THE GRAND REVIEW.
The dinner party at the mansion of Captain Patterdale was a pleasant
occasion; but Kate Bilder’s absence was very much felt by the guests,
for she was a very pretty and a very lively girl. As the wind had been
very light, the yacht squadron did not arrive from their cruise below
till noon, but in season to make arrangements for a grand review of all
the yachts and boats of both clubs, which was to include an excursion
to Turtle Head. The Ocean-Born was invited to participate, and Neil
Brandon tendered the use of her to the clubs for the invited guests.
Nellie Patterdale called upon Kate Bilder, and found both her and her
father quite cheerful, in spite of their reverses. As Mr. McGusher was
present, he had to be introduced, and had to be invited to the review.
“It will affawd me unbounded pleasyaw to be pwesent, Miss Pattawddale,
and sun myself in the smiles of the beautiful young ladies of the
pawty,” said Mr. McGusher, placing his right hand upon his heart, and
bowing till his form was almost doubled.
As Captain Bilder wished to see more of the captain of the Ocean-Born,
he consented to be a guest, and Kate promised to take her place as
leader in the Lily. At three o’clock the party invited were all on
board of the steamer. The five boats of the Dorcas Club were pulling
about near Don John’s wharf, and the yachts, with their mainsails
hoisted and their anchors hove up to a short stay, were lying near the
shore. A gun from the Skylark, the commodore’s yacht, announced the
commencement of the first part of the programme, which was the review
of the boats of the Dorcas Club. The occasion was in honor of Captain
Neil Brandon and the officers of the Ocean-Born, who had rendered such
important service to members of both of the clubs.
The Dorcas, Lily, Fairy, Psyche, and Undine were the five boats of
the Dorcas Club. In each of them were five young ladies, all dressed
in the uniform of the club. The leader sat in the stern, with the
tiller-ropes in her hand. The boats dashed out from the shore in a
single line. The girls pulled the measured man-of-war stroke, but the
beautiful barges moved at great speed. They were about a boat’s length
apart, and preserved their distance with wonderful precision.
The clubs had had a great deal of practice; and, as all of them were
deeply interested in the sport, their manœuvres were almost perfect.
They pulled out a considerable distance from the wharf, and, at a
signal from the leader of the Dorcas, the fair rowists “held water”
till the boats lost their headway, and then wheeled them, as on a
pivot, quarter way around, so that they all faced towards the steamer.
In this position, the rowers “tossed oars.”
The Ocean-Born, with steam on, lay at the wharf, where she had hauled
in to receive the invited guests. These consisted of about a dozen
ladies and gentlemen, who were seated on the hurricane deck. Mr. Arthur
McGusher was among the number, but he did not seem to be exactly
satisfied with his position. In the first place, he wanted to be with
the “enwaptuwing young ladies,” and not a single one of them was on
board of the steamer. In the second place, Mr. Ben Lunder, the tarry
deck-hand of the Ocean-Born, had actually disputed his passage from the
wharf to the deck of the vessel, till Captain Bilder vouched for him as
one invited by Nellie Patterdale, and, after this, manifested a vicious
tendency to pick upon and make fun of him; to confuse and confound him
with sea slang which he could not understand.
Neil Brandon and Berry Owen were in the pilot-house, and Ben--having
ceased for the moment to torture the “dry goods swell,” as he
irreverently insisted upon calling Mr. McGusher--was on the forward
deck, ready to cast off the fasts when the order should be given. As
the club boats pulled out from the shore, Ben clapped his hands in
rapture; and his demonstration was quite excusable.
“Roses and posies!” he yelled, at the top of his lungs.
“What’s the matter, Ben?” demanded Neil.
“Hold me down!” added the deck-hand, seizing the anchor, as if to add
something to his gravitation.
“Let go, Ben!” said the captain.
“I dare not; I shall go up if I do,” replied he, hugging the anchor
desperately, to the great amusement of the people on the hurricane-deck.
“Cast off the fasts, Ben!” continued Neil; “we must follow them.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” roared Ben, with a voice from his stomach, as he
slacked off the hawser. “Where those briny divinities lead, I will
follow.--Oblige me by casting off that foreto’bobstay,” he added, to a
man on the wharf. “Thank you, sir.--All clear forward, high and mighty
captain.”
Neil rang the bell to back her, so as to throw the steamer’s head out
from the wharf. Another stroke stopped the engine, the after-fast was
cast off by Karl, and the boat went ahead slowly. Ben coiled up the
hawser he had hauled in, and there was no more work for the deck-hand
to do till the steamer made another landing. He then mounted the
hurricane-deck, to the terror and dismay of Mr. McGusher, who was
making himself as agreeable as possible to the ladies of the party.
As the Ocean-Born approached the line of boats, three long whistles
were sounded, to acknowledge the complimentary tossing of the oars.
She then steamed entirely around the line, and finally took a position
between them and the shore, in accordance with the programme.
At the signal from the leader of the Dorcas, all the oars dropped
into the water as one, and the boats pulled in single line around
the Ocean-Born. When this manœuvre was completed, the boats suddenly
whirled, and darted off, five abreast. It was done so prettily that all
on board of the steamer and the yachts applauded heartily.
“That was well done,” said Captain Patterdale, clapping his hands
vigorously.
“Well done?” added Ben Lunder, who stood near him. “That is too mild an
expression. It was artistically done! It was ravishingly done! It was
celestially done! It was perfectly done! Why, shiver my flukes, I shall
be sent to the Insane Asylum if I look at those divinities much longer.”
“That would be the appwopwiate place for you,” added Mr. McGusher, who
could not resist the temptation to say this, for he had not forgiven
the deck-hand for torturing him twice before.
“And what would be the appropriate place for you, my jolly
biscuit-nibbler?” demanded Ben, who, not being protected by a
rhinoceros hide, had been pierced by the arrow; “what but the Retreat
for Idiots and Feeble-Minded Persons?”
“You are impertinent,” replied Mr. McGusher, turning red.
“Better be crazy than an idiot, especially when one’s brain is turned
by a vision of loveliness,” added Ben, turning to the boats again.
“You are impawtinent, saw,” retorted the long-lost, angrily.
“I have rowed in the college boats for two years, but I never saw any
such pulling as that, Captain Patterdale,” added Ben, regardless of the
swell’s anger. “I mean I never saw anything so graceful and precise.”
“Do you mean to say I am cwazy?” demanded Mr. McGusher, placing himself
in front of the deck-hand.
“No sir; I don’t mean to say so. It would be quite impossible for a
fellow without brains to be crazy. You are not crazy. You are not
capable of being crazy. It requires a capital stock of brains to enable
a fellow to become crazy. You are not crazy; and you are in no danger
of being crazy. I remarked that _I_ might be sent to an Insane Asylum,
not you. Now my hearty, sheer off; take a reef in your mainto’-gallant
smoke-stack, top up your fore-r’yal-boom!”
“You made a wemawk, saw,” blustered Mr. McGusher.
“I did; and, shiver my skysail-ports, I’ll make another! I don’t know
you, sir and I never quarrel with a person to whom I have not been
introduced;” and Ben walked away with Captain Patterdale.
The long lost concluded to bottle up his wrath for the present, and
retaliate upon his persecutor at a more convenient season. The club
boats came about, and pulled towards the steamer “by twos,” the
Dorcas leading. For half an hour they continued to perform their
evolutions, which have been fully described in another volume. When
they had finished them, the boats formed in a single line, and tossed
oars. Again the Ocean-Born steamed around them, all hands vigorously
applauding.
At another gun from the Skylark, all the sailing-yachts weighed their
anchors and hoisted their jibs. The wind was light, and it was not
possible for them to make over three knots an hour. The boats then
formed “by twos,” with the Dorcas in front, and started for Turtle
Head. The yachts had taken position, three on each side of the boats,
while the Ocean-Born kept behind them, so as not to stir up the water
in which they pulled. The steamer barely turned her screw, so slowly
did the procession move. Berry Owen had taken the helm, and Neil was on
the hurricane-deck, doing the honors of the ship to the guests.
“Who is the young man that commands this steamer?” asked Captain Bilder
of Gerald Roach, as they met on the hurricane deck.
“His name is Neil Brandon,” replied Gerald.
“Who was his father?”
“His father was a very rich man, who died about twelve years ago.”
“How old is the captain?”
“Eighteen, sir,” answered Gerald.
“Of course, then,” Captain Bilder reasoned, “the father of the young
commander could not have been the mate of the Coriolanus, for he was
not married at that time, and could not have a son eighteen years old
at the present time.”
This settled the question in his mind, and he made no further inquiries
in regard to the matter. But it was rather odd that there should be
another Neil Brandon who had followed the sea, that his son, like the
lost child, had been born at sea, and that he should be called the
“Ocean-Born.” Captain Bilder was satisfied that his old mate could not
have died, twelve years before, very rich, for he never seemed like a
moneymaking man. He had never heard of him in command of a ship, and he
doubted whether he ever rose above the position of mate.
In a couple of hours the procession arrived at Turtle Head, where the
steamer and the yachts anchored, and the young ladies of the boat clubs
landed. The Yacht Club flag was flying on the club house, and several
members were on duty there. Among them was Morris Hollinghead, who had
made a fish chowder for all hands. The guests were landed as fast as
they could be, and the chowder was served at once.
“Ah, Miss Bildaw, I have been enwapchawed at the sight of the boats,
and the faiaw beings in them,” said Mr. McGusher, as soon as he could
find her whom he hoped soon to call his sister. “It was a delicious
sight.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” replied Kate.
“I never saw so many pwetty young ladies togethaw in all my life.”
“Indeed!”
“Nevaw!”
“How did you like the rowing?” asked Kate.
“The wowing? The wowing was sublime. How could it fail to be when the
young ladies waw so chawming?”
“I don’t think the charms of the young ladies make good rowing,”
replied Kate.
“Well, now, I do. I don’t know how to wow myself, and pawhaps I’m not a
judge; but I want to lawn to wow. Will you lawn me, my deaw sistaw?”
Kate’s face flushed when he called her his sister. She was indignant at
his presumption. She did not believe she was his sister, and Captain
Bilder was satisfied that Mr. McGusher was not his son. The father and
daughter had fully considered the claim of the “long-lost,” and he was
only countenanced for the time being in order to discover who had given
him the letter, and supplied the information written upon the parts of
the card. Mr. McGusher saw the flush upon Kate’s cheek, and realized
that he had made a mistake.
“I beg your pawdon,” said he, bowing and touching his white hat. “I
suppose I am not to call you sistaw for the pwesent; and I will not do
so again. Will you lawn me to wow, Miss Bildaw?”
“I think you can find a better teacher than I should be.”
“I’m suaw I could not,” protested Mr. McGusher. “But I have not the
pleasyaw of the acquaintance of these young ladies. Will you favaw me
with an intwoduction to them?”
“To all of them?” demanded Kate.
“All of them, if you please.”
“Most of them seem to be occupied just now; but as opportunity offers,
I will introduce you.”
[Illustration: “MISS BILDER, ALLOW ME TO OFFER YOU A DISH OF CHOWDER.”
Page 162.]
“Miss Bilder, allow me to offer you a dish of chowder,” said Ben
Lunder, who appeared at this moment with two bowls of the article.
“Thank you, Mr. Lunder. I am as hungry as a wolf,” replied Kate,
accepting the offered dish.
“That is precisely my own condition,” replied Ben; “and as I see the
ladies are all helped, this other dish will just fit my case.”
“I beg your pawdon, Mr. Lundaw,” interposed Mr. McGusher; “it was
hawdly polite to intewupt a convawsation between this lady and myself.”
“Nor to offer her chowder when she was hungry?” laughed Ben. “I beg
your pardon, Miss Bilder, if I have intruded.”
“You have not. I was half starved, and I wanted the chowder. I am
grateful to you for coming when you did. Mr. McGusher did not bring me
any chowder--”
“I beg your pawdon, Miss Bildaw,” interrupted the long-lost. “I
supposed the waitaws would bwing it.”
“We have no waiters. But, Mr. McGusher, I promised to introduce you to
some of the ladies. I will make a beginning now.--Mr. Lunder, will
you hold my dish till I return?”
“Certainly.”
Kate conducted Mr. McGusher to an elderly maiden lady, and formally
introduced him to her. She was old, and she was very homely; but then
she was good enough to be one of the salt of the earth. As soon as Kate
had done her part, she fled, leaving Mr. McGusher very much disgusted;
and we must do the maiden lady the justice to say that she was hardly
less disgusted.
“Your friend is determined to quarrel with me, Miss Bilder,” said Ben,
as he gave her the dish of chowder again.
“My friend!” exclaimed Kate.
“Your father said he was staying at your house.”
“He is; but we are not responsible for him. I think he is the most
absurd young man I ever saw.”
Mr. McGusher stood by the maiden lady, and saw Ben chatting with Kate.
He had come between her and himself, thus adding another offence to the
catalogue of his sins. He was mad; he did not like to be cut out by
any one, and especially not by his tormentor. But he did not see how he
could help himself at that moment. He escaped from the ancient maiden
as soon as he could, quite as much to her relief as his own. As all the
young ladies seemed to be occupied with their own friends, he could
only walk about; but he kept one eye on Kate Bilder all the time, in
order to step in as soon as Ben should seek another companion. He would
insist that she should redeem her promise to introduce him to the young
ladies. When the chowder-eating and the coffee-drinking were disposed
of, a meeting of both clubs was called to consider the proposed cruise
up the river, and the officers of the Ocean-Born were invited to be
present and take part in the discussion. Commodore Montague called the
assembly to order.
“The first business, ladies and gentlemen, will be to choose a
chairman, or a chairlady,” said the commodore.
“I nominate Commodore Montague,” interposed Ned Patterdale.
“Really, ladies and gentlemen, I--”
“Those in favor of the commodore will say, Ay.”
“Ay!” shouted all the rowists and yachtmen.
“It is a unanimous vote, for no one is expected to vote the other way,”
added Ned, laughing.
“I thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your kind consideration; but I
was about to suggest the name of Captain Neil Brandon for chairman, as
a proper compliment to be paid to our distinguished guest. But, since
you have placed it out of my power to do so, I have no choice but to
submit.”
A round of tumultuous applause followed this announcement.
“Perhaps you will allow me to decline, even now.”
“I beg you will not, Mr. Commodore,” said Neil, rising, his face
crimson with blushes. “I have had no experience as a presiding officer,
and I should certainly decline to serve.”
After some talk, the commodore consented to retain his position. He
made quite a speech, in which he set forth the obligations of both
clubs to the officers of the steamer for the service they had rendered
in rescuing several members from a very disagreeable, if not a very
perilous situation.
“I need not tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that Captain Brandon, his
officers and crew, have fully discharged the first and highest duty of
a sailor, in going so promptly to the assistance of our friends, and
giving them the help they so much needed. I am sure that we all feel
under personal obligations to them for the service they rendered our
members, and for the very hospitable and courteous treatment extended
to them on board of the Ocean-Born. I speak for all of you when I
tender to Captain Brandon, his officers and crew, our best wishes for
their future prosperity and happiness.”
The conclusion of the speech was received with wild applause.
“And now I have the pleasure of introducing to you Captain Neil
Brandon, of the Ocean-Born, who, doubtless, desires to respond to your
hearty expression of good will,” added the commodore.
“Mr. Chairman,” Neil began; but he was interrupted by another
hurricane of applause. “I thank you, Mr. Chairman, and you, ladies and
gentlemen, for the very pleasant and kind words you have spoken. It was
a very great satisfaction to me to assist our friends in the Sea Foam,
after their accident; but we don’t claim any credit for simply doing
our duty. I am no speech-maker, Mr. Chairman, and if you will excuse
me, I will call upon my friend Ben Lunder to speak for me.”
“Lunder! Lunder!” shouted the boys, and the girls clapped their little
white hands, and waved their white handkerchiefs.
“I have the pleasure of introducing Mr. Ben Lunder,” added the
commodore.
“Mr. Chairman, I am very happy to respond to anything relating to our
noble profession as sailors. I am a sailor, Mr. Chairman, as you are
aware; and, as you are all sailors, including even these bewitching
female old salts, you will be able to appreciate me. Yes, sir! I am a
sailor from the fore-royal-bobstay to the mizzen-to’gallant-keelson.
Every particle of blood that flows through these weather-stained veins
of mine is as salt as sea-water. In regard to the little service we
were able to render some of your people, it is not worth mentioning.
What was it, Mr. Chairman? Why, that grand and lofty frigate of the
foaming main--the Sea Foam--carried away her fore-skysail knight-heads,
and lay a shapeless wreck upon the pulsing billows. Her sky-scrapers
had gone by the board; her mizzen-to’gallant-top-knots came down,
and the mizzen-royal flukes of the starboard anchor were busted; and
there she was! Could we leave her, with her main-to’gallant scuppers
sprung? Could we pass her by on the other side, as the publican did
the Pharisee, with her main-to’gallant-halyards gone by the board, and
the weather-pumps scuttled. so they couldn’t box the compass? No, sir!
I am the crew of that steamer. We worked like sea-dogs, and we helped
them out. We would do no less, and we couldn’t do more. Mr. Chairman,
in behalf of the officers and crew of the Ocean-Born,--especially the
crew,--I am yours, truly.”