PAUL TAKES A COLD BATH.
The limits of our little volume do not permit us to follow Paul Duncan
into the minutiae of his prosperous business, and we are reminded that
great events in his experience are yet to be introduced. He was
successful in his undertaking, though, like all in this inconstant
world, he was subjected to trials and disappointments. There were some
days when it was so rough off the rocks that he could not fish; and
there were others when he had to travel many miles before he could sell
his fish. During John's vacation, his receipts amounted to about two
dollars a day, which went a great way in counter-balancing the ill luck
of the next week. On an average, he earned about a dollar a day.
He had won a reputation in Bayville which helped him a great deal in
disposing of his merchandise. People saw him working hard to supply the
place of his father, and they were glad to encourage him, as there are
always found enough who are willing to help those that help themselves.
The sympathy and kindness of his neighbors were a great assistance to
him, and no doubt without them his fish would have oftener been a drug
in the market.
Paul inherited some portion of his father's mechanical skill; and on the
first stormy day after he set up in business, he commenced his
contemplated improvements upon the old boat. She was a very poor subject
to work upon, but he got out the wood for building a half deck over her,
which he fitted on as he had opportunity. A short bowsprit was added to
her rig, and his mother made him a jib, which he cut out himself. Thus
refitted, the old boat, though her main defects could not be remedied,
was much improved, and worked better than before. She was far from
coming up to the young fisherman's ideal of a trim craft, and he
cherished a strong hope that before many years had passed away, he
should have the satisfaction of sailing such a boat as his fancy had
already clearly defined. The time was closer at hand than he suspected.
One day, early in the month of July, Paul was making his way home from
the rock in a smart blow. While he was fishing, the wind had hauled
round to the northeast, and continued to freshen till it became a
reefing breeze. He had got but a small fare of fish, for the heavy sea
had interfered with his operations. He disliked to leave the fishing
ground, but it was sufficiently evident to him that a storm was
approaching. He had often promised his mother that he would be very
careful, and the present seemed a proper time to exercise that caution.
John was with him, and in spite of this bold youth's most earnest
protest, he got up the anchor and made sail for home.
"What are you afraid of, Paul?" demanded John, with evident disgust.
"You are a pretty sailor! Don't you see it is going to blow a young
hurricane?"
"What if it does? I should like to be out in a blow once. I want to know
what it's like," replied the reckless boy.
"You may know now, before you get home. Don't you see the white caps on
the waves off to windward?"
"I like the looks of them, and it's fun to skip over them."
"I don't want to worry mother. She's at the window by this time, looking
out for the boat. Do you think there is any fun in making her uneasy?
Besides, I don't think it is safe to stay here any longer. There comes
the Flyaway under jib and mainsail."
"What of it?"
"She went down to be gone all day. What do you suppose she's coming back
for at this early hour?"
"I suppose Captain Littleton didn't want to make the women seasick,"
promptly replied John.
"Would the foresail make them sick? She has taken the bonnet off her jib
too. Captain Littleton knows when to expect a gale, and we shall have
it soon."
So it seemed by the working of the little boat, for she tossed up and
down on the waves like a feather, and thrust her bows under so far, that
John had to waste some of his enthusiasm upon the baling kettle. Paul
had not hoisted the jib, for the mainsail was all the old craft could
stagger under, and her youthful skipper expected soon to be obliged to
reef. The Flyaway was at the eastward of the island, driving over and
through the waves like a phantom. The spray was dashing over her bows,
and her jib was wet several feet above the boltrope. She was working to
windward till she could clear the island, when she would have the wind
free into Bayville Harbor. Perhaps some of my non-nautical young readers
will need to be informed that working to windward means sailing in a
zigzag line in the direction from which the wind blows.
The Flyaway ran close in to Rock Island, and tacked at the very spot
where Paul had just been lying at anchor, and his boat was not more than
the eighth of a mile distant from her. The boys could distinctly see the
ladies and gentlemen on board of her, and replied to signals of
recognition that were made to them. There were several children on her
deck, and Paul identified Carrie Littleton in a little girl of ten, who
was waving her handkerchief to him. As the yacht came up into the wind,
and before the boom swung over, the young lady jumped upon the taffrail
to obtain a better view of them. To the horror of all who saw the
accident, the heavy spar struck her on the shoulder, and she was knocked
overboard. The Flyaway, catching the wind, flew from the spot, and when
the little girl rose to the surface of the water, she was out of the
reach of those on board of her.
"Heavens and earth!" shouted Paul, jumping up from his seat, as he
beheld the catastrophe. "There is Carrie Littleton knocked overboard by
the boom!"
"O, dear! She will be drowned!" gasped John.
"Take the helm, John! Don't blubber! Quick!" cried Paul, as he leaped
forward, and brailed up the sail. "Now, hard down! Lively!"
The boat, which was making very good headway, came about, and was headed
towards the island. Shaking out the sail again, she bore down towards
the unfortunate girl. In the meantime, the Flyaway had luffed up; though
she was nearer to Carrie than Paul's boat, she was rapidly drifting to
leeward. Her tender, which was a light canoe, had been placed upon deck,
and the crew were launching her; but as they did so, by the clumsiness
of some one engaged in the operation, she filled as she struck the
water, and they were obliged to haul her up again with the halliards.
Before they had made fast to the painter of the canoe, Paul had reached
the scene of the disaster, but poor Carrie had sunk beneath the angry
waves. She had evidently been injured by the blow of the boom, and was
unable to make any exertion.
"Now mind your eye, John!" shouted Paul as he dashed off his coat and
shoes. "When I dive, throw her up into the wind."
"Look out, Paul; don't do that," remonstrated his brother. "You will be
drowned yourself. Fish her up with the boathook. Mother will----"
The intrepid youth, disregarding the terror of his brother, dived over
the bow of the boat the moment he saw the form of the poor girl, which
was revealed to him by the white dress she wore. John obeyed the
instructions he had received, but before Paul reappeared, with the
drowning child in his arms, the boat had drifted some distance from the
spot.
"Haul aft your sheet!" gasped Paul, when he had regained breath enough
to speak.
John obeyed, but his terror had almost paralyzed his arm, and his action
was not so prompt as it might have been; but the boat slowly gathered
headway, and moved towards the struggling youth. Paul battled manfully
with the big waves, which repeatedly swept him under, and determined to
die rather than drop his helpless burden.
As the boat came down upon him, Paul supported Carrie with one arm, and
grasped the gunwale with the other.
"Luff up!" said he. "Now, catch hold of her, and help haul her in," he
added, as the boat came up into the wind.
John did his best, but he was not strong enough to draw the lifeless
form into the boat. Bidding him hold on for his life, Paul leaped into
the boat, and drew her in.
"Keep her away for the yacht," cried Paul, as he placed the form of the
poor girl--for he was not certain that it was still animated by the
vital spark--in the bottom of the boat.
Turning her face down, in order to let the water run out of her mouth,
he used all the efforts his knowledge and his means would permit to
promote her restoration. In a few moments the boat came alongside the
Flyaway, though John, in the excitement of the moment, stove her gunwale
in, and had nearly added another calamity to the chapter of accidents.
Captain Littleton jumped into the boat as she struck the side, and
seizing the beloved child in his arms, leaped back upon deck, and then
rushed into the cabin.
"Hand up your painter, Paul, and come on board, both of you," said
Captain Gordon, the skipper of the Flyaway.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied Paul, too much interested in the fate of poor
Carrie to think of parting company with the yacht.
The fishing boat was made fast at the stern of the Flyaway, and she
stood off again to clear the rocks around the island. All the party on
board had followed Captain Littleton into the cabin, to learn the
condition of his child, or to render assistance in restoring her. It was
very fortunate that Dr. Lawrence was one of the company, for he was a
very skilful man, and under his direction the measures for the relief of
Carrie were conducted.
The Flyaway had reached her berth at the mouth of the river before the
efforts for the child's restoration promised to be effectual. It was
found that the blow of the boom had not seriously injured her. In an
hour after the yacht reached her moorings, she was able to speak, and
the doctor ordered her to be taken home.
Before the yacht reached her berth, a pair of anxious eyes, from the
chamber window of the cottage, had discovered the dingy old boat towing
at her stern. The mother's heart almost failed her, as her imagination
pictured some dreadful calamity that had happened to her boys. Filled
with dreadful forebodings, she seized her shawl and bonnet, and hastened
to the landing, in the rear of Captain Littleton's house. They were
bringing home the boat in which her boys had gone out, and she feared
that one or both of them had been lost. She tried to believe that the
yacht had overtaken them, and that Captain Littleton had invited them on
board; but her fears were stronger than her hopes.
When she reached the landing place, she saw that the gunwale of the old
boat was stove, and her heart sank within her. There were several
persons at the landing, and she told them what she feared. One of them
took a skiff and rowed out to the yacht. Paul and John were both in the
cabin, and when the messenger came alongside, the captain called them on
deck. Seeing Mrs. Duncan on the shore, they got into their boat, and
soon joined her.
"I never was so glad to see you before in my life!" exclaimed the
delighted mother, clasping them both to her bosom. "Why, Paul, you are
as wet as a drowned rat! You have been overboard; I know you have!"
"That's so, mother; but I didn't upset nor fall overboard. I went over
of my own free will."
"Yes, he did, mother," interrupted John. "Carrie Littleton was knocked
overboard by the boom, the Flyaway's boat got swamped, and she drifted
to leeward, and we came about, and bore down on her, and Paul dived
after her, and I worked the boat, and we hauled her in, and took her on
board the Flyaway--didn't we, Paul?" and John sputtered as though his
own mouth had been full of salt water.
"We did," replied Paul.
"You will catch your death a-cold, Paul. Do come home now."
"I must take the boat round."
One of the bystanders, all of whom had listened with eager interest to
the particulars of the accident, volunteered to perform this service for
him; and Paul, shivering with cold, ran home, followed by his mother
and John.
"Where is Paul Duncan?" demanded Captain Littleton, after the doctor had
ordered his daughter to be carried ashore.
"Gone, half an hour ago, sir," replied Captain Gordon.
"God bless him!" fervently ejaculated the grateful father; and he
proceeded to give directions for the removal of Carrie.