CHAPTER XVI.
IN WHICH PHIL PROMISES NOT TO DESERT MISS COLLINGSBY.
If I had not been so anxious to overtake Mr. Whippleton, I should have enjoyed my occupation in the cook-room of the Marian much better. Being in a boat at all was a very pleasant thing to me; a place in the cook-room was still better; while a seat in the standing-room, with one hand on the tiller, in charge of the craft, was the most delightful recreation which the earth had yet presented me. The kitchen of the Marian was substantially the same as that of the Florina, where I had cooked a great many suppers. I knew where to find everything without being told, and I was at home at once.
In looking over the stores, I found what seemed to me to be a month's supply. I knew that Mr. Waterford had expected a party of half a dozen; but the provision lockers contained enough to dine a hundred. There was a great quantity of substantials, such as pork, ham, potatoes, and beef. I thought he had been very lavish for a party for a single day. The bin for charcoal, which was the fuel used in the stove, was filled full.
I selected a nice slice of beefsteak, and proceeded to cut up the potatoes I was to fry. I was soon very busy, and wholly absorbed in my occupation. I enjoyed it, and though it may not be the highest ambition to be a cook, it is a very useful employment. There is an art about cooking; and as I fried the potatoes, I thought it required just as much science as it did to keep a set of books. If I had had Mrs. Whippleton's treasure safe in my possession, I should have been superlatively happy. I cooked all the potatoes I thought would be required for dinner, even giving Miss Collingsby credit for an unfashionably good appetite. The tea-kettle was boiling, and I was just going to fill up the coffee-pot, when a shrill scream startled me, and dissolved the spell which the delights of my occupation had woven around me.
It was the voice of a lady, and of course it could be no other than that of our beautiful passenger. At first it occurred to me that the boom had swung over, and hit her upon the head; but the boat was still heeled over to the leeward, as she had been for the last hour; and I knew that the boom could not go over unless the boat came up to an even keel. Then it flashed upon me that either the skipper or his fair companion had fallen overboard. But I did not wait to discuss probabilities or possibilities; I hastened on deck, passing through the fore scuttle, which I had opened to give me air and light.
When I reached the deck, I was satisfied that the boom had not been the author of the mischief, and that neither of the parties had fallen overboard. The Marian still held her course towards the south-east, and the skipper and the lady were both in the standing-room, though not in the same position that I left them half an hour before. Mr. Waterford was at the helm, of course; but Miss Collingsby was seated as far from him as the limits of the seats would permit. I went aft, and saw that the fair young lady was very red in the face, and apparently very angry. I was puzzled at the situation, and quite unable to explain it.
"Is dinner ready, Phil?" asked Mr. Waterford.
"Not yet."
"Well, hurry it up. We are growing hungry," added the skipper; but I saw that his desire to get rid of me was greater than his appetite.
"I heard a scream here," I replied, determined not to be put out of the way, if my presence or my assistance was needed.
"No, you didn't. That was nothing. Miss Collingsby was singing on the high notes."
I glanced at her. She did not look cheerful enough to sing, but angry enough to touch the high notes, though not the melodious ones.
"I will go down and see you cook, Phil," said she, with a struggle to appear composed, though it was not a success.
I descended to the cabin, and turned to assist her down the steps.
"Stop a few moments, Miss Collingsby, if you please," interposed Mr. Waterford. "I wish to speak to you."
"I will come up again," she replied, leaping lightly upon the cabin floor.
"I am afraid you will find the cook-room rather hot for you," I added, as I led the way forward.
I opened the door into the kitchen, and gave her a seat within the cabin, where she could observe all that was done. I fancied, however, that she did not care much just then how beefsteak and sliced potatoes were cooked on board of a yacht, and that she only desired to escape from the presence of the gallant skipper.
I put the beefsteak upon the stove. I had set the table after preparing the potatoes, and I had nothing to do but watch the meat.
"That is a real nice little place, Phil," said Miss Collingsby; and her tones indicated that she had not yet recovered her self-possession.
"It is rather small, though it is as roomy as any yacht of this size can have."
"I think it is quite cool, with that scuttle open."
"I don't mind the heat; but I am used to it."
"Do you think we shall overtake Mr. Whippleton, Phil?" asked she, after a pause, during which I turned the steak.
"I don't think we have gained on her any yet," I replied.
"I don't believe he means to catch her," added my fair companion, with a very anxious expression.
"We are certainly following the Florina, though we are at least three miles from her. I don't think we shall overhaul her till she comes about, or makes a harbor."
There was another pause: and when I saw how anxious Miss Collingsby was, I could not help feeling a strong sympathy with her. The scream had not yet been explained to me; but I concluded that the gallant skipper had alarmed her by being too demonstrative in his attentions.
"Do you know where we are going?" she inquired.
"I do not; only that we are to join Mr. Whippleton."
"I wish I was on shore again," said she, with a sigh.
"Why?" I asked, in the simplicity of my heart; for I thought, if she was fond of sailing, that she ought to enjoy the trip, for certainly nothing could be pleasanter.
"I have been very imprudent. I ought not to have come," she replied, in a low tone.
"Did you scream?" I ventured to inquire, in a whisper.
"I did."
"What was the matter?"
"I have been very imprudent," she repeated, her face glowing with confusion.
"I hope he didn't harm you."
"O, no! He didn't mean to harm me; but he was impudent and insulting. I will never speak to him again, as long as I live!"
"Of course your father knew you were coming with Mr. Waterford."
"No; he did not; but my mother did. My father is very stern, and very particular, I suppose you know. He hates Mr. Waterford, while my mother thinks he is a very fine man. But my mother told me not to come with him unless there were other ladies in the party."
"He seems to have a very high regard for you," said I. "He has named his boat after you."
"But I have been very imprudent, Phil. I am afraid of Mr. Waterford."
"You need not be afraid of him. I will see that no harm comes to you, and that you return home safely."
"You are my father's clerk—are you not?"
"I am."
"I saw you at the house this morning; and I have heard that you were a very good young man. You will not let him harm me."
"Certainly not."
She was really terrified, though I could not see any good reason for her fears.
"You must be very watchful, too," she added.
"Why, what do you fear?"
"He means to get rid of you," she answered, her face crimson with blushes.
"To get rid of me!" I exclaimed.
"He said so to me. You will not expose my weakness, if I tell you all, Philip?" said she, the tears starting in her beautiful eyes; and really I felt like crying myself.
"Not a word, nor a hint," I protested.
"Mr. Waterford has been very attentive to me for a year; and I confess that I liked him. But my father said he was an unprincipled man."
"Your father was right."
"I fear he was. Mr. Waterford asked me, several weeks ago, to run away with him, and be married in some town on the other side of the lake. I was weak enough to listen to him, but not to accept his proposition. He repeated it to-day, and with some familiarity which frightened me, and made me scream. I never was so alarmed before in my life."
"What did he do?"
"He put his arm around me, and attempted to kiss me," said she, desperately. "Now you know the worst."
I did not think it was so bad as it might be, after she had encouraged him by listening to his proposals.
"He is a bad man. I begin to be of my father's opinion in regard to him."
"Mr. Whippleton is another bad man," I added.
"Mr. Whippleton! What, my father's partner?"
At the risk of letting the beef be burned, I told her briefly the history of the man, and that he was even then running from the officer, while I was in pursuit of him.
"Dear me! What will become of me!" she exclaimed.
"Don't be afraid of anything. I will protect you."
"But you don't know the worst!"
"Do you?"
"I think I do. He has decoyed me into this boat, and he means to get rid of you. He told me so. Then he will take me to some town on the lake, if he can persuade me to accept his proposal. Don't leave me, Phil! Don't let him get rid of you!"
"I will not."
"I think I understand him perfectly, now; and I feel very miserable to think I disregarded the instructions of my mother. He will persecute me till I consent to his proposal," continued the poor girl, wiping away her tears. "I shall depend upon you for my safety, Philip."
"I will not fail you, Miss Collingsby. I do not mean to lose sight of Mr. Whippleton, and I have no idea of being thrust out of the way," I replied, as I dished up the beefsteak, and put the plate on the table.
"Dinner is ready," I shouted, when I had placed the potatoes and coffee on the table.
My mission below for the present was accomplished, and I went on deck by the fore scuttle. I looked for the Florina as soon as I went up, and found that she had hauled her wind, and was standing towards the Illinois shore of the lake. The Marian had followed her example. I saw the former enter a creek soon after, where she disappeared from our view. I knew the locality very well, for I had been up the creek in the Florina with Mr. Whippleton. The mouth of it was a broad lagoon, which extends into a series of swamps.
"Take the helm, Phil," said Mr. Waterford, as I walked aft to the standing-room. "Is dinner on the table?"
"Yes, all ready."
"Head her into the creek, Phil, and we will land there," added he, as he went below, leaving me in charge of the yacht.
I could not help thinking that Miss Collingsby was more frightened than hurt. She was certainly a beautiful girl, and was sure to have a princely dowry when she was married. I could not blame Mr. Waterford for wanting her, and I was confident Mr. Collingsby would never consent to such a match. Without appearing to be suspicious, I intended to watch the skipper closely, and if he attempted to get rid of me, he would find it would take two to make that bargain.
Before the interesting couple in the cabin had finished their dinner, I ran the Marian into the creek. When the skipper came on deck, he immediately anchored the yacht, near the south bank of the lagoon. After I had eaten my dinner, he took the small boat, and wished me to go on shore with him, as Miss Collingsby declined to land.
CHAPTER XVII.
IN WHICH PHIL PUTS A CHECK ON THE OPERATIONS OF MR. BEN WATERFORD.
Mr. Waterford had anchored the Marian within a couple of rods of the shore, where there was a bank convenient for landing. He had simply lowered the jib, leaving the mainsail set, but with the boom hauled down to the traveller, to keep it from swaying. Miss Collingsby did not come on deck when she had finished her dinner, but sat in the cabin, apparently reading a book she had found there; but I think her mind was not interested in the contents of the volume.
"Come, Phil; will you go on shore with me?" repeated Mr. Waterford, after he had hauled the little tender alongside the yacht.
"I haven't cleared away the dishes yet," I replied.
"Never mind them now; there will be time enough for that when we return."
"But everything in the kitchen is just as I left it," I added.
"We shall not be absent more than ten or fifteen minutes."
"Can't you go alone?"
"No, but you can," he replied, with a winning smile, which was doubtless intended to lure me into the trap he had set for me. "There are some beautiful swamp flowers a short distance from the shore, and I wish to get a bouquet for Miss Collingsby."
"Can't one carry the bouquet alone?" I asked.
"You are a stout fellow; possibly you could," laughed he. "If you will go, I will tell you where to find the flowers."
"If you know, it would be better for you to go, and I will clear away the dinner things while you are gone."
"We must pull the tender out of the water when we land, and I don't think I can do it alone. I want to turn it over, and get the dirty water out of it, for it really is not fit for a lady to get into. Miss Collingsby says she is not afraid to stay alone for a few moments."
"Very well; if you will stay on board and put away the dishes, I will go on shore alone," I replied, moved to give this answer by a whispered suggestion from Miss Marian.
"All right; but can you turn the boat over alone?"
"Certainly I can; that boat don't weigh more than seventy-five pounds."
Miss Collingsby immediately came on deck, and went to the side where the tender was lying.
"I think I will go with you, Mr. Phil," said she. "I should like to see where the flowers grow."
"But that boat is not fit for a lady to get into in its present condition," interposed Mr. Waterford, annoyed by this new phase of our lady passenger's will.
"It will answer very well for me," she replied.
"Indeed, I cannot permit you to get into that boat; but if you wish to land, we will take it ashore first, and empty out the dirty water."
"O, no! I won't give you all that trouble," added she, retreating to the cabin again.
"I will go down and put out my fire, and then I shall be ready," I continued, following her below.
"Don't leave me, Phil," said Marian, earnestly, but in a low tone.
"If you will trust the matter to me, I will manage it right," I replied. "But I wish to let him have his own way for the present."
"But you see now that he wants to leave you on shore."
"I have no doubt of that; still I wish to go on shore with him. You may be assured that no accident shall happen to you," I answered, as I rattled the stove to convince the skipper that I was busy at the work I had come below to do.
"I am terribly alarmed. All Mr. Waterford's looks and, actions convince me that he means mischief."
"I know he does; he has fully satisfied me on that point. But will you leave the whole matter to me?"
"Yes; but do be very cautious."
"I shall go on shore with him."
"Then he may leave you there."
"No; he cannot do that. I will watch him; and I can swim off to the boat before he can hoist the jib and get under way. Trust me, Miss Collingsby."
"I do trust you; but he may deceive you."
"He will if he can. I cannot afford to be left here, for I have business with Mr. Whippleton for your father's sake, as well as my own."
"You seem to understand yourself very well; but Mr. Waterford is very sharp."
"Perhaps I am; at any rate, he will not leave me on shore."
"Are you ready, Phil?" shouted the skipper, at the companion-way; and I began to think he was a little suspicious of my movements.
"All ready," I replied, and hastened on deck.
I pulled off my coat, and left it in the yacht, so that, in case I had to swim, I should be the less encumbered.
"Throw a bucket into the boat, so that you can wash out the tender," said the skipper.
"I don't know that I can haul the boat up that bank alone, after all," I added, looking at the shore.
"I don't think you can; my plan is the most sensible one. We will both go."
He jumped into the boat, and I followed him. Taking one of the oars, he paddled the tender to the shore, and we landed. Mr. Waterford was evidently a thorough strategist, for he went through all the forms of doing what he had proposed. We hauled the boat out of the water, removed everything movable, and then turned her over.
"Now, Phil, those swamp flowers grow about ten rods from here, on the bank of a little brook. Follow that path, and you will come to the place," said he, pointing into the swamp. "While you are getting them, I will wash out the boat. But don't be gone long, for I can't put the boat into the water without your help."
I thought he could put it into the water without my help, and that he would do it as soon as I was out of sight. I went into a clump of bushes near the spot where he stood, intending to watch his movements, for I wished to be entirely satisfied that he meditated treachery. I wished to be able to justify myself for any step I might be compelled to take.
I did not think Mr. Ben Waterford would have undertaken his present desperate scheme if he had not received some encouragement from Miss Collingsby. She confessed to me that she had listened to him once before, when he suggested an elopement; but she was now, as she began to reap the fruits of complaisance, convinced of her own imprudence. It was necessary for the bold schemer to get rid of me; and he was prepared to part company with me in the most summary manner. If he could do so, it was possible that he might win or drive his fair passenger into compliance with his proposition. She would be rich at some time in the future; but more than this, she was beautiful and accomplished. Her father would not consent to her union with such a character as Waterford. He could only win her by such a bold movement as that upon which he had already entered.
I had not been in the bushes three minutes before Mr. Ben Waterford suddenly changed his tactics. The boat seemed to be no longer unfit for the reception of a lady, and he shoved it down the bank into the water, as though he had suddenly been endowed with a new strength. Of course I expected him to do this; and before he could pick up the oars, I stepped out of my covert, and was prepared to leap into the boat with him; for, though the day was warm and pleasant, I had no fancy for swimming off to the Marian.
"Where are the flowers?" demanded he, with some wrath, which he could not wholly conceal, and apparently taken all aback by my sudden reappearance.
"I didn't find them," I replied, with a good-natured smile, for I was not a little pleased at the checkmate I had put upon my fellow-voyager.
"Did you look?"
"Not much."
"Why didn't you? We don't want to stay here all day," said he, unable to hide his chagrin.
"I am ready to go when you are."
"Why didn't you get the flowers?" growled he.
"To tell the whole truth, I was afraid you would forget that I was on shore, and go on board without me," I answered, laughing.
"You blockhead! What do you mean by that?"
"I'm compelled to believe you have a bad memory; and I fear you forgot to invite the rest of the ladies included in your programme. You might forget me, in the same manner, and this wouldn't be a good place to stay."
"You are growing impudent, Phil."
"No; only prudent."
"Come with me, you lunkhead, and I will show you where the flowers are," said he, rushing towards the path, as though he meant to obtain the flowers or die in the attempt.
"If you know where they are, you can get them alone," I added.
"I do know where they are. You seem to think I am playing a trick upon you; and I want to show you that I am not."
"I don't think you will be able to show me that if I go; so I may as well stay here."
"Come along!"
"I don't think you washed the boat out very nicely. You didn't have time to do it, and you didn't give me three minutes to find and pick the beautiful flowers."
"What is the matter with you, Phil? You seem to have changed your face all of a sudden. What ails you?"
"Nothing at all; never was in better health in my life, thank you."
"Why didn't you get the flowers, then, as you said you would?"
"I didn't say so; you said it. I should have got them, if I hadn't been afraid you would forget I was on shore, and go on board without me."
"What put that into your silly head?"
"You did."
"No, I didn't."
"I don't like to contradict a gentleman; but I had not gone three rods before you shoved the boat into the water, without troubling yourself to wash it out."
"What were you watching me for?" demanded he.
"Because I was afraid you would forget me, as I said."
"What do you mean? What makes you so suspicious?"
"Your conduct; nothing else."
"What have I done?"
"You tried to get rid of me, and intended to leave me here in this inhospitable swamp, away from any human habitation, and with nothing in sight but the railroad and the lake."
"What put such a notion as that into your head, Phil?"
"I have come to the conclusion that you think there is one too many for the present cruise in the Marian. I should not have come, if you had not been so kind as to invite me; and now I don't intend to be left in this swamp."
"Nobody thought of leaving you in the swamp."
"Then you are nobody—which it is not polite to say."
"Come, Phil, we have been good friends, and we won't quarrel now."
"I won't, if I can help it."
"Let us walk up to the place where the flowers grow," said he, leading the way.
I followed him; but I deemed it advisable to keep at a respectful distance from him. His only purpose was to get rid of me, and I did not believe that he would be very scrupulous about the means of doing so. I did not think he would attempt to murder me, or anything of that sort; but Miss Collingsby, and Miss Collingsby's expectations, were the prize for which he was playing. I followed him about twenty rods from the boat, but without seeing anything which looked like flowers. Indeed, I had landed here before; and I should as soon have thought of looking for flowers in the Desert of Sahara as in this region.
Mr. Ben Waterford seated himself on a little hummock, and looked as though he had something more to say. He did not seem to be in any hurry, though Miss Collingsby was alone on board of the yacht; and, as the Florina was also in the lagoon, I could afford to wait as long as he could; so I seated myself on another hummock near him.
CHAPTER XVIII.
IN WHICH PHIL PROTESTS WITH THE BOAT-HOOK, BUT IS PROTESTED.
"Phil, you are aware, I suppose, that I am engaged to Miss Collingsby," Mr. Ben Waterford began.
"I must acknowledge my own ignorance. I was not aware of it," I replied.
"It is so."
"Was that what made her scream while I was getting dinner?"
"Scream! She didn't scream!"
"I'm not deaf."
"She only uttered an exclamation."
"You said she was singing; but I always suppose something is the matter when ladies utter exclamations in just that way."
"You are saucy and impudent."
"Very likely it is impudent for me to see and hear what I ought not to see and hear."
"But haven't you any gumption?"
"Just now you accused me of having too much gumption. Somehow I don't think this is half so pleasant a party on the lake as you represented that it would be."
"Will you hear me?"
"Certainly I will; go on."
"I told you I was engaged to Miss Collingsby. One does not like to talk about these things, I know—but—"
"Then the less said the better," I interposed, laughing.
"You said you would hear me."
"I will; go on."
"I want you to understand, in the first place, that I am engaged to Miss Collingsby," he continued, with a pause, to note the effect upon me.
"You have said that three times; but I don't believe I shall be able to understand it if you say it three times more."
"Do you doubt my word?"
"I only say that my understanding is defective on that point."
"I think I ought to know."
"So ought Miss Collingsby; but she don't. I'm afraid she is as stupid as I am."
"Do you mean to say that she has denied it?"
"Not exactly. I don't know that I ever had anything to do with parties that were engaged; but I don't believe the lady screams, or utters exclamations, if you please, and then rushes into the cabin to get out of the way of the gentleman to whom she is engaged. As I said, I don't understand these things; but I don't believe that's the way they are done."
"You are a blockhead, Phil."
"I know it. My head is so hard you can't get any of that sort of nonsense into it."
"I see that you are disposed to quarrel with me."
"Not at all, Mr. Waterford," I protested. "If you consider this cruise a failure, I am willing to go on board of the yacht and return to Chicago."
"Do you know who owns that yacht?" said he, sternly.
"Of course I do. I wishIdid, but I don't."
"I judged from your talk that you thought she belonged to you."
"That happiness is not mine. I wish it was. But her gentlemanly owner was kind enough to invite me to sail with him; and I don't intend to deprive him of the pleasure of my company until we return to Chicago. I think it would be mean to do so."
"I wish to remind you that I claim the right to choose my own company."
"To be sure; and you exercised it when you invited Miss Collingsby and myself to sail with you."
"But having changed my mind after your strange conduct, I may decline your company any longer."
"It would be very proper to decline it after we return to the city."
"I may find it necessary to refuse to take you on board again."
"You would not leave me in this desolate place?"
"If you don't behave yourself, I may."
"If you do, I shall protest."
"Protest!" sneered he.
"Perhaps I might even protest with the boat-hook," I added; "for such a step on your part would be an outrage."
"You are smart for a boy."
"I did not exactly force myself into your boat, though I was very glad to go in her, for I expected by this time to meet Mr. Whippleton."
"I wanted to tell you what my purpose was," said he, making another effort to approach the subject which he had tried to introduce before.
"I think I know what your purpose was."
"Do you, indeed?"
"I do, indeed."
"Perhaps you would be willing to state it."
"To save you the trouble of doing so in your roundabout way, I will. You intended to run away with Miss Collingsby. You deceived her, lied to her, and thus induced her to come on board of your yacht. You asked me only because she would not go alone with you."
"Did she tell you that?" demanded he, biting his lip, and trying to subdue his rising wrath.
"No matter what she told me; I am not blind. You told her you would join Mr. Whippleton's party, and that the two Miss Lords were on board of his boat. I saw her when she came in here, and he was alone."
"The ladies were in the cabin, I suppose."
"Mr. Whippleton is alone: he does not wish for any company to-day."
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, evidently suspecting that I was wiser than I ought to be.
"Miss Collingsby is alone on board of the Marian. I am afraid she will be uneasy if you remain here any longer. If you are engaged to her, she must be very anxious about you."
"Don't be ugly and disagreeable, Phil. You are a good fellow. No one knows it better than I do. Now let us fix this thing up."
"I'm too thick to understand you."
"You are a good fellow, and I know you will help me out of this scrape," he continued, suddenly looking cheerful and pleasant, as though the whole difficulty had been solved.
"If you will do the right thing, I will help you out of it."
"I knew you would. You understand the matter. I do love Miss Collingsby, and she will tell you herself that she is not indifferent to me. She consented some time ago to elope with me, in my boat. We can run over to Lansing, St. Joseph, or some other town on the east side of the lake, be married, and return a happy couple. Since we are both agreed on this step, you are not hard-hearted enough to step between us. Her mother is willing, but her father, you know, is a stiff and unreasonable man. It will be all right with him when we return."
"Has Miss Collingsby consented to this step?" I asked.
"She consented to it once before, and if the way is open she will not object. Of course girls are coy about these things."
"I have been told they are," I replied, indifferently.
"Now you will help me out, Phil—won't you?"
"I will," I added, rising from my seat.
"That's a good fellow; and you shall never want for a friend. By the way, a smart book-keeper, like yourself, ought to have double the salary you are receiving now: and I will see that you have a better place as soon as we return. Whippleton says you are worth a thousand dollars a year."
"Thank you."
"And I will make it my whole business to see that you have such a situation. Now I think of it, our bank wants a book-keeper, and will pay twelve hundred a year. I can almost promise you the place."
"You are very kind, and I am much obliged to you."
"I will make it all right within three days after we come back. We can run over to St. Joseph, as the wind is now, before night. Then the knot can be tied, and we shall be back to-morrow night, or the next day; or, if you don't wish to be absent from your business so long, all you have to do is to wait here till Whippleton comes down in the Florina, and go on board of her. He will take you right back to Chicago before dark. What do you think of my plan?" he asked, nervously.
"The plan is good enough, but it won't work."
"What's the reason it won't?"
"Well, I object, for one reason."
"You object! Permit me to say, it is none of your business."
"Isn't it? Well, I thought it was, after your elaborate argument to convince me. Miss Collingsby objects also."
"No, she does not. Don't I tell you that she consented to elope with me?"
"I know you do; but I don't believe it—to be as frank as the occasion requires."
"Do you doubt my word?"
"We won't quarrel about anybody's word. If Miss Collingsby will tell me herself that she consents to your plan, I will stay on shore here, or go to St. Joseph with you, just as you desire."
"Of course she is not going to talk with you about such a matter. Girls are timid. You said you would help me out of this scrape, Phil."
"And so I will, with the greatest pleasure."
"What do you mean, then, by saying that you object?"
"I want to help you out of the scrape, and not into it. That's what I mean. Let us return to Chicago, and that will get you out of the scrape."
"Do you think I am to be made a fool of by a boy like you?" said he, rising and stepping towards me.
"I hope not; I assure you I have no such wicked intention."
"You have said enough, Phil."
"That's just my opinion; and I would like to amend it by adding that you also have said enough."
"Whether you help me or not, I want you to understand that I intend to carry out my plan."
"Not if I can help it. I want to be understood, too."
"The Marian belongs to me, and I can dispense with your company."
"Send Miss Collingsby on shore, and you may do so. I claim to be her protector, and I intend to stand by her to the end."
"Protector! You blockhead!" sneered he. "Pray, who made you her protector?"
"She did, for one; and I happen to be a relative of hers, which is an additional reason why I should not permit any one to mislead her."
"How long have you been a relative?"
"Ever since I was born, of course."
"Of course you are lying."
"I am not recognized as a relative; but no matter for that. I feel just as much interest in her as though she was my own sister."
"I am going on board of the boat now," said Mr. Waterford, gathering himself up.
"So am I."
"No, you are not—on board of my boat. There comes the Florina," he added, pointing to Mr. Whippleton's yacht, which was coming down the lagoon before the wind. "You had better hail her."
"I shall not. My present business is to take care of Miss Collingsby. When she is safe, I have business with Mr. Whippleton."
"I tell you once for all, that you shall not put your foot on board the Marian again."
Mr. Waterford walked towards the place where we had landed, and I followed him closely enough to prevent him from stealing a march upon me. As the matter now stood, he would attempt to prevent me from getting into the boat. I intended to insist, and a battle seemed to be imminent. The Florina stood over towards the opposite side of the creek, apparently for the purpose of giving the Marian a wider berth. I could see that Mr. Whippleton was alone in the standing-room, and I was confident that, if he had any ladies on board, they would not stay in the cabin.
Mr. Ben Waterford stepped into the tender, after he had pushed it down the bank so that it would float. I picked up the boat-hook, which lay on the ground, because I thought it was not a proper place to leave it. With this implement in my hand, I stepped lightly into the boat.
"I told you not to come on board of my boat," said Mr. Waterford, angrily.
"I know you did. I am sorry to intrude, but I must. If you will land Miss Collingsby, I will relieve you of my company."
"I will not land Miss Collingsby. Now get out of this boat!" he added, taking up one of the oars.
"You must excuse me."
"I'll excuse you," cried he, rushing upon me with the oar.
Phil fights with Ben WaterfordPhil fights with Ben Waterford.Page 217.
I defended myself with the boat-hook, and being the cooler of the two, I did so with tolerable success. He struck and thrust furiously with his weapon, till he was out of breath; and I was also, besides having had two or three hard raps on the head and arms with his weapon. A desperate lunge knocked me over backwards, and I fell over the bow of the boat upon the beach. I felt that I was defeated, and that I had promised Miss Collingsby more than I had thus far been able to perform. With this advantage over me, Mr. Waterford pushed me back with the oar, and then endeavored to shove off the tender.
My catastrophe seemed to have defeated all my good intentions; and as I went over, I heard Miss Collingsby utter a shrill scream, as though she were the sufferer, instead of myself, as, indeed, she was likely to be.
CHAPTER XIX.
IN WHICH PHIL PROFITS BY CIRCUMSTANCES, AND WEIGHS ANCHOR IN THE MARIAN.
More than once in my eventful career I have realized that neither success nor defeat is what it appears to be. While Mr. Ben Waterford was congratulating himself upon the victory he had apparently achieved, and I was mourning over the defeat involved in my catastrophe, neither of us had foreseen the end. Miss Collingsby appeared to be the greatest sufferer; and the scream with which she announced my defeat was only the echo of my own feelings. As the battle was really her own, rather than mine, of course my misfortune was the greater catastrophe to her.
I lay upon my back on the ground, just as I had tumbled over the bow of the tender. But I did not lie there any great length of time—perhaps not the hundredth part of a second. But there are times when one can think of a great deal in the hundredth part of a second; and I am sure my thoughts were very busy during that infinitesimal period. My reflections were not selfish, and it did not occur to me that Mr. Whippleton was escaping from me and from the wrath to come—only that my fair cousin would be at the mercy of my conqueror.
This was the pungent regret of the moment; and it seemed to me that I ought not to stay conquered. I had left my coat on board of the yacht in order to be able to swim if occasion should require; and I voted unanimously that the occasion did require that I should take a muddy bath in the service of the young lady. My first care was to get up. In doing so, I felt the painter of the boat under me. It seemed to have been left there when the tender was pushed into the water to suggest my next step. It did suggest it, and I hastened to profit by the advantage.
As I began to get up, Mr. Ben Waterford began to push off the boat; and I had just time to seize the rope before it was dragged into the water. I picked it up, and promptly checked the operations of the angry skipper. I checked them rather suddenly. Mr. Waterford was at the stern of the boat; and as he raised his oar to give it another push, I gathered up all my strength, and made a desperate twitch at the rope.
As every one knows who has had anything to do with them, boats are wretchedly unsteady to a person in a standing position. Even an old sailor may find it impossible to maintain his perpendicularity when the boat is unexpectedly moved. Philosophically, the inertia of the man should be gradually overcome, and suddenly overcoming the inertia of the boat, as practice and the formula have both demonstrated, does not overcome that of the man. If he be not prepared for the change from rest to motion, he is in very great danger of being thrown down, and if near the water, of being thrown into it.
The Tables Turned—Phil the VictorThe Tables Turned—Phil the Victor.Page 221.
The body of Mr. Ben Waterford was not proof against the law of nature. It followed the rule deduced by practical men from the phenomena of every-day experience, and the formula laid down by those learned in physics. When I twitched the rope, I suddenly and violently overcame the inertia of the tender. Though without any malice on my part, the inertia of Mr. Ben Waterford was not overcome at the same time. His tendency was to remain at rest, and the consequence was, that I pulled the boat out from under him. Furthermore, as there was water where the boat had been when I pulled, because two bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same time, the body of Mr. Waterford went into the water—the muddy, dirty water of the lagoon—stirred up by the oar with which he had pushed off the tender.
Divested of the language of science, the fact was, that Mr. Ben Waterford had tumbled over backward into the creek. In substance, he had repeated the experiment at the stern of the boat which I had tried at the bow, only he had fallen into the water, and I had fallen upon the land. In spite of preferences for the water, I must acknowledge that the land is a pleasanter element to fall upon than the water, especially if the water is dirty, for a gentleman instinctively abhors filth.
I protest that I had not intended to pitch Mr. Ben Waterford into the lagoon. Although I was familiar with the law of physics applicable to his case, I could not foresee what measure of resistance he would offer to the action of the formula, or what degree of caution he would use. Without any premeditation on my part,—for I solemnly declare that I only intended to prevent him from pushing off the tender,—it was an accomplished fact that Mr. Ben Waterford was floundering in the muddy water of the lagoon, while the tender was absolutely in my possession.
I could not quarrel with fate, destiny, good fortune, or whatever it was that had turned the tide in my favor at the very moment of defeat; and I made haste to profit by the circumstances as I found them. I ran along the bank of the creek, dragging the boat after me; and by the time the unhappy skipper had elevated his head above the surface of the foul pool, now rendered doubly foul by his own movements upon the soft bottom, I had the tender a couple of rods from him. He was in no danger of drowning; for while I should say that he was sunk half way up to his knees in the mud, the tiny wavelets rippled against the gold vest chain to which his watch was attached. In other words, the water was not quite up to his armpits. I do not know whether Mr. Waterford was able to swim or not: I never saw him swim, and he did not swim on this momentous occasion. He simply stood up in the water, rubbing the muddy fluid out of his eyes. He had not yet sufficiently recovered from the shock of his fall, and the muddy blindness which surrounded him, to realize the nature of the situation.
At a safe distance from his convulsive clutch, I jumped into the tender, and paddled rapidly to the yacht. I gave Mr. Waterford a wide berth, and left him trying to obtain a better vision of the surroundings. I leaped upon the deck of the Marian, and fastened the painter of the tender at the taffrail. Miss Collingsby spoke to me, but I heeded not what she said, and sprang forward as fast as I could move my steps. I hauled up the anchor, but without waiting to wash off the mud, or stow the cable, I hastened to the helm. Letting out the sheet, I "wore ship," and in half a minute the Marian was standing out of the lagoon.
"Stop! What are you about!" shouted Mr. Ben Waterford, who was paddling through the mud towards the shore.
I made no reply to him, for I had nothing to say. Between running away from him and permitting him to run away with Miss Collingsby, I was compelled to choose the less of the two evils. My mission was to save the young lady, and I intended to do so. I had made a faithful use of the opportunity presented to me; and after attempting to leave me in that desolate place, I thought it was not unreasonable for Mr. Waterford to "try it on" himself, even if the yacht did belong to him. I was not disposed to weigh all the nice questions which the situation presented. It was clearly my duty to assist Miss Collingsby, and I was disposed to do it without consulting the comfort and convenience of Mr. Waterford, who meditated the mischief against her.
The defeated skipper continued to shout at me in the most furious manner, threatening me with all the terrors of the law and his own wrath. I was willing to refer the whole subject to Mr. Collingsby after we returned to Chicago; and I regarded him as an all-sufficient defender against both the law and the wrath of Mr. Waterford. I saw him make his way to the shore, shake the mud and water from his garments, and then hasten to a point of land which projected out into the lake at the mouth of the creek. But he might as well have hastened towards the other end of the lake, for long before he could reach it, I had passed the point, and was out in the open lake.
I was out of hailing distance of the unhappy skipper when he reached the point, though I could still see his violent gestures. Miss Collingsby sat in the standing-room, watching her late persecutor with anxious interest. Perhaps she feared he might, by some foul mischance, undo what I had done; that he might annihilate the waste of waters before him, and step between her and me. I had no such fears. There were no boats or vessels near us, and I was satisfied that Mr. Waterford would be obliged to walk several miles to a station on the railroad which passed through the swamp and over the lagoon.
I was so well satisfied with the good fortune that grew out of my catastrophe, that I soon neglected to think of Mr. Ben Waterford. I left him to enjoy his own reflections; and I hoped one of them would be, that villany could not long prosper even in this world. I wished that he might recall, if he had ever heard of it, the Scotch poet's proverb, that
"The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley, An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain For promised joy."
This bit of romance was not likely to end in a marriage, thanks to the returning or awaked sense of Miss Collingsby.
I ceased to think of my discomfited skipper, and turned my thoughts to Mr. Charles Whippleton, to whom I devoted my whole attention. The Florina had passed out of the creek in the midst of the encounter between Waterford and myself; and the junior partner of our firm must have seen me when I was pitched over the bow of the tender. Whether he had been able to see the issue of the battle or not, I did not know, for his yacht passed beyond the point before it was terminated. The Florina was headed to the eastward, and I judged that she was about a mile ahead of me when I tripped the anchor of the Marian. I intended to chase him even into the adjoining lakes, if he led me so far. I meant to recover Mrs. Whippleton's treasure, if it took me all summer, and used up all the money I had in the world.
Marian Collingsby looked very sad and anxious. Her chest heaved with emotion as she realized how serious was the movement upon which we had entered. I was confident that, if she ever reached the shelter of her father's roof, she would never be imprudent again; that she would have more regard for her father's solid judgment than for her own fanciful preferences.
"You don't know how frightened I was, Philip," said she, when I took my place at the helm.
"I don't wonder. I was frightened myself; but it was more for you than for me," I replied, as I let out the main sheet.
"But what a terrible fight you had with him!" exclaimed she, with something like a shudder.
"O, that was nothing!" I replied, laughing, in order to encourage her.
"Nothing! Why, he struck at you with the oar!"
"And I struck at him with the boat-hook. I have been in a worse fight than that."
"You have!"
"Yes; I have been where the bullets flew thick and fast."
"You!"
"I was in a battle with the Indians; and I once had the happiness to rescue a young lady from the savages; so I think this is a very mild kind of fighting."
"What a hero you have been!"
"Not much of a hero; but I don't like to see anything go wrong with a young lady. I never saw a young lady till I was twelve years old, and I find myself very kindly disposed towards all of them—strange as it may seem."
Miss Collingsby tried to smile, but she did not feel able to do so.