A GLORIOUS OPPORTUNITY.
The boat-builder at Hitaca had promised Waddie he should have a boat
that would beat the Belle, or any other craft of her inches on the
lake. He had evidently kept his word, though the respective merits of
the two boats had not yet been fairly tested; but, in building for
speed, he had not built for safety. The Raven was too narrow for her
length, and it was apparent that she was very crank. However, Waddie
did not care how crank she was, if she was only fast. He was skilful
enough himself to keep her right side up.
Tom Walton was sailing the Belle, and Tommy Toppleton and Grace were
passengers. Though the trip to the Horse Shoe was for another purpose,
the race between the two boats could not well be avoided. Waddie was
anxious to have the point settled, and as Tom Walton, the regular
skipper of the Belle, was on board, the race commenced without a
challenge, or any other preparations. The Belle waited until the Raven
came out from the wharf, and they met in the middle of the lake, where
the two parties exchanged salutations.
“I’m afraid we shall have some bad weather,” said Tom Walton, as he
glanced at the black clouds which were piling up in the south-west.
“We shall get to the Horse Shoe before that shower comes up,” replied
Waddie, as he put his helm up, and the Raven filled away on her course.
“Let her slide!” shouted Tom Walton, who was not yet quite ready to
believe that the new boat could beat the Belle.
“So we are to have a race, Waddie,” said his sister, as the Belle
shaped her course for the Horse Shoe.
“Yes; and I’m going to beat the Belle all to pieces,” answered Waddie,
in high excitement, as the two boats, now side by side, began to spin
furiously through the water, the spray curling over their bows, as they
bent down before the lively breeze.
“But you will drown us all, Waddie!” exclaimed Minnie, as the Raven
careened under a flaw till the gunwale was nearly submerged.
“There is not the least danger while Mr. Wimpleton is at the helm. He
is the most skilful boatman on the lake,” interposed Nick.
“But I don’t like such furious sailing as this,” added Minnie, as half
a bucket of spray dashed upon the half deck forward of her.
“Don’t be alarmed, Minnie,” said Waddie, gently. “She is doing
beautifully, and we are gaining on the Belle. I wish my arm was not so
lame. It bothers me.”
“I cannot steer as well as you can, Waddie; but I will do the best I
can,” added Nick.
“If we were on the other tack I could do it very well; but I don’t like
to sit on the lee side to steer. We are beating her,” continued Waddie,
when the Raven was a length ahead of her rival.
“But you will certainly drown us, Waddie!” cried Minnie, as the boat
went down on the lee side to her washboard.
“If you will permit me to sit on the same side with you, Miss
Wimpleton, I can relieve her a little,” suggested Nick, as he rose from
his place.
“Certainly, Mr. Van Wolter. Don’t be so polite as to drown me.”
Nick took a seat on the weather side, where he should have gone before.
He again assured his fair companion that there was no danger, though
he was really not so confident on this point as he pretended to be. He
certainly was not afraid himself; on the contrary, he rather wished
the boat would upset, and thus afford him the coveted opportunity to
save Miss Wimpleton from the “watery grave.” He could swim like a fish,
and Waddie was so disabled that he could do no more than help himself.
But the two boats dashed on, and the Raven did not go over. She soon
ran away from the Belle, though it was done at the expense of a severe
trial to Miss Minnie’s nerves.
“Take in the jib, Nick,” said Waddie. “The point is settled. The Raven
is the fastest boat on the lake.”
The willing assistant obeyed this order, and the boat went along a
little steadier, much to the satisfaction of the young lady passenger.
“I hope you have not injured your coat, Mr. Van Wolter,” said she, as
he resumed his seat.
“Not at all, though it would be of no consequence if I had,” replied
Nick.
“I think it would. When a young gentleman has a really elegant
appearance, it breaks my heart to see it disturbed.”
“Your heart is very tender, Miss Wimpleton.”
“Like all ladies’ hearts.”
Nick sighed.
Minnie laughed.
“What a beautiful breast-pin you wear, Mr. Van Wolter!”
“Do you like it?”
“I think it is lovely.”
Nick put his hands up to take it out of the cravat, in order to make
her a present of it; but he happened to remember, in season to save it,
that it was the rose, and not the breast-pin, he was to give her, if
she admired it. She did not allude to the flower, and all opportunities
seemed to elude his grasp. It was provoking that the Raven would not
upset, and afford him a chance to do a gallant deed. He thought Miss
Minnie was in a very agreeable frame of mind. She spoke very kindly
to him, and smiled with the utmost sweetness; for his vanity did not
permit him to realize that she was making fun of him. If an opportunity
could only be presented for him to do a big thing,--to tear her from
the jaws of death,--all would be well with him, and, he was conceited
enough to believe, with her also.
Waddie came about, and threw the boat up into the wind, to wait for the
Belle. The Raven had fully justified her builder’s promise, and the
owner was satisfied. Tom Walton was nettled at his signal defeat. He
could not quite understand it; so he did just what other smart boatmen
do under similar circumstances--he declared that it was not the right
breeze for the Belle. She was a heavy-weather boat, and he should like
to catch the Raven out when it blew a fresh breeze. He would either
beat her or drown her.
Waddie thought they had a pretty stiff breeze, but he would be happy to
accommodate Tom on his own terms. The two boats sailed along together
towards their destination. Waddie’s shoulder troubled him, after the
exercise he had taken, and he gave up the helm to Nick. The wind had
gradually subsided until it was a dead calm off the South Shoe. The
great black clouds had been travelling steadily towards the zenith,
till the sun was obscured, and the aspect of the weather was decidedly
threatening. Waddie looked at the rolling black clouds, and declared
there was wind in them.
“What do you mean by that, Waddie?” asked Minnie, anxiously.
“We may have a squall,” replied he, coolly.
“A squall!” exclaimed she, terrified by the word. “Do let us get
ashore.”
“A squall is nothing, if you only mind your eye,” added the young
boatman, lightly.
“But I am afraid of squalls,” persisted Minnie. “Can’t we go on shore?”
“Not very conveniently, as the shore is half a mile distant, and there
is not a breath of wind. Don’t be alarmed, Minnie. I have been out in
twenty squalls, and really there is nothing to fear, if the boat is
well handled.”
“Look out for a squall!” shouted Tom Walton from the Belle, which had
fallen astern as the breeze died out.
“Ay, ay!” replied Waddie. “I see it.”
A squall! After all, there might be a chance for Nick to do a great
deed in behalf of the fair passenger. It was evident enough that
the Raven would go over with the slightest excuse for doing so. As
Waddie said nothing about it, he did not deem it incumbent upon him to
suggest the propriety of taking in sail. His mother told him to “make a
chance.” It was wicked to do so, and perhaps it was involuntarily that
he put several half hitches in the mainsheet, as he made it fast to the
cleat.
“If we can get a puff or two of wind, we can run up to the South Shoe,
and anchor,” said Waddie.
“It’s coming!” shouted Tom Walton, whose quick eye had already
discovered the approach of the squall.
“Yes, there it comes,” added Waddie, quietly. “I’ll take the helm,
Nick; you may go forward and stand by the halyards.”
“I will,” replied Nick.
“Don’t let go till I tell you,” continued Waddie. “It may not come
here, and a capful of wind will take us to the shore.”
“Say when you are ready,” added Nick, as he stationed himself on the
half deck.
The tempest drove down the lake, piling up great billows before it,
stirring up the sleet and spray in its path, till the shore was hid
from the gaze of the voyagers.
“Look out for it!” roared Tom Walton, whose voice could scarcely be
heard above the noise of the wind and waters.
He had lowered the mainsail of the Belle half way down, so that the
light puffs which came before the squall drove her almost up to the
spot where the Raven lay motionless on the still waters.
“Let go the halyards!” shouted Waddie, sharply. “Be lively about it!
The squall is upon us!”
“Down with your mainsail!” cried Tom, as the blast swept down upon the
Raven. “Let go your sheet!”
By this time the Belle’s mainsail was down, with a couple of stops
on to secure it to the boom. Waddie had already, with his single
serviceable hand, sprung to the quarter to let go the sheet. The
half hitches which Nick had put in the rope bothered him, and his
fingers seemed to be all thumbs. The wind began to swell the sail, and
increased the difficulty of the operation, while Nick seemed to be
having no little trouble in detaching the halyards.
“Let go! Down with the mainsail!” cried Waddie, furiously.
“Ay, ay!” replied Nick, as he let go the halyards; but he was just half
a second too late.
The squall struck the sail, and the Raven toppled over as easily as
though she had been built for the express purpose of upsetting. In an
instant Miss Minnie was floundering in the mad waves, and screaming for
help. The glorious opportunity to do a noble deed, for which Nick had
so devotedly hoped, had come. Waddie was thrown into the water, but he
clung to the boom with his uninjured arm.
Unfortunately for Nick, his legs were tangled in the halyards of the
sail. The Raven’s ballast shifted, and she rolled over till she lay
bottom upwards on the waves. Nick was drawn under water by the action
of the boat; but he quickly freed his legs from the rope, and coming
up, clung to the hull till he could ascertain the position of Miss
Minnie, who was still struggling in the waves some distance from the
boat.
He was too late. The circumstances mocked him again. The squall was
subsiding, and Tommy Toppleton, like a true knight, had leaped into the
water the instant he saw Minnie’s condition, and was swimming towards
her. The glorious opportunity was lost.
[Illustration: A LOST OPPORTUNITY.]