PAUL AND JOHN ARE VERY MUCH EXCITED.
Paul was overwhelmed with astonishment and delight at this unexpected
declaration. His eyes filled with tears, and he could not utter a word
to express the gratitude that filled his heart.
"Yes, Paul, you shall hereafter be the skipper of the Fawn," repeated
Captain Littleton.
"And I shall be first mate!" exclaimed John, jumping up and clapping his
hands with rapture.
"Yes, and you shall be first mate, John; for I have not forgotten that a
part of my debt of gratitude for the rescue of my daughter is in your
favor, my fine fellow. The Fawn shall be owned between you."
"Thank you, sir," replied John; "but it was Paul that saved Carrie."
"If you had not handled the old boat well, Paul could not have saved
her. You are fairly entitled to a share of the honor of that noble
exploit."
"But, Captain Littleton," interposed Paul, "I do not want to be paid for
what I did. It was only my duty to save Carrie."
"Everybody does not do his duty in such a trying time as that was,
Paul. But I have not said a word about paying you."
"I know you have not, sir; but I suppose that is what you mean."
"I mean nothing of the kind, my boy. I could not pay you. There lies the
Flyaway," continued the Captain, pointing to his beautiful yacht; "she
cost me six thousand dollars. If I were called upon to decide which I
would lose, Carrie or the Flyaway, which should I choose?"
"The Flyaway, of course."
"Then the Flyaway would have been but a small compensation for my child.
Nay, if I were called upon to decide between my child and all I am worth
in the world, I would sacrifice all my earthly possessions for her.
Then, if I paid you all I could pay you, it would be all I have, Paul.
You will not, therefore, consider this boat as a reward for saving
Carrie's life."
"I didn't mean that, sir," stammered Paul, "but----"
"But you thought I meant it. I did not. I shall never be able to
discharge the debt of gratitude I owe you."
"We will call it square, if you please, sir," said John.
"We will not, my fine fellow," added the Captain, laughing at John's
matter-of-fact speech. "I had been thinking of making you a present of a
boat before this event happened, Paul; but I confess, the gift was
hastened by your daring act. The long and the short of the whole matter
is, that we will consider the Fawn a memorial of the rescue of Carrie,
and not a reward. She is a strong, well-built, and safe boat, and I
think will just answer your purpose. By the way, how do you like her
name?"
"First rate, sir."
"I think I heard you suggest that name for a boat once."
"It is just the name I should have given her," replied Paul, so excited
by the extraordinary event of the hour, that he could hardly keep his
seat.
"I am glad, then, that she suits you in every respect. Now, if you will
put me ashore near my house, I will leave the Fawn and her owners to
their future destiny."
Paul landed Captain Littleton on the pier behind his house, and after
pouring out his thanks for the magnificent gift, they parted company.
The Fawn was headed away from the rocks, and again stood out into the
bay before the fresh breeze.
"I say, Paul, isn't this a stunner?" exclaimed John, suddenly jumping up
from his seat, after he had remained silent and motionless for the full
space of five minutes--a most extraordinary occurrence with him.
"What do you mean by a 'stunner,' John," asked Paul, with dignity.
"Well, what a--what a--what a thundering thing this is!" sputtered
John. "Only to think----"
"I wish you wouldn't use those slang phrases. You let them out before
Captain Littleton, just as though he were one of the fellows."
"He's one of 'em, anyhow. He's a trump!"
"Will you quit using slang words?"
"I'll try."
It must not be supposed that Paul was always so particular in regard to
the choice of words; but at the present time, the idea of being owner of
such a craft as the Fawn, and being the friend of such a man as Captain
Littleton, inspired him with a dignity he did not always possess.
"Talk like a gentleman, if you can, now there is some prospect of your
becoming one," continued Paul.
"I will try; but I want to talk about the boat now. Isn't she a--a
beauty! I should like to try her with the Snowbird."
"Very likely we may have a chance. She's too good to go a fishing with,"
said Paul, glancing around him at the cushioned seats in the standing
room.
"It won't hurt her any; we can take the cushions out when we fish."
"We must use her for that, I suppose. But Jack Starr lets his boat,
which is not half as good as this, for four dollars a day. Perhaps we
can do a little business of this kind."
"Very likely we can; folks always want to go down in the best boat."
"We can suit them, then. Where are you going now, Paul?"
"I am going to run in, and let mother see her."
"Good! Won't her eyes stick out?"
"She will be surprised," replied Paul, in tones of gentle rebuke.
The Fawn was run carefully upon the beach, and John was despatched for
his mother. While he is absent, we will improve the opportunity to give
our young readers a better idea of the new boat than they have yet
obtained. She was about eighteen feet long, and very broad for her
length. Her bow was very sharp, and her build combined the advantages of
being a safe boat and a fast sailer. She was schooner-rigged, carrying a
jib, foresail, and mainsail; and there was a staysail in the cuddy for
use when the wind was light.
The deck of the Fawn extended over about half her length, and under it
was a cuddy, or small cabin, containing two berths, both of which were
furnished with proper bedding. There were four lockers, or closets,
accessible from the standing room, where the boys could keep their fish
lines, knives, spare ropes, and other articles required on board.
The Fawn was rather large for a boy of Paul's age to handle, but as this
fault would be corrected in a year or two, Captain Littleton thought it
would be well to prepare for the future as well as the present. But the
rigging was so arranged that the new boat was hardly more difficult to
manage than the old one, and she was capable of saving at least one half
the time which the Blowout occupied in going to and returning from the
fishing ground.
While John was absent, Paul again examined every part of the Fawn. He
looked into all the lockers, sounded the copper air-chambers, lay down
upon each of the berths, and hoisted the mainsail, just to see how
easily it could be done. The examination was satisfactory in every
respect.
"Mother, mother!" shouted John, as he rushed breathless into the house,
where Mrs. Duncan was getting tea; "come down to the beach just as quick
as ever you can."
"What is the matter, John? What has happened?" asked Mrs. Duncan,
alarmed by his earnest manner.
"Come down quick, mother; don't stop a minute!"
"What has happened?"
"Nothing, mother; only come."
"Is anything the matter with Paul?" she inquired, as she hastily grasped
her sun-bonnet, and followed John out of the house.
The enthusiastic youth did not wait for the more tardy steps of age, but
tumbled recklessly down the steep path, and leaped into the boat.
"Where is mother?" demanded Paul.
"She is coming. I wish we had a cannon; we would fire a salute."
"No use of burning powder for nothing. There she comes."
But it was some time before Mrs. Duncan could reach the beach, and John
occupied the interim in various antics, such as running up the shrouds
of the Fawn, hoisting and lowering the jib, lying down on the bobstay,
and finally in tumbling overboard while attempting to perch himself on
the end of the bowsprit. This accident did not in the least disturb his
equanimity, and he had just shaken himself, like a Newfoundland dog,
when his mother reached the beach.
"Whose boat is that, Paul?" asked Mrs. Duncan, who, during the last
moments of her walk, had been gazing with admiration upon the trim
craft.
"Mine, mother," replied Paul, with assumed indifference.
"Mine, too," added John.
"We own her together," said Paul.
"Own her together? What do you mean by that? Haven't you learned better
than to make sport of your mother, boys?"
"It is ours, certain true, mother!" cried John.
"You don't mean so?"
"It is a fact, mother," replied Paul.
"Why, where, what in the world----"
"That's it, mother; I knew you'd come to it," interposed John. "To make
a long story short, Captain Littleton made us a present of her."
"Dear me!"
"Isn't she a beauty?"
"I should think she was."
"Come, mother, we are going to take you out to sail in her. You shall
try her right off," said John. "Jump aboard."
"But I can't jump aboard. The water is knee-deep around her. Besides,
supper is almost ready."
"Never mind the supper. Jump in."
"I can't jump in. Where _have_ you been, John? You are as wet as a
drowned rat!"
"I fell into the tub just now; but never mind that."
"But I do mind it; and you must go up and have on dry clothes before you
go anywhere."
"We will go up and have supper, and after that we will take you out,"
said Paul.
John was disposed to rebel at this step; but Paul was firm and decided,
and made fast the Fawn to the stake in the beach. When they reached the
house, the young rogue, sorely against his will, was compelled to retire
to his chamber and change his clothes. Even then, dripping as he was
from the effects of his cold bath, when Paul went up to call him to
supper, he found him standing at the window, in his wet garments, gazing
with intense interest upon the Fawn, as she lay moored at the beach.
Paul, notwithstanding the flutter of emotions in his bosom, ate his
supper with dignity and propriety, and several times admonished his
brother that he behaved more like a young monkey than a reasonable human
being. Yet Paul was excited, and so was his mother. The former talked of
the good times he should have down the bay, and the latter speaking of
the forethought of Captain Littleton in having the copper air chambers
placed in the boat. She was glad the Fawn was a lifeboat, and she could
feel a great deal easier, now, when her boys were away on the water.
Supper was finished, and John, in his impatience to get on board the
boat again, condescended to wipe the dishes, while Paul cleared off the
table. Matters thus expedited, the party were ready to embark, and
repaired to the beach for that purpose. John was absolutely frantic in
his efforts to perform his duty as the first officer of the Fawn, and in
his eagerness had nearly drowned his mother, and swamped the boat. If
the halliards of the new craft had not been new and strong, he would
certainly have broken them in hoisting the sails. Paul was disgusted at
his conduct, and it was only when he threatened to put him on shore that
the mate subsided into the appearance of a tolerable calm.
The party had a very pleasant sail; but John almost cried with vexation,
after the boat was properly secured at her moorings, to think he could
not go on board of her again till Monday morning. Paul was scarcely less
excited than his brother; but the consciousness of being the head of
the family restrained any outbreak of enthusiasm on his part.
His thoughts ran deeper and extended farther into the future.
As he retired that night, he examined the columns of his account book,
and had every reason to be satisfied with his success. His excitement
had moderated, and he looked upon the Fawn as a new blessing, and in his
heart thanked God, from whom all his blessings came.
He regarded his fortune as already made, for little by little, he felt
sure of achieving it.