PAUL BECOMES SKIPPER OF THE FAWN.
The heroic act of Paul, in saving the life of Carrie Littleton, was the
principal topic of conversation in Bayville for the next week. Of course
it was the unanimous vote of the people that Paul was a hero, and there
was some talk of giving him a complimentary dinner, and making speeches
at him; but the good sense of the strong-minded men and women of the
place prevailed, and he was not treated with the honors that turn the
head of a third-rate politician. But everybody thought something ought
to be done, and after a full week had passed by, everybody wondered that
Captain Littleton did not do something; that he did not make Paul a
present of a gold medal, or give him a check for a hundred dollars. The
gossips could not find out that he had done anything more than thank
Paul, with tears of gratitude in his eyes, for the noble service he had
rendered him. The captain had the reputation of being a very liberal
man, but the glory of his good name seemed to be rapidly passing away.
Paul attended to his business as usual, and seemed to give but little
heed to the compliments that were showered upon him. When any one spoke
to him about his gallant deed, he tried to turn it off, declared he had
only done his duty, as sentimental heroes generally do, and he did not
think he had done any very great thing, after all. But notwithstanding
all this seeming indifference, Paul was proud of the act that had made
him famous. He was conscious that he had done a noble deed; and his own
heart assured him he deserved the praise which was so liberally bestowed
upon him.
Above all, he was grateful for the opportunity of serving Captain
Littleton, who had been so kind to him and to his mother. He was happy
in the thought of having saved that darling child from a watery grave,
and he had given the fond father a good reason for being his friend as
long as he lived. Paul never thought of any reward; he hoped Captain
Littleton would not give him anything, for that would deprive him of one
half the satisfaction the act had afforded him.
Another week passed by, and still, to the astonishment and disgust of
the gossips of Bayville, Captain Littleton took no further notice of
Paul's heroic deed. Mrs. Green, who was Mrs. Duncan's nearest neighbor,
ventured to suggest that the captain was a mean man, and she wouldn't
have thought it of him.
"What would you have him do?" asked Paul, to whom Captain Littleton's
reputation was as dear as that of his mother, or even of his dead
father.
"What would I have him do?" repeated the old lady. "Why, he ought to
give you a hundred dollar bill, all for your own. At least he ought to
give you fifty."
"I don't want anything, Mrs. Green," said Paul stoutly.
"That's nothing to do with it. He could just offer it--couldn't he? He
is a rich man, and a hundred dollars is no more to him than a hundred
cents to me. It is downright mean, there."
"I don't think so, marm. Captain Littleton has done everything he could
for mother and for me, and I'm sure I was glad to have a chance to do
something for him."
"That may be; but it don't look well for a rich man like him to let you
save his little daughter from drowning, and then only say thank'ee for
it."
"I think it does, Mrs. Green, and I hope he will let the matter rest
just where it is."
"There is no danger now but what he will. If he ever meant to do
anything for you, he would have done it before now."
"I am perfectly contented, marm, and I only wish the neighbors were as
easy about it as I am."
"It ain't none of the neighbors' business, I know," added Mrs. Green, a
little tartly; "but I can't look on and see such meanness without
speaking of it. It don't make no difference who I say it to, neither; I
had just as lief say it to Captain Littleton, as say it to you and your
mother. That is just what I think, and I may just as well speak it as
think it."
It was a remarkable fact, under the circumstances, that Mrs. Green never
did give Captain Littleton the benefit of her opinion on this subject.
Perhaps she wronged him by her silence, thus denying him the practical
advantage of her criticism for the direction of his future life. But
Paul never liked Mrs. Green so well after this, for she had spoken ill
of him whom he honored and esteemed.
Our young fisherman, apparently unmoved by the honors that clustered
around his name, pursued his humble avocation with pride and
pleasure--with pride, because he had been successful by his own unaided
exertions; with pleasure, because he was actually relieving his mother
from the entire burden of supporting the family. Since the rescue of
Carrie, perch, tom-cod, flounders, and tautog had been in greater demand
than ever, for many of the rich people bought fish, even when they did
not want them, just for the sake of patronizing the young hero; and the
poor people ate fish oftener than they would if their admiration for the
little fish merchant had been less.
The long summer vacation had commenced, and the boys were let loose from
school for six weeks. John felt as though he had been emancipated from a
dreadful drudgery. He could scarcely repress his exuberant joy, as he
carried home his books on the last day of the term. Paul reproved him
for his dislike of school, and told him he might see the day when he
would appreciate the advantages of a good education.
"I don't dislike school," growled John, though it was a good-natured
growl.
"Yes you do; you hate school," added Paul. "If you did not, you would
not be so glad to get away from it."
"'Not that I love Caesar less, but I love Rome more,'" replied John,
laughing.
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Paul, amused at the attitude into
which his brother threw himself as he uttered the quotation.
"Not that I love school less, but I love fishing more; that's the idea,"
replied John.
"I hope you will get enough of it in six weeks, then."
"I hope so, but I don't believe I shall. At any rate, I'm going every
day, and I'm going to be first mate of the Blowout."
"The what?"
"The Blowout; that's what I have christened the old boat."
"That's a very beautiful name."
"And she's a very beautiful boat," laughed John. "I wish you had a
better one."
"So do I; perhaps I may have, one of these days."
"Somebody's got a new one, Paul," added John.
"There is one moored off Mercantile Point. Did you see her?"
"No; whose is she?"
"I don't know; I saw her come up the bay as I came home from school.
She's a perfect beauty."
"We will go over and see her by and by," said Paul, for a new boat was
an object of interest to him, and he always improved the opportunity to
inspect any strange craft that visited the bay. "But, John, we must be
off early on Monday morning, and the jib of the Blowout, as you call
her, wants mending. We will go down and sew it up."
The brothers repaired to the beach, where the old boat was now high and
dry upon the sand and taking a little box containing the thread,
needles, and wax for mending the sail, they commenced their labors.
Their busy hands soon completed the task, and the Blowout was otherwise
prepared for duty on Monday, for Paul never went near the boat on
Sunday. They were now ready to visit the new craft; but when they had
pushed their boat down into the water, Paul saw a gentleman enter the
cottage of his mother.
It was Captain Littleton; and Paul delayed their departure, thinking
that he might want to see him. Presently his friend appeared on the
bluff.
"Are you busy, Paul?" he shouted.
"No, sir; I will be with you in a moment."
"Stay where you are;" and Captain Littleton descended the steep path
which led to the beach. "You were going out--were you?"
"We were, sir; but it is of no consequence," replied Paul. "John says
there is a new boat over by the Point, and we were about going to see
her."
"Very well, I will go with you;" and Captain Littleton stepped into the
boat.
"Our boat is not a very nice one for you to sail in," apologized Paul.
"I have been in worse ones than this, Paul; and I have seen the time
when I would have given all I had in the world for even so dingy a boat
as this."
"When was that, sir?" asked John, very promptly; for he stood his
ground, unawed by the dignity of the richest man in Bayville.
"Get your boat under way, and I will tell you about it," replied Captain
Littleton.
Paul shook out the mainsail, and then pushed off the boat, while John
hoisted the jib. The former then took his place at the helm, and the
latter seated himself amidships, both eager to hear the story of the
captain. It was fortunate for them that the old Blowout was a very heavy
sailer; otherwise they could not have obtained the whole of the story,
which was long and very interesting and exciting. We have not space to
repeat the story, but it was all about a shipwreck, and clinging to a
broken spar for forty-eight hours, without food or water, and being
rescued when life was nearly gone.
"So you see, Paul, I should have been very comfortable even in a worse
boat than yours," added the story-teller, as he completed his narrative.
"I should like to be shipwrecked once," said John, musing.
"Should you, my fine fellow?" exclaimed the captain.
"I should, sir, just to see how it would seem."
"It would seem very uncomfortable, my boy; and I recommend you never to
express such a wish again. Many shore people think there is something
very fine and romantic about the sea, or even about a wreck; but half a
day's experience would teach them better. For my part, I was very glad
when I escaped the necessity of going to sea, even as master of a
vessel."
"There is the new boat," interrupted Paul, as the Blowout rounded Dog
Island, which had before concealed the new craft from their sight.
"Isn't she a _ripper_!" exclaimed John.
"Don't use such words, John," added Paul, in a low tone.
"She's a very fine boat," said John.
"She has a broad beam, but she looks as though she would sail well;"
Paul continued.
"Keep her away a little; we will go on board of her if you like," said
Captain Littleton.
Paul, though he would not have ventured on board of the new craft if he
had been alone, ran the Blowout alongside of her, for he was satisfied
that the presence of his friend would free him from the charge of
trespass. John made fast the painter to the new boat, and the party
leaped on board.
"Isn't she a beauty!" ejaculated John.
"A perfect beauty," added Paul, with enthusiasm. "She will sail like a
bird."
"You see she has air chambers at the bow and stern," said Captain
Littleton. "You cannot sink her."
The boys examined her from stem to stern, and their eyes sparkled with
pleasure, as they rested upon her useful and elegant appurtenances. John
looked over her gracefully rounded stern, and found there the words,
FAWN--BAYVILLE, in raised gilt letters; and he immediately gave
utterance to his opinion that the Fawn of Bayville couldn't be beaten.
"How do you like her, Paul?" quietly asked Captain Littleton.
"First rate, sir; she is the finest boat I ever saw."
"Do you think she would sail well?"
"I know she would."
"Suppose we try her. You may hoist the fore and main sails."
"Does she belong to you, sir?"
"She belongs to a friend of mine; but we will try her."
Paul and John hoisted the sails, and got everything in readiness to slip
the moorings, when the captain wished John to take the Blowout over to
her berth, and they would take him on board again. He consented, and
the two boats were soon headed towards the beach; but the Fawn made
three rods as often as the Blowout made one.
At last John worked the clumsy old boat up to the beach, and jumped on
board the Fawn. The language with which he expressed his satisfaction at
her performance under sail was not very elegant or well chosen; but it
undoubtedly expressed his opinion, so that no mistakes in regard to his
meaning could have been excused.
"You like her, do you, Paul?" asked Captain Littleton for the tenth
time.
"Very much indeed. She is a beauty! Who owns her, sir?"
"She belongs to a young friend of mine--one Paul Duncan."
"Sir! What!"
"Exactly so, Paul. She belongs to you, and henceforth you are to be the
skipper of the Fawn."