IN WHICH PHIL PROTESTS WITH THE BOAT-HOOK, BUT IS PROTESTED.
"Phil, you are aware, I suppose, that I am engaged to Miss Collingsby,"
Mr. Ben Waterford began.
"I must acknowledge my own ignorance. I was not aware of it," I
replied.
"It is so."
"Was that what made her scream while I was getting dinner?"
"Scream! She didn't scream!"
"I'm not deaf."
"She only uttered an exclamation."
"You said she was singing; but I always suppose something is the matter
when ladies utter exclamations in just that way."
"You are saucy and impudent."
"Very likely it is impudent for me to see and hear what I ought not to
see and hear."
"But haven't you any gumption?"
"Just now you accused me of having too much gumption. Somehow I don't
think this is half so pleasant a party on the lake as you represented
that it would be."
"Will you hear me?"
"Certainly I will; go on."
"I told you I was engaged to Miss Collingsby. One does not like to talk
about these things, I know--but--"
"Then the less said the better," I interposed, laughing.
"You said you would hear me."
"I will; go on."
"I want you to understand, in the first place, that I am engaged to
Miss Collingsby," he continued, with a pause, to note the effect upon
me.
"You have said that three times; but I don't believe I shall be able to
understand it if you say it three times more."
"Do you doubt my word?"
"I only say that my understanding is defective on that point."
"I think I ought to know."
"So ought Miss Collingsby; but she don't. I'm afraid she is as stupid
as I am."
"Do you mean to say that she has denied it?"
"Not exactly. I don't know that I ever had anything to do with parties
that were engaged; but I don't believe the lady screams, or utters
exclamations, if you please, and then rushes into the cabin to get out
of the way of the gentleman to whom she is engaged. As I said, I don't
understand these things; but I don't believe that's the way they are
done."
"You are a blockhead, Phil."
"I know it. My head is so hard you can't get any of that sort of
nonsense into it."
"I see that you are disposed to quarrel with me."
"Not at all, Mr. Waterford," I protested. "If you consider this cruise
a failure, I am willing to go on board of the yacht and return to
Chicago."
"Do you know who owns that yacht?" said he, sternly.
"Of course I do. I wish _I_ did, but I don't."
"I judged from your talk that you thought she belonged to you."
"That happiness is not mine. I wish it was. But her gentlemanly owner
was kind enough to invite me to sail with him; and I don't intend to
deprive him of the pleasure of my company until we return to Chicago. I
think it would be mean to do so."
"I wish to remind you that I claim the right to choose my own company."
"To be sure; and you exercised it when you invited Miss Collingsby and
myself to sail with you."
"But having changed my mind after your strange conduct, I may decline
your company any longer."
"It would be very proper to decline it after we return to the city."
"I may find it necessary to refuse to take you on board again."
"You would not leave me in this desolate place?"
"If you don't behave yourself, I may."
"If you do, I shall protest."
"Protest!" sneered he.
"Perhaps I might even protest with the boat-hook," I added; "for such a
step on your part would be an outrage."
"You are smart for a boy."
"I did not exactly force myself into your boat, though I was very glad
to go in her, for I expected by this time to meet Mr. Whippleton."
"I wanted to tell you what my purpose was," said he, making another
effort to approach the subject which he had tried to introduce before.
"I think I know what your purpose was."
"Do you, indeed?"
"I do, indeed."
"Perhaps you would be willing to state it."
"To save you the trouble of doing so in your roundabout way, I will.
You intended to run away with Miss Collingsby. You deceived her, lied
to her, and thus induced her to come on board of your yacht. You asked
me only because she would not go alone with you."
"Did she tell you that?" demanded he, biting his lip, and trying to
subdue his rising wrath.
"No matter what she told me; I am not blind. You told her you would
join Mr. Whippleton's party, and that the two Miss Lords were on board
of his boat. I saw her when she came in here, and he was alone."
"The ladies were in the cabin, I suppose."
"Mr. Whippleton is alone: he does not wish for any company to-day."
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, evidently suspecting that I was
wiser than I ought to be.
"Miss Collingsby is alone on board of the Marian. I am afraid she will
be uneasy if you remain here any longer. If you are engaged to her, she
must be very anxious about you."
"Don't be ugly and disagreeable, Phil. You are a good fellow. No one
knows it better than I do. Now let us fix this thing up."
"I'm too thick to understand you."
"You are a good fellow, and I know you will help me out of this
scrape," he continued, suddenly looking cheerful and pleasant, as
though the whole difficulty had been solved.
"If you will do the right thing, I will help you out of it."
"I knew you would. You understand the matter. I do love Miss
Collingsby, and she will tell you herself that she is not indifferent
to me. She consented some time ago to elope with me, in my boat. We can
run over to Lansing, St. Joseph, or some other town on the east side of
the lake, be married, and return a happy couple. Since we are both
agreed on this step, you are not hard-hearted enough to step between
us. Her mother is willing, but her father, you know, is a stiff and
unreasonable man. It will be all right with him when we return."
"Has Miss Collingsby consented to this step?" I asked.
"She consented to it once before, and if the way is open she will not
object. Of course girls are coy about these things."
"I have been told they are," I replied, indifferently.
"Now you will help me out, Phil--won't you?"
"I will," I added, rising from my seat.
"That's a good fellow; and you shall never want for a friend. By the
way, a smart book-keeper, like yourself, ought to have double the
salary you are receiving now: and I will see that you have a better
place as soon as we return. Whippleton says you are worth a thousand
dollars a year."
"Thank you."
"And I will make it my whole business to see that you have such a
situation. Now I think of it, our bank wants a book-keeper, and will
pay twelve hundred a year. I can almost promise you the place."
"You are very kind, and I am much obliged to you."
"I will make it all right within three days after we come back. We can
run over to St. Joseph, as the wind is now, before night. Then the knot
can be tied, and we shall be back to-morrow night, or the next day; or,
if you don't wish to be absent from your business so long, all you have
to do is to wait here till Whippleton comes down in the Florina, and go
on board of her. He will take you right back to Chicago before dark.
What do you think of my plan?" he asked, nervously.
"The plan is good enough, but it won't work."
"What's the reason it won't?"
"Well, I object, for one reason."
"You object! Permit me to say, it is none of your business."
"Isn't it? Well, I thought it was, after your elaborate argument to
convince me. Miss Collingsby objects also."
"No, she does not. Don't I tell you that she consented to elope with
me?"
"I know you do; but I don't believe it--to be as frank as the occasion
requires."
"Do you doubt my word?"
"We won't quarrel about anybody's word. If Miss Collingsby will tell me
herself that she consents to your plan, I will stay on shore here, or
go to St. Joseph with you, just as you desire."
"Of course she is not going to talk with you about such a matter. Girls
are timid. You said you would help me out of this scrape, Phil."
"And so I will, with the greatest pleasure."
"What do you mean, then, by saying that you object?"
"I want to help you out of the scrape, and not into it. That's what I
mean. Let us return to Chicago, and that will get you out of the
scrape."
"Do you think I am to be made a fool of by a boy like you?" said he,
rising and stepping towards me.
"I hope not; I assure you I have no such wicked intention."
"You have said enough, Phil."
"That's just my opinion; and I would like to amend it by adding that
you also have said enough."
"Whether you help me or not, I want you to understand that I intend to
carry out my plan."
"Not if I can help it. I want to be understood, too."
"The Marian belongs to me, and I can dispense with your company."
"Send Miss Collingsby on shore, and you may do so. I claim to be her
protector, and I intend to stand by her to the end."
"Protector! You blockhead!" sneered he. "Pray, who made you her
protector?"
"She did, for one; and I happen to be a relative of hers, which is an
additional reason why I should not permit any one to mislead her."
"How long have you been a relative?"
"Ever since I was born, of course."
"Of course you are lying."
"I am not recognized as a relative; but no matter for that. I feel just
as much interest in her as though she was my own sister."
"I am going on board of the boat now," said Mr. Waterford, gathering
himself up.
"So am I."
"No, you are not--on board of my boat. There comes the Florina," he
added, pointing to Mr. Whippleton's yacht, which was coming down the
lagoon before the wind. "You had better hail her."
"I shall not. My present business is to take care of Miss Collingsby.
When she is safe, I have business with Mr. Whippleton."
"I tell you once for all, that you shall not put your foot on board the
Marian again."
Mr. Waterford walked towards the place where we had landed, and I
followed him closely enough to prevent him from stealing a march upon
me. As the matter now stood, he would attempt to prevent me from
getting into the boat. I intended to insist, and a battle seemed to be
imminent. The Florina stood over towards the opposite side of the
creek, apparently for the purpose of giving the Marian a wider berth. I
could see that Mr. Whippleton was alone in the standing-room, and I was
confident that, if he had any ladies on board, they would not stay in
the cabin.
Mr. Ben Waterford stepped into the tender, after he had pushed it down
the bank so that it would float. I picked up the boat-hook, which lay
on the ground, because I thought it was not a proper place to leave it.
With this implement in my hand, I stepped lightly into the boat.
"I told you not to come on board of my boat," said Mr. Waterford,
angrily.
"I know you did. I am sorry to intrude, but I must. If you will land
Miss Collingsby, I will relieve you of my company."
"I will not land Miss Collingsby. Now get out of this boat!" he added,
taking up one of the oars.
"You must excuse me."
"I'll excuse you," cried he, rushing upon me with the oar.
[Illustration: PHIL FIGHTS WITH BEN WATERFORD. Page 217.]
I defended myself with the boat-hook, and being the cooler of the two,
I did so with tolerable success. He struck and thrust furiously with
his weapon, till he was out of breath; and I was also, besides having
had two or three hard raps on the head and arms with his weapon. A
desperate lunge knocked me over backwards, and I fell over the bow of
the boat upon the beach. I felt that I was defeated, and that I had
promised Miss Collingsby more than I had thus far been able to perform.
With this advantage over me, Mr. Waterford pushed me back with the oar,
and then endeavored to shove off the tender.
My catastrophe seemed to have defeated all my good intentions; and as I
went over, I heard Miss Collingsby utter a shrill scream, as though she
were the sufferer, instead of myself, as, indeed, she was likely to be.