THE JANTY YACHT.
It was very dark, and Little Bobtail was unable to obtain a very clear
idea of the craft he had picked up; but he had brought her to a secure
anchorage under the lee of Blank Island, and, quite exhausted with his
energetic efforts, both in boarding the yacht and in mooring the boats,
he was content to rest himself for a while on the cushioned seats of the
standing-room. The fresh wind which had blown all day had not permitted
him to pay much attention to the dietary department, which is always an
important one in a boat; and, not being over sentimental, he was
positively hungry. Even the half of his sheet of gingerbread and his
"hunk of cheese" remained untouched.
Little Bobtail was an ingenious youth, and when he anchored the old boat
he had taken a line from her stern to the yacht, so that he could haul
the former alongside the latter at his pleasure. By this means he was
enabled to recover his provision box and jug of cold water without any
difficulty. He devoured the balance of what had been intended only for
his dinner, which, expanded into both dinner and supper, did not half
cover the needs of the occasion. He was still hungry, but he had
recovered his breath, and was in condition to make another effort, if
another were required of him.
We confess that we have written very coolly and composedly of the event
in Little Bobtail's experience which had just transpired, hardly
attempting to describe his wonder and exhilaration; but it is not to be
supposed that he was unmoved by the discovery and recovery of the
abandoned yacht. He was so tremendously excited, that he had worked all
the breath out of his body, and had hardly an opportunity to consider
the nature and extent of his achievement till he had regained his wind,
and partially filled the vacuum in his stomach, which prudent Nature
abhors.
We said he was ready for another effort; but before he put forth his
strength again, he indulged in a series of speculations in regard to the
immediate history of the yacht he had picked up under such singular
circumstances. He had not been into the cabin yet to obtain whatever
evidence might be available in solving the problem; he had not yet had
time to do so. But people speculate and construct theories even before
there are any premises on which to base them.
The yacht was fine enough to be a pleasure craft, and he leaped at once
to the conclusion that some gay party had landed on an island to have a
good time, and, having run the yacht aground, the fresh breeze had blown
her off as the tide rose. Entirely satisfied with this solution, the
history of the fair craft seemed to be no longer a mystery to him. In
the morning he would run her over to Camden and anchor there. The owner
would soon appear; and, as he was fairly entitled to salvage, he thought
he could reasonably hope to receive as much as ten dollars for his
services, for the yacht might have been thrown upon the rocks and
utterly smashed, if he had not picked her up. Indeed, she was not three
miles from Deer Island when he discovered her, and in an hour or two
more nothing could have saved her from destruction.
To Little Bobtail ten dollars was a vast sum of money, and the very
first thought of obtaining it suggested, as the next one, the use to
which it should be applied. That old tub of a boat in which he had been
sailing all day could be bought for thirty dollars. It is true she was
not much of a boat; but it would afford Little Bobtail almost as much
pleasure to repair her and put a proper keel upon her, so that he could
beat to windward in her, as it would to sail her. Prince, who owned her,
would take ten dollars as the first payment, and in time he could earn
enough with her to pay the other twenty. Altogether the dream was a
brilliant one to him, and as he gazed through the gloom of the night at
the old tub, his fancy kindled with the glowing future. He wished the
old thing was bigger, so that he could have a cabin and a place to sleep
in her, when the drunken fury of Ezekiel drove him from the cottage.
Now, really, our hero did not think half so much of the janty yacht he
had captured as he did of the old tub, and we do not know that he would
have taken the trouble to enter her cabin before he wanted a place to
sleep, if he had not been hungry. Half a sheet of gingerbread and "half
a hunk of cheese" for supper were altogether insufficient for a growing
boy. If the party which had lost the yacht had been on a pleasure
excursion, of course they had brought provisions with them; for, to the
imagination of a boy of sixteen, eating is one of the chief pleasures of
existence, especially on the salt water. If the excursionists had gone
on shore,--as they must have done, since they were not on
board,--probably they had taken their provisions with them. It was a
startling thought; but then perhaps the yacht had broken adrift before
they were removed from the lockers. The alternative was very pleasant to
Little Bobtail, though it suggested the miserable condition of the
excursionists left on the island, perhaps to pass the night there,
without food. Our hero thought they could stand it better without any
supper than he could, for he had had only half a dinner, and besides,
everybody thinks his own misfortunes are infinitely more trying than
those of other people. But we must do our young skipper the justice to
add that he sympathized with the excursionists in case they had no
supper.
The doors of the cabin were closed, but they were not locked. Little
Bobtail threw them open, and gazed down into the darkness. He could not
see anything but the faint light through the round ports in the trunk.
He descended the steps, and then stumbled against some boxes. Feeling
his way overhead, he placed his hand upon a lantern suspended from
above.
"All right!" exclaimed he. "That lantern is the right thing in the right
place. We will have some light on the subject."
He was an early riser, and made the fire in the cook-stove every morning
at home, which may account for the fact that he had a quantity of
matches in his pocket. He always carried them with him, for he had been
blown off once before, when he had a boat full of fish, and had to go
hungry all night because he could not make a fire to cook one or two of
them. Besides, when he sailed with strangers or with town's people, most
of them smoked, and he often found that a match was the one thing needed
in a boat. On account of this wise forecast and this prudent habit,
Little Bobtail had plenty of matches in his pocket; and having them, he
lighted one, and communicated the flame to the lamp in the lantern.
Excitedly he waited the revelations which the lamp was to make to him.
It was a beautiful cabin. The transoms were all cushioned, and there was
a table between them. Forward was the door which opened into the
cook-room. Over the table was a rack for bottles and glasses, and there
was a score of lockers filled with dishes and other table ware, with
charts, books, compasses, and other nautical necessaries. A handsome
spy-glass hung on a pair of brackets. At the end of the transoms were
several cushions, used as pillows, and some robes to cover the sleepers.
After this general survey of the interior of the cabin, Little Bobtail
turned his attention to the boxes upon which he had stumbled. All the
cabin floor, except a small portion aft, was covered with these boxes,
of which he counted twenty. The theory he had adopted that the yacht had
been used for a pleasure excursion, crumbled away as he saw these boxes,
for no party would go out sailing with the cabin lumbered up in this
manner. He overhauled one of the boxes, without being any the wiser, and
Little Bobtail was sorely puzzled. Taking the lantern in his hand, he
crawled over the boxes to the cook-room. It was very small, but it was
admirably fitted up, with a tiny stove and plenty of lockers. In one
corner hung a log of bacon, from which a few slices had been out at some
recent period.
"That suits my case exactly," said the explorer, as he took down the
bacon. "I shall treat myself to a slice of fried ham before I bother my
head any more about this craft or any other."
In a locker on which the cook sat while engaged in his duties was a
supply of wood; and in five minutes Little Bobtail had a good fire in
the stove. A frying-pan lay by the side of the locker. Indeed, our hero
could want nothing which he did not immediately find ready for use, just
as though a multitude of fairies stood at his elbows to meet his every
wish. In another locker he found a kid of cold potatoes, and there was
an abundance of hard-tack in a keg on the transom. The slice of bacon
hissed and sizzled in the pan on the stove, and the odor was delightful
to the hungry boy. It was soon "done to a turn," and the fried potatoes
were as brown and nice as those prepared by his mother. He might have
had tea or coffee, but he did not care for them. At his age they are
not reckoned among the substantials for a good meal. Procuring a plate,
knife, and fork from the cabin, he helped himself from the pan on the
stove.
"That's what I call first rate!" exclaimed he, when he had duly tested
the bacon and the potatoes. "I shall be ready to hire out as a cook
after this. That's tip-top bacon, and I respect the pig that left this
leg I see to me."
Little Bobtail glanced up at the leg of bacon in the corner, and thought
he had made a good pun; but it was fearfully old and stale to be printed
in a book, and we do so only out of deference to his feelings. No
right-minded and highly moral person will make puns; and our hero is
only excusable on the ground that he was alone, and did not force it
upon other people. He ate all he wanted; nay, more--all he could. He
devoured the entire slice he had cooked, leaving none for a lunch, in
case he wanted one, when he had not time to cook. He was entirely
satisfied, and that is saying a great deal of a boy of sixteen, growing,
and sailing on the salt water, too. He could not eat any more, or he
would; and, being too full for utterance, he made no more speeches to
himself. Doubtless he had endangered the peace of his dreams by
overloading his stomach at that hour in the evening, for by this time it
was ten o'clock; but it so happened that he had time to digest his
supper before he put himself in the way of dreaming.
Having satisfied his hunger, he felt entirely satisfied with himself,
and especially with the person or persons who had fitted out the yacht
in the commissary department. Taking his lantern, he crawled over the
boxes to the after part of the cabin, where there was space enough for
him to sit comfortably. He looked at the boxes, and wondered what was in
them. We do not know that he had more curiosity than boys in general;
but he felt that a knowledge of their contents might enable him to
establish another theory in regard to the previous history of the yacht.
He had seen a shingling hatchet in the cook-room, used for splitting up
the kindling wood. He went for it, and, with no great difficulty, opened
one of the boxes. It was filled with bottles, packed in straw, and each
one enclosed in a curious case made of the same material. He slipped one
of the bottles out of its casing. It was labeled "JAMES HENNESSY &
CO.--COGNAC." The name of the firm, so well known to old topers and
moderate drinkers, afforded him no light; but he knew that "Cognac"
meant brandy.
[Illustration]
"Oho! aha!" said Little Bobtail, knowingly; "I smell a mice now. This
boat wasn't used for a pleasure party."
He had heard about those mysterious custom-house inspectors and
detectives, who poke their noses into grocery stores, cellars, and all
the sly places where contraband goods were supposed to be concealed.
Promptly he arrived at the conclusion that the brandy in the yacht had
come "thus far into the bowels of the land" without paying its respects
to the custom-house, or any of the heavy duties which go to support the
army and navy, and a host of beneficent institutions which make our
country "the land of the free and the home of the brave," and the
collection of which affords a multitude of officials an opportunity to
steal. But Little Bobtail did not trouble himself to discuss any of the
vexed questions about free trade and tariff, or even to weigh carefully
the immorality of smuggling.
Our hero did not believe in brandy, abstractly or concretely. It was
liquor, and liquor had been a curse to his home, a curse to his mother,
and a curse to himself; and he was tempted to take the boxes on deck,
open them, and spill the contents of the bottles into the sea.
Possibly--not probably--he would have done so, if he had not been afraid
the liquor would destroy the fish, or drive them away to prohibition
waters. The problem of the yacht had become intricate, and he was
puzzled to determine what to do with her. If he had been properly
instructed in regard to the duty of the citizens to his government, and
properly inspired to discharge this duty, he would have sailed the yacht
and her cargo over to Camden, and delivered her to the deputy collector
in charge of the port. He knew what smuggling meant; but his views were
very indefinite. According to the fishermen, and most of the traders, to
whose conversation on this subject he had listened, smuggling was hardly
to be regarded as a sin, or, if a sin, it was one of the most trivial
character.
It is a melancholy truth, becoming more and more familiar to us every
year, that cheating the government is hardly considered a crime; that
respectable men, as the world measures them, and even members of the
church, defraud the revenues of the government without compunction.
We are sorry to acknowledge that Little Bobtail did not think of such a
thing as handing over the yacht and her contraband cargo--as he was
fully satisfied it was--to the custom-house officials. He had not been
educated up to a point which compelled him to do so. His conscience was
not sensitive on this point above the average of the town's people. He
was afraid, if he did so, that the government would coolly ignore him
because he was a boy, and he should lose his ten dollars. Perhaps he
thought he could make better terms with the smugglers than he could with
the honorable and high-minded deputy-collector. While he was thinking of
the matter, the moon rose in the clear sky, and shed a welcome light
over the bay. It occurred to him that those who had lost the yacht might
be in search of her. They might blunder upon him in the morning, and,
being reckless smugglers, might even kill him to prevent his bearing
testimony against them. He did not like the idea of meeting any such men
alone. He preferred that the interview should take place in Camden
harbor. The wind was still fresh, and in the yacht he could beat over to
Camden in three or four hours; but he thought the breeze was hauling to
the southward, which would give him a slant so that he could run over
without tacking.
Moved by these considerations, he hoisted the mainsail of the yacht,
which required all his strength and skill. He then weighed the anchor of
the old tub, and carried her painter to the larger craft. He had a hard
pull at the anchor of the yacht, but he got it up after a while, and
stowed it securely forward. Rushing to the helm, he hauled in the sheet,
and taking the wind on the quarter, he stood to the northward, in order
to pass around the island. The yacht worked beautifully, even without
her jib. Hauling in the sheet when she was clear of the island, he laid
her up to the wind as close as she would go. In a short time he got the
bearings of the lights, and found that he could let out his sheet a
little. The yacht seemed to fly under the fresh breeze, and Little
Bobtail watched her motions with perfect delight. After a while he
discovered the light on Negro Island, and it was all plain sailing to
him.
If the yacht went so fast with only her main-sail, what would she not
do with her jib also? The young skipper was determined to test the
question, and, lashing the helm, he hoisted her headsail. Trimming the
sail by the sheets which led aft, the yacht increased her speed, and
tossed the water over her boughs at a fearful rate; but Little Bobtail
had closed the fore scuttle, and he let it toss. It was wild excitement
to him, and he enjoyed it to the utmost. In two hours he was approaching
the Spindles off the Point, where he deemed it prudent to take in the
jib; but the wind was not so fresh in shore, and he went up the harbor
quite leisurely. He had time to think again; and a disagreeable
consideration was forced upon him, as he heard the clock of the Baptist
Church strike one.
He was in Camden harbor; he must come to anchor; and the next morning
everybody would wonder what boat the stranger was. The boatmen and
bummers about town would board her, and want to know what those boxes
contained. Little Bobtail was worried; but it was high tide, and he
anchored close up to the rocks in front of the cottage. He was not
willing to "face the music" the next day, and he was determined to get
rid of the boxes, even if he threw them overboard. Landing in the old
boat, he went up to the cottage. Ezekiel was in a drunken sleep in his
chamber. Nothing could wake him, as he knew from former experience, when
he was in this condition. He went up stairs to his own chamber. The
cottage was a one-story building, with two rooms finished in the middle
of the roof. On each side of these chambers there was a space for old
rubbish, which no one ever explored. The young skipper decided, after a
careful examination of the premises, to store the boxes in these spaces.
To will was to do with him, and he went to work at once.
In a couple of hours he had conveyed the twenty boxes from the boat, and
packed them away in these lumber-holes, and covered them with old traps,
so that even his mother would not suspect their presence in the house.
Having done all this, he sailed the yacht out into the deep water near
the Portland Pier, where he anchored her. Tired out after the long day
and the long night, he stretched himself on one of the transoms, and
went to sleep.