new arrival at Chadwick’s by young Teddy Carter, as the two sat under
the willow tree watching a game of tennis. The new arrival had just
expressed his surprise at the earnest desire manifest on the part of
the entire Chadwick establishment to defeat the Atlantic House people
in the great race which was to occur on the day following.
“Well, you see, sir,” said Teddy, “considerable depends on this race.
As it is now, we stand about even. The Atlantic House beat us playing
base-ball,--though they had to get the waiters to help them,--and we
beat them at tennis. Our house is great on tennis. Then we had a boat
race, and our boat won. They claimed it wasn’t a fair race, because
their best boat was stuck on the sand-bar, and so we agreed to sail it
over again. The second time the wind gave out, and all the boats had
to be poled home. The Atlantic House boat was poled in first, and her
crew claimed the race. Wasn’t it silly of them? Why, Charley Prescott
told them, if they’d only said it was to be a _poling_ match, he’d have
entered a mud-scow and left his sail-boat at the dock!”
“And so you are going to race again to-morrow?” asked the new arrival.
“Well, it isn’t exactly a race,” explained Teddy. “It’s a game we boys
have invented. We call it ‘Pirates and Smugglers.’ It’s something like
tag, only we play it on the water, in boats. We divide boats and boys
up into two sides; half of them are pirates or smugglers, and half of
them are revenue officers or man-o’-war’s-men. The ‘Pirate’s Lair’ is
at the island, and our dock is ‘Cuba.’ That’s where the smugglers run
in for cargoes of cigars and brandy. Mr. Moore gives us his empty cigar
boxes, and Miss Sherrill (the lady who’s down here for her health) let
us have all the empty Apollinaris bottles. We fill the bottles with
water colored with crushed blackberries, and that answers for brandy.
“The revenue officers are stationed at Annapolis (that’s the Atlantic
House dock), and when they see a pirate start from the island, or from
our dock, they sail after him. If they can touch him with the bow of
their boat, or if one of their men can board him, that counts one
for the revenue officers; and they take down his sail and the pirate
captain gives up his tiller as a sign of surrender.
“Then they tow him back to Annapolis, where they keep him a prisoner
until he is exchanged. But if the pirate can dodge the Custom House
boat, and get to the place he started for, without being caught, that
counts one for him.”
“Very interesting, indeed,” said the new arrival; “but suppose the
pirate won’t be captured or give up his tiller, what then?”
“Oh, well, in that case,” said Teddy, reflectively, “they’d cut
his sheet-rope, or splash water on him, or hit him with an oar, or
something. But he generally gives right up. Now to-morrow the Atlantic
House boys are to be the revenue officers and we are to be the pirates.
They have been watching us as we played the game, all summer, and they
think they understand it well enough to capture our boats without any
trouble at all.”
“And what do you think?” asked the new arrival.
“Well, I can’t say, certainly. They have faster boats than ours, but
they don’t know how to sail them. If we had their boats, or if they
knew as much about the river as we do, it would be easy enough to name
the winners. But as it is, it’s about even.”
* * * * *
Every one who owned a boat was on the river the following afternoon,
and these who didn’t own a boat hired or borrowed one--with or without
the owner’s permission.
The shore from Chadwick’s to the Atlantic House dock was crowded with
people. All Manasquan seemed to be ranged in line along the river’s
bank. Crab-men and clam-diggers mixed indiscriminately with the summer
boarders; and the beach-wagons and stages from Chadwick’s grazed the
wheels of the dog-carts and drags from the Atlantic’s livery stables.
It does not take much to overthrow the pleasant routine of
summer-resort life, and the state of temporary excitement existing at
the two houses on the eve of the race was not limited to the youthful
contestants.
The proprietor of the Atlantic House had already announced an elaborate
supper in honor of the anticipated victory, and every father and mother
whose son was to take part in the day’s race felt the importance of the
occasion even more keenly than the son himself.
“Of course,” said Judge Carter, “it’s only a game, and for my part,
so long as no one is drowned, I don’t really care who wins; _but_,
if our boys” (“our boys” meaning all three crews) “allow those young
whipper-snappers from the Atlantic House to win the pennant, they
deserve to have their boats taken from them and exchanged for hoops and
marbles!”
Which goes to show how serious a matter was the success of the Chadwick
crews.
At three o’clock the amateur pirates started from the dock to take up
their positions at the island. Each of the three small cat-boats, held
two boys: one at the helm and one in charge of the centre-board and
sheet-rope. Each pirate wore a jersey striped with differing colors,
and the head of each bore the sanguinary red knitted cap, in which all
genuine pirates are wont to appear. From the peaks of the three boats
floated black flags, bearing the emblematic skull and bones of Captain
Kidd’s followers.
As they left the dock the Chadwick’s people cheered with delight
at their appearance and shouted encouragement, while the remaining
youngsters fired salutes with a small cannon, which added to the uproar
as well as increased the excitement of the moment by its likelihood to
explode.
At the Atlantic House dock, also, the excitement was at fever heat.
Clad in white flannel suits and white duck yachting-caps with gilt
buttons, the revenue officers strolled up and down the pier with an air
of cool and determined purpose such as Decatur may have worn as he
paced the deck of his man-of-war and scanned the horizon for Algerine
pirates. The stars and stripes floated bravely from the peaks of the
three cat-boats, soon to leap in pursuit of the pirate craft which were
conspicuously making for the starting-point at the island.
At half-past three the judge’s steam-launch, the _Gracie_, made for the
middle of the river, carrying two representatives from both houses and
a dozen undergraduates from different colleges, who had chartered the
boat for the purpose of following the race and seeing at close quarters
all that was to be seen.
They enlivened the occasion by courteously and impartially giving the
especial yell of each college of which there was a representative
present, whether they knew him or not, or whether he happened to be
an undergraduate, a professor, or an alumnus. Lest some one might
inadvertently be overlooked, they continued to yell throughout the
course of the afternoon, giving, in time, the shibboleth of every known
institution of learning.
[Illustration: “Which do I think is going to win?” said the veteran
boat-builder of Manasquan.]
“Which do I think is going to win?” said the veteran boat-builder of
Manasquan to the inquiring group around his boat-house. “Well, I
wouldn’t like to say. You see, I built every one of those boats that
sails to-day, and every time I make a boat I make it better than the
last one. Now, the Chadwick boats I built near five years ago, and the
Atlantic House boats I built last summer, and I’ve learned a good deal
in five years.”
“So you think our side will win?” eagerly interrupted an Atlantic House
boarder.
“Well, I didn’t say so, did I?” inquired the veteran, with crushing
slowness of speech. “I didn’t say so. For though these boats the
Chadwick’s boys have is five years old, they’re good boats still;
and those boys know every trick and turn of ’em--and they know every
current and sand-bar just as though it was marked with a piece of
chalk. So if the Atlantic folks win, it’ll be because they’ve got the
best boats; and if the Chadwick boys win, they’ll win because they’re
better sailors.”
In the fashion of all first-class aquatic contests, it was fully half
an hour after the time appointed for the race to begin before the first
pirate boat left the island.
The _Ripple_, with Judge Carter’s two sons in command, was the leader;
and when her sail filled and showed above the shore, a cheer from the
Chadwick’s dock was carried to the ears of the pirate crew who sat
perched on the rail as she started on her first long tack.
In a moment, two of the Atlantic House heroes tumbled into the
_Osprey_, a dozen over-hasty hands had cast off her painter, had shoved
her head into the stream, and the great race was begun.
The wind was down the river, or toward the island, so that while
the _Osprey_ was sailing before the wind, the _Ripple_ had her sail
close-hauled and was tacking.
“They’re after us!” said Charley Carter, excitedly. “It’s the _Osprey_;
but I can’t make out who’s handling her. From the way they are
pointing, I think they expect to reach us on this tack as we go about.”
The crew of the _Osprey_ evidently thought so too, for her bow was
pointed at a spot on the shore, near which the _Ripple_ must turn if
she continued much longer on the same tack.
“Do you see that?” gasped Charley, who was acting as lookout. “They’re
letting her drift in the wind so as not to get there before us. I tell
you what it is, Gus, they know what they’re doing, and I think we’d
better go about now.”
“Do you?” inquired the younger brother, who had a lofty contempt for
the other’s judgment as a sailor. “Well, I don’t. My plan is simply
this: I am going to run as near the shore as I can, then go about
sharp, and let them drift by us by a boat’s length. A boat’s length is
as good as a mile, and then, when we are both heading the same way, I
would like to see them touch us!”
“What’s the use of taking such risks?” demanded the elder brother. “I
tell you, we can’t afford to let them get so near as that.”
“At the same time,” replied the man at the helm, “that is what we are
going to do. I am commanding this boat, please to remember, and if I
take the risks I am willing to take the blame.”
“You’ll be doing well, if you get off with nothing but blame,” growled
the elder brother. “If you let those kids catch us, I’ll throw you
overboard!”
“I’ll put you in irons for threatening a superior officer if you don’t
keep quiet,” answered the younger Carter, with a grin, and the mutiny
ended.
It certainly would have been great sport to have run almost into the
arms of the revenue officers, and then to have turned and led them
a race to the goal, but the humor of young Carter’s plan was not so
apparent to the anxious throng of sympathizers on Chadwick’s dock.
“What’s the matter with the boys? Why don’t they go about?” asked
Captain Chadwick, excitedly. “One would think they were trying to be
caught.”
As he spoke, the sail of the _Ripple_ fluttered in the wind, her head
went about sharply, and, as her crew scrambled up on the windward rail,
she bent and bowed gracefully on the homeward tack.
But, before the boat was fully under way, the _Osprey_ came down upon
her with a rush. The Carters hauled in the sail until their sheet lay
almost flat with the surface of the river, the water came pouring over
the leeward rail, and the boys threw their bodies far over the other
side, in an effort to right her. The next instant there was a crash,
the despised boat of the Atlantic House struck her fairly in the side,
and one of the Atlantic House crew had boarded the _Ripple_ with a
painter in one hand and his hat in the other.
Whether it was the shock of the collision, or disgust at having been
captured, no one could tell; but when the _Osprey’s_ bow struck the
_Ripple_, the younger Carter calmly let himself go over backward and
remained in the mud with the water up to his chin and without making
an effort to help himself, until the judge’s boat picked him up and
carried him, an ignominious prisoner-of-war, to the Atlantic House dock.
The disgust over the catastrophe to the pirate crew was manifested
on the part of the Chadwick sympathizers by gloomy silence or loudly
expressed indignation. On the whole, it was perhaps just as well that
the two Carters, as prisoners-of-war, were forced to remain at the
Atlantic House dock, for their reception at home would not have been a
gracious one.
Their captors, on the other hand, were received with all the honor due
triumphant heroes, and were trotted off the pier on the shoulders of
their cheering admirers; while the girls in the carriages waved their
parasols and handkerchiefs and the colored waiters on the banks danced
up and down and shouted like so many human calliopes.
The victories of John Paul Jones and the rescue of Lieutenant Greely
became aquatic events of little importance in comparison. Everybody
was so encouraged at this first success, that Atlantic House stock
rose fifty points in as many seconds, and the next crew to sally forth
from that favored party felt that the second and decisive victory was
already theirs.
Again the black flag appeared around the bank of the island, and on
the instant a second picked crew of the Atlantic House was in pursuit.
But the boys who commanded the pirate craft had no intention of taking
or giving any chances. They put their boat about, long before the
revenue officers expected them to do so, and forced their adversaries
to go so directly before the wind that their boat rocked violently. It
was not long before the boats drew nearer together, again, as if they
must certainly meet at a point not more than a hundred yards from the
Atlantic House pier, where the excitement had passed the noisy point
and had reached that of titillating silence.
“Go about sharp!” snapped out the captain of the pirate boat, pushing
his tiller from him and throwing his weight upon it. His first officer
pulled the sail close over the deck, the wind caught it fairly, and
almost before the spectators were aware of it, the pirate boat had gone
about and was speeding away on another tack. The revenue officers were
not prepared for this. They naturally thought the pirates would run as
close to the shore as they possibly could before they tacked, and were
aiming for the point at which they calculated their opponents would go
about, just as did the officers in the first race.
Seeing this, and not wishing to sail too close to them, the pirates
had gone about much farther from the shore than was needful. In order
to follow them the revenue officers were now forced to come about and
tack, which, going before the wind as they were, they found less easy.
The sudden change in their opponents’ tactics puzzled them, and one of
the two boys bungled. On future occasions each confidentially informed
his friends that it was the other who was responsible; but, however
that may have been, the boat missed stays, her sail flapped weakly in
the breeze, and, while the crew were vigorously trying to set her in
the wind by lashing the water with her rudder, the pirate boat was off
and away, one hundred yards to the good, and the remainder of the race
was a procession of two boats with the pirates easily in the lead.
And now came the final struggle. Now came the momentous “rubber,” which
was to plunge Chadwick’s into gloom, or keep them still the champions
of the river. The appetites of both were whetted for victory by the
single triumph each had already won, and their representatives felt
that, for them, success or a watery grave were the alternatives.
The Atlantic House boat, the _Wave_, and the boat upon which the
Chadwick’s hopes were set, the _Rover_, were evenly matched, their
crews were composed of equally good sailors, and each was determined to
tow the other ignominiously into port.
The two Prescotts watched the _Wave_ critically and admiringly, as
she came toward them with her crew perched on her side and the water
showing white under her bow.
“They’re coming entirely too fast to suit me,” said the elder Prescott.
“I want more room, and I have a plan to get it. Stand ready to go
about.” The younger brother stood ready to go about, keeping the
_Rover_ on her first tack until she was clear of the island’s high
banks and had the full sweep of the wind; then, to the surprise of
her pursuers and the bewilderment of the spectators, she went smartly
about, and turning her bow directly away from the goal, started before
the wind back past the island and toward the wide stretch of river on
the upper side.
“What’s your man doing that for?” excitedly asked one of the Atlantic
House people, of the prisoners-of-war.
“I don’t know, certainly,” one of the Carters answered; “but I suppose
he thinks his boat can go faster before the wind than the _Wave_ can,
and he is counting on getting a long lead on her before he turns to
go back. There is much more room up there, and the opportunities for
dodging are about twice as good.”
“Why didn’t _we_ think of that, Gus?” whispered the other Carter.
“We were too anxious to show what smart sailors we were, to think of
anything!” answered his brother, ruefully.
Beyond the island the _Rover_ gained rapidly; but as soon as she
turned and began beating homeward, the _Wave_ showed that tacking was
her strong point and began, in turn, to make up all the advantage the
_Rover_ had gained.
The _Rover’s_ pirate-king cast a troubled eye at the distant goal and
at the slowly but steadily advancing _Wave_.
His younger brother noticed the look.
“If one could only _do_ something,” he exclaimed, impatiently. “That’s
the worst of sailing races. In a rowing race you can pull till you
break your back, if you want to; but here you must just sit still and
watch the other fellow creep up, inch by inch, without doing anything
to help yourself. If I could only get out and push, or pole! It’s this
trying to keep still that drives me crazy.”
“I think we’d better go about now,” said the commander, quietly, “and
instead of going about again when we are off the bar, I intend to try
to cross it.”
“What!” gasped the younger Prescott, “go across the bar at low water?
You can’t do it. We’ll stick sure. Don’t try it. Don’t think of it!”
“It is rather a forlorn hope, I know,” said his brother; “but you can
see, yourself, they’re bound to overhaul us if we keep on--we don’t
draw as much water as they do, and if they try to follow us we’ll leave
them high and dry on the bar.”
The island stood in the centre of the river, separated from the shore
on one side by the channel, through which both boats had already
passed, and on the other by a narrow stretch of water which barely
covered the bar the _Rover_ purposed to cross.
When she pointed for it, the _Wave_ promptly gave up chasing her, and
made for the channel with the intention of heading her off on the other
side of the island in the event of her crossing the bar.
“She’s turned back!” exclaimed the captain of the _Rover_. “Now if we
can only clear it, we’ll have a beautiful start on her. Sit perfectly
still, and if you hear her centre-board scrape, pull it up, and trim
her to keep her keel level.”
Slowly the _Rover_ drifted toward the bar; once her centre-board
touched, and as the boat moved further into the shallow water the waves
rose higher in proportion at the stern.
But her keel did not touch, and as soon as the dark water showed again,
her crew gave an exultant shout and pointed her bow toward the Chadwick
dock, whence a welcoming cheer came faintly over the mile of water.
“I’ll bet they didn’t cheer much when we were crossing the bar!” said
the younger brother, with a grim chuckle. “I’ll bet they thought we
were mighty foolish.”
“We couldn’t have done anything else,” returned the superior officer.
“It was risky, though. If we’d moved an inch she would have grounded,
sure.”
“I was scared so stiff that I couldn’t have moved if I’d tried to,”
testified the younger sailor, with cheerful frankness.
Meanwhile the wind had freshened, and white caps began to show over
the roughened surface of the river, while sharp, ugly flaws struck the
sails of the two contesting boats from all directions, making them bow
before the sudden gusts of wind until the water poured over the sides.
But the sharpness of the wind made the racing only more exciting, and
such a series of manœuvres as followed, and such a naval battle, was
never before seen on the Manasquan River.
The boys handled their boats like veterans, and the boats answered
every movement of the rudders and shortening of the sails as a
thoroughbred horse obeys its bridle. They ducked and dodged, turned
and followed in pursuit, now going free before the wind, now racing,
close-hauled, into the teeth of it. Several times a capture seemed
inevitable, but a quick turn of the tiller would send the pirates out
of danger. And, as many times, the pirate crew almost succeeded in
crossing the line, but before they could reach it the revenue cutter
would sweep down upon them and frighten them away again.
“We can’t keep this up much longer,” said the elder Prescott. “There’s
more water in the boat now than is safe; and every time we go about, we
ship three or four bucketfuls more.”
As he spoke, a heavy flaw keeled the boat over again, and, before her
crew could right her, the water came pouring over the side with the
steadiness of a small waterfall. “That settles it for us,” exclaimed
Prescott, grimly; “we _must_ pass the line on this tack, or we sink.”
“They’re as badly off as we are,” returned his brother. “See how she’s
wobbling--but she’s gaining on us, just the same,” he added.
“Keep her to it, then,” said the man at the helm. “Hold on to that
sheet, no matter how much water she ships.”
“If I don’t let it out a little, she’ll sink!”
“Let her sink, then,” growled the chief officer. “I’d rather upset than
be caught.”
The people on the shore and on the judges’ boat appreciated the
situation fully as well as the racers. They had seen, for some time,
how slowly the boats responded to their rudders and how deeply they
were sunk in the water.
All the manœuvring for the past ten minutes had been off the Chadwick
dock, and the Atlantic House people, in order to get a better view
of the finish, were racing along the bank on foot and in carriages,
cheering their champions as they came.
The _Rover_ was pointed to cross an imaginary line between the judges’
steam-launch and Chadwick’s dock. Behind her, not three boat-lengths
in the rear, so close that her wash impeded their headway, came the
revenue officers, their white caps gone, their hair flying in the wind,
and every muscle strained.
Both crews were hanging far over the sides of the boats, while each
wave washed the water into the already half-filled cockpits.
“Look out!” shouted the younger Prescott, “here comes another flaw!”
“Don’t let that sail out!” shouted back his brother, and as the full
force of the flaw struck her, the boat’s rail buried itself in the
water and her sail swept along the surface of the river.
For an instant it looked as if the boat was swamped, but as the force
of the flaw passed over her, she slowly righted again, and with her
sail dripping and heavy, and rolling like a log, she plunged forward on
her way to the goal.
When the flaw struck the _Wave_, her crew let their sheet go free,
saving themselves the inundation of water which had almost swamped the
_Rover_, but losing the headway, which the _Rover_ had kept.
Before the _Wave_ regained it, the pirate craft had increased her lead,
though it was only for a moment.
“We can’t make it,” shouted the younger Prescott, turning his face
toward his brother so that the wind might not drown his voice.
“They’re almost upon us, and we’re settling fast.”
“So are they,” shouted his brother. “We can’t be far from the line now,
and as soon as we cross that, it doesn’t matter what happens to us!”
As he spoke another heavy gust of wind came sweeping toward them,
turning the surface of the river dark blue as it passed over, and
flattening out the waves.
“Look at that!” groaned the pirate-king, “we’re gone now, surely!” But
before the flaw reached them, and almost before the prophetic words
were uttered, the cannon on the judges’ boat banged forth merrily, and
the crowds on the Chadwick dock answered its signal with an unearthly
yell of triumph.
“We’re across, we’re across!” shouted the younger Prescott, jumping up
to his knees in the water in the bottom of the boat and letting the wet
sheet-rope run freely through his blistered fingers.
But the movement was an unfortunate one.