THE WATER CARNIVAL.
Business still held good, and less than two weeks after the Queen's
Ferry began its traffic there was money enough in the treasury to pay
all running expenses and leave enough for the first installment of
fifty dollars for Mr. Simpkins.
"It isn't due until the end of the summer," said Frank, "but we might
as well pay it, and there's five dollars over for Captain Silas.
That's for the idea."
"And please, sir, where does the crew come in?" inquired the Codfish.
The boys were all seated on the veranda of the Armstrong home.
After dinner, with paper and pencil they had gone over their daily
earnings, with the result that the decision to pay up had been made.
All voted unanimously.
"Oh, you will get your reward by and by. Isn't it enough to have
such company as ours without pay?" queried Lewis.
"Say, Codfish," said Jimmy, "that poster of yours was a dandy." He
referred to the one that the Codfish had spent the greater part of
the day before preparing, and it was the announcement of the special
excursion to Turner's Point on Thursday. The Codfish had put his best
efforts on the work, and, like the others that had preceded it, it
was embellished with drawings illustrating the coming carnival.
"Codfish is a genius and no mistake," laughed Frank. "This outfit
wouldn't be anywhere without him, and when the season is over we will
vote him double pay."
"I was brought here under false pretenses," said that individual in
what he tried to make an aggrieved tone. "Your telegram said: 'No
work, big pay,' and since I arrived I've done nothing but work and
haven't seen a red cent."
"Just a telegraph operator's mistake, I guess," said Frank. "Perhaps
we wired you 'Big work, no pay'--wasn't that it, Jimmy?"
"Sure it was--something like that. But the Codfish enjoys working for
love. He has too much money already; he said so himself."
"What time does your excursion start to-morrow?" inquired Mrs.
Armstrong.
"Three o'clock, sharp," was Frank's answer. "We take a holiday
to-morrow so as to be ready for the big meet."
"Do you suppose you could take mother and me along if we pay regular
fare?" inquired Mr. Armstrong, stepping up behind them.
"Pay nothing," said Jimmy and the boys in a breath. "We'll take you
as a super-cargo."
"I'm afraid of your speedy boat," said Mrs. Armstrong. "John, we will
ride down on the trolley car."
"Do come with us, mum; we will take care of you, and it will be more
fun than a trolley. It's nearly a mile down there, and besides you
will have a great place to watch from the boat. Come along," Frank
pleaded.
The result was that Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong agreed to go down to
the Point in the _Black Duck_. That night all turned in early, but
Frank's slumbers were broken by dreams of the black head of a swimmer
that he could not quite overtake bobbing along in front of him. The
head looked singularly like that of his old rival Peters.
At three o'clock next day Frank had the great honor of assisting
his mother and father to their places in the _Black Duck_. Captain
Silas had already started off with his boat loaded to the gunwale
with people from Seawall whose destination was the water carnival at
Turner's Point, and, thanks to the wonderful and enticing posters
that the Codfish had prepared, there were twice as many people on the
dock to go down in the motor boat as could be accommodated.
"Show your business instincts, Frank; give up the swim this afternoon
and make a double trip to the Point. I hate to see the Queen's Ferry
lose so many good dollars. Peters will lick you, anyway," said the
Codfish.
"He will, like a duck," retorted Jimmy, who for once thought that the
Codfish was in earnest.
"No," said Frank, "this is a holiday. We made our first payment this
morning and there are other days to work in. This is an outing."
When the _Black Duck_ arrived at Turner's Point the whole place was
alive with color and movement. Scores of rowboats were drawn up
alongside the hundred-yard course that had been laid out by Burton,
between two floats. Sailboats with their mainsails down and jibs
stowed, lay at anchor a little farther away. Crowds of the people of
the Point were on the water front and all was expectancy. Frank edged
his boat in toward the public float and discharged his passengers.
"Mother, there are so many boats here that I think you and father
better come and sit in the stand, where you can have a better view.
We will make fast the _Black Duck_ here."
"It would be better," said Mr. Armstrong. So the party threaded their
way to the stand, which was built on the long pier, and took places
there.
"Now, since you are all comfy," said Frank, "I'll be off and see
when my race comes. I may not be back again. Don't get excited and
fall off, mother," he warned. And he darted away. "Good luck to you,
son," his father called after him. He turned and waved his hand, and
hurried along to the dressing room.
Like all water carnivals, the first events were of minor character. A
sack race in which the swimmers were encased in a bag up to the waist
caused endless mirth as, hampered by the bag which did not allow
them the use of their legs, they floundered along, struggling and
splashing. Then came an obstacle race in which the swimmers had to
climb over obstacles placed in the course. Some did not try to climb,
but dived underneath, and were declared out of the race for fouling.
Others attempted to climb and fell back into the water with a splash.
Then came the first real trial of skill, the preliminaries of the
hundred-yard race. There were so many entries that three heats had
to be run off, four in a heat, the first two to qualify. Peters was
drawn for the first trial, Frank noticed. He watched his rival keenly
as the first four took the water, and saw with a little sinking of
the heart that the tall, slender Peters was far and away better than
his competitors. He swam a powerful trudgeon stroke, which carried
him rapidly and easily. Peters did not spurt. He did not have to, but
finished easily in the lead of his nearest competitor by ten feet;
and, instead of getting upon the float at the far end of the course,
just to show that he was not exhausted he swung around and came back
at even a faster clip than he had held in the race. As he pulled
himself up on the float, he gave Frank a glance from under his heavy
brows, but did not show that he recognized him.
"That's the lad for my money," observed a bystander. "Did you see how
easy he won that trial?"
"He's the best here, I guess," said a companion. "There's a fellow
here called Armstrong, but I don't think he has any business with
Peters. That fellow's a cracker-jack," and they both gazed after the
lad with admiration. Frank heard, but said nothing. His friends were
with him, Jimmy in a natty bathing suit, Lewis still in his regular
street clothes, for the plunge did not come till later, and the
Codfish in immaculate flannels with flowing blue tie and socks to
match.
In a minute the next four were sent off in a nip-and-tuck race, at
the end of which the announcer bawled out:
"Second trial goes to Hatch, with Burley second!" Hatch also swam
back to the float, as had Peters, and was helped out by the latter,
who complimented him on his winning the trial. Frank noticed that the
two swimmers, as they walked to the dressing room, cast a glance in
his direction. They were speaking in low tones.
"They're great pals, those two," said one of the nearby spectators.
"And they're hatching up something for you, Frank," said Jimmy in a
whisper. "I don't like the looks of either of them."
"Guess not," returned Frank. "Here we go," he added as the third
trial was called.
"Take it easy," admonished Burton, as Frank balanced on the edge of
the float and waited for the signal to go.
"Bang!" went the pistol. Frank was rather slow in getting off, while
his three competitors were almost ahead of the pistol. One of them
did indeed beat the pistol, but as he dropped back before the first
fifty yards had been covered, no attention was paid to the incident
by the referee. Swimming easily, Frank was within touching distance
of the leading man twenty-five yards from the finish line. But he
did not exert himself very much. He let the leader work hard, being
satisfied with second place, which was just as good as first, for
both first and second qualified to enter the finals.
When it was announced that Bates had won the heat with Armstrong
second, there was a great commotion among the members of the
Armstrong family on the stand. "Oh, dear, wasn't it too bad that
Frank couldn't win?" said Mrs. Armstrong, disappointment on every
line of her face.
Her husband chuckled. "Don't be worried, Sarah, that's only a
preliminary. Second place gives him a chance to swim in the final
trial." Mrs. Armstrong was comforted. "He was saving himself, I
think," said the father.
Frank swam the few yards to the shore and walked slowly down the
beach. He was met by Codfish and Lewis, who excitedly inquired why he
didn't take first place. Frank only smiled. "What did you want me to
do," he said; "tire myself out?"
"He did exactly right," said the astute Codfish. "His real race is
coming with Peters a little later."
Meantime the exhibition of high diving had begun from a tower built
on the outer edge of the pier, with platforms jutting out every ten
feet up to the height of forty-five feet, the lowest one being five
feet above the water. From these varying platforms an expert gave a
series of dazzling evolutions--somersaults, back dives, swan dives,
and finally a double somersault from the very top platform, which
made the ladies scream with apprehension. But the diver struck the
water like an arrow and bobbed up instantly, waving a joyful hand to
the crowd.
As soon as the diving was over the 220 race was called, with six
entries, among them Jimmy. At the outset he lagged behind and seemed
to be hopelessly out of the race, but, urged on by the cries of his
Seawall friends, he got his second wind when half the distance was
over and began to pull up on the leaders. One by one he overtook and
passed them until only one was left ahead of him. For the last twenty
yards it was a scramble between these two, but Jimmy's hand shot out
and touched the float a fraction of a second ahead.
During the excitement that followed on the float, a boat was rowed
rapidly over from the side of the course, containing among others
a stout lady, who wore an enormous picture hat. Even at a distance
it could be seen that she was rather clumsy looking. Her hands were
covered by coarse cotton gloves and her face was concealed by a white
veil. Evidently it was the intention of the rowers to land her on the
swimmers' float. In a moment the rowboat drew alongside the float.
Every one was watching the strange maneuvers of the boat and laughing
at its queer occupant as it drew up to the float. There was much
wondering as to what the lady could want. As the boat touched the
edge of the float she stood up awkwardly and put one foot on the
float, pushing with the other one in the boat to help herself up. Of
course, you all know what happened. The boat, instead of giving her
the support she desired, shot away with her vigorous push. The queer
woman lost her balance, toppled over backward, fell with a resounding
crash into the water and sank, cotton gloves and all.
Immediately there was a cry from the spectators, and Lewis, who
happened to be standing nearest, without thought of his clothes, went
over after her like a hero. Almost immediately he appeared clutching
something desperately. It was the skirt of the drowning woman. How he
pulled to save her from a watery grave! But he pulled too savagely,
for the skirt was left in his hands, and the woman sank like a stone.
Then the feather on that gorgeous picture hat came into view. Lewis
grabbed at the hat. That, too, came away in his hand, and he threw
it on the float, debating with himself whether or not he would go
to the bottom after her, as Frank had dived a few days before for
the drowning girl. He thought it strange that no one of all those
swimmers came to help him, but he had been trying so desperately
to do his duty that he had not looked up. A roar of laughter now
caused him to look, and to his amazement every one on the float was
convulsed, holding their sides and swaying back and forth.
Just then, right alongside him, bobbed up the round and smiling
face of Bunny Taylor, the fattest boy of the Point. A bedraggled
wig of long hair floated out behind him and one cotton-gloved hand
grabbed the side of the float. Then the truth dawned on Lewis. He had
been the victim of a hoax. It wasn't a woman at all who had fallen
overboard. He climbed out of the water and dashed for the dressing
room while the crowd laughed and shouted.
"Poor old Lewis," said Frank, chasing after him. "It was too bad you
were so near. That is one of the regular tricks at a water carnival.
Some one made up as a woman falls overboard, and sometimes an
innocent and unsuspecting bystander, not on the inside, jumps in and
rescues the drowning 'lady.' It's hard luck that it was you."
Lewis was almost in tears. "I certainly must have looked like a goat,
jumping in after that galoot."
"You were a hero," said the Codfish, who had followed, "a real
out-and-out first-class hero. If she hadn't been the most elusive
woman in the world, you would have saved her for sure. But it's
always safer to grab them by the neck than by the skirt; always
remember that, Lewis."
"Oh, shut up," said Lewis, still ruffled. "I only wish it had been
you, you walking advertisement for a gents' furnishing store!"
"I tell you what you can do to even up with this crowd--go out and
win the plunge," said Frank, comforting him. "You can do it, and then
they won't have the laugh on you. Hurry up, there's the first call
for the event."
Lewis got out of his wet street clothes, put on his water costume and
walked rather sheepishly out on the float. There he was greeted with
such a storm of cheers and hand-clapping that he forgot his chagrin
and fell into a better humor--so good a humor, indeed, that he went
determinedly at the work in hand and won the event by a clean five
feet from the best plunger that Turner's Point could offer.
"Bully boy," said Burton, as Lewis passed him on the float, headed
for the dressing room. "You turned the tables on them." Whereat Lewis
grinned more broadly than ever.