IN WHICH PHIL TAKES A SAIL ON THE LAKE WITH MR. WHIPPLETON.
"Phil, do you know anything about a boat?" asked Mr. Whippleton, one
Saturday afternoon, at the close of the month of May.
I was standing on the bank of the river, looking at his boat, which had
been thoroughly repaired, painted, and rigged, and lay off the
lumber-yard. She was a beautiful craft, and after we had shut up the
counting-room, I paused to look at her.
"I don't know anything about a sail-boat," I replied; "but I used to
handle a row-boat on the upper Missouri."
"You are used to boats, then?"
"Yes, to row-boats."
"If you are not in a hurry, you may go down the river with me; and I
intend to take a little turn out in the lake," he continued, as he
hauled the sail-boat up to the shore.
"Thank you, sir; I should like to go very much," I replied.
[Illustration: THE SAILING EXCURSION. Page 90.]
The craft was called the Florina, though why she had what seemed to me
such an odd name, I did not know at that time. I afterwards ascertained
that he was engaged to a young lady who bore that interesting name,
though, for reasons which will appear in the sequel, he never married
her. I was delighted with the boat when I went on board of her, and
glanced into her comfortable cabin, which was furnished like a parlor.
He had evidently spent a good deal of money upon her, and I soon found
that Miss Florina was an occasional guest on board.
She was sloop-rigged, and carried a large jib and mainsail. Everything
about her was fitted up in good style; indeed, the carpenters, riggers,
and painters had been at work upon her for a month. I was rather sorry,
as I looked at her, that I was not a rich man, able to own just such a
craft, for I could conceive of nothing more pleasant than coasting up
and down the lake, exploring the rivers, bays, and islands. I thought I
could live six months in the year on board of the Florina very
comfortably. But, then, I was not a rich man; and I had a great work
before me, with no time to waste in mere amusements.
"Now take off those stops, Phil."
"Stops?"
"Those canvas straps with which the mainsail is tied up," he explained.
I concluded that the mainsail was the big sail nearest to me, and I
untied the "stops," making a note of the name for future use.
"That's it; now stand by the jib halyards," added Mr. Whippleton.
"I'll stand by 'em till doomsday, if you will only tell me what they
are."
"I call things by their names in order that you may learn them,"
laughed the junior partner, as he went forward and cast off the ropes
indicated, which were fastened to a couple of cleats on the mast. "One
is the throat, and the other is the peak-halyard."
We hoisted the sail, and I observed the use of the halyards, and how to
manage and make them fast. I was confident that I should not have to be
shown a second time how to do anything. Fortunately there are so few
ropes on an ordinary sloop that my weak head could carry the names and
uses of all without confusion. There was not much wind up there in the
lagoon, or the river, as it is more politely called; but what there was
came from the westward, and the skipper said it was fair to take us
down to the lake.
"Cast off the painter," continued Mr. Whippleton.
"Who?"
"The painter."
"He's not here; and if he was, I shouldn't like to cast him off here,
where the water is so dirty; I would rather wait till we come to a
cleaner place," I replied.
"That rope by which the boat is fastened to the wharf is called a
painter," added the skipper.
"O, is it?" I replied, unfastening the rope at the shore end, and
pulling it on board.
"That's it. You will be as salt as a boiled lobster one of these days,
Phil."
I thanked him for the compliment, as I supposed it to be, though I had
not the least idea what a lobster was. The skipper took the helm, and
the boat began to move.
"Haul in that sheet, Phil," said he, quietly.
I rushed for the cabin, where I had seen two beds very neatly made up
in the berths.
"Where are you going?"
"After the sheet. There's some on the beds in the cabin."
"The rope fastened to the boom," he continued, laughing at my blunder,
and handing me the end of the line upon which I was to haul.
I pulled in, and the effect was to bring the boom over the deck.
Putting the helm hard down, he brought the Florina up into the wind, so
as to clear a lumber schooner which lay just below. I wish to say that
I describe the movements of the boat from the knowledge I have since
obtained, for I am an "old salt" now. I watched the operations of the
skipper with keen attention, for I was taking my first lesson in
handling a boat, and I was deeply interested. Skilfully he navigated
the crowded river, and I hauled in and let out the sheet twenty times
before we reached the broad lake. The drawbridges were whisked open in
the twinkling of an eye, and in about half an hour we passed out of the
river.
I saw why Mr. Whippleton was anxious to have an assistant in the
Florina with him, for I found it was no joke to haul the sheet, and my
hands, grown tender in my clerkly occupation, exhibited two or three
blisters when we reached the mouth of the river. It was a nice thing
for a gentleman like him to sit at the helm, and handle the tiller; but
I fancied he did not enjoy hoisting the mainsail, and hauling the
sheet, alone.
"There, Phil, the worst of it is over now," said Mr. Whippleton, as he
headed the boat down the lake. "We are out of the river, and we have
plenty of sea room here. You may clear away the jib."
I had already learned what the jib was, and I went out on the bowsprit,
as I had seen the men do on other vessels. I loosed the sail, and
hoisted it. The jib-sheets led aft to the standing-room; and, as soon
as I had made fast the halyard, the skipper luffed up and fastened down
the jib. The boat heeled over, and began to cut through the water at a
very exciting rate. It was a very pleasing and delightful sensation to
me, and from that moment I became a sailor in my aspirations. I had
never seen the salt water, and had a very indefinite idea of the
expanse of ocean.
"How do you like it, Phil?" asked Mr. Whippleton.
"Very much, sir."
"I'm glad you do, for I want some one to sail with me. This boat is
rather large to be handled comfortably by one man, and two make it a
pleasant thing for both of them. Sit down here, and make yourself
happy," he added, pointing to the cushioned seat at his side.
I accepted his polite invitation, and thought he was very considerate
to me, his humble clerk. He then explained my duty in tacking or coming
about, which was to let go the jib-sheet on the lee side, when the sail
shook, and haul in on the weather side. To illustrate the point, he
made a tack and ran in towards the shore. I readily understood the
whole matter, and by this time I felt that I could sail the Florina
myself.
"Phil, you break in as a book-keeper a great deal better than I
expected you would," said Mr. Whippleton, when he had tacked again, and
was standing along the shore with the wind on the beam.
"I have taken an interest in the subject, and studied it very
attentively. My father, who served his time at the desk, gave me a
great deal of instruction."
"Who is your father?"
"He was formerly a merchant, but now he is the agent of a wealthy
real-estate owner."
"He instructed you very well. Has Mr. Collingsby said anything to you
lately about your duties?"
"No, sir; he has hardly spoken to me since I have been in the
counting-room; never, except to ask me a question," I replied.
"He does not say much to any one; but he is well pleased with your
work, and spoke of the neat appearance of your books to-day."
"I am certainly very much obliged to him," I added, delighted with this
testimony; for I felt that it was the first point I had gained towards
the discharge of my great mission.
"He says you write very handsomely and very plainly; that your footings
and extensions are uniformly correct."
"I try to have everything right and neat," I answered, delighted beyond
measure at this kind opinion of me.
"I took occasion, while the subject was warm, to mention a matter of
which I have been thinking lately," continued Mr. Whippleton. "I have a
great deal of out-door business to do, and the entire charge of the
books is too much for me. We are going to have another entry clerk, and
you will hereafter be the assistant book-keeper."
I was very much obliged to him for this new mark of confidence. He
explained that he did not intend to give me the entire charge of the
books yet, but that I should do the posting and keep the cash book; or
rather, that I should assist him in doing these things. He wished me to
look into the system of book-keeping the firm had adopted, and prepare
myself to keep the books in the course of a year. I promised to be
diligent and attentive, but I assured him that I already understood the
method.
"Between us both, when we have another entry clerk, we shall have a
little more time for sailing," he added. "If we can get away at three
or four in the afternoon, we shall have some jolly cruises, for we can
make an easy thing of it in the boat as well as at the desk."
"How far can you go in this boat?" I asked, as I glanced at the broad
expanse of waters to the north and east of us.
"How far? As far as you please. A thousand miles. You can go to the
head of Lake Superior, or through Lake Huron to the foot of Lake Erie."
"Not in this boat."
"Why not?"
"Because she isn't large enough."
"Yes, she is. Her cabin is large enough for two to sleep in; and there
is a cook-stove forward, where you can get up as good a dinner as they
have at the Tremont House."
"But there are violent storms on the lakes, I have read."
"So there are; but the Florina will stand almost anything in the shape
of a blow. All you have to do is to reef, and let her go it. But you
can always tell when it is going to be bad weather, and you can make a
harbor. With a boat of this size you can run into any creek or river,
anchor, and eat and sleep till it is fair weather again. I always keep
within a few miles of the shore, on a long cruise. If I can get away
for two or three weeks this summer, I intend to make a voyage up to the
strait, and down on the other side of the lake."
"I should like to go with you first rate."
"My friend Waterford, who has made his fortune by speculating in lands,
keeps a boat just like the Florina; and last summer he went to Detroit
and back in her."
The picture he drew of life on the lake pleased me exceedingly, and I
could not but sigh when I thought that such amusements were only for
rich men. A poor boy, like me, had no right to think of them. Mr.
Whippleton had come about, and at dark we were at the mouth of Chicago
River again. I took in the jib, and he moored the boat near the lake.
When we had put everything in order, he invited me to sail with him the
next day.
"To-morrow will be Sunday," I suggested.
"What of it? The Florina sails just as well on Sunday as on any other
day."
"I would rather not sail on Sunday. I want to go to church and to
Sunday school."
"I didn't think that of you," replied the skipper, contemptuously. "I
always sail Sundays, and I expect to race with Waterford to-morrow."
"I hope you will excuse me, sir; I would rather not go."
I saw that he was disgusted with me, but I could not yield this point.
I went home, feeling that I had offended my employer, who evidently
wished me to assist him in handling the boat.