A SAILING PARTY
After Aunt Isabel had gone home, Patty devoted herself to the
entertainment of her young cousins. And they seemed to require a great
deal of entertainment--both Ethelyn and Reginald wanted something done
for their pleasure all the time. They did not hesitate to express very
freely their opinions of the pleasures planned for them, and as they were
sophisticated young persons, they frequently scorned the simple gaieties
in which Patty and her Vernondale companions found pleasure. However,
they condescended to be pleased at the idea of a sailing party, for, as
there was no water near their own home, a yacht was a novelty to them. At
first Ethelyn thought to appear interesting by expressing timid doubts as
to the safety of the picnic party, but she soon found that the
Vernondale young people had no foolish fears of that sort.
Fourth of July was a bright, clear day, warm, but very pleasant, with a
good stiff breeze blowing. Patty was up early, and when Ethelyn came
downstairs, she found her cousin, with the aid of Mancy and Pansy,
packing up what seemed to be luncheon enough for the whole party.
"Doesn't anybody else take anything?" she inquired.
"Oh, yes," said Patty, "they all do. I'm only taking cold chicken and
stuffed eggs. You've no idea what an appetite sailing gives you."
Ethelyn looked very pretty in a yachting suit of white serge, while
Patty's sailor gown was of more prosaic blue flannel, trimmed with
white braid.
"That's a sweet dress, Ethelyn," said Patty, "but I'm awfully afraid
you'll spoil it. You know we don't go in a beautiful yacht, all white
paint and polished brass; we go in a big old schooner that's roomy and
safe but not overly clean."
"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Ethelyn; "I dare say I shall spoil it, but
I've nothing else that's just right to wear."
"All aboard!" shouted a cheery voice, and Kenneth Harper's laughing face
appeared in the doorway.
"Oh, good-morning!" cried Patty, smiling gaily back at him; "I'm so glad
to see you. This is my cousin, Miss St. Clair. Ethelyn, may I present
Mr. Harper?"
Immediately Ethelyn assumed a coquettish and simpering demeanour.
"I've met Mr. Harper before," she said; "though I dare say he doesn't
remember me."
"Oh, yes, indeed I do," said Kenneth gallantly. "We met at a reception in
the city, and I am delighted to see you again, especially on such a jolly
occasion as I feel sure to-day is going to be."
"Do you think it is quite safe?" said Ethelyn, with what she considered
a charming timidity. "I've never been sailing, you know, and I'm not
very brave."
"Oh, pshaw! of course it's safe, barring accidents; but you're always
liable to those, even in an automobile. Hello! here comes Hepworth. Glad
to see you, old chap."
Mr. Hepworth received a general storm of glad greetings, was presented to
the strangers, and announced himself as ready to carry baskets, boxes,
rugs, wraps, or whatever was to be transported.
Mr. Fairfield, as general manager, portioned out the luggage, and then,
each picking up his individual charge, they started off. On the way they
met the Elliott family similarly equipped and equally enthusiastic, and
the whole crowd proceeded down to the wharf. There they found about
thirty young people awaiting them. All the girls of the Tea Club were
there; and all the boys, who insisted on calling themselves honorary
members of the club.
"It's a beautiful day," said Guy Morris, "but no good at all for sailing.
The breeze has died down entirely, and I don't believe it will come up
again all day."
"That's real cheerful, isn't it?" said Frank Elliott. "I should be
inclined to doubt it myself, but Guy is such a weatherwise genius, and he
almost never makes a mistake in his prognostications."
"Well, it remains to be seen what the day will bring forth," said Uncle
Charley; "but in the meantime we'll get aboard."
The laughing crowd piled themselves on board the big schooner, stowed
away all the baskets and bundles, and settled themselves comfortably in
various parts of the boat; some sat in the stern, others climbed to the
top of the cabin, while others preferred the bow, and one or two
adventurous spirits clambered out to the end of the long bowsprit and sat
with their feet dangling above the water. Ethelyn gave some affected
little cries of horror at this, but Frank Elliott reassured her by
telling her that it was always a part of the performance.
"Why, I have seen your dignified cousin Patty do it; in fact, she
generally festoons herself along the edge of the boat in some precarious
position."
"Don't do it to-day, will you, Patty?" besought Ethelyn, with a
ridiculous air of solicitude.
"No, I won't," said Patty; "I'll be real good and do just as you
want me to."
"Noble girl!" said Kenneth Harper. "I know how hard it is for you
to be good."
"It is, indeed," said Patty, laughing; "and I insist upon having
due credit."
As a rule the Vernondale parties were exciting affairs. The route was
down the river to the sound; from the sound to the bay; and, if the
day were very favourable, out into the ocean, and perhaps around
Staten Island.
Patty had hoped for this most extended trip today, in order that Ethelyn
and Reginald might see a sailing party at its very best.
But after they had been on board an hour they had covered only the few
miles of river, and found themselves well out into the sound, but with no
seeming prospect of going any farther. The breeze had died away entirely,
and as the sun rose higher the heat was becoming decidedly uncomfortable.
Ethelyn began to fidget. Her pretty white serge frock had come in contact
with some muddy ropes and some oily screws, and several unsightly spots
were the result. This made her cross, for she hated to have her costume
spoiled so early in the day; and besides she was unpleasantly conscious
that her fair complexion was rapidly taking on a deep shade of red. She
knew this was unbecoming, but when Reginald, with brotherly frankness,
informed her that her nose looked like a poppy bud, she lost her temper
and relapsed into a sulky fit.
"I don't see any fun in a sailing party, if this is one," she said.
"Oh, this isn't one," said Guy Morris good-humoredly; "this is just a
first-class fizzle. We often have them, and though they're not as much
fun as a real good sailing party, yet we manage to get a good time out of
them some way."
"I don't see how," said Ethelyn, who was growing very ill-tempered.
"We'll show you," said Frank Elliott kindly; "there are lots of things to
do on board a boat besides sail."
There did seem to be, and notwithstanding the heat and the sunburn--yes,
even the mosquitoes--those happy-go-lucky young people found ways to have
a real good time. They sang songs and told stories and jokes, and showed
each other clever little games and tricks. One of the boys had a camera
and he took pictures of the whole crowd, both singly and in groups. Mr.
Hepworth drew caricature portraits, and Kenneth Harper gave some of his
funny impersonations.
Except for the responsibility of her cousin's entertainment, Patty
enjoyed herself exceedingly; but then she was always a happy little girl,
and never allowed herself to be discomfited by trifles.
Everybody was surprised when Aunt Alice announced that it was time for
luncheon, and though all were disappointed at the failure of the sail,
everybody seemed to take it philosophically and even merrily.
"What is the matter?" said Ethelyn. "Why don't we go?"
"The matter is," said Mr. Fairfield, "we are becalmed. There is no
breeze and consequently nothing to make our bonny ship move, so she
stands still."
"And are we going to stay right here all day?" asked Ethelyn.
"It looks very much like it, unless an ocean steamer comes along and
gives us a tow."
Aunt Alice and the girls of the party soon had the luncheon ready, and
the merry feast was made. As Frank remarked, it was a very different
thing to sit there in the broiling sun and eat sandwiches and devilled
eggs, or to consume the same viands with the yacht madly flying along in
rolling waves and dashing spray.
The afternoon palled a little. Youthful enthusiasm and determined good
temper could make light of several hours of discomfort, but toward three
o'clock the sun's rays grew unbearably hot, the glare from the water was
very trying, and the mosquitoes were something awful.
Guy Morris, who probably spent more of his time in a boat than any of the
others, declared that he had never seen such a day.
Mr. Fairfield felt sorry for Ethelyn, who had never had such an
experience before, and so he exerted himself to entertain her, but she
resisted all his attempts, and even though Patty came to her father's
assistance, they found it impossible to make their guest happy.
Reginald was no better. He growled and fretted about the heat and other
discomforts and he was so pompous and overbearing in his manner that it
is not surprising that the boys of Vernondale cordially disliked him.
"As long as we can't go sailing," said Ethelyn, "I should think we
would go home."
"We can't get home," said Patty patiently. She had already explained this
several times to her cousin. "There is no breeze to take us anywhere."
"Well, what will happen to us, then? Shall we stay here forever?"
"There ought to be a breeze in two or three days," said Kenneth Harper,
who could not resist the temptation to chaff this ill-tempered young
person. "Say by Tuesday or Wednesday, I should think a capful of wind
might puff up in some direction."
"It is coming now," said Frank Elliott suddenly; "I certainly feel
a draught."
"Put something around you, my boy," said his mother, "I don't want you
to take cold."
"Let me get you a wrap," said Frank, smiling back at his mother, who was
fanning herself with a folded newspaper.
"The wind is coming," said Guy Morris, and his serious face was a sharp
contrast to the merry ones about him, "and it's no joke this time. Within
ten minutes there'll be a stiff breeze, and within twenty a howling gale,
or I'm no sailor."
As he spoke he was busily preparing to reef the mainsail, and he
consulted hurriedly with the sailors.
At first no one could believe Guy's prophecies would come true, but in a
few moments the cool breeze was distinctly felt, the sun went under a
cloud, and the boat began to move. It was a sudden squall, and the clouds
thickened and massed themselves into great hills of blackness; the water
turned dark and began to rise in little threatening billows, the wind
grew stronger and stronger, and then without warning the rain came.
Thunder and lightning added to the excitement of the occasion, and in
less than fifteen minutes the smooth sunny glare of water was at the
mercy of a fearful storm.
The occupants of the boat seemed to know exactly how to behave in these
circumstances. Mrs. Elliott and the girls of the party went down into the
little cabin, which held them all, but which was very crowded.
Guy Morris took command, and the other boys, and men, too, for that
matter, did exactly as he told them.
Ethelyn began to cry. This was really not surprising, as the girl had
never before had such an experience and was exceedingly nervous as well
as very much frightened.
Mrs. Elliott appreciated this, and putting her arm around the sobbing
child, comforted her with great tact and patience.
The storm passed as quickly as it came. There had been danger, both real
and plentiful, but no bad results attended, except that everybody was
more or less wet with the rain.
The boys were more and the girls less, but to Ethelyn's surprise, they
all seemed to view the whole performance quite as a matter of course, and
accepted the situation with the same merry philosophy that they had shown
in the morning.
The thermometer had fallen many degrees, and the cold wind against damp
clothing caused a most unpleasant sensation.
"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," said Guy. "This breeze will
take us home, spinning."
"I'm glad of it," said Ethelyn snappishly; "I've had quite enough of the
sailing party."
Frank confided to Patty afterward that he felt like responding that the
sailing party had had quite enough of her, but instead he said politely:
"Oh, don't be so easily discouraged! Better luck next time."
To which Ethelyn replied, still crossly, "There'll be no next time for
me."