YOU'VE SPOILED THEIR TEA PARTY
So absolutely confident of winning were the people, officers, midshipmen
and crew on board the Chicago that they had made all their plans for the
elaborate tea and dance to be given on board the ship of the winning
crew.
Boatloads of Jackies had been sent ashore for evergreens, and a force of
men had been put to work decorating the quarter-deck, the wardroom and
the steerage until the ship presented a wonderful picture. The dance was
to be held on the quarter-deck of the ship of the victorious crew
immediately after the race, so the preparations were elaborate and hopes
more than sanguine. Already the Chicago's officers mentally pictured the
gay gathering upon her tastefully decorated decks; saw the handsomely
gowned chaperones and the daintily clad girls in all the bravery of
summer gowns dancing to the strains of the ship's band. Oh, it was the
prettiest mental vision imaginable!
And on the old Olympia? That stately veteran of Manila Bay upon whose
bridge his loyal, devoted admirers had outlined in brass-headed nails
the very spot where Commodore Dewey's feet had rested as he spoke the
memorable words:
"When you are ready you may fire, Gridley."
And the Olympia's personnel? The admiral of the fleet, the captain and
the officers straight down to the very stokers? Well, THEY had an idea
of what the Olympia's men were worth when it came to the scratch and a
few things were privately moving forward which might have made the
Chicago's personnel sit up and take notice had they found time to do so.
There were no EVERGREENS brought over the side, it is true, but launches
had been darting to and fro with systematic regularity, and each time
they came from New London significant-looking boxes, important junior
officers, and odd freight came, too, but no one was the wiser. Not only
were awnings spread fore and aft, but they were hung in such a way that
passing craft, however curious the occupants, could not see what might
be taking place on board.
But with five bells came a revelation. A steady line of launches put off
to the shore, some to the east, some to the west, to return with a gay
freight, and as they came up the starboard gangway the festive
femininity broke into rapturous exclamations, for on every side were
roses! Red roses, white roses, pink roses, pale yellow roses, begged,
bought or--hush!--from every farmhouse within a radius of five miles,
and every nook and corner of the deck was made snug and attractive with
bunting, or rug-covered--well, if not chairs, improvised seats which
served the purpose equally well and from which "the get-away" could be
clearly seen, the course being a triangular one, starting on the port
side of the Olympia and ending on the starboard bow. The Chicago, with
all her bravery, lacked the position held by the Olympia.
Captain Stewart's party were the guests of the Olympia and had come
aboard early.
Peggy and Polly were wild with excitement. At least Polly was; Peggy
took her pleasures with less demonstration.
The cutter crews were already in their boats and ready to pull out to
the starter's launch which bobbed gaily within easy range of the
quarter-deck.
Peggy and Polly hung over the rail calling cheery farewells to Durand
and Lowell and telling the others that they would never forgive them if
they did not win the trophy.
"Win! Win! Fill up that tin cup right now and have it ready to hand over
when we come back the proud victors of the day, for we'll be thirsty and
you can just bet we're going to come back in that fascinating guise--
winners, we mean. What? Let those lobsters from the 'Chi' beat us out?
Not on your life! You just watch us play with them, and pull all around
them," shouted Lowell as the cutter shoved off at the coxswain's word.
Meanwhile the Chicago's cutter had taken. her berth and was ready for
the send-off from the committee's launch.
Now a cutter race is no holiday pastime but a long pull and a strong
pull from start to finish, for a cutter weighs something over and above
a racing shell, to say nothing of her lines being designed for service
in stress rather than for a holiday fete. Add to the weight of the boat
herself her freight of twelve men, and all pretty husky fellows, and
you've got some pulling ahead in order to push that boat through a given
distance of water.
If all the civil world had been on the alert during the previous day's
contest, certainly all the little Navy world assembled at New London was
on the alert that afternoon. The decks of the Chicago and Olympia were
crowded with friends. The ships' launches were darting about like
distracted water-bugs, and innumerable "shore boats" were bringing
guests from every direction.
Presently, however, the course was cleared, the signals given and the
heavy oars took the water as only "man-o-war's men's" oars ever take it:
as though one brain controlled the actions of the entire crew.
The start was pretty even, the huge sweeps dipping into the water
simultaneously and cleanly. Then the Chicago's men began to pull slowly
away from the Olympia's, the coxswain right at the outset hitting up the
stroke faster than the Olympia's coxswain considered good judgment so
early in the race, for that triangle had three sides, as is the rule of
triangles, and each side presented a pretty good distance.
But the people on the Chicago were cheering and yelling like bedlamites,
pleased to the very limit to see their men putting up such a showing,
and confident of their ability to hold it to the finish. They did not
pause to reason that they had begun at a stroke which meant just a
degree more endurance than most men are equal to, but they were sanguine
that their ship was to hold a function in their honor.
Just astern the Chicago's boat the Olympia's coxswain was keeping up his
steady "Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!" which sent the boat boiling
through the water as though propelled by a gasoline engine. The
Olympia's men were holding their own if not breaking a record.
"Hold her steady. Keep the stroke. We won't try to set the Thames afire
--not YET," were the coach's significant words from his launch.
Lowell nodded quick understanding but kept his steady weight against the
oar which was setting the stroke for the men behind him, and Durand's
eyes hardly left the sway and swing of that splendid broad back just in
front of him as on they rushed to the first flag-boat, making the turn
of the triangle just a length astern of the Chicago's men, and amidst
the cries of:
"Hit it up, Olympia! Overhaul 'em! Pull down that lead!" from the launch
following, in which several officers were yelling like Comanches.
"Takes better men. You didn't know how to pick 'em," were the taunting
cries from the Chicago's launch on their starboard beam.
"Wait till they round the next stake-boat. They're only playing with you
now."
"Playing OUT? They've got to do better than this to overhaul US. We are
rowing some," were the laughing answers.
"Now we'll play for fair. Hit her up to thirty-six," was the order of
the Olympia's coxswain, and the oars flashed response to the order, the
cutter seeming to fly.
There was a quick exclamation from the coxswain of the Chicago's cutter,
a sharp command, and the stroke jumped to thirty-eight which sent the
boat boiling forward. Another command on the Olympia's as the second
stake boat was neared and the Olympia's crew was holding it at forty, a
slip to tell, and the boats rounded the second stake-boat bows even.
Then came the home stretch; the last telling, racking effort of the two-
mile triangle. The Chicago was still pulling a splendid thirty-eight as
they swept by the stake-boat, but once the turn was made oars flashed up
to forty-two, for the Olympia's nose had forged half a length ahead
after that turn.
Meantime pandemonium had cut loose in the launches as well as on board
the ships, and if yelling, hooting, or calls through megaphones could
put power into a stroke, certainly no inspiration was wanting.
Half the last stretch was covered, the lads rowing in splendid form when
the Chicago's men started in to break the record and their launch went
mad as they spurted to forty-six to overhaul their rival's lead. But a
forty-six stroke is just a trifle more than can be held in a heavy
cutter with twelve, fourteen and sixteen-foot oars weighing many pounds
each; it simply could not be held.
"Give 'em forty-two for a finish, fellows," bawled the Olympia's
coxswain through his megaphone, literally pro bono publico. And forty-
two did the trick, for forty-six could not be held, and the Olympia's
cutter swept past the stake-boat a length in the lead, while Captain
Boynton on the bridge beside the admiral of the fleet fairly jumped up
and down.
Alas, and alack for the dance on board the Chicago and the tea to be
served to her admiring guests!
One of the conditions of that tea and dance was victory with a capital V
for the hosts.
"Bring 'em aboard! Bring 'em aboard! Pass the order," rumbled the
admiral.
"Just as they are!" questioned Boynton, not quite sure that he
understood aright.
"Yes! Yes! Bring 'em aboard!"
"What will the ladies say?" gasped Boynton. "These rowing togs are
rather sketchy."
"Hang their clothes! Get 'em some. Pass the word, man. Bring them up the
STARBOARD GANGWAY. Bring 'em up, I say, and get down there to welcome
them! They own the ship and everything on board!"
Boynton lost no time in passing the word and hurrying down to greet the
winning crew and it seemed as though the whole personnel of the old
Olympia had gone stark mad.
But to see and hear was to obey and the Olympia's lads, clad in raiment
conspicuous principally for its limitations, came piling up the sacred
starboard gangway to be met by Captain Boynton who grasped each hand in
turn as he shouted:
"You're a bunch worth while! You spoiled their tea party! You busted up
their dance, confound you, you scamps! You did 'em up in shape and WE'RE
the whole show! Now go below and get fit to be seen, then come back and
let the ladies feed you and make fools of you, for they'll DO it all
right."
And they were fed! They were ready to be. A pull over such a course
means an appetite, but whether these level-headed chaps were made fools
of is open to question.
It was long after dark before that frolic ended, and the ships were a
fairy spectacle of electric lights, the band's strains floating across
the water as light feet tripped to the inspiring strains of waltz or
two-step.
That was one of the happiest afternoons and evenings Peggy and Polly had
ever known, and so passed many another, for Neil Stewart meant that
month to be a memorable one for Peggy, little guessing how soon a less
happy one would dawn for her, or how unwittingly he had laid the train
for it.
For two weeks there were lawn fetes at Navy Bungalow, long auto trips
through the beautiful surrounding country and the delightfully cosy
family gatherings which all so loved.
After Gail's graduation Mrs. Howland returned bringing that golden-
haired lassie with her, Snap and Constance coming too.
Gail's introduction to the circle was a funny one:
Captain Stewart had been curious to see whether "Howland number four
would uphold the showing of the family," as he teasingly told Polly, and
Polly who was immensely proud of her pretty sister had brindled and
protested that: "Gail was the very best looking one of the family."
"Then she must be going some," he insisted.
She was a sunny, bonny sight in spite of a dusty ride down from
Northampton, and Captain Stewart was at the steps to help her from the
auto which had been sent up to the New London station to meet her. She
stepped out after her mother and Constance, but before Mrs. Howland had
a chance to present her Captain Stewart laid a pair of kindly hands upon
her shoulders, held her from him a moment, peering at her from under his
thick eyebrows in a manner which made a pretty color mantle her cheeks,
then said with seeming irrelevance:
"No, the Howland family doesn't lie, but on the other hand they don't
invariably convey the whole truth. You'll pass, little girl. Yes, you'll
pass, and you don't look a day older than Polly and Peggy even if you
are hiding away a sheepskin somewhere in that suitcase yonder. Yes, I'll
adopt you as my girl, and by crackey I'm going to seal it," and with
that he took the bonny face in both hands and kissed each rosy cheek.
Poor Gail, if the skies had dropped she couldn't have been more
nonplussed. She had heard a good deal of the people she was to visit but
had never pictured THIS reception, and for once the girl who had been
president of her class and carried off a dozen other honors, was as
fussed as a schoolgirl.
Peggy came to her rescue.
Running up to her she slipped her arms about her and cried:
"Don't mind Daddy Neil. We are all wild to know you and we're just BOUND
to love you. How could we help it? You belong to us now, you know. Come
with me. You are to have the room right next ours--Polly's and mine, I
mean--and everything will be perfectly lovely."
Within three days after Gail's arrival Happy, Wheedles and Shortie had
to leave for their own homes, as their families were clamoring for some
of their society during that brief month's leave before they joined
their ships. But fortune favored them in one respect, for Happy and
Wheedles were ordered to the Connecticut, the flag-ship of the Atlantic
fleet, and Shortie to Snap's ship, the Rhode Island in the same fleet.
So, contrary to the usual order of things where men in the Academy have
been such chums, their ways would not wholly divide.
Two weeks later the practice ships weighed anchor for Newport, and the
party at Navy Bungalow was broken up. Mrs. Howland, Constance, Gail and
Snap returned to Montgentian. Captain Stewart and Captain Harold were
obliged to rejoin their ships, Mrs. Harold, with Polly and Peggy, going
on to Newport, thence along the coast, following the practice squadron
until its return to Annapolis the last day of August when all midshipmen
go on a month's leave and the Academy is deserted.
Mrs. Harold was to spend September with her sister, a pleasure upon
which she had long counted. Peggy was invited to join her, but alas!
Captain Stewart had rendered THAT impossible by asking his sister-in-law
to pass September at Severndale.
Of this Peggy had not learned at once, but was bitterly disappointed
when she did, though she strove to conceal it from her father, when, too
late, he awakened to what he had done.
Mrs. Stewart had contrived to spend as many hours as possible at Navy
Bungalow, but she had certainly not succeeded in winning the friendship
of its inmates, and Neil Stewart bitterly regretted the impulse which
had prompted him to invite her to Severndale. When too late he realized
that he had fallen into a cleverly planned trap, dragging Peggy with
him. And what was still worse, that there would be no one at hand to
help her out of the situation into which his short-sightedness had
involved her. As a last resort he wrote to Dr. Llewellyn:
"I've been seven kinds of a fool. Watch out for Peggy. She's up against
it, I am afraid, and it is all my doing. I'll write you at length later.
Meanwhile, I'm afraid there'll be ructions."
Poor Dr. Llewellyn was hopelessly bewildered by that letter and prepared
for almost anything.
Mrs. Harold and Polly bade Peggy good-bye at New York. Jerome and Mammy
acting as her body-guard upon the homeward journey.
It was a hard wrench, and the two girls who had been such close
companions for so long felt the separation keenly.
"But you know we'll meet in October and have all next winter before us,"
were Polly's optimistic parting words, little guessing how the coming
winter would be changed for both her and Peggy.
It had been arranged that Mrs. Stewart should arrive at Severndale on
the fifth of September. Peggy reached there on the second and in a half-
hearted way went about her preparations for receiving her aunt.
Nor were Mammy and Jerome more enthusiastic. They had pretty thoroughly
sized up their expected guest while at New London.
Nevertheless, noblesse oblige was the watchword at Severndale.