Produced by Annie McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]
Copyright, 1895, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1895. FIVE CENTS A
COPY.
VOL. XVI.--NO. 833. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
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[Illustration]
HARRY BORDEN'S NAVAL MONSTER.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
It was a bright and beautiful morning in June, 1927. The war between
Venezuela and England had been in progress just three weeks, and every
one was wondering why the big monarchy had not whipped the little
republic off the face of the earth. But the resources of the South
American country had been underestimated, and so had the immense
difficulties which confronted England in her endeavor to carry on an
offensive war at an almost inaccessible distance from her most
trustworthy sources of supplies, and in a climate which was formidable
to her men. She had succeeded in landing a small force of trained
soldiers, fresh from her latest campaign against the Ameer of
Afghanistan, who had set up a new boundary-line beyond Herat, and was
consequently in hot water with both England and Russia.
These trained Indian curry-eaters had penetrated a vast forest in the
interior and had never come out, and it was currently reported that half
of them had perished in a swamp, and the other half had been destroyed
by fevers and cobras. A strong fleet, under command of Vice-Admiral Sir
Wallace Bruce, had been scattered by adverse winds, and two of the ships
had fallen in with powerful Venezuelan armor-clads, and had been most
impertinently sent to the bottom. Others had sunk three Venezuelan
war-ships, but the little republic had three better ones afloat inside
of a week, and experts said that they looked very French.
The war had broken out over England's high-handed occupation of an
insignificant island off the Venezuelan coast. The Venezuelans had been
amazed by the proceeding, but the Marquis of Wintergreen, the Foreign
Secretary, had at once declared that the island had been conquered and
attached to England by Sir Francis Drake in the course of his first
voyage to the West Indies. As Mr. Froude and other English historians
had proved that Drake was little better than a pirate, this made every
one laugh, except the Venezuelans, who said they were going to fight;
and they did. As soon as war was declared, President Roosevelt, of the
United States, on the advice of Secretary of State George B. McClellan,
Jun., called an extra session of Congress, and the legislative halls at
Washington so rang with patriotic speeches about the Monroe Doctrine
that the New York _Sun_ got out extras every two hours, day and night,
and had illuminated bulletins covering the entire front of the building.
Congress at length declared that the United States must act as an ally
of Venezuela, whereupon the _Sun_ printed itself in red, white, and
blue, and the _World_ despatched correspondents by special balloon to
South America. The President ordered the entire National Guard into the
service of the United States, and the various regiments at once repaired
to their camps of instruction and began field drills. It was expected
that they would be fully equipped and prepared for service at the front
in about two months. The naval militia was also ordered out, and
immediately began a series of cruises alongshore in open boats, landing
and sending signals in every direction every four hours. The officers
clamored for coast-defense vessels to man, but there were only four such
ships, and they were all in dry docks undergoing repairs that would take
three months to complete. The Secretary of the Navy issued orders to
Rear-Admiral Ward to get the North and South Atlantic squadrons to the
Venezuelan coast as quickly as possible, and the Rear-Admiral answered
that he would be ready to sail by the end of August.
As soon as the action of Congress had been taken, Harry Borden, of
Tickle River, went by express train to Washington. In the obscure
sea-coast village of Tickle River Harry was called a genius, and it was
said that he had invented things which would be worth millions to the
government in such an emergency as that which had now arisen. It was to
lay before the Secretary of War one of these inventions that the young
man had gone to the capital. He had exhibited a small working model of
his contrivance to several wealthy men of his native State, and they had
forthwith invested enough money in it to enable the young inventor to
build a full-fledged machine, and to go to see the Secretary about its
employment in the impending conflict. Harry Borden was a good talker,
but he could not talk the government of the United States into prompt
action.
"My dear young friend," said the Secretary, "I am sure that your
invention will prove of inestimable value to the United States in time
of war."
"It's the time of war now, isn't it?" said Harry.
"Yes, yes, to be sure; but this is a matter which must be laid before
Congress, and a bill must be introduced regarding it. I should advise
you to see the Congressman from your district about that. I will give
you a letter to him saving that I heartily approve of your machine."
"But, sir, while all this is going on we are losing valuable time. My
machine ought to be down there damaging the enemy."
"Really, my dear young friend, you must allow things to take their
course."
"Why can't you give me permission to go ahead on my own hook?"
"Embark in private warfare? Privateering is out of date, my young
friend. But, ah--um--I may say that--ah--if you should go down there and
succeed in inflicting serious damage on the British fleet, I
think--mind, I say only that I think--the government would ignore the
irregularity of the proceeding."
"That's enough for me," said Harry, springing to his feet. "If my
backers will consent, I'll be there in less than a week; and, mark my
word, sir, you'll hear of my machine down there, sir."
And before the astonished Secretary could say more, Harry Borden had
bounded from the room.
* * * * *
The British cruiser _Ajax III._ was steaming at a speed of ten knots
through the blue waters of the Caribbean Sea. She had been carrying
certain despatches of grave importance from Vice-Admiral Sir Wallace
Bruce to the Governor of Jamaica, and was now returning in a leisurely
manner, which told of economy in the coal department. The _Ajax III._
was an armored cruiser of about 6000 tons. She carried armor eight
inches thick on her sides, and had a steel protective deck four inches
thick. Her main battery consisted of four improved Smith-Dodge-Hopkins
8-inch rapid-firing breech-loaders, capable of discharging four of the
new steel-iridium conical projectiles every minute, with a point-blank
range of two miles, and an initial velocity of 3000 feet per second. Her
secondary battery consisted of six 4-inch revolving guns, discharging
seventy shells a minute when operated by electricity. The cruiser had
the new compound quintuple engines, capable of driving her twenty-six
knots an hour under forced draught. On the whole, she was regarded as a
fairly efficient vessel, though some of the leading British critics
declared that she belonged to a type that was fast becoming obsolete.
She was moving gently and steadily through the water. The sun was
shining brightly, and his gleaming rays made sparkling light along the
cruiser's polished brass-work and on the brown chases of her long
slender guns. Captain Dudley Fawkes was pacing the after-bridge in
conversation with his Executive Officer, Commander Bilton-Brooks, and
Lieutenant Sir Edward Avon was the officer of the watch on the main
bridge.
"I don't believe," said Captain Fawkes, "that the United States means
seriously to take a hand in this light."
"I don't know about that," responded Commander Bilton-Brooks. "Congress
has taken action, and the President has called out troops."
"True enough," rejoined the Captain, "but that does not necessarily mean
anything. You know the navy must be the aggressive force, and we have
yet to see an American ship afloat in these waters."
"That is quite true," said the Executive Officer; "yet, for the life of
me, I can't help feeling that there is mischief of some sort in the
air."
The Executive Officer's words were more nearly correct than even he
suspected, for at that very instant the two lookouts in the foretop were
puzzling their eyes and brains to make out a strange object which had
appeared on the lee beam. While they were watching it, it dropped from
the air, where it had seemed to be floating, and rested on the bosom of
the sea, where it presently resolved itself into a cutter-yacht some
sixty feet in length.
"It were a bloomin' mirage, Bill," said one lookout to the other, as he
lifted his voice and bawled, "Sail, ho!"
"Where away?" came the quick demand from the bridge.
"On our lee beam, sir," answered the man. "Looks like a cutter-yacht,
sir."
Now in the year 1927 a cutter-yacht was something of a curiosity, for
electricity had supplanted sail-power for small craft, and vessels
propelled by canvas were rare indeed. The cutter-yacht seen from the
decks of the _Ajax III._ was on the port tack, close hauled and heading
so as to intercept the cruiser's course, provided she had speed enough,
which was wholly unlikely. She was under full canvas, and though the
breeze was very light, she slipped through the smooth water at an
amazing speed. This fact dawned on the minds of the Captain and his
Executive Officer at the same time.
"She must have an auxiliary electric screw," said Commander
Bilton-Brooks.
"I fancy so," said the Captain. "Owned by some fellow who likes to think
he's sailing, but has no patience with light breezes. It's rather
curious, though, that he should be cruising in these waters at a time
like this, isn't it?"
"It certainly is," answered the Executive Officer. "I don't see any
flag--do you, sir?"
"No. I rather fancy I shall have to overhaul this yacht, and make her
skipper give an account of her. There's a mysterious air about her that
I don't half like."
But it was a good deal easier to talk about overhauling the cutter than
it was to do it. The yacht's sails, which were made of some extremely
light material, like Chinese silk in appearance, were drawing
powerfully, and her electric motor--if it really was electric--was doing
astounding work. The yacht flashed through the water like some great
fish, and so fine were her lines that she left hardly a bubble in her
wake. The Captain of the _Ajax III._ gave orders to increase the speed
of the cruiser, and presently the quick throbbing of her engines and the
vibrations of her hull told that she was tearing across the long swells
at a 25-knot speed. But still the cutter-yacht flew along, and it was
evident that she would pass across the cruiser's bow if both held their
courses.
"We must stop her lively skipping," said Captain Dudley Fawkes, and he
gave orders to sound the call to quarters. The bugle rang out, and the
hearty British tars jumped to their stations.
"Cast loose and provide!" ordered Commander Bilton-Brooks.
The ammunition hoists slipped noiselessly upward bearing the
steel-iridium shells for the 8-inch guns, and the electric chains hauled
up the 70-pounders for the secondary battery. In forty-five seconds the
ship was ready to fight, and the order was given to train all forward
guns on the cutter and stand by for orders. Then the Captain and his
Executive Officer turned their glasses once more on the cutter.
"What on earth is she up to now?" exclaimed the Captain.
"Taking in sail--and spars, too!" cried Commander Bilton-Brooks.
It was true. Not only had the strange cutter let all her thin sails run
down, but she seemed to have folded up her mast, boom, gaff, and
bowsprit in some strange way and stowed them out of sight.
"Has she shown any flag yet?" asked the Captain.
"None that I have seen," answered the Executive Officer.
"Then I'll wager a month's pay that she's some Yankee invention,"
declared Captain Dudley Fawkes.
"What in the world are they doing now?" said the Executive Officer.
A strange misshapen mass was rising above the bulwarks of the cutter
with surprising swiftness.
"It's a balloon!" exclaimed the Captain.
"Hadn't we better open fire on her?" asked the Executive Officer.
"Not yet. I think we'd better get close enough to hail her first,"
answered the Captain. "She may not be anything more than a pleasure
craft, you know."
The balloon was inflated by this time, and was tugging at the heavy
steel hawsers by which it was attached to the cutter's hull. A cry of
surprise broke from the crew of the British cruiser.
"Look! look! She's going up!"
The great balloon, inflated with the newly discovered gas, mercurite,
the lightest and most powerful of all known gases, was lifting the
cutter bodily into the air. Her curiously shaped hull, modelled after a
shark's body, and equipped with a fin-keel for sailing on the wind, was
now fully revealed. At the same instant a United States ensign was waved
over her stern by a young man.
"Mr. Cortis," called the Captain, who had not thought it necessary yet
to enter the conning-tower, "give him a taste of your metal."
"Ay, ay, sir," answered the Lieutenant in command of the forward 8-inch
guns.
The next instant there was a terrific concussion, and one of the big
shells went screaming toward the cutter: but she was rising so fast that
the projectile passed under her, and plunged foaming into the sea a mile
away.
"More elevation, sir," cried the Executive Officer.
"Impossible!" answered Lieutenant Cortis: "we're too close to her, and
the angle is too high."
"Look at her now!" exclaimed the Captain. "She's rushing toward us!"
"Sailing against the wind with a balloon!" cried Commander
Bilton-Brooks.
The shark-bodied cutter, with her fin-keel below and her balloon above,
was indeed now moving toward a position above the cruiser.
"Call away the riflemen!" cried the Captain.
The red-coated marines assembled on the superstructures, and began a
rapid fire at the balloon, hoping to burst it. But their bullets simply
glanced off the fine steel netting with which it was protected. Now the
head of the young man once again appeared above the bulwarks of the
strange machine, and he took a rapid glance at the British ship. The
next instant a small port in the cutter's side opened, and from it
dropped a glass globe about half the size of a football. The globe fell
upon the forward deck of the cruiser. There was an appalling explosion,
and the whole forecastle of the _Ajax III._ became a hopeless wreck.
Another globe was hurled with such fatal accuracy that it fell down one
of the smoke-stacks of the now helpless vessel. There was a roar as of
thunder away down in her engine-room, and pale-faced men poured on deck.
"We're sinking! The ship's bottom is blown out!" they cried. There was a
wild rush to lower away the boats. A few minutes later the _Ajax III._
sank out of sight under the fine waters of the Caribbean Sea, and Harry
Borden, with his balloon stowed and his canvas spread again, was sailing
away with a few survivors of the ill-fated cruiser in his strange
invention in search of more British cruisers. A month later the war was
over.
THE BILBERRY SCHOOL EXHIBITION.
BY SOPHIE SWETT.
Simpsy Judkins was to "speak a piece," and Viola Treddick to read an
original composition; there was to be a glee sung by picked voices from
the first class--it was all about the deep blue sky, and "the sky, the
sky, the sky," was repeated in a very thrilling and effective manner;
and Tom Burtis was to display his powers as a lightning calculator. The
exhibition was to be given in the new Town-hall, and not only would all
Bilberry be there, but a crowd of people from the adjacent towns as
well, to say nothing of teachers and pupils from the Normal School at
Cocheco; for the Bilberry Hill School exhibitions had acquired a
reputation.
In the Treddick family the girls had been obliged to take the family
burden upon their shoulders. When Father Treddick died, somewhat less
than a month after Mother Treddick, turning his face to the wall, and
saying that she had been his backbone and his underpinning and he
couldn't live without her (it sometimes happens that way in spite of
Mother Nature), the rocks still had the upper hands on the little farm,
and Amasa, the only boy, was but eleven. Lizette, who was fifteen, went
to work in the stocking factory. Every one thought it was a pity,
because Lizette was fond of books and had meant to be a teacher; she was
slight and delicate, too, and work in the stocking factory was hard. But
Lizette believed in doing "not what ye would, but what you may," with
just as good a will as if it were the former. Some people said she had
taken warning by her father's example; he had always been trying to
invent something in his queer little workshop that was the wood-shed
chamber; that was why the rocks had not been gotten out of the farm.
It was Viola who was now spoken of as a remarkably fine scholar, just as
Lizette had been before she went into the factory; she was not yet
sixteen, but she hoped to get the Pine Bank School to teach in
September. There were several other candidates, all older than she, but
Viola was at the head of her class, and that original composition which
she was to read at the exhibition was expected to make an impression
upon the committee-men. The teacher had said to several people that it
was really a remarkable production for a girl of Viola's age, and they
thought a great deal of literary gifts in Bilberry.
Lizette was very proud of Viola, and so, indeed, was Amasa, who was
fourteen now, but whose name was not on the programme at all. To tell
the painful truth at once, although Amasa keenly felt the especial need
there was that he should be "smart," although he tried his best to be
the man of the family in a satisfactory sense, yet he was at the very
foot of his class; fractions floored him, and he had a hazy idea that
Timbuctoo was out West, and that Captain John Smith discovered America.
When it came to chopping wood, Amasa was pretty sure to cut his toe, and
if he went fishing he tumbled into the pond. And he couldn't get "jobs,"
like Cosy Pringle, the boy in the next house, who had money in the bank.
Cosy Pringle boasted that he always "came out top of the heap"; but some
people thought he was too "smart."
When the exhibition day came, although Simpsy Judkins had been announced
to "speak a piece," it was Cosy Pringle who spoke it; there was a report
that he had hired Simpsy to have a sore throat. Simpsy had oratorical
gifts, but he did not feel the advantages of appearing in public and
having his name in the paper, as Cosy did. Cosy held the second rank in
declamation, so Simpsy's sore throat gave him an opportunity to be
heard. He wasn't second in his class; he came sympathizingly near to
Amasa there; but he had carefully weighed opinions--which he sometimes
confided to Amasa--concerning the amount of study that "paid."
Mother Nature provided one of her loveliest days, as she is apt to do
for school exhibitions in June. The girls, in fleecy muslin clouds, were
so much in evidence that the boys, in the background, were only a little
hampered by the embarrassment of full dress. Cosy Pringle wasn't
hampered at all; he wore his grandfather's large gold chain and his
sister Amanda's moonstone ring, and felt that he ought to attract as
much attention as the girls.
Cosy's voice was a little thin and sharp, but he recited one of
Macaulay's lays with a great deal of "r-r-rolling drum" very well
indeed, having been thoroughly coached by his sister Amanda and the
young minister to whom Amanda was going to be married.
But beyond a little mild clapping, the recitation received no attention
whatever, while Viola Treddick's composition was, as the Bilberry
_Beacon_ reported, received with the greatest enthusiasm. It was on
"School-girl Friendships," and there was some real fun in it; and once
in a while it was pathetic, or, at all events, the audience laughed and
cried, and they couldn't really do that, as Cosy averred they did,
because they liked Viola. It closed with a verse of original poetry, and
Bilberry began to feel sure that a great poet was to arise in its midst.
Lizette stopped and hugged Amasa behind a juniper-tree on the way home
from the exhibition. Viola had staid to a spread that was given to the
pupils and their friends; Lizette had to hurry back to her work in the
factory; and Amasa had felt that he did not shine in society. Amasa
could not remember ever to have seen Lizette cry for joy before; she was
not one of the crying kind, anyway.
"She'll have a chance! Viola will have a chance! She'll get the Pine
Bank School," she said, rapturously. "I've been so afraid she would have
to go into the factory."
Amasa realized suddenly how hard life was for Lizette. Her delicate
hands were calloused and knobby, and her shoulders bent; she looked
wistfully at the library books, and never had time to read; she knew
that she wasn't strong, and she was anxious about their future--Viola's
and his.
It was the very next night, as Amasa was going to bed, that Cosy Pringle
came under his window and called to him. Amasa went down and unfastened
the door, and Cosy followed him up stairs.
He seemed excited and nervous, and kept saying "'Sh!" though there was
no one stirring in the house. But it was like Cosy to have some
mysterious scheme on foot. Amasa thought that he had at last discovered
how Pember Tibbetts made his musk-rat traps, or guessed the conundrum in
the _County Clarion_, for which intellectual feat a prize of five
dollars was offered. Or perhaps he had secured the job of weeding Mr.
Luke Mellon's onion bed and hoeing his string-beans; last year he was
paid three dollars for the job, and hired Amasa to do the work for
seventy-five cents. Amasa stoutly resolved not to be the victim of
Cosy's sharp business methods this year.
But Cosy's shrewd gray eyes had a twinkle that meant more than
onion-weeding or any "jobs."
"That was an awful nice composition that your sister wrote," he said, in
an easy, complimentary manner.
Amasa nodded, brightening; it was more like Cosy to make a fellow feel
small about his sisters and all his possessions.
"Folks are saying that she'll get the Pine Bank School, if Elkanah Rice,
that's school committee, _does_ want it for his niece. A good thing,
too, for Lizette is pretty well worn out taking care of you all." Cosy
wagged his head with great solemnity. "Aunt Lucretia said she shouldn't
be surprised if she got consumptive, like her mother, if she worked too
hard."
Amasa's heart seemed to stop beating, and a choking lump came into his
throat.
"But Viola'll get the school fast enough," continued Cosy, "if--if folks
don't find out that she copied the composition."
"Copied the composition!" Amasa's brows came together in a fierce scowl,
and he arose from the side of the bed where he was sitting, and advanced
upon Cosy with a threatening gesture.
"Now just look here before you go to making a turkey-cock of yourself,"
said Cosy, drawing a newspaper from his pocket. "I happened to go down
to Gilead this afternoon to swap roosters with Uncle Hiram--made him
throw in a pullet and a watering-pot because my rooster had a bigger
top-knot than his. There was a pile of newspapers in the wood-shed, and
I went to get one to wrap up some things that Aunt M'lissy was sendin'
to mother, and I came across this. 'School-girl Friendships' caught my
eye. See! it's signed 'Lilla Carryl.' Aunt M'lissy said she believed
'twas a girl over to Gilead Ridge. That paper is two years old now, and
Gilead being ten miles away, I suppose Viola thought nobody would ever
find her out!"
"She never did such a thing! Don't you dare say she did!" cried Amasa,
hoarsely.
But there it was in black and white; there it was word for word. Amasa
knew every word of Viola's composition, he had been so proud of it. Cosy
whistled softly, with his hands in his pockets, as Amasa ran his eye
over "School-girl Friendships."
"There's some mistake," faltered Amasa. "Viola is the honestest girl."
Cosy's whistling ended in a sharp, expressive, little crescendo squeak.
"There's no telling what girls will do," he said, sagely. "When folks
know it, why, Elkanah Rice's niece will be pretty apt to get the Pine
Bank School, and I'm kind of 'fraid Viola'll have to take a back seat
altogether. It'll come hard on Lizette."
Cosy folded the Gilead _Gleaner_, and thrust it firmly and impressively
into his pocket. Amasa had been acquainted with Cosy Pringle since they
were both in long clothes, and he understood that that paper had its
price. If he could pay the price, why, even Lizette need never know!
"I suppose it's my duty to show this paper," said Cosy, with an air of
unflinching virtue, "but still, amongst old friends, and if you'll do a
little good turn for me that you can do as well as not, why, I'll just
chuck the paper into the fire, and agree not to tell anybody, and we'll
call it square. I ain't a mean feller."
Amasa's heart thrilled with hope. What was the good turn that he would
not do for Cosy on those terms? He thought of his fan-tailed pigeons,
and of his dog Trip on whom Cosy had always had his eye because he could
do so many tricks; it would be an awful wrench to part with Trip, but
to save Viola from disgrace he would not hesitate.
"I only want to go into your wood-shed chamber for a few minutes.
There's--there's something there that I want to see. If you'll let me,
why, nobody shall ever know about Viola's cheating."
"It's father's old workshop; there's nothing there," Amasa said. "Nobody
ever goes near it but Lizette."
Cosy hesitated a little, then he decided that it would be as well to be
more frank; Amasa was so stupid. "She's up to something, Lizette is," he
said, in an impressive whisper. "I've seen a light burning in that
workshop half the night! She's trying to make an improvement on the
knitting-machine that they use in the factory. Of course she can't do
it--a girl!--but you'd better look out or it will kill her, just as it
killed your father. How do I know what she's doing? She told Emily
Norcross"--Emily Norcross was the daughter of the owner of the
factory--"and Emily told Thad. Thad and I been trying too. We've got
things fixed now so'st we expect to get a patent. What I want to see is
whether she's got anything that's likely to interfere with us; of course
she hasn't really, but then girls think they can."
Amasa felt desperately that this was too great a problem to suddenly
confront a fellow like him whom every one knew to be stupid. It seemed a
trifle, but Cosy Pringle would want nothing but a good bargain. Still,
there was no other way; disgrace to Viola would mean heart-break to
Lizette.
"Give me the paper," he said, gruffly, and thrusting it into his pocket,
he led the way softly through the corridor to the wood-shed chamber.
Cosy was breathlessly eager over some queer bits of machinery which
Amasa could not understand. He staid but a few minutes, as he had
promised, but he stammered with excitement when he went away.
Amasa spent three miserable days, filling the wood-box so assiduously
that Viola asked him if he thought she was going to bake for the County
Conference, and hoeing the string-beans, until Lizette was tenderly sure
that his back ached, and advised him to go fishing.
But a boy may have troubles of the mind which even fishing cannot cure.
[Illustration: "VIOLA! AMASA! HE SAYS IT MAY BE WORTH A GREAT DEAL OF
MONEY!"]
Lizette came home from her work with a radiant face on the third day.
"Amasa, how came you to let Cosy Pringle go into the workshop?" she
exclaimed. "But I can't scold you, it has turned out so beautifully! I
have been trying a little invention--oh, for a long time! I never
thought it could really succeed!" Lizette looked as fresh and bright as
if all the work and care had been a dream. "Cosy saw it and told Thad
Norcross. It seems he and Thad had been trying to do the same sort of
thing--mere boys' play, of course--and Thad told his father. Mr.
Norcross will help me to get a patent! Viola! Amasa! He says it may be
worth a great deal of money!"
Lizette and Viola were crying for joy; but Amasa could think only of the
horror of Viola's disgrace, for now, of course, Cosy Pringle would tell.
"You won't think anything now of my little triumph," said Viola, when
they had calmed down a little and sat down to supper. "'School-girl
Friendships' is to be published in full in the Bilberry _Beacon_ next
Saturday, with my own name signed it--not Lilla Carryl, as I signed it
two years ago, when I sent it to the Gilead _Gleaner_. Oh, what a
flutter I was in then! and I never dared to let a soul know it! The
editor of the _Beacon_ made me write a foot-note, telling all about it."
"I'm an awful jackass," said Amasa, his voice gruff with joy and shame.
"You're the dearest boy in the world," said Lizette. "But I don't want
you to associate with Cosy Pringle."
SEA RANGERS.
BY KIRK MUNROE,
AUTHOR OF "ROAD RANGERS," THE "MATE" SERIES, "SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES,"
ETC.
CHAPTER V.
OVERBOARD GO THE RANGERS.
"Great Scott! Cal's overboard!" cried Will Rogers, as he caught a
twinkling glimpse of a pair of rubber-boots disappearing over the
sloop's bow. With the young Captain of the Rangers to think was also to
act. Thus, even as he spoke he tore off his jacket, sprang to the
vessel's side, and dove into the shining waters. He knew that Cal could
swim a little, under ordinary circumstances, but he dreaded the dragging
weight of those rubber boots, and also feared that the boy might be
struck and injured by the vessel as she passed over him.
Apparently every other Ranger on board thought the same thoughts, and
was actuated by the belief that it was his duty to rescue Cal Moody;
for, even as Will Rogers sprang overboard, all of them but one followed
him like a flock of sheep, and in another moment the river behind the
now swiftly moving sloop was dotted with the heads of swimming boys. The
one Ranger who had not leaped into the water was Abe Cruger, who,
realizing the impossibility of swimming in his "Bill Bullseye" garments,
contented himself with tumbling into the boat that towed astern and
casting her loose. As this boat contained but a single long oar, being
only fitted for sculling, and as Abe had never acquired that style of
navigation, he found himself about as helpless in his new position as he
would have been in the water, and could only shout impracticable advice
to the swimmers about him.
All these things happened with such bewildering rapidity as to
completely paralyze poor Captain Crotty, and the sloop shot ahead
several hundred feet before he recovered his senses sufficiently to
again throw her head into the wind, and thus check her progress. Young
Jabe was below starting a fire in the galley stove, and knew nothing of
what was taking place until summoned on deck by his father's shouts.
"Trim in the jib! Trim in quick! Now bear a hand with this mainsail!
Haul her flat! There, steady!" ordered Captain Crotty, and as, close
hauled on the wind, the sloop began slowly to work her way back toward
the drifting boat, young Jabe for the first time realized that, save for
his father and himself, there was not a soul aboard the vessel.
"What's happened?" he almost gasped.
"Don't ask me," replied the other, "for I don't know. All I do know is
that them boys is stark raving lunatics every last one of 'em, and if I
get 'em back here again I'll head 'em for their homes quick as ever the
good Lord'll let me. I never knowed what a fool I could be till I
undertook the managing of a passel of crazy boys off on a lark. Now I
don't expect nothing else but that the half of 'em'll be drowned, and
I'll be held responsible. Sarve me right too!"
By this time all the swimmers had collected about the boat containing
Abe Cruger, and, holding on to its gunwales, were pushing it slowly in
the direction of the sloop. Its sole occupant stood on a thwart, gazing
anxiously over the rippling waters.
"Don't you see anything? Not a sign?" inquired one and another,
anxiously.
"No, fellows; I can't make out so much as a bubble," was the hopeless
reply.
"Oh, it's awful!" groaned Will Rogers. "Poor little Cal! And his mother!
How can we tell her?"
As the boat drifted near the now anchored sloop Abe Cruger mechanically
caught the line flung to him by young Jabe, and she was drawn alongside.
One by one the swimmers were hauled up from the water by Captain
Crotty's strong hands, and when at length they all stood on deck he
inquired in a trembling voice, "How many's missing? Where's the little
one?"
"I don't know," answered Will Rogers, with something very like a sob
choking his speech. "He is the only one missing; but I'm awfully afraid
we'll never see him alive again."
"Waal," said Captain Crotty, hoarsely, "I might have knowed something of
the kind would happen, and I'm only thankful there's as many of you left
as there is. Of course this ends the cruise, and I shall head back for
Berks just as quick as I get a fair wind up the river. Till then we'll
lie here and do what we can towards recovering the body. Now, you lads,
go below, get out of your wet clothes, give 'em to Jabe to dry, tumble
into your bunks and stay there. _Stay there_, d'ye hear, till I give you
permission to leave 'em. Yes, you too," he added to Abe Cruger, who was
beginning to explain that he had not been in the water. "I don't want to
resk having one of ye on deck. Your supper'll be brought to you when
it's ready, so there won't be no occasion to stir out of your bunks
before morning."
The skipper so evidently meant what he said that the boys saw it would
be useless to argue with him. Moreover they were too shocked by what had
happened, and too heavy-hearted for the attempt. So they silently and
sadly went below, and Captain Crotty followed them to see that his
orders were obeyed to the letter. Not until every Ranger had deposited a
little heap of wet clothing on the floor, and crawled in between the
blankets of his bunk, did the skipper leave them. Then he returned to
the deck for a soothing pipe-smoke and a quiet consideration of the
situation. He had hardly got his old black brier-wood well alight before
it dropped unheeded from his mouth, while the man stood pale and
nervous, as though he had seen a ghost. Of course he had not; but he
thought he heard one, which was almost the same thing. From somewhere,
though he could not at first locate it, a voice was calling, and it
sounded like that of the boy whom all on board were mourning as dead.
"Help! help! Will! Hal! help!" This cry had been repeated over and over
again for some minutes; but, owing to the confusion on board, and the
noise made by the boys, it had not been heard until now.
The skipper glanced along the deck, cast an eye aloft, and then over
both sides of the vessel into the darkening waters. No one was to be
seen, and the strong man began to tremble with superstitious fear. He
made his way forward and peered over the bows, but saw nothing nor heard
any thing, save the ripple of the current against the anchor chain.
Walking aft he again heard the voice, and, as he leaned over the stern,
it seemed to come from directly beneath him. It sounded so close that he
instinctively started back.
The small boat had all this time been kept alongside where young Jabe
had fastened it. Now hastening to it, filled with hope and dread, and at
the same time almost beside himself with excitement, the skipper dropped
astern, where he could look under the overhanging counter. There, from
out the dark shadow where swung the ponderous rudder, a white face
peered at him, and a weak voice uttered an exclamation of thankfulness.
Two minutes later Captain Crotty descended the companion-ladder and
entered the sloop's hold. In his arms he bore the dripping, shivering,
bareheaded, and barefooted form of little Cal Moody, the well-loved
comrade whose tragic fate the Rangers were discussing in subdued tones.
The lad's face and hands were covered with scratches from which blood
was oozing; but he could still smile, and still had voice enough to say,
"I'm awfully sorry, Will, but the mermaid startled me so that--"
Just here the Rangers, who had been paralyzed into momentary silence,
regained their senses, and realizing that he whom they had mourned as
dead was restored to them alive and well, broke into such a storm of
cheers, shouts, laughter, and questions, that young Jabe, with terrified
face, came rushing in from the galley filled with the belief that they
had gone sure enough crazy.
Regardless of appearances they leaped from their bunks and crowded
forward, eager to shake Cal by the hand, or even to feel of him, and so
assure themselves that he was real.
"Where did you find him?"
"Where has he been all this time?"
"How did he get so scratched up?"
"Oh, Cal, it's so good to see you!"
"Now we won't have to go home after all, will we?"
These were some of the questions and exclamations poured forth by the
excited boys. But before Cal could reply to one of them, Captain Crotty,
striving to conceal his joy beneath a stern exterior, roared out, "Let
him alone, ye lubbers, and get back to your bunks afore I murder half a
dozen of ye!" Then as the boys meekly obeyed this savage order, he began
with clumsy but gentle fingers to strip little Cal of his wet clothing.
Not until the lad was rubbed into a glow, and snugly tucked away between
warm blankets, was he allowed to explain what had happened to him. Then
he said:
"I was looking for mermaids, because the Captain told us to, you know,
and, besides, I wanted awfully to see a real truly one. When it came,
though, it jumped out of the water so kinder sudden that I tumbled right
overboard almost into its arms, and didn't get a good look at it,
either. I must have gone down a thousand feet before I got off my rubber
boots and began to come up. First I struck something hard and
scratchy--"
"Barnacles on the vessel's bottom," explained the skipper.
"Yes, and we never cleaned them off, as you told us to," said Cracker
Bob Jones, remorsefully.
"Then," continued Cal, "I caught hold of something, and my head came out
of water, and as soon as I could I began to holler. I guess I hollered
more'n an hour before Captain Crotty came, and I was afraid nobody ever
would come; but now it's all right, only I don't want to have anything
more to do with mermaids--never!"
"I found the poor little chap sitting straddle of the rudder," commented
the skipper, "and pretty nigh ready to drop off from exhaustion; but,
thank God, I was in time."
"Oh!" cried Will Rogers. "Isn't it splendid to have him safe back again,
and aren't we just the happiest fellows in the world at this minute? But
I say, Captain, we won't have to go back to Berks, after all--that is,
not until our cruise is finished--will we?"
"Humph!" answered the skipper, as he turned to go on deck; "I don't know
about that."