THE CRUISE BEGUN
“All aboard!” sang out Jack, as he thrust the paper containing such
sensational news into his pocket, to be glanced over at some more
convenient season, and little suspecting how it would enter into the
fortunes of the party of fun-loving boys while on their Easter holidays’
cruise.
Everybody immediately seemed to be in motion, and the way in which the
various crews stood by to cast off hawsers, while the skippers looked to
their engines, was well worth seeing.
“Let go!” called the commodore of the boat club, when he saw that
everything was ready.
The ropes were unfastened, and the three lads sprang aboard, just as
the current began to grip each boat, and cause it to slowly start upon
the new voyage that appeared so mild in the beginning, yet which was
destined to be written down as one of the most adventurous of all those
the six boys had enjoyed.
“Whoop! we’re off!” yelled Buster, as he scrambled on board the Wireless,
in his usual clumsy way, that brought a word of warning from George, and
caused the boat to careen badly.
“You will be off, if you try that sort of racket many times,” declared
the skipper. “What d’ye take this racer for, a canalboat? Be more
careful Buster, how you lounge around. I guess they nicknamed you right
when they called you Hippopotamus, Pudding, and all that sort. Now, sit
down exactly in the middle, and when you do have to move, be careful not
to shift your weight too sudden-like. No boat can do its prettiest when
it isn’t on an even keel.”
“Say, is my hair parted exactly in the middle, George? If it ain’t,
please let me get it straight before you start!” observed the fat boy,
with a touch of satire in his voice, something Buster seldom indulged
in; but he had sailed the stormy seas with George before and could look
back to many a sad time aboard that most uncomfortable Wireless; still
the three fellows had drawn lots to see who would have to stand for the
agony on this new cruise, and it had fallen to poor Buster to play the
part of victim.
George did not reply to this shot. He was busy with his engine, and both
the other boats were already moving off, with the rapid popping of their
exhausts announcing that everything was working in apple-pie order.
“Please don’t tell me that we’re all up the flue, even before we get
started, George?” pleaded Buster, turning pale with apprehension.
“Keep still, won’t you, Buster; you bother me,” replied the other, still
working at his engine. “It’s only a little thing, that don’t matter
much. And you see, it gives us a chance to let the others get a lead.
You know how much I like to come up from behind, and rush ahead? Well,
that’s what we’re going to do now. Be a sport, Buster, and don’t whine
so much. Everything’s going to be lovely, and the goose will hang high,
I can tell you.”
“I guess it will,” sighed the fat boy, with a resigned expression on his
face, as though he realized that he was in for it, and might as well
make the best of a bad bargain.
The boat was floating down the current, as Buster had pushed out from
the shore with a pole, after getting aboard. The other craft had gotten
some little distance away, and doubtless those on board were indulging
in the usual “I told you so’s” that accompanied every mishap on the part
of the Wireless, for both Jimmie and Josh could be seen looking back,
and even waving their hands, as though saying good-bye.
Then all at once there came a quick series of sharp sounds, and George
looked up with a proud expression on his face, as the little power-boat
began to rush through the water at racehorse speed.
“What did I tell you, Buster?” he observed, as he clutched the wheel,
and turned the boat’s head in a direct line with the others of the
little fleet; “and after this, please don’t act so impatient. Leave it
all to me. An engine’s a delicate thing to handle, and as full of whims
as a girl. Even the weather affects them at times; and they just have to
be coaxed, and led along. But I flatter myself I’ve got this thing down
fine, now, and we won’t have any trouble with it on this trip, while I
cut circles around the other fellows.”
That was a pet hobby with George, making speed, and “running rings”
around his comrades. Nothing tickled him more than to be able to do
this, even though it failed to bother Jack or Herb in the least.
“Mebbe you’re right, George,” replied Buster, meekly, “you see, when it
comes to mechanics my education has been sadly neglected, and I couldn’t
run an engine if my very life depended on it. All I’ve noticed is, that
the other motors don’t seem to bother about weather, or any old thing.
They go plodding right along like they had business to do, and didn’t
mean to be halted.”
“That’s just it, Buster,” remarked the other eagerly, “they never have
troubles of their own because they’re slow-pokes, like heavy farm
horses. It’s the highly bred racer that’s all nerves, you know. But look
at us eating up space, will you? Don’t we fly along, though? This is
what I like, Buster. What are you looking at me that way for?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to sneeze, George, and I hope it won’t--ker-chew!
oh! my, it’s coming again, ker-chew! Excuse me, George. I’ll try and not
let that happen often, if I can help it.”
George looked at his companion rather suspiciously. He could not tell
whether Buster really meant what he said, or was speaking in irony. But
the gallant way in which the narrow boat was cutting the water gripped
his attention again, and after that he could not bother himself with
minor things.
They soon overtook the other two boats moving along in company. Jack
could have easily gone ahead of the beamy Comfort had he wished, but he
preferred to stay by Herb, so that the crews could exchange opinions
from time to time. In his mind a large part of the pleasure to be gotten
out of cruising came from this sociability; whereas George would be
rushing off by himself, satisfied if only he could make a mile in a
fraction less time than at any previous time.
In ten minutes George was far ahead, and making the water fly out on
either side as he urged his engine on to do its prettiest.
“Up to his old tricks again,” remarked Josh, as he tidied up a little
aboard the Tramp, secretly delighted that luck had given him a berth
with the commodore, whom he admired greatly.
“Well, what did you expect?” replied Jack, who was taking things easy,
with his engine working like a charm, “what’s bred in the bone can never
be beaten out of the flesh, they say; and George, with his nervous ways,
cares only for racing, whenever he can coax anybody to give him a go.
But mark what I say, Josh, it’s only a question of time before he rubs
up against his old motor troubles again. He’s never satisfied when he’s
got the thing running smoothly, but has to go tinkering at it to see if
he can’t get another fraction of speed out, and then all at once it
balks, and refuses to work at all.”
“Yes,” remarked Josh, with a wide grin, “we may be towing the Wireless
back home yet; and it wouldn’t be the first time, either, Jack.”
“Well, hardly,” mused the skipper, smiling himself as memory carried him
back to other scenes connected with their numerous cruises in these same
boats.
“Does George know that we expect to tie up at noon, and have a bite
ashore; or will he be silly enough to want to rush along that way, and
get to the island long before we think of pulling in there?” Josh went
on to ask.
“He knows our plans all right,” answered the other, “though you can
never tell what George will do, he’s so full of notions. But as stuff to
eat is aboard the roomy Comfort, and we’re carrying the rest, unless he
wants to starve poor old Buster, so as to cut down his weight, and make
less ballast for the speed-boat to carry, I guess he’ll haul in about
eleven and wait for us.”
“Oh! I don’t envy Buster his job of holding down that bucking broncho of
a Wireless,” Josh chuckled. “I c’n see him right now, sitting there,
holding on, and looking like he was tryin’ to accommodate his breathin’
with the panting of the engine, while George he looks daggers every time
Buster gulps in a wad of air at the wrong time.”
“Oh! come now, Josh, it isn’t quite so bad as all that,” declared Jack,
with a shake of his head. “And even George couldn’t keep Buster from
having his own way, once he gets started. It’s good he learned how to
swim long ago, because chances are, he’ll be overboard more than once
before this voyage is done.”
“Mebbe George’ll throw him over, when he gets nervous, and Buster keeps
wobbling around, making the boat roll to beat the band, eh, Jack?”
“Well, you know how that is yourself, because that’s what happened when
you had the job of crew aboard his boat,” the skipper of the Tramp went
on to say; which reminder seemed to afford Josh considerable amusement,
to judge from his laughter.
They went on steadily, putting mile after mile behind them. Now and then
some river craft was encountered, though these were of course not near so
numerous as would have been the case below the confluence of the Missouri
and Ohio with the Father of Waters. Sometimes it was a steamboat that was
breasting the current; or it might be a plodding towboat, with a barge or
two alongside. And then again they overtook a queer looking shantyboat,
which had the appearance, with its cabin, of a cheese box on a raft.
All these familiar sights were eagerly observed by Jack and his
companion, as well as the two upon the other boat, for they recalled
pleasant memories.
George had gone so far ahead that his little boat looked like a dot upon
the water; but possibly he would remember in time that he had no means
of satisfying hunger aboard the Wireless, and might anchor to await
their coming, giving Buster a chance to wet a line, for the fat boy had
taken a great fancy for fishing, and was always complaining that he did
not get half the opportunities to indulge in his favorite sport that he
would like.
Now and then they would pass a town upon either shore of the river,
although as a rule these were not so plentiful in this section, where
the banks were inclined to be marshy.
The morning was gradually wearing away, and everything seemed to be
going smoothly. Josh expressed himself as surprised that hours had
passed, and still the nettlesome speed-boat continued to keep going
along, as though George had indeed finally mastered the secret of its
precious unreliable behavior.
“But when George is around, you c’n expect any old thing to happen,” he
wound up with, “and even when things are working smoothly, he won’t be
satisfied till he upsets the combination again, you see if it ain’t so.”
Jack did not attempt to contradict his prediction, because he also knew
George like a book and thought pretty much the same way.
Just about eleven, Josh declared that they seemed to be gradually
getting nearer the pilot boat of the party, as George liked to have his
craft called; though for that part he would have made a most unreliable
guide, and had the others chosen to follow him, they would have been led
into many more messes than actually fell to their lot.
“That’s because Buster has rebelled,” Jack observed, “there’s been a
mutiny aboard that craft; and George had been told that for one Buster
doesn’t mean to miss his lunch at noon, just because the Wireless is
making a record run.”
“Oh! you mean they’ve thrown the old mud hook over, and are waiting for
us slow-pokes to come along, eh, Jack?”
“Just about that; but we’re getting all the fun we want out of making
slower time; and our engines won’t go back on us either, in spite,”
laughed the other.
“Well, while we’re gliding along in this fine way--I always like to use
that word when speaking of cruising, it sounds so fine--I’ll be getting
up the menu for our first dinner ashore. It makes my mouth water just to
think of a campfire again, after all that time. Brought your little old
Marlin along, didn’t you, Jack? P’raps we might get a few late ducks
while we’re out, if all of ’em ain’t gone north by now. And if Buster
only does his duty, and grabs up a fish now and then, why, it’ll be just
great.”
So Josh, who used to be something of a cook in times past, amused
himself in a way that suited his fancy, while they drew closer and
closer to the place where the speed-boat awaited them.
George was full of boasting as usual, and predicted a record run for his
craft. None of the others disputed his assertions, but they exchanged
looks, for they had heard all this sort of talk before, and then seen
poor disappointed George only too glad to take a tow in the end, with
his engine stubborn, or broken down.
Together they continued on down the river; where they could readily tie
to the bank, and go ashore to cook dinner.
There was a great deal of climbing back and forth, and everybody but
George seemed bustling with business; he sat there, and pottered with
his engine, as though some new idea had seized hold of him, and he
meant to try one of his everlasting experiments that always ended so
disastrously.
Then the voice of Buster was heard in the land, lamenting.
“It was there yesterday, because I put it in away with my own hands; and
George here says he never opened that locker once; but now that I want
to put it on, my new sweater has disappeared the funniest way ever. I
wouldn’t be surprised, fellers, if we found that some thief got aboard
our boats last night, and couldn’t resist taking that bully sweater with
the red moon on the front; and that’s what!”