THE REPULSE
As the squall threatened in the northwest, it had been observed by many
on the shores of Lake Honotonka--and many on the lake itself, as well.
Sailing craft had run for havens. The lake could be nasty at times and
there might be more than a capful of wind in the black cloud that spread
so quickly over a sky that had--an hour before--been of azure.
Had the two girls from Green Knoll Camp been observed by the watermen as
they embarked in their canoes at Meade's Forge, they might have been
warned against venturing far from the shore in those cockleshells. But
Wynifred and Bessie had not been observed, so were not warned.
The squall had come down so quickly that they were not much to be
blamed. It had startled other people on the lake--and those much more
used to its vagaries.
In a cove on the north shore a small cat-rigged boat had been drifting
since noon-time, its single occupant having found the fishing very good.
This fisher was the boatman's daughter, Polly Jarley.
She had now a splendid catch and she knew that, if the wind held true, a
sharp run to the westward would bring her to Braisely Park. At some one
of the private landings there her fish would be welcomed--she could get
more for them than she could at the Forge, which was nearer.
But the squall gathered so fast that she had to put aside the thought of
the run down the lake. The wind would switch about, too, after the
squall. That was a foregone conclusion.
She waited until the blow was past and then saw that it would be quite
impossible to make the park that afternoon and return to the landing in
time for tea. And if she was later her father would be worried.
Mr. Jarley did not like to have his girl go out this way and work all
day; but there seemed nothing else to be done this summer. They owed so
much at the stores at the Forge; and the principal and interest on the
chattel mortgage must be found before New Year or they would lose their
fleet of boats. And as yet few campers had come to the lake who wished
to hire Mr. Jarley's boats.
So by fishing (and none of the old fellows who had fished Honotonka for
years was wiser about the good fishing places than Polly) the girl added
from one to two dollars every favorable day to the family income.
Sometimes she was off by light in one boat or another; but she did not
often come to this northern side of the lake. This cove was at least ten
miles from home.
As the last breath of the squall passed, the wind veered as she had
expected, and Polly, having reeled in her two lines and unjointed the
bamboo poles, stowed everything neatly, raised the anchor, or kedge, and
set a hand's breadth of the big sail.
The canvas filled, and with the sheet in one hand and the other on the
arm of the tiller, the girl steered the catboat out of the cove and into
the rumpus kicked up by the passing squall.
The girls of the Go-Ahead Club would surely have been frightened had
they been aboard the little _Coquette_, as the catboat was named.
She rocked and jumped, and the spume flew over her gunwale in an
intermittent shower. But in this sea, which so easily swamped the
canoes, the catboat was as safe as a house.
Polly was used to much rougher weather than this. In the summer Lake
Honotonka was on its best behavior. At other seasons the tempests tore
down from the north and west and sometimes made the lake so terrible in
appearance that even the hardiest bateau man in those parts would not
risk himself in a boat.
Polly knew, however, that the worst of the squall was over. The lake
would gradually subside to its former calm. And the change in the wind
was favorable now to a quick passage either to the Forge or to her
father's tiny landing.
"Can't get any fancy price for the fish at Meade's," thought Polly. "I
have a good mind to put them in our trap and try again for Braisely Park
to-morrow morning."
As she spoke she was running outside the horns of the cove. She could
get a clear sweep now of the lake--as far as it could be viewed from the
low eminence of the boat--and she rose up to see it.
"Nobody out but I," she thought. "Ah! all those folk at the end of the
lake ran in when the squall appeared. And the girls and boys over
yonder----"
She was peering now across the lake ahead of the _Coquette's_ nose,
toward the little island where was Cave-in-the-Wood Camp, and at Green
Knoll Camp, where the girls from Denton were staying.
Her face fell as she focused her gaze upon the bit of high, green bank
on which the sun was now shining again so brilliantly. She remembered
how badly she had been treated by Bess Lavine only that morning.
"I can't go over there any more," she muttered. "That girl will never
forget--or let the others forget--that father has been accused of being
a thief. It's a shame! A hateful shame! And we're every bit as good as
she is----"
Her gaze dropped to the tumbling wavelets between her and the distant
green hillock. She was about to resume her seat and catch the tiller,
which she had held steady with her knee.
But now her breath left her and for a moment she stood motionless--only
giving to the plunge and jump of the _Coquette_ through the choppy
waves.
"Ah!" she exclaimed again, after a little intake of breath.
There were two round objects rising and falling in the rough water--and
far ahead. They looked like cocoanuts.
But a little to one side was a long, black something--a stick of timber
drifting on the current? No! _An overturned boat._
There was no mistaking the cocoanut-like objects. They were human heads.
Two capsized people were struggling in the lake.
Polly, in thirty seconds, was keenly alive to what she must do. There
was no time lost in bewailing the catastrophe, or wondering about the
identity of the castaways.
Who or whatever they were they must be saved. There was not another boat
on the lake. And the swimmers were too far from land to be observed
under any conditions.
The wind was strong and steady. The wavelets were still choppy, but
Polly Jarley never thought of a wetting.
Up went the sail--up, up, up until the unhelmed catboat lay over almost
on beam ends. The girl took a sailor's turn of the sheet around the
cleat and then swung all her weight against the tiller, to bring the
boat's head up. She held the sheet ready to let go if a warning creak
from the mast should sound, or the boat refuse to respond.
But in half a minute the _Coquette_ righted. It had been a perilous
chance--she might have torn the stick out. The immediate peril was past,
however. The great canvas filled. Away shot the sprightly
_Coquette_ with the wind--a bone in her teeth.
Now and then she dipped and the spume flew high, drenching Polly. The
boatman's daughter was not dressed for this rough work, for she was
hatless and wore merely a blouse and old skirt for outside garments. She
had pulled off her shoes and stockings while she fished and had not had
time to put them on again.
So the flying spray wet her through. She dodged occasionally to protect
her eyes from the spoondrift which slatted so sharply across the deck
and into the cockpit. The water gathered in the bottom of the old boat
and was soon ankle-deep.
But Polly knew the craft was tight and that this water could be bailed
out again when she had time. Just now her mind and gaze were fixed
mainly upon the round, bobbing objects ahead.
For some minutes, although the catboat was traveling about as fast as
Polly had ever sailed, save in a power boat, the girl could not be sure
whether the swamped voyagers were girls or boys. It might be two of the
Busters, from Gannet Island, for all she knew. She had made up her mind
that the victims of the accident were from one camp or the other. There
were no other campers as yet on the shore at this end of the lake.
Then Polly realized that the heads belonged to girls. She could see the
braids floating out behind. And she knew that they were fighting for
their lives.
They swam near together; once one of them raised up breast high in the
water, as though looking shoreward. But neither turned back to see if
help was coming from behind.
With both hands engaged with sheet and tiller Polly could not make a
megaphone to carry her voice; but several times she shouted as loud as
she could:
"Ahoy! Hold on! I'm coming!"
Her voice seemed flung right back into her face--drowned by the slatting
spray. How viciously that water stung!
The _Coquette_ was traveling at racing speed; but would she be in
time?
How long could those two girls bear up in the choppy sea?
One of the heads suddenly disappeared. Polly shrieked; but she could do
nothing to aid.
The spray filled her eyes again and, when she had shaken them free,
Polly saw that the other swimmer--the stronger one--had gotten her
comrade above the surface once more.
Indeed, this one was swimming on her back and holding up the girl who
had gone under. How brave she was!
The sun shone clear upon the two in the water and Polly recognized
Wynifred Mallory.
"Wyn! Wynnie! Hold to her! Hold up!" cried the boatman's daughter. "I'll
help you!"
But she was still so far away--it seemed as though the catboat never
_would_ come within hailing distance. But before she turned over in
the water to swim with Bessie's hand upon her shoulder, the captain of
the Go-Ahead Club beheld the catboat rushing down upon them.
She could only wave a beckoning hand. She could not cry out. Wyn was
well-nigh breathless, and Bessie's only hope was in her. The captain of
the canoe club had to save her strength.
Down swooped the catboat. Polly was shouting madly; but not for an
instant did she lose control of the boat or ignore the work she had in
hand. She wanted to encourage Wyn and the other; but she was taking no
chances.
Suddenly she let the sheet run and loosed the halliards. The canvas
fluttered down on the deck with a rustle and crash. The catboat sprang
to even keel, but shot on under the momentum it had gained in swooping
down upon the swamped girls.
"Wyn! hold hard! _I've got you!_"
But it was the other girl Polly grasped. Wyn had turned, thrust the
half-drowned Bessie before her, and Polly, leaning over the gunwale of
the tossing boat, seized her by the shoulders.
In a moment she heaved up, struggled, dragged the other girl forward,
and together rescuer and rescued tumbled flat into the cockpit of the
_Coquette_.
Polly shouted again:
"Wyn! Wyn! I'll come back for you----"
"Give me a hand!" cried Wyn, hanging to the rudder. "Polly! you old
darling! If you hadn't got here when you did----"
Polly left Bess to her own resources and rushed to the stern. She helped
Wyn clamber into the boat. Then she hoisted the sail again, and got way
upon the boat. She raised the canvas only a little, for she had risked
all the weight she dared upon the mast before.
"Are you all right, Bess?" cried Wyn.
"I--I'm alive. But, oh! I'm so--so sick," gasped Miss Lavine.
"Brace up, Bess! We're all right now. Polly has saved us."
"Polly?" cried Bess, sitting up, the better to see the boatman's
daughter as the latter sat again at the helm. "Oh, Polly!"
"You'd better both lie down till we get to the camp. I'll take you right
there," said the other girl, briefly.
"We'd have been--been drowned, Wyn!" gasped Bess.
"I guess we would. We are still a long way from shore."
"And Polly saved us? All alone? How wonderful!"
But Polly's face was stern. She scarcely spoke to the two Denton girls
as the _Coquette_ swept across the lake. Wyn told her just how it
all happened and the condition of the two canoes when they lost sight of
them.
"I saw one; maybe the other can be found," Polly said. "I'll speak to
father and, if the moon comes up clear bye and bye, we'll run out and
see if we can recover them."
But for Bess she had no word, or look, and when the other put out her
hand timidly and tried to thank her, as they neared the shore, Polly
only said:
"That's all right. We're used to helping people who get overturned. It
really is nothing."
She would not see Bessie's hand. The latter felt the repulse and Wyn,
who watched them both anxiously, dared not say a word.