LEARNING TO SWIM.
Bert's appearance, when he made his way home with dripping clothes, and
face still pale from what he had undergone, created no small
consternation. His sister was particularly alarmed, and it took some
time to convince her that, once having got out of the grasp of the
greedy water, he was really in no more danger. Had she been permitted to
have her own way, she would have bundled him off to bed forthwith, and
filled up any little corners inside of him that the sea water had left
unoccupied, with warm raspberry vinegar. But Bert would none of it, and
Mrs. Lloyd, although a good deal startled at first, soon recovered her
self-possession sufficiently to agree with him, when he insisted that
all he wanted was some dry clothes and a rest.
The dry clothes were quickly furnished, and having put them on, he
returned to the sitting-room to tell them all about his rescue, Frank
being at hand to fill in any details that he missed in the recital. The
tears stood in his mother's eyes, as he related what he had felt and
thought during those eventful moments when his life hung in the balance;
tears of distress, of sympathy, of joy, and finally of gratitude, as in
glowing words he described how noble John Connors had dived away down
into the dark green depths to rescue him just in the nick of time.
"Oh, Bert, darling," she exclaimed, when he had finished, folding him to
her breast, "how good God was to send dear, brave Connors to your help!
We cannot praise Him enough, and, dearest, don't you think He must
intend you to be something good and great for Him, when He thus spared
your life? And that dear man Connors!--I feel as though I could kiss the
hands that drew you from the water. Your father must go to-night, and
tell him how grateful we are; and he must do more than that--he must
reward him well for running such a risk to save our boy."
When Mr. Lloyd came home and learned what had happened, he made no
pretence of concealing his emotion. The very thought of losing in that
dreadful way the boy who was the joy and pride of his life filled him
with horror, and no words could express his fervent gratitude to
Connors, and to God, for sending so courageous a rescuer. So soon as
dinner was over he set off in search of him, taking Bert with him.
Connors's home was easily found, and Connors himself sat smoking his
evening pipe upon the door-step, as unconcernedly as though he had done
nothing out of the way that afternoon.
The object of Mr. Lloyd's visit was soon made known, but he found more
difficulty than he expected in giving such expression as he desired to
the gratitude he felt. Connors was quite willing to be thanked, and
accepted Mr. Lloyd's fervent words with a respectful acquiescence that
well became him, but when Mr. Lloyd broached the subject of a more
tangible reward, Connors quite as respectfully, but very firmly,
refused.
"I want no reward for saving your boy, sir. It's proud I am of pulling
so fine a boy as that out of the water. I did no more than you'd do for
my boy, sir, if he were in the same scrape," said he, in reply to Mr.
Lloyd's delicately worded offer.
"That may be, Connors. I'm sure I would do as you say, but all the same
I would feel much more comfortable if you would accept this purse as
some expression of my gratitude," urged Mr. Lloyd.
"And, thanking you kindly, sir, I'd feel much more comfortable if I
didn't take it," returned Connors, in a tone there was no mistaking. So
Mr. Lloyd, resolving in his mind that he would find out some other way
of rewarding the worthy fellow, said no more then, and shortly after
took his leave.
As Bert and his father walked home together they were still talking
about the event of the afternoon.
"If you had been drowned, Bert, it would to some extent have been my
fault," said Mr. Lloyd; "for I should not have so long neglected
teaching you to swim. A boy of your age ought to be well able to take
care of himself in the water, and I should have seen that you were.
However, now that this escape of yours has waked me up, I will attend to
the matter at once. So we will begin to-morrow morning, Bert, and have a
swimming lesson every day before breakfast."
"Oh, father; I'm so glad," exclaimed Bert, skipping about joyfully. "I
want to know how to swim ever so much, and I'll soon learn if you'll
teach me."
"All right, my boy. You see to waking me in good time, and I'll see that
you learn to swim," replied Mr. Lloyd, clapping Bert affectionately on
the back.
The next morning at six o'clock Bert was rapping loudly on his father's
door, and calling upon him to get up, and a quarter of an hour later the
pair with towels on their arms were off in the direction of a secluded,
deserted wharf that would just suit their purpose.
On arriving at this place, Mr. Lloyd showed Bert how he proposed to
teach him to swim, and it certainly was about as excellent a way as
could well have been devised. He had brought with him two things besides
the towels: a piece of rope about the thickness of a clothes line, and
ten yards or more in length, and a strong linen band, two yards in
length. The linen band he put round Bert's shoulders in such a way that
there was no possibility of its slipping, or interfering with the action
of his arms; and then the rope was so fastened to the band that when
Bert was in the water his father, standing on the wharf above him, could
hold him in just the right position for swimming.
The preparations having been completed, Bert was bidden descend the
steps and plunge into the water. He started off bravely enough, but when
he reached the bottom step he hesitated. The water was at least ten feet
in depth beneath him, and he had never been "over his head," as they
say, before, except when he came so near being drowned. Naturally,
therefore, he shrank from committing himself to the deep in this
fashion.
"Well, Bert, what's the matter? Are you afraid the water is too cold?"
asked his father, as he noticed his hesitation.
"No, father; not exactly," answered Bert, feeling half ashamed of
himself.
"You're afraid it's too deep, then?" suggested Mr. Lloyd. And Bert
looked up with a smile that showed he had hit the mark.
"Never mind, my boy," said Mr. Lloyd, cheeringly. "You're all right. I
won't let go of you. Jump in like a man."
Bert hung back a moment; then, shutting his mouth tightly and closing
his eyes, he sprang boldly into the cool, green water. He went under a
little at first, but a slight tug on the rope brought him quickly to the
top, and recovering his breath and his self-possession at the same time,
he struck out with his arms and kicked with his legs, according to the
best of his ability. His motions were sadly unskilful, as may be easily
imagined, and although they used up his strength pretty rapidly, they
would not have kept his head above water for a minute; but a gentle
pressure on the rope in Mr. Lloyd's hand made that all right, and,
feeling quite at his ease, Bert struggled away until he was tired out,
and then his father, who had all the time been cheering and directing
him, drew him back to the steps, and the lesson was over.
"You did very well, Bert; very well, indeed," said he, in tones of warm
approval, as Bert proceeded to rub off the salt water and get into his
clothes again. "I don't think it will take a great many lessons to make
a swimmer of you."
And Mr. Lloyd's confidence was well founded; for so earnestly did Bert
give himself to the business of learning to swim that by the end of a
fortnight he could go ten yards out and back without any help from the
rope at all. Another fortnight and the rope was no longer needed. Mr.
Lloyd now went into the water with Bert, and swimming out to the middle
of the dock, would have the boy come to him, and after resting upon his
broad shoulders a moment, make his way back to the steps again.
Thus, in little more than a month, Bert became quite able to take care
of himself in the water under ordinary circumstances; and his father,
feeling well satisfied with his proficiency, gave him liberty to go to
the wharves as often as he pleased--a boon Bert highly appreciated.
A pleasure unshared by his faithful Frank was but half a pleasure to
Bert. Next in importance to his being able to swim himself was Frank's
acquiring the same invaluable accomplishment. Invaluable? Yes, one might
indeed rightly use a stronger term, and say indispensable; for the
education of no boy is complete until he has mastered the art of
swimming. And if the boys knew their own interests as thoroughly as
their parents and guardians ought to know them, they would agitate all
over the land for the provision of swimming baths in connection with
their schools, or in some other way that would ensure them the
opportunity of learning what to do with themselves in the water, as well
as upon the land.
Frank could swim a stroke or two before Bert took him in hand, and
consequently was soon able to dispense with the rope; but timid little
Ernest Linton, who was the next pupil, took a lot of teaching, and there
seemed small prospect of his conquering his timidity sufficiently to "go
it alone" before the swimming season would be over.
The fame of Bert's swimming school spread among his playmates to an
extent that threatened to be embarrassing. By the time they were half
way through the mid-summer holidays, a crowd of boisterous youngsters
gathered every morning at the old wharf, and struggled for the use of
band and rope, until at last there had to be several of these provided.
Then they had fine fun. A dozen boys would be in the water at the same
time--some of them expert swimmers, the others in all stages of
learning--and there would be races, splashing matches, unexpected
duckings, sly tricks upon the nervous learners, and all sorts of capers,
such as might be expected from boys of their age and enterprise.
By way of deepening the interest in this healthful amusement, they
organised a competition, the prizes being supplied by their parents, who
were duly waited upon by a properly-authorised committee; and one fine
August afternoon, the sleepy old wharf was made to fairly tremble with
excitement, as race followed race in quick succession, amid the cheering
and shouting of some two-score vigorous boys. Much to his delight, Frank
succeeded in carrying off the first prize. He was a persistent,
painstaking fellow when his interest was thoroughly aroused, and while
other chaps were skylarking about in the water, he had been practising
long swims, the consequence of which was that at the competition--when,
of course, the best prize was given for the longest race; the course,
in this instance, being out to the head of the wharf, and back--Frank
left all the other contestants behind, and came in an easy winner.
Bert was exceedingly pleased. He had not won any prizes himself, except
an unimportant little second one; but Frank's success more than consoled
him, and he bore him off home with him in high glee, that the family
might share in the joy of the occasion.
Nearly two years now had passed since the two friends first made one
another's acquaintance, and the course of events had fully confirmed the
expectation of Bert's parents, that he would be far more likely to
influence Frank for good than Frank would be to influence him for evil.
There had been unmistakable improvement in Frank, both in manners and
morals. Constant association with a playmate brought up under home
influences so different from his own; the wise and kindly words that Mr.
and Mrs. Lloyd lost no opportunity of speaking to him; the refinement
and brightness of their home; the atmosphere of sunny religion that
pervaded it; and all these supplemented by an ever-interesting
presentation of common-sense Christianity at the hands of Mr. Silver
every Sunday afternoon, had worked deep into Frank's strong, steadfast
nature, and without being distinctly conscious of it himself, he was
growing refined, pure, and religious in thought and desire, like those
with whom it was the joy of his life to associate. The current of his
being had been turned Godward, and in him, though he knew it not, Bert
had won the first star for his crown.