire took a few minutes to consider, and then decided that Gray
was “not out.” Plummer had been in a pretty good position to see what
had actually happened and he thought it was a clear case of “out”; at
the same time, it was quite possible that Gray had honestly believed
that he had touched the base before the ball was caught. Nobody really
had any unpleasant feeling over the incident, except Malloy, the second
baseman, and Mr. Wentworth, who from the pitcher’s box had noticed the
ugly look in Dick’s face when he told the small-sized second baseman to
“shut up!”
This made “three out” at the end of the first half of the first inning.
The “Reds” only made one run in their half, and this was scored by
Perkins on a “three-bagger” to left field, caught, but dropped, by the
left fielder. During the next four or five innings no very remarkable
work was done on either side. There was some good hitting, but the
fielding was rather poor; and, at the beginning of the sixth inning,
the score stood at seven to six in favor of the “Reds.” During this
inning, however, Mr. Wentworth began improving in his pitching. He
seemed to have got his second wind and threw his balls with a kind of
regular swing, and with greater swiftness and accuracy.
One of the “Blues” was put out on three strikes and Clarence Ellsworth
struck a ball which went almost straight into the air, and was well
judged and caught by the second baseman, Malloy, who had previously
been roughly handled by Dick.
After this the “Reds” began to forge ahead still further, and the hopes
of the “Blues” were finally dashed when Mr. Miller, after having made
a two-base hit, was put out on third,--the final score being eleven to
six in favor of the “Reds.”
Thus ended the first game of the season for the “Blues” and the “Reds”
of the _Bright Wing_; and, after cheering one another and giving the
Boy Scout yell, they started to walk through the town on their way back
to the dock.
The long boat, with Mr. Miller on board and Tom Sheffield as coxswain,
got under way first; and, as the ship was about half a mile from the
shore, it gave the boys a good chance for a stretch after their game.
The two other boats started together about seven minutes after the long
boat, and the idea of a race occurred to the two coxswains at the same
moment. Mr. Wentworth, the officer in command, gave his assent. The
two coxswains, Chippie Smith and Sidney Malloy, looked their men over
carefully with a view to balancing the boats; and, after one or two
changes of position, it was agreed that Mr. Wentworth should give the
word. The latter picked out the corner of a certain building on one
side of the bay and the mast of a ship lying at anchor on the other
side. The imaginary line connecting these two points would be about at
right angles to the course the boys would have to row to get to the
_Bright Wing_. Mr. Wentworth ordered the two bow men to report when
both bows were as nearly as possible on this line with their heads
turned in the direction of the ship; and, after a little backing and
pulling, with the boats about a hundred feet apart, Mr. Wentworth gave
the order, “Stand by;--give way together!”
Once started, Mr. Wentworth, of course, said nothing more, but, in his
seat in the stern, next the coxswain, left the management of the boat
entirely to him.
“Easy, now! Easy!” called Chippie, as his men, in their haste to get
away, began interfering with one another, instead of pulling all
together.
Malloy’s crew made a little better start, for he had taken pains to
warn them to go easy for the first six strokes until they had got the
rhythm of the oars into their heads and bodies.
By the time Chippie’s men had got out of their little mess, Malloy’s
boat was about a length ahead; and, after that, both crews settled down
to work with a good steady swing.
In such a short race as this, one boat’s length at the start was of
some importance, and Chippie felt that they must do their best to
make up for the loss as quickly as possible. It was not a question of
keeping strength in reserve, as he would have done if there had been a
mile to row instead of a half-mile.
The _Bright Wing_ was lying broadside on to them, and it had been
agreed that they would row across her bow,--the first boat going across
being the winner. They knew, of course, that there would be plenty of
boys on board who would crowd into the jib netting to act as judges.
Both coxswains were counting steadily to keep the rowing smooth and
even, and Chippie’s boat had already caught up to the extent of half
a length, when an angry exclamation escaped one of the boys who had
“caught a crab”, and, at the same time, lost his balance--tumbling over
backwards with his feet in the air.
“All but Number Three keep on rowing,” cried Chippie. “Easy, there,
Number Three! You must not pull the boat around. All right, Dick. Now,
all together,--keep stroke! One, two!--one, two!--one, two!--” Thanks
to Chippie’s presence of mind, the incident had only cost them one
boat’s length, so that they found themselves a length and a half behind
the other boat, instead of half a length, as they had been before.
“It was your fault, Guy,” muttered Dick under his breath, to the boy
behind him.
“Keep your mouth shut and your oar going, Dick,” cried the coxswain;
“we’ve got to save this race first, and you can blame other people
afterwards.”
Some of the boys in the other boat, when they had noticed Dick’s
mishap, had begun to laugh and sensibly slackened up their pace.
Chippie noticed this, and it gave him a new interest in gathering his
men together to do their best.
“Now, boys,” said he, in a low but distinct tone, “pull yourselves
together, and we may win out yet. The other crew have begun
wool-gathering, and that will give us a chance either to win or make it
a tie.”
Then, “one, two!--one, two!--” he began his firm rhythmical count,
and every boy in the boat felt the effect of Chippie Smith’s quiet
determination.
In another minute the chuckling boys of the other crew were surprised
to notice that they were only a half length ahead. Then they stopped
grinning, and Malloy got back on his job, which he realized he should
never have left for a moment.
But now it seemed that they had come too near to the goal to recover
themselves entirely. Chippie Smith’s boat had too strong a headway,
and the whole crew were working together like animated clockwork.
They managed to cross the line practically at the same time as their
opponents, and the question of which boat actually was the winner had
to be referred to a committee of three boys who were in the jib netting
at the finish. The race was so close that the committee itself was not
unanimous, although Chippie Smith’s boat was declared the winner by the
distance of a mere hair’s breadth.
When it was all over, Mr. Wentworth sent for Chippie and shook hands
with him.
“I call that pretty work, Smith; you were in a hard position when that
mistake was made, and you held your men together well.”
Chippie was standing at attention and brought his hand up to salute.
There was no mistake about the “smile of the scout” on his face at that
moment. It was more eloquent even than his hearty “Thank you, sir!”
The interest in the race had been so keen among both officers and boys
that the memory of the baseball game was almost cast into the shade.
Sidney Malloy’s crew were a little ashamed of themselves, but they
were foremost in their appreciation of the grand way in which their
opponents had rallied and made such a fine showing at the end.
All the boys in Chippie’s crew felt that they owed their victory--such
as it was--to the coxswain, and were for carrying him on their
shoulders around the deck, but Chippie got away and climbed up the mast
to the crosstrees, from which superior strategic position he threatened
to annihilate any one who should be so bold as to pursue him.
After Chippie had come down and the excitement had begun to subside,
he began to feel uncomfortable about Dick, and wondered what was the
matter with him. He thought about the incident of the bell, and then
about Dick’s accident in the boat.
“I never saw him so awkward in a boat before,” thought he, “I wonder
what’s got into him?”
Then he thought of the meeting on Duck Island when they had all three
agreed to keep one another up to the scout standard, and felt troubled
and unhappy. He went off to talk it all over with Tom.
The only other member of this crew who was not happy was Dick Gray
himself, and it was hard to make out just what was the matter with him.
In talking him over with the Chairman, Mr. Wentworth remarked:
“I can’t quite make that boy out, sir. He may need some special help. I
can’t make out his signals.”