ONE AUGUST DAY
"Well, here we are!"
It was Captain Alvin Landon who uttered the exclamation as the three
came to a halt on the shore at the point nearest the moorings of the
gasoline launch _Deerfoot_, left there the night before.
She made a pretty picture, with her graceful lines, shining varnish,
polished brass work and cleanliness everywhere. The steersman in the
cockpit was guarded by a wind-shield of thick glass. At the stern
floated a flag displaying an anchor surrounded by a circle of stars with
the stripes as shown in our national emblem. At the bow flew a burgee or
small swallow-tailed flag of blue upon which was the word _Deerfoot_ in
gold. The bunting was always taken in when the boat lay up for the
night, but in daytime and in clear weather it was displayed on the
launch.
Not only could one sleep with some comfort on such a craft by using the
convertible seats, but food could be prepared on an oil stove. In
cruising, however, among the numerous islands and bays, it was so easy
to go ashore for an excellent meal that Captain Landon followed the
rule.
The water was so deep close to land that the three easily sprang aboard,
the Captain being last in order to cast off the line that held the boat
in place. It was the first time that Mike Murphy had ever placed foot on
a craft of that nature. While Chester hustled about, Alvin quickly
joining him, he gaped around in silent amazement. He felt that in his
ignorance of everything the best course for him was to do nothing
without the advice of his young friends. He sank down gingerly on one of
the seats and watched them.
He saw the Captain thrust the switch plug into place, though with no
idea of what he meant by doing so, while Chester took a peep into the
gasoline tank in the stern. Then Alvin opened the hinged deck which
covered the big six cylinder motor, climbed forward to the fly-wheel,
and swung it back and forth until it circled over. Instantly there
followed a smooth whirr, and he closed the forward deck over the motor
and took his seat behind the wind-shield where he grasped the wheel
which, as on an automobile, controlled the steering gear. The control
lever, as has been stated, was on his left. Alvin pushed this forward
until the clutch took hold, and with a churning of the screw at the
stern the boat moved ahead and quickly attained a good degree of speed.
The wind was so slight that the surface of the water was scarcely
rippled, and no motion could be felt except the vibration of the
powerful engine.
The bow and stern lines having been neatly coiled down and everything
being adjusted, with Captain Alvin seated and loosely grasping the
steering wheel, the two mates took their places behind him, prepared to
enjoy the outing to the full. Youth, high health, with every surrounding
circumstance favorable--what can bring more happiness to a human being?
They come to us only once and let us make the most of them.
"Is it permitted to spake to the man at the wheel?" called Mike to the
Captain, who, looking over his shoulder, nodded his head.
"So long as you speak good sense."
"Which the same is what I does always; why couldn't ye take a run over
to Ireland this morning, now that ye are headed that way?"
"It's worth thinking about, but we shall have to wait till another time.
Better become acquainted with a part of the Maine coast first."
The launch was speeding to the northeast in the direction of Squirrel
Island, which has long been one of the most popular of summer resorts.
This beautiful spot is not quite a mile long and has a varied scenery
that surprises every one who visits the place. The deep water around the
wharf is as clear as crystal, so that at high tide one can look down and
see clearly the rocky bottom twenty feet below. The coast abounds with
prodigious rocks tumbled together by some stupendous convulsion of
nature and against which the waves dash with amazing power during a
storm, and throw the spray high in air and far inland. There are shady
woods of balsam and fir where one may stroll in the cool twilight over
the velvet carpet, meandering along the bewitching "Lover's Walk," with
which nearly every section is provided, or threading his way through the
dense bushes which brush him lovingly as he follows the faintly marked
paths. Overhead, when the crow sentinels catch sight of him, they caw
their warnings to their comrades. There are shadowy glens, gaping
fissures, whose corresponding faces show that at some remote age they
were split apart by a terrific upheaval, a gray barn with its threshing
machine and air of quiet country life, rows of neat cottages, a little
white wooden church, perched like a rooster gathering himself and about
to crow and flap his wings, the Casino, smooth, grassy slopes, and at
the northern end of the island, the roomy Squirrel Inn, crowded with
visitors attracted by the cool and bracing air, from the opening to the
close of summer.
Our young friends had no intention of calling there, but, circling to
the westward of the island, headed for Boothbay Harbor nestling three
miles to the northward. A number of girls loitering on the broad porch
of the hotel and a group playing tennis waved their handkerchiefs; the
young Captain answered with a tooting of his whistle, and Mike Murphy
rising to his feet swung his cap over his head.
To the right stretched Linekin Bay, to the head of Linekin Neck, beyond
which courses the Damariscotta River, bristling with islets, picturesque
and beautiful beyond compare. Captain Landon turned slightly to the
left, still heading with unabated speed for Boothbay Harbor. He saw
coming toward him a little steamer from whose bow the water spread in a
foaming wake. It was the craft which makes regular trips between
Boothbay Harbor and Squirrel Island through the summer season, stopping
at other places when passengers wish it. One of these is Spruce Point,
where little parties often go ashore over the rickety dock, and,
striking into the shady woods, follow the winding path along the rocky
coast known as the "Indian Trail," for more than two miles, when, after
passing Mount Pisgah and crossing a long bridge, they find themselves in
the town of which I have spoken.
As the two boats rapidly approached, passing within a short distance of
each other, the head and shoulders of the captain of the _Nellie G._
showed in the pilot-house. He was a tall, handsome man with dark
whiskers, who, when saluted by the _Deerfoot_, reached up and pulled the
whistle cord of his own craft. Every one knows Captain Williams of
Bowdoinham and is glad to see him turn an honest penny each summer. His
boat, one of the prettiest in those waters, had been built wholly by
himself, and the name painted in big letters on the front of the
wheelhouse is that of his wife.
To the left and almost touching Southport is Capitol Island, a little
nearer, Burnt, and then Mouse, all as picturesque as they can be. The
pathway arched with trees completely shades the sloping walk that leads
to the hotel on Mouse Island. A government light on Burnt Island throws
out its warning rays at momentary intervals through the night. When fog
settles down, the light gives place to a tolling bell.
Entering the broad harbor, our friends saw a score or more of vessels
grouped around at anchor, or moored at the wharves. There was a
magnificent yacht, the property of a multimillionaire of national
reputation; another luxurious craft, the representative of a Boston
club, a five-masted schooner, veteran ships, two of which had voyaged
from the other side of the world, a decayed and rotting hull near the
long bridge, where it tipped a little to one side in the mud, and was
wholly under water when the tide was in, as it had been for years. An
excursion steamer from Bath was just arriving, while others were taking
on passengers for some of the towns not far off.
Alvin, having slowed down by lessening the amount of gas admitted to
the cylinders with the throttle lever on the wheel, rounded to at one of
the floats, where a man who had noted his approach caught the loop of
rope tossed to him and slipped it over the mooring pile set in place for
that purpose. The steersman pulled the control lever back to the
vertical position, releasing the propeller shaft from connection with
the motor. A further pull backward threw in the reverse gear, and the
launch came to rest beside the float and the lever was returned to the
vertical position.
"I'll look after it while you are gone," he said and Alvin nodded.
Captain and crew then attended to stopping the motor by turning the
switch to the "off" position, putting out fenders to avoid scratching,
making bow and stern lines fast to deck cleats and putting everything in
shipshape order.
The three then climbed the steps to the upper level, passed the
storehouses and ascended the moderate hill to the principal street of
the well-known town of Boothbay Harbor. There was little that was
noteworthy in the rather long avenue, lined with the usual stores, a
bank and amusement hall and a number of pretty residences, and I should
make no reference to it except for an incident that befell the visitors.
Having gone to the end of the street, that is, until the eastern
terminal gave way to the open country, they turned about to retrace
their steps to the boat, for it was much more pleasant to be skimming
over the water. The temperature at Boothbay Harbor is generally five or
ten degrees higher than at Squirrel Island.
The three sauntered along, pausing now and then to look into the store
windows, admiring the displays of Indian trinkets offered for sale, and
approached the corner where they were to turn down the hill to the
wharf. At that moment they saw a man of dark complexion, with a big
mustache, and accompanied by a large lad, both in yachting costume, come
out of Hodgdon's store, which is devoted to the sale of hats, caps,
boots, shoes, clothing and other necessities. The two took the opposite
course, following the main street in the direction of the ball grounds.
Neither Alvin nor Chester did more than glance at the couple, for there
was nothing unusual in their appearance, but Mike started.
"Did ye obsarve thim?" he asked, lowering his voice.
"Yes; but there are plenty others on the street that are as
interesting."
"Come wid me," whispered Mike, "say nothing."
He whisked into the store, his wondering companions at his heels. They
left the situation to him.
"Will ye oblige me by saying whither the two that has just passed out
bought anything of ye?" asked Mike of the rotund, smiling clerk, who,
hesitating a moment, answered:
"The younger one bought a yachting cap, or rather traded one for his old
straw hat, for which I allowed him a nickel, which is all it's worth and
more too, I'm beginning to think."
He held up the dilapidated headgear which he caught up from under the
counter.
"Do ye recognize the same?" asked Mike, in a whisper of Alvin.
"Can it be possible!" exclaimed the young Captain.
"It's the identycal hat I wore last night whin we had our ilegant
shindy!"