CHAPTER VII
GIVE WAY TOGETHER
"No hurry, boys; we've got the whole arternoon afore us," said the old salt, when he had cooled them off. "You've got some things to larn. You can't row yet no more'n a codfish can go up a ladder. You don't know how."
"I think we can row, Uncle Ben," said Charles uneasily.
"I know you can't. If you don't want to larn, say so, and I'll make the boat fast to the stake again," added the old boatman sharply, as though he meant what he said.
"We do! We do!" protested the boys with one voice.
"Then be quiet, and keep your ear-ports wide open. The boy next to the bow is the bowman. The stroke oarsman is the one farthest aft, or nearest the starn. Each on 'em has a boat-hook. Now take 'em, and shove her off."
The two boys obeyed, and placing the point of the boat-hooks against the rock, shoved off with all their might; and the Zephyr receded from the shore till the wind took her, and drove her out under the lee of Centre Island. Here he directed Tony to throw the grapnel, a small anchor with four flukes, overboard, as much to assure the impatient oarsmen that there was to be no rowing at present, as to hold the boat where she was.
"Now, boys, I want you to larn somethin', so as to know where you are. Some on you better write it down; and don't forgit it."
Several of them took paper and pencils from their pockets, and were ready to write down what was said.
"The for'd part of the boat is the bow; also the fore-sheets," continued the old sailor. "The after part, where the coxswain sets, is the starn-sheets. The middle of the boat is the waist. Enough of that for now. Do you know what an oar is?"
"Of course we do, Uncle Ben!" shouted the crew.
"An oar has three parts," said the instructor.
"It is all in one piece," added one of the boys.
"So is your head all in one piece; but haven't you got any nose, ears, and chin. An oar has three parts,—the blade, the loom, and the handle. The blade is the part you put in the water. The handle is the part you take hold of. The loom is the round part between the blade and the handle. Can you remember that if you haven't writ it down?"
"We know all that like a book," replied Fred Harper.
"This is a carvel-built boat; that is, her planking runs fore and aft," Uncle Ben explained, using gestures to indicate the direction. "Planking may mean boards or thinner stuff. The planks are jointed at the edges so as to fit close, and the spaces between are stuffed with oakum, which is called calking. A clinker-built boat is put together in the same way, but one plank laps over another; and we generally call this kind of boat a lap-streak. Now, youngsters, we are going to take the oars—not yet, till you know how to do it. The first command of the coxswain will be 'Up oars!' They lay now across the thwarts."
"Across what?" asked one of them.
"The thwarts: lubbers call them the seats," replied the old seaman, laughing. "You set backwards when you row, all facing the coxswain. Them as is on the starboard side has the oars on their left. Those on the port has 'em on their right, just where you will put them when you boat your oars after you have done using them. Now, Frank, you will give the first command; but not one of you will obey it, for you don't know how."
"Up oars!" said the coxswain in a commanding tone.
"At this order, you will pick up your oars, and hold them up straight, with the blades athwartships, or across the boat," the instructor explained. "If the boat were at a landing, or alongside another boat, the two bowmen and the two stroke oarsmen would not do as the others do; for it would be their duty to shove off, and get the boat under way. Now you may try it; but don't hurry. Give the order again, Frank. Stand up this time, so that you can see the whole length of the boat."
The coxswain rose from his seat; and having no little natural dignity, he did it very gracefully, and was not at all flurried.
"Up oars!" said he very slowly, pausing between the words.
All hands made a dive, as it were, at the oars, and stood them up as required. But they hit each other in the back, rapped others on the head, elevated the oars so that there was neither order nor symmetry in the movement, and they were straggling as many different ways as there were boys.
"Avast there! That won't do at all!" shouted Uncle Ben. "You are all snarled up, and we must have it done shipshape."
He seated himself on the after thwart, after he had required them to boat their oars, and proceeded to show them how to pick them up. He went forward, and repeated the movement. Then he made several of them do it alone. Next four of them did it together. At last he believed he had them in condition to execute the manœuvre properly. Then he called upon Frank to give the order again, and this time they did it as well as could be expected. He was not satisfied, and compelled the oarsmen to go through it repeatedly for half an hour.
"Now we will begin again," said Uncle Ben. "If you do it well, we will go on. Give the order, Frank."
They did it better than at any time before; and while the crew sat with the oars elevated, the old sailor proceeded to explain the next movement.
"If we were at a landing, or alongside the sailboat, you would remain as you be now, till the boat was clear of everything, before the next order would come. That command will be 'Let fall!' Then you will let your oars drop upon the water all at once, striking it at just the same instant. But you will not let the loom of the oar touch the gunwale."
"Where is the gunwale?" asked one of the boys.
"The rail along the top of the boat in which the rowlocks are set. You mustn't let an oar touch that. Keep hold of the handle with the blade on the water. Then, without any command, you will ship the oar; in other words, drop the loom into the rowlock. Now go through that again. Steady, and don't hurry. Do it in about the time the stroke oarsman gives you."
Frank gave the commands again, beginning with "Up oars!" till the oarsmen had shipped their oars; and it was very well done, and Uncle Ben actually praised the crew.
"The next command is 'Give way together!'" said the old sailor. "You will take the time from the stroke oar, and pull with it all the time."
Fred Harper was the aftermost rower; and the instructor asked him to vacate his seat, which Ben took himself, with the oar in his hands.
"Now carry the handle of the oar forward to easy arm's length towards the starn," continued Ben, suiting the action to the word; and all followed his example. "Drop the end of the oar into the water till the blade is just covered, no deeper. Then pause a bit, and pull the handle towards you to your breasts, or very nearly there."
The crew followed the instructions, and imitated the old seaman till they had taken their first stroke. These movements were repeated several times, till they could do them well. Then they began again with Frank giving the commands, and they went through the whole till they could do everything to the satisfaction of the teacher.
"Now, bowman, you may weigh the anchor," said Uncle Ben; and the hearts of the boys beat rapidly, for the time for actual rowing had come.
Tony Weston hauled in the grapnel, and stowed it in the fore-sheets.
"Up oars!" commanded Frank, rising from his seat; and all the oars were elevated in good order, though not quite perfect. "Let fall!" he continued; and this movement was very well done, and all shipped their oars. "Give way together!"
The boat began to move, and the motion seemed to perplex some of the oarsmen. A few of them appeared to be trying to touch bottom, and on the second stroke they were in a snarl.
"Avast, all!" shouted Uncle Ben. "This won't do! Some of you act as though you were spearing eels. You are not to bury your oar in the water above the blade at any time. You must keep the flat part of the oar up and down in the water always. If you turn it in pulling, the blade will shoot up into the air, or dive down towards the bottom."
Then he practised them for a full half-hour on this step, and finally brought them up to a very handsome stroke. Then Frank gave the commands again, and they pulled passably well. Directing the coxswain to head the Zephyr up the lake, Ben gave his attention to individuals, pointing out their faults, and correcting them. The boat seemed to be as light as a feather; and even with the indifferent rowing, she made tremendous headway, as the boys thought. She was soon at the head of the lake.
"Now, boys, we have to stop as well as start her," said the teacher, some time before the boat reached the head of the lake, where the river flowed into it; "and the command will be, 'Stand by to lay on your oars!' But that order is only for you to be ready to do it. The next command will be 'Oars!' The last order, Frank, must be given at the beginning of a stroke, the oars being in the water. Then, boys, you will level your oars, all in a straight line, not one above or below the others; and you will turn, or feather them, as it is called, so that they would lie flat on the water if dropped down; but they must not be dropped down, not one of them. Now give the command, Frank. You need not stand up to do it, unless there's an emergency."
"Stand by to lay on your oars!" called the coxswain. "Oars!" he added after a short pause.
This movement, like the others, required to be done several times; but the Zephyr lost her headway at the mouth of the river. On the return, the young oarsmen were instructed in feathering their oars. They were told precisely how to turn the hands so as to bring the oar up flatwise as it came out of the water, and how to reverse the motion when it was dipped for the stroke. They had become somewhat accustomed to handling the oars, and Uncle Ben warmly commended the proficiency they made. Frank had headed the boat for Centre Island; and when she was abreast of it, Ben called his attention to the fact that his father and mother were both on the beach, observing the movements of the Zephyr and her crew.
It was nearly time to go ashore; but the old sailor gave them two more lessons,—one from laying on the oars to holding water when it was desirable to check the headway, and the other to back the craft in order to stop the headway at once.
Ben declared that the club had done exceedingly well for the first day afloat, and now they must go to the spot where Captain and Mrs. Sedley were looking at them. Frank was directed to run for the cottage of the widow Weston.
"Now we must give the captain the compliment of tossing oars to him," said Ben on the way over. "When a boat in the navy is to meet or pass one containing a superior officer, it is the fashion to salute him with a toss of the oars exactly as you have learned to do it to-day."
The teacher explained it more in detail; and the boat headed down the lake, keeping as close to the shore as it was prudent to go.
"Stand by to toss!" said Frank, prompted by the old sailor. "Toss!"
The oars all went up to a perpendicular, with no straggling ones among them; and the Zephyr had headway enough to keep her moving a quarter of a mile. Captain Sedley took off his hat, acknowledging the salute, while Mrs. Sedley waved her handkerchief very vigorously. Then the oars were trailed in due form, and the boat went up to the flat rock where they had embarked. Frank's father and mother came over to congratulate the boys upon the proficiency they had made in a single afternoon. The lady then invited all the crew and Uncle Ben to visit the mansion, where they found a nice collation awaiting them. They had been on the lake all the afternoon, and the air and exercise had given them excellent appetites. Neither the captain nor his wife preached to them, but talked very pleasantly about the boat and the rowing. They took their leave before dark, and a dozen families knew all about the excursion before bedtime.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SECOND LESSON
It was hard work for the boys to confine their attention to their studies during the next few days; but Frank Sedley made a severe struggle to do so, and succeeded very well. Perhaps he accomplished as much or more by his efforts to induce his companions not to be carried away by the fascinations of boating as by the efforts of his own will. It was plain enough that his father would not permit the Zephyr to interfere with the studies of the boys, and he represented this danger very strongly to his friends. They all did their best to keep their minds fixed upon the lessons, and they made a reasonable success of their efforts. But they were all looking forward to Saturday afternoon with eager anticipations; and when it came, they were at the flat rock which served as a landing-place half an hour before the appointed time.
The Zephyr was there; and so was Uncle Ben, who gave them all a pleasant greeting, and made quite a long speech about the necessity of keeping cool, and not spoiling the practice of the club, as they called it, though it had not yet been organized, by their foolish hurry and impatience. They all promised to be as cool as Nelson at Trafalgar; and no doubt they all intended to keep their promise, but the fascination of working the new boat sometimes proved to be too much for them.
"Where are the flags, Uncle Ben? We haven't put them up yet," said Frank.
"Here they are, my boy," replied the old sailor, taking them from the cushioned seat in the stern-sheets. "The blue silk one, with silver stars around the letter 'Z,' goes in the bow. You'll find a place for it there, Tony, and you may put it up. Here is the American flag, and it goes in the starn. You will find a place for it, Frank; put it there."
The two boys inserted the end of each staff in the socket prepared for it, and the breeze spread out the flags to the great delight of the juvenile boatmen. They made the boat look very gay and jaunty, and seemed to give the finishing glory to the beautiful craft. The boys wanted to get into the boat, but Uncle Ben would not permit one of them to do so; everything must be done in shipshape order.
"Now, Frank, you'll take your place in the starn-sheets, and call off the numbers," said the instructor. "Don't jump, boys, like you was goin' to ketch a rabbit, but like you was goin' to the grocery store for half a pound of tea."
"We will make a funeral gait of it," added Fred Harper.
"Don't you do so; walk nateral, like a Christian, and don't hurry a bit," said the old sailor. "If you are in such a flurry as you were yesterday, I cal'late to go ashore with you, and let you cool off for three days. If you can't keep cool, you can't do nothin'."
"We'll make a funeral of it, Uncle Ben," said Joseph Barton.
"We don't want no funeral on't. Jest be nateral; that's all. We're goin' through all you larned the other day; and I want you to do it jest as you study your lessons in school. Call off the numbers, Frank."
"One;" and Tony Weston took his place.
"Two;" and Ned Graham took his seat.
All the numbers were called, and all the crew were then in their places. Ben had a card in his hand on which Fred Harper had written the name of every boy against his number, so that the old sailor could learn whom he had in the boat.
"Now, youngsters, look on your thwarts, and you will find a cross on 'em, a small chalk-mark. Stand up, and you will see 'em."
They all obeyed the direction; and they did it very quietly.
"Good, boys! You did that very well, and none of you didn't fall overboard. You see the chalk-marks; and they are not in the middle of the thwart, but half-way between the middle and the gunwale. Set down on the mark. That's it; well done. You are put over nearer one side than the other to give you a better purchase on your oars. You are toler'ble cool now, and act more like human critters than you did t'other day, and we are ready to go to work. Mind what I said about the bow and stroke oarsmen. Go on, Frank."
"Stand by!" said the coxswain.
"That means 'Ready!' as the sojers use the word," Uncle Ben explained. "Here at the landing, you know just what's comin' next. Go on, Frank."
"Ready! Up oars!" continued Frank, making a slight pause between the commands.
"Good!" said the old seaman. "The captain's monkey couldn't do it half as well as that!"
"Keep your seat, Ned Graham," said Tony in a low tone, when the other bowman was going to take his oar.
"Shove off!" Frank commanded while all the oars were still up in the air.
Tony and Fred Harper took the boat-hooks, and with the help of the ones next to them shoved the boat far away from the rock.
The two bow and the two stroke oarsmen elevated their oars, and the whole twelve were then in unison.
"Good!" almost shouted the teacher. "That was done beautiful! Go on, Frank."
"Stand by!" said Frank; though this warning command is not often used, but the coxswain wished to do all he could to keep the oarsmen cool and collected. "Let fall!"
The blades all struck the water as one, and not a single one touched the gunwale. Not one failed to ship his oar, or drop it into the rowlock.
"You all act like you had been made over since we met last," said Ben, rubbing his hands with delight.
"We have been studying up this thing, Uncle Ben," Fred Harper explained. "At recess every day we practised it together, and some one filled out what the others had forgotten. We have tried to be perfect."
"Glad to hear it, youngsters; and you have been very near perfect so far. Go on, Frank."
"Stand by! Give way together!"
This was the most difficult movement of the whole; but the boys, for this reason, had practised it the most in their thoughts, and in their dummy rehearsals, and it was done as well as the others had been, much to the surprise of Uncle Ben, who had been sure they would fail on this command. They did not fail, and caught the stroke as well as though they had been practising for a month. The boat went off at great speed; and Ben had hardly a word of fault to find with the rowing, though he corrected some of the individual movements. He permitted the crew to pull the whole length of the lake; but Frank, prompted by Ben, had slowed them down to the measured stroke of the cutter of a man-of-war.
"Stand by to lay on your oars!" said the coxswain, when the boat was approaching the mouth of the river. "Oars!"
The crew instantly levelled their oars, feathering the blades. Not one of them was permitted to touch the water. This manœuvre was executed quite as well as the others had been, and the boys were praised without stint by the venerable instructor.
"Give way!" said Frank, always prompted by the old sailor at his side in a low tone, so that most of the oarsmen believed that the coxswain acted on his own responsibility.
"Stand by to toss!" he continued. "Toss!"
The oars all went up as one, the handles resting on the bottom of the boat.
"Let fall!" Frank proceeded with the drill, and with only a very short pause between the two commands; but the oars all dropped into the water, and were shipped with entire unity. "Give way!" he added; for the 'together' is used as a rule only when the boat starts from the shore or another craft.
"Stand by to hold water!" said Frank a little later. "Oars!"
At this command the oarsmen levelled and feathered their oars.
"Hold water!" and the boat began to slow down.
"Right here comes in another command," said Uncle Ben. "You hain't heard it before; but it is often needed to keep you from runnin' into a boat, a wharf, a rock, or anything else. The command is, 'Starn all!' When you get it, you must pull backwards. It comes arter 'Hold water!' as you are doin' now. All ready! The command, Frank."
"Stern all!" said the coxswain in vigorous tones, for this order is likely to be given in an emergency.
The boys made rather bad work of rowing backwards at first, and it was necessary for Uncle Ben to drill them for half an hour before they could do it as well as their other work. But they were attentive and patient; and at the end of the lesson they could pick up the stroke as readily as the forward movement, even when the manœuvres were executed in a hurry, for it is generally used when there is need for haste.
"How many more things are there to learn, Uncle Ben?" asked number five, who was Charles Hardy.
The old salt removed his tarpaulin, scratched his bald head, and said only two. The boys lay on their oars, as it is called when they are levelled.
"Starboard oars—back!" said Frank. "Port oars—ahead! Give way!"
Some began to put the oars as directed in the first command, and Ben stopped them, telling them to wait for the second; and it was done over again two or three times. Of course the Zephyr whirled round like a top, and was left headed down the lake.
"The next new thing is to trail your oars, which is sometimes needed when the boat has to go through a narrow place. Sometimes trail-lines are used. They are bits of cord, say two feet long, one end made fast to the loom of the oar, and the other to the gunwale of the boat. If you let go the handle of the oar it will be dragged alongside the boat in the water; but we don't need trail-lines. To trail, the commands are, 'Stand by to trail!' and 'Trail!' At the second you will throw the loom of the oar out of the rowlock, and let it drag in the water; but you mustn't let go, or you will lose it. Now go ahead, Frank, and when the boat is making five knots give the commands to trail."
"Five knots?" repeated the coxswain.
"A knot is a sea-mile; but I mean when she is going along at fair speed."
Frank gave the orders to go ahead in proper form, and the Zephyr was soon making more than six knots an hour.
"Stand by to trail!" said the coxswain. "Trail!"
This was a simple manœuvre, and the oarsmen did it right the first time trying; but to make sure of it, the movement was again executed.
"Come about, and go up the lake again," said Uncle Ben.
"Ship your oars! Starboard oars, back! Port oars, ahead!" Frank commanded; but no one moved an oar. "Give way!" and the boat came about, the rowers laying on their oars.
"Very well done!" exclaimed Uncle Ben.
The coxswain gave the commands, and the boat went ahead again up the lake. Near the mouth of the river was a small island, on the north side of which (the lake extending east and west) was a long, flat rock, like the one where they had embarked.
"Now, my boys, I have come to my last lesson; and it will be making a landing on that flat rock. When the coxswain is ready to stop the boat, the command is 'Way enough!' When you get it, you will cease rowing, and toss the oars without any command. Here the coxswain comes to the end of his rope, and the stroke oarsman picks it up. Fred Harper may say 'Toss!' or wave his right hand, and you will all boat your oars, or put them in place on the thwarts, in good time with him. Now try it on, Frank."
The young officer of the boat had headed her to the island as soon as it was mentioned.
"Way enough!" said he, when he thought the boat was' near enough.
The oars all went up as one, and Fred waved his hand as he deposited his oar on the thwarts in concert with the other eleven. Ben said it was well done, but might be better done, and it was repeated.
"If you were going into a boat-house, which you will soon have, or alongside another vessel, the coxswain should give the command, 'In bows!' Then the two bowmen will boat their oars, and take the boat-hook. You may give that command next time, Frank," said Uncle Ben.
The boat backed away a considerable distance from the island, and then went through the manœuvre again. The teacher said it was perfect; and Tony fended off with the boat-hook as the boat came to the rock, and Fred stood ready to haul in the stern.
"Now, boys, you may land and rest yourselves," said the instructor.
The rowers were not tired they protested, but they went on shore. They did not stay a quarter of an hour on the island; and as soon as they had embarked, the old sailor took the American flag from the socket, and waved it above his head as soon as the boys were seated.
"Now, my lads, three cheers for the American flag. One!"
"Hurrah!"
"Two!"
"Hurrah!"
"Three!"
"Hurrah!"
"And long may it wave!" added Uncle Ben heartily, as he put the flag back in its place. "Boys, can't you sing?"
"We sing in school," replied several.
"Sing me a song, then, before we get under way."
"What shall we sing?"
"Anything you please."
"'Canadian Boat Song,'" suggested Frank.
"Ay, ay, give us that."
Fred Harper was a good singer, and started the song. The boys all joined in; and Uncle Ben was so pleased when they had finished it, that he begged them to sing it again. They cheerfully complied, and the old man listened to the repetition with the most intense delight.
"Now, boys, I will sing you a sea song."
"Hurrah! do, Uncle Ben," exclaimed Charles.
Uncle Ben's voice was somewhat cracked; but he rendered with tolerable effect the song,—
"'Twas in the good ship Rover,I sailed the world around;For twenty years and over,I ne'er touched British ground."
"'Twas in the good ship Rover,I sailed the world around;For twenty years and over,I ne'er touched British ground."
"'Twas in the good ship Rover,
I sailed the world around;
For twenty years and over,
I ne'er touched British ground."
"Bravo, Uncle Ben. Fred Harper, can't you give us Ben Bolt and Sweet Alice? I am sure Uncle Ben will like it."
"I will try," replied Fred.
"We will join the chorus."
The song was sung, and the old sailor shed a tear over "Sweet Alice, so young and so fair."
"Here comes father in the sailboat," cried Frank, as he discovered Captain Sedley approaching in his pleasure yacht.
"Ay, beating up agin the wind."
"Can't we have a race with him?" asked Charles Hardy.
"Sartin, if you like. There is a fresh breeze springing up."
The boys waited patiently until Captain Sedley reached the spot.
"How do you like your craft, boys?" asked he, as he threw his boat up into the wind, alongside the Zephyr.
"First-rate!" they exclaimed with one voice.
"Three cheers for Captain Sedley," cried Tony Weston, taking off his cap and swinging it round above his head. "One!"
"Hurrah!"
"Two!"
"Hurrah!"
"Three!"
"Hurrah!" and the boys all clapped their hands for several moments.
Captain Sedley took off his hat, and politely returned his acknowledgments. When boys get to cheering, they hardly know where to stop; and when Fred Harper proposed three for Uncle Ben, there was a prompt and hearty response to the call.
"I'm much obleeged to you, boys, for the compliment," said the veteran, pulling off his tarpaulin.
"Now for the race," cried Charles.
Uncle Ben explained the wishes of the boys to Captain Sedley; and he readily agreed to a trial of speed, with the remark that he should expect to be beaten.
"Let me get my boat under good headway before you start," continued he, as he hauled aft his jib-sheet, and brought the boat before the wind.
The boat's crew waited till he had got nearly the eighth of a mile from them, and then, with all the forms, the Zephyr got under way. Uncle Ben had taught them to keep time in rowing by the swaying back and forth of the coxswain's body.
"Don't get excited, boys; the wind is freshening," said Uncle Ben. "Steady, now."
The Zephyr darted like an arrow through the water under the impetus of the twelve oars. Frank, in his anxiety to win the race, began to sway to and fro so rapidly that Uncle Ben was obliged to caution him several times to keep cool.
"We are overhauling him very rapidly," said he; "if you pull regular, and save your strength, you will pass him before you get half way to the beach. Steady, Frank; don't hurry them."
The boys pulled steadily; and, as the old sailor had predicted, they passed Captain Sedley's boat long before they came to the beach. As the Zephyr shot past him, a long, loud cheer burst from her crew.
"Isn't this fun!" exclaimed Charles Hardy.
"Glorious!" replied Phil Barker, who was at the next oar before him.
"What do you think the Bunkers would say if they should see us about this time?"
"Wouldn't they stare!"
"Way enough!" said Frank; and the boys ceased rowing, while the boat continued to shoot through the water with scarcely diminished velocity.
"There are the Bunkers on their raft," said Tony Weston, pointing down the lake.
All eyes were turned in the direction indicated by the speaker.
"You can pull down by them, if you like," added Uncle Ben.
"Give way!" said Frank.
The Zephyr darted down the lake, and in a few moments was within hail of the raft.
"Not a word to them," said Uncle Ben.
"Can't we cheer them once?" asked Charles.
"Yes, if you can keep good-natur'd about it."
"We can."
The club boat shot by the raft, on which the wondering Bunkers stood like so many statues.
"Way enough!" said Frank. "Now for three cheers."
They were given; but the Bunkers were too much bewildered by the appearance of the gorgeous boat, with its silken flags and bright colors, its gilded name and its graceful shape, to heed the cheers of the club.
"Give way!" said Frank; and under the direction of Uncle Ben, he managed the helm so as to make the Zephyr describe a graceful semicircle round the raft.
"Five o'clock," said the old sailor; "we must go ashore."
Frank steered for the rock, and they came alongside in due form; Tony "fended off" with the boat-hook when they reached it, and the club separated for the night, leaving the boat in charge of Uncle Ben.
CHAPTER IX
THE STOLEN WALLET
At school the next day, the club boat was the principal topic of conversation among the boys. Those who had been invited to join the club were regarded as especially fortunate. Frank Sedley was a distinguished personage, and even Tim Bunker unbent himself in some measure from his ferocious dignity in his attempts to conciliate him.
"I say, Frank, you will give me a sail in your boat, won't you?" said Tim.
"I should be very glad to accommodate you, but I don't think my father will let me take any boys who do not belong to the club."
"Can't I join the club?"
"It is full now."
"You can just make room for one more if you have a mind to."
"There are only twelve oars."
The school-bell rang then, and Frank was glad to escape further importunity on the subject. Tim Bunker was dissatisfied with himself and everybody else. He had seen the magnificent boat which Frank owned, and in which he and his companions had had such a glorious time on the preceding afternoon. He envied them the possession of the Zephyr, and he would have given anything to be permitted to join the club. Perhaps he would even have promised to become a better boy, for he keenly felt the weight of those moral obliquities which excluded him from the society of Frank and his friends.
But more especially did he envy Tony Weston his good luck in getting into the club; for Tony's admission was abundant evidence that the social standing of the boys had not been taken into consideration. There was no rich and poor about it; it was good and evil entirely. And Tim had always cherished a strong feeling of dislike, and even hatred, towards the poor widow's son, undoubtedly because he was a good boy, and everybody liked him. He had not forgotten Tony's interference on the island, when he was about to thrash Frank Sedley; and among the Bunkers he expressed his intention to be fully revenged.
At recess Frank, Charles, and Tony went up to a neighbor's house close by to get some water. When they had drunk, and were passing through the wood-house to return, Charles observed an old wallet lying on a bench.
"Twig!" said he in his peculiar style.
"That must be Farmer Whipple's," replied Tony.
"Probably the farmer laid it down when he was paying somebody some money," added Frank.
"I will carry it to him," said Charles. "He is out in the garden."
"Don't meddle with it," answered Tony. "We will see him, and tell him it is here."
"But somebody might steal it in the meantime."
"Nobody will; I wouldn't meddle with it."
The boys walked off towards the schoolhouse, but they did not find the farmer in the garden.
"He was here when we came up," said Tony. "I will find him;" and he walked towards the barn, while Charles and Frank continued on their way.
Tony looked all about the premises, but he did not find the farmer. Returning to the wood-house, he found that the wallet was gone.
"Hello, Tony," said Tim Bunker, at this moment entering the wood-house, and going to the well for a drink.
"Have you seen Farmer Whipple, Tim?"
"Yes; he just went into the house," replied the chief of the Bunkers.
"Which way did he go in?"
"Right through this way. He was just ahead of you when you came from the barn."
"Oh, was he?" said Tony, much relieved.
The farmer had taken his wallet then as he passed through, and he was satisfied it was all right.
"I say, Tony, what were you doing out to the barn? Hooking eggs, eh?"
"I was not," answered Tony indignantly.
"Honor bright?"
"Iam not a thief."
"I'll bet you ain't," drawled Tim, placing his thumb against his nose, and wagging his four fingers back and forth.
Tony heard the school-bell ring, and waiting for no more, ran off with all his speed. Tim was so late that Mr. Hyde, the master, gave him a sharp reproof for loitering by the way.
Tim Bunker's seat was next to Tony's; and though the former persisted in annoying him, whispering in his ear something about "sucking eggs," he tried to be patient and good-natured. But at last, when he could endure it no more, he informed against him.
"What do you mean by 'sucking eggs,' Tim?" asked Mr. Hyde, after he had called him on the platform.
"I saw Tony skulking round Farmer Whipple's barn at recess."
"Did you see him have an egg?"
"No, sir; but I thought he had been eating something."
Mr. Hyde investigated the case fully, and Tim got punished for his conduct in annoying his schoolmate.
School was dismissed as usual, and the boys went home. In the afternoon Tony had some work to do, and did not come.
A few minutes after two, when the boys were all in, Farmer Whipple entered the room, apparently in a high state of excitement.
"Where is Tony Weston?" said he.
"He is absent this afternoon," replied Mr. Hyde.
"I lost my pocket-book this morning."
"Indeed!"
"I saw Tony Weston and the Bunker boy in the woodshed a little before."
"It was Tim Bunker, then," added Mr. Hyde in a low tone.
"I think's likely," continued Farmer Whipple; "but Tony was there too."
"I will state the case, and see if the boys know anything about it," said the master.
Mr. Hyde called the attention of the boys by ringing a little bell on his desk, and then mentioned the loss which Farmer Whipple had met with.
"If any scholar knows anything about it, let him signify it."
Frank and Charles raised their hands.
"Frank?"
"I saw a black wallet lying on the bench when we went up after some water."
"Who were with you?"
"Tony and Charles."
"Any one else?"
"No, sir."
"Why did you not take charge of it, and give it to Mr. Whipple?"
"Tony thought we had better not touch it, and we decided to tell Mr. Whipple it was there as we went through the garden."
"But you didn't tell me," said the farmer.
"No, sir; we didn't find you in the garden when we came back, and Tony went to look for you while we continued on our way."
"Has Tony said anything to you about it since?" asked Mr. Hyde.
"Yes, sir; he told us after school that he didn't find Mr. Whipple, and when he went back to the wood-house, the wallet was gone. He met Tim Bunker there, who told him the owner had just gone in that way."
"Now I think on't, I paid a little bill, and I recollect of laying the wallet down on the wash-bench," said Farmer Whipple.
"And Tim Bunker was there?" asked the master.
"Not while we were," replied Charles.
"Tim?"
"Sir," answered the chief of the Bunkers promptly.
"Do you know anything about this wallet?"
"Don't know nothing about it."
"Were you up there?"
"Yes, sir."
"You saw Tony there?"
"Yes, sir; when I was going up, I saw him come out of the barn and go into the wood-house."
"Did you see Mr. Whipple?"
"No, sir."
Frank and Charles looked at each other. Tim's story differed from Tony's.
"You saw Tony in the woodshed?"
"When I went in, he was tucking away something in his pocket."
Tony's friends were utterly confounded by this bold statement.
"You didn't see what it was, did you?" inquired Mr. Hyde, pained by the turn the affair was taking.
"I didn't. I thought it was an egg at first. He was kind of struck up when I entered, and asked me if I had seen Farmer Whipple. I told him I hadn't. The bell rang then, and he cut away to school."
Tim's story seemed plausible, but the master could not harbor a suspicion that Tony was guilty of theft.
"Which pocket was it, Tim?" asked Farmer Whipple.
"The side pocket of his linen sack."
"Which side?"
"The left-hand side."
"That will do," said Mr. Hyde; and he and Mr. Whipple conferred on the subject.
Frank was amazed. Tony steal the wallet! Impossible! He never could do such a thing.
The conference ended, and Farmer Whipple left the schoolroom. Returning to his house, he harnessed his horse, and drove down to Squire Murdock's, the magistrate, to procure a warrant for the arrest of Tony. This he obtained; and after getting a constable to serve it, he drove to the widow Weston's.
Tony was in the garden picking some currants to sell the following morning. He was hard at work, and his coat lay upon a bush near him.
Farmer Whipple and the constable jumped over the fence and approached him.
"How do you do, Mr. Whipple?" said Tony, suspending his occupation. "How do you do, Mr. Headley?"
"I am sorry to trouble you, Tony; but we've got some suspicions agin you," began Farmer Whipple.
"Against me!" exclaimed Tony, with a glance at the constable.
"Sorry for it, but it looks bad agin you."
"What have I done?" asked the poor boy, alarmed by the words of the farmer.
"I lost my wallet this morning, and Tim Bunker says he saw you tucking something into your pocket," replied Farmer Whipple, proceeding to detail all the circumstances.
"I am innocent!" pleaded Tony.
"But you were there?"
"I was there;" and Tony told his story just as he had related it to Frank Sedley.
"All that may be; but you see, Tony, things are against you. Tim's story is as straight as can be. This is your coat, ain't it?"
"Yes; you can examine that, and search the house if you like."
The constable took the coat. The pockets were filled with various articles known in the vocabulary of a schoolboy. Mr. Headley thrust his hand in, and Tony confidently waited the result. Several things were taken out and returned. It was not in that pocket.
But the first thing the constable drew out of the other pocket was Farmer Whipple's wallet!
"No use, Tony," said Mr. Headley.
"I did not know it was there; I did not put it there!" protested the poor boy, whose face was as white as a sheet.