A Queer Cousin.
As every one knows, it would be almost an impossibility for sixteen
sail-boats to go any where in company without trying their speed,
especially if they were sailed by boys. When our heroes stepped into
their vessels, each skipper made up his mind that his boat must be the
first one to touch the opposite shore. Not a word was said about a
race, but every one knew that one would be sure to come off. Every
thing was done in a hurry, and the little vessels were all afloat in a
moment. They were on the leeward side of the island--that is, the side
from the wind--and they would be obliged to get around to the opposite
side before they could use their sails.
The coast-guards shoved their boats out into the current, and allowed
themselves to float down toward the foot of the island, thinking that
course easier than pulling, against the current, up to the head of
the island.
Frank noticed this movement, and said, in a low voice, to the
smugglers,
"Don't follow them, boys. They will find themselves becalmed in less
than a quarter of an hour. The breeze is dying away. If you want to
beat them, hoist your sails, and get out your oars, and row up to the
head of the island; we can reach it before they reach the foot, and,
besides, the current will carry them further down the river than they
want to go."
The smugglers did as Frank had directed; and as they moved from the
shore, and turned up the river, one of the coast-guards called out,
"Where are you fellows going?"
"Home," answered Ben.
"You are taking the longest and hardest way."
"The longest way around is the nearest way home, you know," answered
William.
"I don't believe it is, in this instance," said James Porter. "Let's
see who will be at the long dock first."
"All right," answered the smugglers.
And they disappeared behind a high-wooded promontory of the island.
It was hard work, pulling against a current that ran four miles an
hour, but they were accustomed to it, and the thought of again
beating the coast-guards gave strength to their arms.
In a few moments a sudden filling of the sails announced that they had
caught the breeze. The oars were drawn in, and every sheet hauled
taut, and, when they rounded the head of the island, not one of the
squadron was in sight.
"I expected," said Harry, speaking in a loud voice, so that the others
could hear, "that they would feel the wind long before this."
"Even if they had," answered Frank, "we could have beaten them easily
enough. You see, when they come around the foot of the island, they
will be some distance below the long dock, and the current will carry
them still further down, while we are above it, and can sail right
down to it. Here they come!"
The boys looked down the river, and saw the men-o'-war rapidly
following each other around the foot of the island.
"I guess they have discovered their mistake before this time," said
William. "Now," he continued, as he drew his mainsail down a little
closer "the Champion is going to be the first to sail into the creek."
"That's the game, is it?" said Frank. "Ben, perch yourself up on the
windward side, and we'll see which is the best boat."
Ben did as he was desired, and the little vessels increased their
speed, and bounded over the gentle swells as if some of their crews'
spirit had been infused into them. They had started nearly even--the
Alert and Champion being a little in advance of the Speedwell--and the
boys knew that the race was to be a fair trial of the speed of their
boats. The Alert and Speedwell had never been "matched" before, and
the boys were anxious to learn their comparative speed. The former was
the "champion" boat of the village, and Harry and George were
confident that Frank's "tub," as they jokingly called it, would soon
be distanced. Frank thought so, too; but the reputation of owning the
swiftest boat in the village was well worth trying for, and he
determined to do his best.
Since his race with the Champion, he had made larger sails for his
boat, and added a flying-jib and a gaff-topsail, and he found that her
speed was almost doubled.
The Champion soon fell behind, and the two rival boats were left to
finish the race, which, for a long time, seemed undecided. But, at
length, the Speedwell, with her strong mast groaning and creaking
under the weight of the heavy canvas, began to gain steadily, and soon
passed the Alert. Ten minutes' run brought them across the river; and
when Frank, proud of the victory he had gained, rounded the long dock,
the Alert was full four rods behind.
The breeze was rapidly dying away, and not one of the coast-guards had
yet reached the shore. Some of them had been carried almost a mile
below the creek, and lay with the sails idly flapping against the
masts.
Frank and Ben sailed slowly along up the creek, and, when they arrived
at the end of the dock, the Speedwell was "made fast," and the boys
started to get their mail.
As they entered the post-office, Frank stepped up to the
"pigeon-hole," and the postmaster handed him two letters; one was
addressed to his mother, and the other bore his own name, written in a
full, round, school-boy's hand.
"Ben," he exclaimed, as he broke the seal, "I've got a letter from
Archie. I wrote to him a month ago; I should think it was about time
to get an answer."
"See if he says any thing about getting a letter from me," said Ben.
"I haven't heard from him in a long time."
Before proceeding further, it may not be improper to say a word about
Archie Winters. He was, as we have already said, Frank's cousin, and
lived in the city of Portland. He was just Frank's age, and, like him,
was kind and generous; but he was not the boy for books. When in
school, he was an obedient and industrious pupil, and learned very
readily; but, when four o'clock came, he was the first to lay aside
his books. He was very fond of rural sports, and, for a city boy, was
a very expert hunter; he even considered himself able to compete with
Frank. He was also passionately fond of pets, and, if he could have
had his own way, he would have possessed every cat and dog in the
city. His father was a wealthy ship-builder, and Archie was an only
child. But he was not, as is generally the case, spoiled by
indulgence; on the contrary, his parents always required his prompt
and cheerful obedience, and, when out of their sight, Archie was very
careful to do nothing of which he thought his parents would not
approve. Every vacation he paid a visit to his cousin, and sometimes
staid until late in the winter, to engage in his favorite sport. He
was well known to the village boys, among whom his easy and obliging
manners had won many a steadfast friend.
But let us now return to the letter, which ran as follows:
PORTLAND, _June_ 28, 18--.
DEAR COUSIN: Your letter of the 16th of last month was duly
received, and, I suppose, you think it is about time for me
to answer it. They say that a person who is good at making
excuses is good for nothing else; but, I suppose, you will
expect some apology for my seeming neglect. You perhaps
remember hearing your mother speak of James Sherman, a cousin
whom we had never seen. About two weeks since, father
received a letter from his mother, stating that she and James
would be at our house in about three days. Well, they came
agreeably to notice, and I have had the pleasure of
entertaining our cousin ever since. I have had to pilot him
around, and show him all the sights, and I have had time for
nothing else.
I will not tell you what sort of a fellow he is; I will leave
you to judge of his general character, etc. He and his mother
are now on their way to Lawrence, and they expect to be at
your house about the 6th (July). They intend to remain about
two weeks. When I saw them getting into the train, and knew
that in a few days they would be with you, I wanted very much
to accompany them. But mother says _one_ noisy boy in the
house is sufficient. (I wonder whether she means you or
James!) But as soon as they have ended their visit, if
nothing happens, you may expect to see our family landing
from the Julia Burton, some fine morning. I have been pent up
in the city now almost six months, and I am impatient to get
into the country again--especially among the trout-streams
about your quiet little village.
I have often thought of the sport we had the day we went up
to Dungeon Brook. I know it rained hard, but the string of
trout we caught beat any thing of the kind I ever happened to
see.
But I've got some good news for you. Father has decided to
spend part of the winter at Uncle Joe's, and he promises to
take you and me with him; so you can begin to pack up your
duds as soon as you wish.
That trout-pole you made for me last winter met with a
serious accident a few days since. One of my schoolmates
invited me to go up the river with him, and try a perch-bed
he had accidentally discovered. I had sent off my heavy pole
to the painters, so I was obliged to take my trout-pole. I
was afraid that I should break it, but it behaved beautifully
for about two hours, during which time I drew in sixty fine
perch and rock-bass--some of the former weighing between one
and two pounds--and I began to think that the pole was too
tough to break. But I was very soon convinced of my mistake,
for, as bad luck would have it, I hooked on to a black-bass.
I thought I handled him very carefully, but, before we could
land him, he broke my pole in three pieces; but the line
held, and he was soon floundering in the boat. He was a fine
fellow--a regular "sockdologer"--weighing six pounds and a
half. But I heartily wished him safe in the bottom of the
river. I have laid the pole away, and intend to bring it to
you for repairs.
But it is ten o'clock, and father suggests that, if I wish to
get to the post-office before the mail closes, I had "better
make tracks." So I must stop. Love to all.
Yours affectionately, A. Winters.
P.S.--Please tell Ben and Harry that I will answer their
letters immediately. A.W.
By this time the rest of the smugglers had arrived, and, as soon as
Frank had run his eye over the letter, and began to fold it up, George
inquired,
"Well, what does he say? Did he receive Harry's letter?"
"Yes, and also one from Ben. He says he will answer them at once."
After a few moments' conversation, the boys separated, and started for
home, expressing themselves highly delighted at Frank's way of
spending the Fourth.
The day on which Mrs. Sherman and her son were expected at length
arrived. As a fine breeze was blowing, Frank and his sister--accompanied,
of course, by Brave--stepped into the Speedwell, and started to enjoy a
sail on the river.
It was now the summer vacation, and the boys were determined to have
plenty of recreation after their long siege of study; and, when Frank
reached the mouth of the creek, he found the river dotted with white
sails as far as he could see. Several of the boats had started on
fishing excursions, but the majority of them were sailing idly about,
as if nothing particular had been determined on.
Frank turned the Speedwell's head down the river, and soon joined the
little fleet. He had hoisted every stitch of canvas his boat could
carry, and she flew along, passing several of the swiftest vessels,
and finally encountered the Alert. The race was short, for the
Speedwell easily passed her, and George and Harry were compelled to
acknowledge that, to use their own expression, "the Alert was
nowhere."
In about two hours the Julia Burton was seen rounding the point, and a
loud, clear whistle warned the villagers of her approach. Frank turned
the Speedwell toward home, and arrived at the wharf about ten minutes
after the steamer had landed.
As they sailed along up the creek, Julia suddenly exclaimed,
"I wonder who those people are!"
Frank turned, and saw a lady just getting into a carriage, and a boy,
apparently about his own age, stood by, giving orders, in a loud
voice, to the driver, about their baggage. Both were dressed in the
hight of fashion, and Frank knew, from the description his aunt had
given his mother, that they were the expected visitors.
As soon as the boy had satisfied himself that their baggage was safe,
he continued, in a voice loud enough to be heard by Frank and his
sister,
"Now, driver, you're sure you know where Mrs. Nelson lives?"
"Yes, sir," answered the man, respectfully.
"Well, then, old beeswax, hurry up. Show us how fast your cobs can
travel."
So saying, he sprang into the carriage, and the driver closed the door
after him, mounted to his seat, and drove off.
"Why," said Julia, in surprise, "I guess that's Aunt Harriet--don't
you?"
"Yes," answered her brother, "I know it is."
"I am afraid I shall not like James," continued Julia; "he talks too
loud."
Frank did not answer, for he was of the same opinion. He had inferred
from Archie's letter that James would prove any thing but an agreeable
companion.
The brisk wind that was blowing carried them rapidly along, and, in a
few moments, they came to a place where the road ran along close to
the creek. The distance to Mrs. Nelson's, by the road, was greater, by
a quarter of a mile, than by the creek, and, consequently, they had
gained considerably on the carriage. Soon they heard the rattling of
wheels behind them, and the hack came suddenly around a turn in the
road.
James was leaning half-way out of the window, his cap pushed on one
side of his head, and, not knowing Frank, he accosted him, as he came
up, with his favorite expression.
"Hallo, old beeswax! Saw-logs must have been cheap when you had that
boat built. You've got timber enough there to finish off a good-sized
barn."
Frank, of course, made no reply; and, in a moment more, the hack was
out of sight.
They soon reached the wharf, in front of the house, and Frank helped
Julia out, and, after making his boat fast, started toward the house,
and entered the room where their visitors were seated.
His aunt's greeting was cold and distant, and she acted as if her
every motion had been thoroughly studied. James's acknowledgment was
scarcely more than agreeable. To Frank's inquiry, "How do you do,
sir?" he replied,
"Oh, I'm bully, thank you, old beeswax. Not you the cod I twigged[A]
navigating that scow up the creek?"
[Footnote A: Saw.]
Frank acknowledged himself to be the person, and James continued,
"I suppose she's the champion yacht, isn't she?"
"Yes," answered Frank, "she is. There's no boat about the village that
can beat her."
"Ah, possibly; but, after all, you had better tell that to the
marines. I've seen too much of the world to have a country chap stuff
me, now I tell you, old beeswax."
We will not particularize upon James's visit. It will suffice to
relate one or two incidents that will illustrate his character.
A day or two after his arrival, he discovered the schooner standing on
Frank's bureau, and he could not be contented until he should see "how
she carried herself in the water," and Frank, reluctantly, carried it
down to the creek and set it afloat.
For a few moments James seemed to have forgotten his evil
propensities, and they amused themselves by sailing the schooner from
one side of the creek to the other. But he very soon grew tired of
this "lame, unexciting sport," as he called it, and, gathering up an
armful of stones, he began to throw them into the water near the
boat, shouting,
"Storm on the Atlantic! See her rock!"
"Please don't, James," urged Frank; "I'm afraid you will hit the
schooner."
"No fear of that," answered James, confidently, still continuing to
throw the stones; "I can come within a hair's-breadth of her, and not
touch her. Now, see."
And, before Frank could speak, away flew a large stone, with great
force, and, crashing through the mainsail of the little vessel, broke
both masts and the bowsprit short off.
"There," exclaimed Frank, "I was afraid you would do that."
James did not appear to be in the least sorry for it, but he skipped
up the bank, shouting, in an insulting tone,
"There's your boat, old beeswax. When do you expect her in port?"
Frank did not answer, but drew what remained of the schooner to the
shore, and, taking it under his arm, started for his shop, saying,
"Now, that's a nice cousin for a fellow to have. I'll do my best to
treat him respectfully while he stays, but I shall not be sorry when
the time comes to bid him good-by."
And that time was not far distant. James often complained to his
mother that Frank was a "low-minded, mean fellow," and urged an
immediate departure. His mother always yielded to his requests, or
rather _demands_, no matter how unreasonable they might be; and they
had scarcely made a visit of a week, when they announced their
intention of leaving Lawrence by the "next boat."
On the day previous to their departure, Mrs. Nelson had occasion to
send Frank to the village for some groceries, and, as a favorable wind
was blowing, he decided to go in his boat. But, before starting, he
managed to slip away from James long enough to write a few lines to
Archie, urging him to come immediately.
Frank intended to start off without James's knowledge; but the uneasy
fellow was always on the look-out, and, seeing his cousin going
rapidly down the walk, with a basket on each arm, and his dog--which,
like his master, had not much affection for James--he shouted,
"Hallo, old beeswax, where are you bound for?"
"For the village," answered Frank.
"Are you going to take the tow-path?"
"The tow-path! I don't know what you mean."
"Are you going to ride shanks' horses?"
"I don't understand that, either."
"Oh, you are a bass-wood man, indeed," said James, with a taunting
laugh. "Are you going to _walk_? Do you think you can comprehend me
now?"
"Yes," answered Frank, "I can understand you when you talk English.
No, I am not going to walk."
"Then I'll go with you, if you will leave that dog at home."
"I don't see what objections you can have to his company. He always
goes with me."
"I suppose you think more of him than you do of your relations; but
I'm going with you, at any rate."
And he quickened his pace to overtake Frank.
While his cousin was hoisting the sails, James deliberately seated
himself in the stern of the boat, and took hold of the tiller.
"Do you understand managing a sail-boat?" inquired Frank, as he stood
ready to cast off the painter.
"If any one else had asked me that question," answered James, with an
air of injured dignity, "I should have considered it an insult. Of
course I _do_."
"All right, then," said Frank, as he pushed the boat from the wharf.
"Go ahead. We shall be obliged to tack a good many times, going down
but we can sail back like a book, and--"
"Oh, you teach your grandmother, will you?" interrupted James. "I've
sailed more boats than you ever saw."
Frank, at first, did not doubt the truth of this assertion, for James
lived in a seaport town, and had had ample opportunity to learn how to
manage a yacht; but they had not made twenty feet from the wharf, when
he made up his mind that his cousin had never before attempted to act
as skipper.
Instead of keeping as close as possible to the wind, as he should have
done, he turned the boat's head first one way and then another, and,
of course, made no headway at all.
"I never saw such a tub as this," said James, at length; "I can't make
her mind her helm."
Just at this moment a strong gust of wind filled the sails, and, as
James was not seaman enough to "luff" or "let go the sheet," the
Speedwell same very near capsizing. As she righted, the wind again
filled the sails, and the boat was driven with great speed toward the
shore. Frank had barely time to pull up the center-board before her
bows ran high upon the bank, and the sheet was roughly jerked from
James's hand, and flapped loudly against the mast.
"There," said Frank, turning to his cousin, who sat, pale with terror,
"I guess it's a long time since you attempted to sail a boat; you seem
to have forgotten how, I tell you," he continued as he noticed
James's trepidation, "if I hadn't pulled up that center-board just as
I did, we should have been obliged to swim for it."
"I can't swim," said James, in a weak voice.
"Then you would have been in a fix," said Frank. "Now, let me see if I
can have any better luck."
James very willingly seated himself on one of the middle thwarts, and
Frank pushed the boat from the shore, and took hold of the tiller,
and, under his skillful management, the Speedwell flew through the
water like a duck.
James soon got over his fright, and his uneasy nature would not allow
him to remain long inactive, and, as he could find nothing else to do,
he commenced to rock the boat from one side to the other, and, as she
was "heeling" considerably, under the weight of her heavy canvas, the
water began to pour in over her side. Although the speed of the boat
was greatly diminished, Frank, for some time, made no complaint,
hoping that his cousin would soon grow tired of the sport. But James
did not seem inclined to cease, and Frank, at length, began to
remonstrate.
He reminded James that it would not require much to capsize the boat,
and, as the creek was very deep, and as he (James) had said he could
not swim, he might be a "gone sucker."
This, at first, had the effect of making James more careful, but he
soon commenced again as bad as ever.
Brave was seated in his usual place, and directly behind James. He
seemed to dislike the rocking of the boat as much as his master, but
he bore it very patiently for awhile, thinking, no doubt, that the
best way to deal with James was to "let him severely alone." But the
rocking increased, and Brave began to slide from one side of the boat
to the other. This was enough to upset his patience; and, encouraged,
perhaps, by some sly glances from Frank, he sprang up, and, placing a
paw on each shoulder of his tormentor, barked fiercely, close to his
ear.
James screamed loudly; and Brave, evidently thinking he had punished
him enough, returned to his seat.
"Let me ashore," shouted James; "I shan't stay in here any longer."
Frank gladly complied, and, the moment the Speedwell's bows touched
the bank, James sprang out.
"I wouldn't risk my life in that tub again for any money," he shouted;
"you may bet on that, old beeswax."
Frank made no reply, but pushed the boat from the shore again as soon
as possible.
James now felt safe; and, gathering up a handful of stones,
determined to wreak his vengeance on Brave. The sensible
Newfoundlander, at first, paid no attention to this cowardly assault;
but the stones whizzed by in unpleasant proximity, now and then
striking the sail or the side of the boat, and he began to manifest
his displeasure, by showing his teeth and growling savagely.
Frank stood it as long as possible, knowing that the best plan was to
remain silent; but James continued to follow the boat, and the stones
struck all around the object of his vengeance.
"I wish you wouldn't do that," said Frank, at length.
"You do, eh?" said James. "How are you going to hinder it? But perhaps
you would rather have me throw at you."
And, picking up a large stone, he hurled it at his cousin with great
force. It fell into the creek, close to the boat, and splashed the
water all over Frank.
This seemed to enrage Brave more than ever, and he sprang into the
water, and swam toward the shore, and no amount of scolding on Frank's
part could induce him to return. James, fearing that he was about to
be punished in a way he had not thought of, turned and took to his
heels.
At this moment a loud shout was heard, and several boys sprang over
the fence into the road, and James was speedily overtaken and
surrounded. They were a ragged, hard-looking set of fellows, and Frank
knew that they were the Hillers; besides, he recognized the foremost
of them as Lee Powell. They had their fishing-rods on their shoulders,
and each boy carried in his hand a long string of trout.
"Look'e here, you spindle-shanked dandy," said Lee, striding up and
laying hold of James's collar with no friendly hand, "does yer know
who yer was a heavin' rocks at? Shall we punch him for yer?" he added,
turning to Frank.
"No," answered Frank; "let him go; he's my cousin."
Lee accordingly released him, and James said, in a scarcely audible
voice,
"I was only in fun."
"Oh, only playin', was yer?" said Lee; "that alters the case
'tirely--don't it, Pete?"
The boy appealed to nodded his assent, and Lee continued,
"We thought yer was in blood arnest. If yer _had_ been, we wouldn't a
left a grease-spot of yer--would we, Pete?"
"Mighty cl'ar of us," answered Pete.
As soon as James found himself at liberty, he started toward home at
full speed, hardly daring to look behind him. Brave had by this time
gained the shore, and was about to start in pursuit, but a few sharp
words from Frank restrained him.
"Whar are yer goin'?" inquired Lee, walking carelessly down the bank.
"I'm going to the village," answered Frank.
"Will yer give a feller a ride?"
"Certainly. Jump in."
The Hillers accordingly clambered into the boat, and, in a few
moments, they reached the wharf, at the back of the post-office.
Lee and his companions immediately sprang out, and walked off, without
saying a word; and Frank, after fastening his boat to the wharf, began
to pull down the sails, when he discovered that the Hillers had left
two large strings of trout behind them.
Hastily catching them up, he ran around the corner of the post-office,
and saw Lee and his followers, some distance up the road.
"Hallo!" he shouted, at the top of his lungs; "Lee Powell!"
But they paid no attention to him.
"I know they heard me," said Frank.
And he shouted again, but with no better success.
At length, one of the village boys, who was coming across the fields,
with a basket of strawberries on his arm, shouted to the Hillers,
and, when he had gained their attention, pointed toward Frank,
"See here!" Frank shouted, as he held up the fish; "you have forgotten
these."
"No, I guess not," shouted Lee, in reply. "We Hillers don't forget
favors as easy as all that comes to. Ye're welcome to 'em."
And he and his companions walked rapidly off.