The Start. Page 51.The Start.Page 51.
"But not quite so much of it," replied Donald,when he saw that his craft was sliding off a very little. "Give her just three inches more fin, Dick."
The centre-board was dropped this distance, and the tendency to make leeway thus corrected.
"She is gaining still!" cried Gus, delighted.
"Not much; it is a pretty even thing," added Donald.
"No matter; we beat her, and I don't care if it's only half an inch in a mile."
"But the Christabel is leading us all. She is sure of all the first prizes."
"Not a bit of it. She has to reef when there's a capful of wind. In a calm she will beat us, but when it blows we shall wax her all to pieces."
"Hallo!" shouted Mr. Laud Cavendish, whose small sail-boat was overhauled about half way over to Turtle Head. "Is that you, Don John?"
"I believe so," replied Donald.
"Where you going?"
"Over to Turtle Head. Want us to give you a tow?"
"No; you needn't brag about your old tub. She don't belong to you; and I'm going to have a boat that will beat that one all to splinters," replied Laud.
"All right; fetch her along."
"I say, Don John, I'm going to stop over Sunday on Turtle Head. Won't you stay with me?"
"No, I thank you. I must go home to-night," answered Donald.
Mr. Laud Cavendish knew very well that Donald would not spend Sunday in boating and fishing; and he did not ask because he wanted him. Besides, for more reasons than one, he did not desire his company. The Sea Foam ran out of talking distance of the sail-boat in a moment. Robert Montague was doing his best to keep up the reputation of the Skylark; but when the fleet came up to Turtle Head, she was more than a length behind. The jib was hauled down, the yachts came up into the wind, and the anchors were let go.
"Beat you," shouted Gus Barker.
"Not much," replied Robert. "We will try that over again some time."
"We are willing," added Donald.
The mainsails were lowered, and the young yachtmen embarked in the tenders for the shore. Turtle Head is a rocky point at the northernextremity of Long Island, in Penobscot Bay. There were a few trees near the shore, and under these the party purposed to hold their meeting. Though the weather was intensely hot on shore, it was comfortably cool at the Head, where the wind came over five or six miles of salt water cool from the ocean. The boys leaped ashore, and hauled up their boats where the rising tide could not float them off. There were over twenty of them, all members of the High School.
"The Sea Foam sails well," said Robert Montague, as he walked over to the little grove with Donald.
"Very well, indeed. This is the first time she has been out, and I find she works first rate," replied Donald.
"I want to try it with her some day, when everything is right."
"Wasn't everything right to-day?" asked Donald, smiling, for he was well aware that every boatman has a good excuse for the shortcomings of his craft.
"No; my tender is twice as heavy as yours," added Robert. "I must get your father to build me one like that of the Sea Foam."
"We will try it without any tenders, which we don't want in a race."
"Of course I don't know but the Sea Foam can beat me; but I haven't seen the boat of her inches before that could show her stern to the Skylark," said Robert; and it was plain that he was a little nettled at the slight advantage which the new yacht had gained.
"I should like to sail her when you try it, for I have great hopes of the Sea Foam. If my father has built a boat that will beat the Skylark in all weathers, he has done a big thing, and it will make business good for him."
"For his sake I might be almost willing to be whipped," replied Robert, good-naturedly, as they halted in the grove.
Charley Armstrong was the oldest member of the party, and he was to call the meeting to order, which he did with a brief speech, explaining the object of the gathering, though everybody present knew it perfectly well. Charles was then chosen chairman, and Dick Adams secretary. It was voted to form a club, and the secretary was called upon to read the constitution of the "Dorchester Yacht Club." The name was changed toBelfast, and the document was adopted as the constitution of the Belfast Yacht Club. The second article declared that the officers should consist of a "Commodore, Vice-Commodore, Captain of the Fleet, Secretary, Treasurer, Measurer, a Board of Trustees, and a Regatta Committee;" and the next business was to elect them, which had to be done by written or printed ballots. As the first three officers were required to be owners in whole, or in part, of yachts enrolled in the club, there was found to be an alarming scarcity of yachts. The Skylark, Sea Foam, Phantom, and Christabel were on hand. Edward Patterdale and Samuel Rodman had signified their intention to join, though they were unable to be present at the first meeting. The Maud, as Samuel Rodman's new yacht was to be called, was to be built at once: she was duly enrolled, thus making a total of five, from whom the first three officers must be chosen.
The secretary had come supplied with stationery, and a slip was handed to each member, after the constitution had been signed. A ballot was taken for commodore; Robert B. Montague had twenty votes, and Charles Armstrong one.Robert accepted the office in a "neat little speech," and took the chair, which was a sharp rock. Edward Patterdale was elected vice-commodore, and Joseph Guilford captain of the fleet. Donald was chosen measurer, and the other offices filled to the satisfaction of those elected, if not of the others. It was then agreed to have a review and excursion on the following Saturday, to which the ladies were to be invited.
The important business of the day was happily finished, and the fleet sailed for Belfast. Having secured the Sea Foam at her mooring, Donald hastened home. As he approached the cottage, he saw a doctor's sulky at the door, and the neighbors going in and out. His heart rose into his throat, for there was not one living beneath that humble roof whom he did not love better than himself.
Donald's heart beat violently as he hastened towards the cottage. Before he could reach it, another doctor drew up at the door, and it was painfully certain that one of the family was very sick—dangerously so, or two physicians would not have been summoned. It might be his father, his mother, or his sister Barbara; and whichever it was, it was terrible to think of. His legs almost gave away under him, when he staggered up to the cottage. As he did so, he recalled the fact that his father had been ailing when he went away in the Sea Foam. It must be his father, therefore, who was now so desperately ill as to require the attendance of two doctors.
The cottage was a small affair, with a pretty flower garden in front of it, and a whitewashed fence around it. But small as it was, it was notowned by the boat-builder, who, though not in debt, had hardly anything of this world's goods—possibly a hundred dollars in the savings' bank, and the furniture in the cottage. Though he was as prudent and thrifty as Scotchmen generally are, and was not beset by their "often infirmity," he had not been very prosperous. The business of ship-building had been almost entirely suspended, and for several years only a few small vessels had been built in the city. Ramsay had always obtained work; but he lived well, and gave his daughter and his son an excellent education.
Alexander Ramsay's specialty was the building of yachts and boats, and he determined to make a better use of his skill than selling it with his labor for day wages. He went into business for himself as a boat-builder. When he established himself, he had several hundred dollars, with which he purchased stock and tools. He had built several sail-boats, but the Sea Foam was the largest job he had obtained. Doubtless with life and health he would have done a good business. Donald had always been interested in boats, and he knew the name and shape of every timber and plank inthe hull of a vessel, as well as every spar and rope. Though only sixteen, he was an excellent mechanic himself. His father had taken great pains to instruct him in the use of tools, and in draughting and modelling boats and larger craft. He not only studied the art in theory, but he worked with his own hands. In the parlor of the little cottage was a full-rigged brig, made entirely by him. The hull was not a log, shaped and dug out, but regularly constructed, with timbers and planking. When he finished it, only a few months before his introduction to the reader, he felt competent to build a yacht like the Sea Foam, without any assistance; but boys are generally over-confident, and possibly he overrated his ability.
With his heart rising up into his throat, Donald walked towards the cottage. As he passed the whitewashed gate, one of the neighbors came out at the front door. She was an elderly woman, and she looked very sad as she glanced at the boy.
"I'm glad you have come, Donald; but I'm afraid he'll never speak to you again," said she.
"Is it my father?" gasped the poor fellow.
"It is; and he's very sick indeed."
"What ails him?"
"That's more than the doctors can tell yet," added the woman. "They say it's very like the cholera; and I suppose it's cholera-morbus. He has been ailing for several days, and he didn't take care of himself. But go in, Donald, and see him while you may."
The young man entered the cottage. The doctors, his mother and sister, were all doing what they could for the sufferer, who was enduring, with what patience he could, the most agonizing pain. Donald went into the chamber where his father lay writhing upon the bed. The physicians were at work upon him; but he saw his son as he entered the room and held out his hand to him. The boy took it in his own. It was cold and convulsed.
"I'm glad you've come, Donald," groaned he, uttering the words with great difficulty. "Be a good boy always, and take care of your mother and sister."
"I will, father," sobbed Donald, pressing the cold hand he held.
"I was afraid I might never see you again," gasped Mr. Ramsay.
"O, don't give up, my man," said Dr. Wadman. "You may be all right in a few hours."
The sick man said no more. He was in too much pain to speak again, and Dr. Wadman sent Donald to the kitchen for some hot water. When he returned with it he was directed to go to the apothecary's for an ounce of chloroform, which the doctors were using internally and externally, and had exhausted their supply. Donald ran all the way as though the life of his father depended upon his speed. He was absent only a few minutes, but when he came back there was weeping and wailing in the little cottage by the sea-side. His father had breathed his last, even while the doctors were hopefully working to save him.
"O, Donald, Donald!" cried Mrs. Ramsay, as she threw her arms around his neck. "Your poor father is gone!"
The boy could not speak; he could not even weep, though his grief was not less intense than that of his mother and sister. They groaned, and sobbed, and sighed together, till kind neighbors led them from the chamber of death, vainly endeavoring to comfort them. It was hours before they were even tolerably calm; but they couldspeak of nothing, think of nothing, but him who was gone. The neighbors did all that it was necessary to do, and spent the night with the afflicted ones, who could not separate to seek their beds. The rising sun of the Sabbath found them still up, and still weeping—those who could weep. It was a long, long Sunday to them, and every moment of it was given to him who had been a devoted husband and a tender father. On Monday, all too soon, was the funeral; and all that was mortal of Alexander Ramsay was laid in the silent grave, never more to be looked upon by those who had loved him, and whom he had loved.
The little cottage was like a casket robbed of its single jewel to those who were left. Earth and life seemed like a terrible blank to them. They could not accustom themselves to the empty chair at the window where he sat when his day's work was done; to the vacant place at the table, where he had always invoked the blessing of God on the frugal fare before them; and to the silent and deserted shop on the other side of the street, from which the noise of his hammer and the clip of his adze had come to them. A week wore awayand nothing was done but the most necessary offices of the household. The neighbors came frequently to beguile their grief, and the minister made several visits, bearing to them the consolations of the gospel, and the tender message of a genuine sympathy.
But it is not for poor people long to waste themselves in idle lamentations. The problem of the future was forced upon Mrs. Ramsay for solution. If they had been able only to live comfortably on the earnings of the dead husband, what should they do now when the strong arm that delved for them was silent in the cold embrace of death? They must all work now; but even then the poor woman could hardly see how she could keep her family together. Barbara was eighteen, but she had never done anything except to assist her mother, whose health was not very good, about the house. She was a graduate of the High School, and competent, so far as education was concerned, to teach a school if she could obtain a situation. Mrs. Ramsay might obtain work to be done at home, but it was only a pittance she could earn besides doing her housework. She wished to have Donald finish his education at theHigh School, but she was afraid this was impossible.
Donald, still mourning for his father, who had so constantly been his companion in the cottage and in the shop, that he could not reconcile himself to the loss, hardly thought of the future, till his mother spoke to him about it. He had often, since that bitter Saturday night, recalled the last words his father had ever spoken to him, in which he had told him to be a good boy always and take care of his mother and sister; but they had not much real significance to him till his mother spoke to him. Then he understood them; then he saw that his father was conscious of the near approach of death, and had given his mother and his sister into his keeping. Then, with the memory of him who was gone lingering near and dear in his heart, a mighty resolution was born in his soul, though it did not at once take a practical form.
"Don't worry about the future, mother," said he, after he had listened to her rather hopeless statement of her views.
"I don't worry about it, Donald, for while we have our health and strength, we can work andmake a living. I want to keep you in school till the end of the year, but I—"
"Of course I can't go to school any more, mother. I am ready to go to work," interposed Donald.
"I know you are, my boy; but I want you to finish your school course very much."
"I haven't thought a great deal about the matter yet, mother, but I think I shall be able to do what father told me."
"Your father did not expect you to take care of us till you had grown up, I'm sure," added Mrs. Ramsay, who had heard the dying injunction of her husband to their son.
"I don't know that he did; but I shall do the best I can."
"Poor father! He never thought of anything but us," sighed Mrs. Ramsay; and her woman's tears flowed freely again, so freely that there was no power of utterance left to her.
Donald wept, too, as he thought of him who was not only his father, but his loving companion in study, in work, and in play. He left the house and walked over to the shop. For the first time since the sad event, he unlocked the doorand entered. The tears trickled down his cheeks as he glanced at the bench where his father had done his last day's work. The planes and a few other tools were neatly arranged upon it, and his apron was spread over them. On the walls were models of boats and yachts, and in one corner were the "moulds." Donald seated himself on the tool-chest, and looked around at every familiar object in the shop. He was thinking of something, but his thought had not yet taken definite form. While he was considering the present and the future, Samuel Rodman entered the shop.
"Do you suppose I can get the model of the Sea Foam, Don John?" inquired he, after something had been said about the deceased boat-builder.
"I think you can. The model and the drawings are all here," replied Donald.
"We intend to build the Maud this season, and I want her to be as near like the Sea Foam as possible."
"Who is going to build her?" asked Donald, his interest suddenly kindled by the question.
"I don't know; we haven't spoken to any one about it yet," replied Samuel. "There isn't anybody in these parts that can build her as your father would."
Don John wants a Job. Page 73.Don John wants a Job.Page 73.
"Sam, can't I do this job for you?" said Donald.
"You?"
"Yes, I. You know I used to work with my father, and I understand his way of doing things."
"Well, I hadn't thought that you could do it; but I will talk with my father about it," answered Samuel, who appeared to have some doubts about the ability of his friend to do so large a job.
"I don't mean to do it all myself, Sam. I will hire one or two first-rate ship carpenters," added Donald. "She shall be just like the Sea Foam, except a little alteration, which my father explained to me, in the bow and run."
"Do you think you could do the job, Don John?" asked Samuel, with an incredulous smile.
"I know I could," said Donald, earnestly. "If I had time enough I could build her all alone."
"We want her as soon as we can get her."
"She shall be finished as quick as my father could have done her."
"I will see my father about it to-night, Don John, and let you know to-morrow. I came down to see about the model."
Samuel Rodman left the shop and walked down the beach to the sail-boat in which he had come. Donald was almost inspired by the idea which had taken possession of him. If he could only carry on his father's business, he could make money enough to support the family; and knowing every stick in the hull of a vessel, he felt competent to do so. Full of enthusiasm, he hastened into the cottage to unfold his brilliant scheme to his mother. He stated his plan to her, but at first she shook her head.
"Do you think you could build a yacht, Donald?" she asked.
"I am certain I could. Didn't you hear father say that my brig contained every timber and plank that belongs to a vessel?"
"Yes, and that the work was done as well as he could do it himself; but that does not prove that you can carry on the business."
"I want one or two men, if we build the Maud, because it would take too long for me to do all the work alone."
"The Maud?"
"That was the yacht that father was to build next. I asked Sam Rodman to give me the job, and he is going to talk with his father about it to-night."
Mrs. Ramsay was rather startled at this announcement, which indicated that her son really meant business in earnest.
"Do you think he will let you do it?" she asked.
"I hope he will."
"Are you sure you can make anything if you build the yacht?"
"Father made over three hundred dollars on the Sea Foam, besides his day wages."
"That is no reason why you can do it."
"All his models, moulds, and draughts are in the shop. I know where they are, and just what to do with them. I hope you will let me try it, mother."
"Suppose you don't make out?"
"But I shall make out."
"If Mr. Rodman refuses to accept the yacht after the job is done, what will you do?"
"I shall have her myself then, and I can make lots of money taking out parties in her."
"Your father was paid for the Sea Foam as the work progressed. He had received eight hundred dollars on her when she was finished."
"I know it; and Captain Patterdale owes four hundred more. If you let me use some of the money to buy stock and pay the men till I get payment on the job, I shall do very well."
"We must have something to live on. After I have paid the funeral expenses and other bills, this money that Captain Patterdale owes will be all I have."
"But Mr. Rodman will pay me something on the job, when he is satisfied that the work will be done."
The widow was not very clear about the business; but she concluded, at last, that if Mr. Rodman would give him the job, she would allow him to undertake it. Donald was satisfied, and went back to the shop. He opened his father's chest and took out his account book. Turning to a page which was headed "Sea Foam," he found every item of labor and expenditure charged to her. Every day's work, every foot of stock, every pound of nails, every article of brass or hardware, and the cost of sails and cordage,were carefully entered on the account. From this he could learn the price of everything used in the construction of the yacht, for his guidance in the great undertaking before him. But he was quite familiar before with the cost of everything used in building a boat. On a piece of smooth board, he figured up the probable cost, and assured himself he could make a good job of the building of the Maud.
The next day was Saturday—two weeks after the organization of the yacht club. There had been a grand review a week before, which Donald did not attend. The yachtmen had taken their mothers, sisters, and other friends on an excursion down the bay, and given them a collation at Turtle Head. On the Saturday in question, a meeting of the club at the Head had been called to complete the arrangements for a regatta, and the Committee on Regattas were to make their report. Donald had been requested to attend in order to measure the yachts. He did not feel much like taking part in the sports of the club, but he decided to perform the duty required of him. He expected to see Samuel Rodman on this occasion, and to learn the decision of his father in regard to the building of the Maud.
After breakfast he embarked in the sail-boat which had belonged to his father, and with a fresh breeze stood over to Turtle Head. He had dug some clams early in the morning, and told his mother he should bring home some fish which he intended to catch after the meeting of the club. As the boat sped on her way, he thought of his grand scheme to carry on his father's business, and everything seemed to depend upon Mr. Rodman's decision. He hoped for the best, but he trembled for the result. When he reached his destination, he found another boat at the Head, and soon discovered Laud Cavendish on the bluff.
"Hallo, Don John!" shouted the swell, as Donald stepped on shore.
"How are you, Laud? You are out early."
"Not very; I came ashore here to see if I couldn't find some clams," added Laud, as he held up a clam-digger he carried in his hand—a kind of trowel fixed in a shovel-handle.
"You can't find any clams here," said Donald, wondering that even such a swell should expect to find them there.
"I am going down to Camden to stay over Sunday, and I thought I might fish a little on the way."
"You will find some farther down the shore, where there is a soft beach. Do you get off every Saturday now, Laud?"
"Get off? Yes; I get off every day. I'm out of a job."
"I thought you were at Miller's store."
"I was there; but I'm not now. Miller shoved me out. Do you know of any fellow that has a good boat to sell?"
"What kind of a boat?"
"Well, one like the Skylark and the Sea Foam."
"No; I don't know of any one around here. Do you want to buy one?"
"Yes; I thought I would buy one, if I could get her about right. She must be cheap."
"How cheap do you expect to buy a boat like the Sea Foam?" asked Donald, wondering what a young man out of business could be thinking about when he talked of buying a yacht.
"Four or five hundred dollars."
"The Sea Foam cost twelve hundred."
"That's a fancy price. The Skylark didn't cost but five hundred."
"Do you want to give five hundred for a boat?"
"Not for myself, Don John. I was going to buy one for another man. I must be going now," added Laud, as he went down to his boat.
Hoisting his sail, he shoved off, and stood over towards Searsport. Donald walked up the slope to the Head, from which he could see the yacht club fleet as soon as it sailed from the city.
Donald seated himself on a rock, with his gaze directed towards Belfast. His particular desire just then was to see Samuel Rodman, in order to learn whether he was to have the job of building the Maud. He felt able to do it, and even then, as he thought of the work, he had in his mind the symmetrical lines of the new yacht, as they were to be after the change in the model which his father had explained to him. He recalled a suggestion of a small increase in the size of the mainsail, which had occurred to him when he sailed the Sea Foam. His first aspiration was only to build a yacht; his second was to build one that would beat anything of her inches in the fleet. If he could realize this last ambition, he would have all the business he could do.
The yacht fleet did not appear up the bay; butit was only nine o'clock in the morning, and possibly the meeting of the club would not take place till afternoon. If any one had told him the hour, he had forgotten it, but the former meeting had been in the forenoon. He was too nervous to sit still a great while, and, rising, he walked about, musing upon his grand scheme. The place was an elevated platform of rock, a portion of it covered with soil to the depth of several feet, on which the grass grew. It was not far above the water even at high tide, nor were the bluffs very bold. The plateau was on a peninsula, extending to the north from the island, which was not unlike the head of a turtle, and the shape had given it a name. Donald walked back and forth on the headland, watching for the fleet.
"I wonder if Laud Cavendish was digging for clams up here," thought he, as he observed a spot where the earth appeared to have been disturbed.
The marks of Laud's clam-digger were plainly to be seen in the loam, a small quantity of which remained on the sod. Certainly the swell had been digging there; but it could not have been for clams; and Donald was trying to imaginewhat it was for, when he heard footsteps near him. Coming towards him, he discovered Captain Shivernock, of the city; and he had two problems to solve instead of one; not very important ones, it is true, but just such as are suggested to everybody at times. Perhaps it did not make the least difference to the young man whether or not he ascertained why Laud Cavendish had been digging on the Head, or why Captain Shivernock happened to be on the island, apparently without any boat, at that time in the morning. I do not think Donald would have given a nickel five-cent piece to have been informed correctly upon either point, though he did propose the question to himself in each case. Probably Laud had no particular object in view in digging—the ground did not look as though he had; and Captain Shivernock was odd enough to do anything, or to be anywhere, at the most unseasonable hours.
"How are you, Don John?" shouted the captain, as he came within hailing distance of Donald.
"How do you do, Captain Shivernock," replied the young man, rather coldly, for he had noregard, and certainly no admiration, for the man.
"You are just the man I wanted to see," added the captain.
Donald could not reciprocate the sentiment, and, not being a hypocrite, he made no reply. The captain seemed to be somewhat fatigued and out of breath, and immediately seated himself on the flat rock which the young man had occupied. He was not more than five feet and a half high, but was tolerably stout. The top of his head was as bald as a winter squash; but extending around the back of his head from ear to ear was a heavy fringe of red hair. His whiskers were of the same color; but, as age began to bleach them out under the chin, he shaved this portion of his figure-head, while his side whiskers and mustache were very long. He was dressed in a complete suit of gray, and wore a coarse braided straw hat.
Captain Shivernock, as I have more than once hinted, was an eccentric man. He had been a shipmaster in the earlier years of his life, and had made a fortune by some lucky speculations during the War of the Rebellion, in which he took counsel of his interest rather than his patriotism. He had a strong will, a violent temper, and an implacable hatred to any man who had done him an injury, either actually or constructively. It was said that he was as faithful and devoted in his friendships as he was bitter and relentless in his hatreds; but no one in the city, where he was a very unpopular man, had any particular experience of the soft side of his character. He was a native of Lincolnville, near Belfast, though he had left his home in his youth. He had a fine house in the city, and lived in good style. He was said to be a widower, and had no children. The husband of his housekeeper was the man of all work about his place, and both of them had come with their employer from New York.
He seldom did anything like other people. He never went to church, would never put his name upon a subscription paper, however worthy the object, though he had been known to give a poor man an extravagant reward for a slight service. He would not pay his taxes till the fangs of the law worried the money out of him, but would give fifty dollars for the first salmon or the first dish of peaches of the season for his table. He was as full of contradictions as he was ofoddities, and no one knew how to take him. One moment he seemed to be hoarding his money like a miser, and the next scattering it with insane prodigality.
"I'm tired out, Don John," added Captain Shivernock, as he seated himself, fanning his red face with his hat.
"Have you walked far, sir?" asked Donald, who was well acquainted with the captain; for his father had worked on his boat, and he was often in the shop.
"I believe I have hoofed it about ten miles this morning," replied Captain Shivernock with an oath; and he had a wicked habit of ornamenting every sentence he used with a profane expletive, which I shall invariably omit.
"Then you have walked nearly the whole length of the island."
"Do you mean to tell me I lie?" demanded the captain.
"Certainly not, sir," protested Donald.
"My boat got aground down here. I started early this morning to go down to Vinal Haven; but I'm dished now, and can't go," continued Captain Shivernock, so interlarding with oathsthis simple statement that it looks like another thing divested of them.
"Where did you get aground?" asked Donald.
"Down by Seal Harbor."
"About three miles from here."
"Do you think I lied to you?"
"By no means, sir."
Donald could not divine how the captain had got aground near Seal Harbor, if he was bound from Belfast to Vinal Haven, though it was possible that the wind had been more to the southward early in the morning, compelling him to beat down the bay; but it was not prudent to question anything the captain said.
"I ran in shore pretty well, and took the ground. I tried for half an hour to get the Juno off, but I was soon left high and dry on the beach. I anchored her where she was, and I'm sorry now I didn't set her afire," explained the captain.
"Set her afire!" exclaimed Donald.
"That's what I said. She shall never play me such a trick again," growled the strange man.
"Why, it wasn't the fault of the boat."
"Do you mean to say it was my fault?" demanded the captain, ripping out a string of oaths that made Donald shiver.
"It was an accident which might happen to any one."
"Do you think I didn't know what I was about?"
"I suppose you did, sir; but any boat may get aground."
"Not with me! if she did I'd burn her or sell her for old junk. I never will sail in her again after I get home. I know what I'm about."
"Of course you do, sir."
"Got a boat here?" suddenly demanded the eccentric.
"Yes, sir; I have our sail-boat."
"Take me down to Seal Harbor in her," added the captain, rising from his seat.
"I don't think I can go, sir."
"Don't you? What's the reason you can't?" asked the captain, with a sneer on his lips.
"I have to meet the yacht club here."
Captain Shivernock cursed the yacht club with decided unction, and insisted that Donald should convey him in his boat to the place where the Juno was at anchor.
"I have to measure the yachts when they come, sir."
"Measure—" but the place the captain suggested was not capable of measurement. "I'll pay you well for going."
"I should not ask any pay if I could go," added Donald, glancing up the bay to see if the fleet was under way.
"I say I will pay you well, and you will be a fool if you don't go with me."
"The yachts haven't started yet, and perhaps I shall have time to get back before they arrive."
"I don't care whether you get back or not; I want you to go."
"I will go, sir, and run the risk," replied Donald, as he led the way down to the boat.
Shoving her off, he helped the captain into her, and hoisted the sail.
"What boat's that over there?" demanded Captain Shivernock, as he pointed at the craft sailed by Laud Cavendish, which was still standing on towards Searsport.
Donald told him who was in her.
"Don't go near her," said he, sternly. "I always want a good mile between me and that puppy."
"He is bound to Camden, and won't get there for a week at that rate," added Donald.
"Don't care if he don't," growled the passenger.
"I don't know that I do, either," added the skipper. "Laud wants to buy a boat, and perhaps you can sell him yours, if you are tired of her."
"Shut up!"
Donald did "shut up," and decided not to make any more talk with the captain, only to give him civil answers. Ordinarily he would as soon have thought of wrestling with a Bengal tiger as of carrying on a conversation with such a porcupine as his passenger, who scrupled not to insult man or boy without the slightest provocation. In a few moments the skipper tacked, having weathered the Head, and stood into the little bay west of it.
"Don John," said Captain Shivernock, sharply, fixing his gaze upon the skipper.
"Sir?"
The captain took his wallet from his pocket. It was well filled with greenbacks, from which he took several ten-dollar bills—five or six of them, at least.
"I will pay you," said he.
"I don't ask any pay for this, sir. I am willing to do you a favor for nothing."
"Hold your tongue, you fool! A favor?" sneered the eccentric. "Do you think I would ask a little monkey like you to do me a favor?"
"I won't call it a favor, sir."
"Better not. There! take that," and Captain Shivernock shoved the bills he had taken from his wallet into Donald's hand.
"No, sir! I can't take all that, if I do anything," protested the skipper, amazed at the generosity of his passenger. The captain, with a sudden spring, grasped a short boat-hook which lay between the rail and the wash-board.
"Put that money into your pocket, or I'll smash your head; and you won't be the first man I've killed, either," said the violent passenger.
Donald did not find the money hard to take on its own merits, and he considerately obeyed the savage order. His pride, which revolted at the idea of being paid for a slight service rendered to a neighbor, was effectually conquered. He put the money in his pocket; but as soon asthe captain laid down the boat-hook, he took it out to count it, and found there was fifty dollars. He deposited it carefully in his wallet.
"You don't mean to pay me all that money for this little job?" said he.
"Do you think I don't know what I mean?" snarled the passenger.
"I suppose you do, sir."
"You suppose I do!" sneered the cynic. "You know I do."
"Fifty dollars is a great deal of money for such a little job."
"That's none of your business. Don John, you've got a tongue in your head!" said Captain Shivernock, pointing his finger at the skipper, and glowering upon him as though he was charging him with some heinous crime.
"I am aware of it, sir," replied Donald.
"Do you know what a tongue is for?" demanded the captain.
"It is of great assistance to one in talking."
"Don't equivocate, you sick monkey. Do you know what a tongue is for?"
"Yes, sir."
"What's a tongue for?"
"To talk with, and—"
"That's enough! I thought you would say so. You are an ignorant whelp."
"Isn't the tongue to talk with?"
"No!" roared the passenger.
"What is it for, then?" asked Donald, who did not know whether to be alarmed or amused at the manner of his violent companion.
"It's to keep still with, you canting little monkey! And that's what I want you to do with your tongue," replied Captain Shivernock.
"I don't think I understand you, sir."
"I don't think you do. How could you, when I haven't told you what I mean. Listen to me." The eccentric paused, and fixed his gaze earnestly upon the skipper.
"Have you seen me this morning?" demanded he.
"Of course I have."
"No, you haven't!"
"I really thought I had."
"Thought's a fool, and you're another! You haven't seen me. If anybody in Belfast asks you if you have seen me, tell 'em you haven't."
"If the tongue isn't to talk with, it isn't to tell a lie with," added Donald.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the captain; "you've got me there."
He produced his wallet again, and took a ten-dollar bill from the roll it contained, which he tendered to Donald.
"What's that for?" asked the skipper.
"Put it in your pocket, or I'll mash your empty skull!"
Donald placed it with the other bills in his wallet, more than ever amazed at the conduct of his singular passenger.
"I never allow anyone to get ahead of me without paying for my own stupidity. Do you go to Sunday School, and church, and missionary meetings?" asked the captain, with a sneer.
"I do, sir."
"I thought so. You are a sick monkey. You don't let your tongue tell a lie."
"No, sir; I don't mean to tell a lie, if I can help it, and I generally can."
"You walk in the strait and narrow way which leads to the meeting-house. I don't. All right! Broad is the way! But one thing is certain, Don John, you haven't seen me to-day."
"But I have," persisted Donald.
"I say you have not; don't contradict me, if you want to take that head of yours home with you. Nobody will ask whether you have seen me or not; so that if a lie is likely to choke you, keep still with your tongue."
"I am not to say that I have seen you on the island?" queried Donald.
"You are not," replied the captain, with an echoing expletive.
"Why not, sir?"
"None of your business! Do as you are told, and spend the money I gave you for gingerbread and fast horses."
"But when my mother sees this money she will want to know where I got it."
"If you tell her or anybody else, I'll hammer your head till it isn't thicker than a piece of sheet-iron. Don't let her see the money. Hire a fast horse, and go to ride next Sunday."
"I don't go to ride on Sunday."
"I suppose not. Give it to the missionaries to buy red flannel shirts for little niggers in the West Indies, if you like. I don't care what you do with it."
"You don't wish anybody to know you havebeen on the island this morning—is that the idea, Captain Shivernock?" asked Donald, not a little alarmed at the position in which his companion was placing him.
"That's the idea, Don John."
"I don't see why—"
"You are not to see why," interrupted the captain, fiercely. "That's my business, not yours. Will you do as I tell you?"
"If there is any trouble—"
"There isn't any trouble. Do you think I've killed somebody?—No. Do you think I've robbed somebody?—No. Do you think I've set somebody's house on fire?—No. Do you think I've stolen somebody's chickens?—No. Nothing of the sort. I want to know whether you can keep your tongue still. Let us see. There's the Juno."
"Somebody will see your boat, and know that you have been here—"
"That's my business, not yours. Don't bother your head with what don't concern you," growled the passenger.
The Juno was afloat, but she could not have been so many minutes, when Donald came alongside of her. It was now about half tide on the flood, and she must have grounded at about half tide on the ebb. This fact indicated that Captain Shivernock had left her at four o'clock in the morning. The owner of the Juno stepped into her, and Donald hoisted the sail for him. The boat was cat-rigged, and about twenty-four feet long. She was a fine craft, with a small cabin forward, furnished with every convenience the limited space would permit. The captain seated himself in the standing-room, and began to heap maledictions upon the boat.
"I never will sail in her again," said he. "I will burn her, and get a centre-board boat."
"What will you take for her, sir?" asked Donald.
"Do you want her, Don John?" demanded the captain.
"I couldn't afford to keep her; but I will sell her for you."
"Sell—" it is no matter what; but Captain Shivernock suddenly leaped back into Donald's boat, and her skipper wondered what he intended to do next. "She is yours, Don John!" he exclaimed.
"To sell for you?"
"No! Sell her, if you like, but put the money in your own pocket. I will sail up in your boat, and you may go to Jerusalem in the Juno, if you like. I will never get into her again," added the captain, spitefully.
"But, Captain Shivernock, you surely don't mean togiveme this boat."
"Do you think I don't know what I mean?" roared the strange man, after a long string of expletives. "She is yours, now; not mine. I'll give you a bill of sale as soon as I go ashore. Not another word, or I'll pound your head. Don't tell anybody I gave her to you, or that you have seen me. If you do there will be a job for a coffin-maker."
The captain shoved off the boat, and laid her course across the bay, evidently to avoid Laud Cavendish, whose craft was a mile distant; for he had probably put in at Searsport. Donald weighed the anchor of the Juno, and sailed for Turtle Head, hardly knowing whether he was himself or somebody else, so amazed was he at the strange conduct of his late passenger. He could not begin to comprehend it, and he did not have to strain his logic very much in coming to the conclusion that the captain was insane.
Whether Captain Shivernock was sane or insane, Donald Ramsay was in possession of the Juno. Of course he did not consider himself the proprietor of the craft, if he did of the sixty dollars he had in his pocket. She had the wind over her port quarter, and the boat tore through the water as if she intended to show her new skipper what she could do. But Donald paid little attention to the speed of the Juno, for his attention was wholly absorbed by the remarkable events of the morning. Captain Shivernock had given him sixty dollars in payment nominally for the slight service rendered him. But then, the strange man had given a poor laborer a hundred dollars for stopping his horse, when the animal leisurely walked towards home from the store where the owner had left him. Again, he had given anegro sailor a fifty-dollar bill for sculling him across the river. He had rewarded a small boy with a ten-dollar bill for bringing him a despatch from the telegraph office. When the woman who went to his house to do the washing was taken sick, and was not able to work for three months, he regularly called at her rooms every Monday morning and gave her ten dollars, which was three times as much as she ever earned in the same time.
Remembering these instances of the captain's bounty, Donald had no doubt about the ownership of the sixty dollars in his pocket. The money was his own; but how had he earned it? Was he paid to keep his tongue still, or simply for the service performed? If for his silence, what had the captain done which made him desire to conceal the fact that he had been to the island? The strange man had explicitly denied having killed, robbed, or stolen from anybody. All the skipper could make of it was, that his desire for silence was only a whim of the captain, and he was entirely willing to accommodate him. If there had been any mischief done on the island, he should hear of it; and in thatevent he would take counsel of some one older and wiser than himself. Then he tried to satisfy himself as to why the captain had walked at least three miles to Turtle Head, instead of waiting till the tide floated the Juno. This appeared to be also a whim of the strange man. People in the city used to say it was no use to ask the reason for anything that Captain Shivernock did. His motive in giving Donald sixty dollars and his boat, which would sell readily for three hundred dollars, and had cost over five hundred, was utterly unaccountable.
Donald was determined not to do anything wrong, and if the captain had committed any evil deed, he fully intended to expose him; but he meant to keep still until he learned that the evil deed had been done. The money in his pocket, and that for which the Juno could be sold, would be capital enough to enable him to carry on the business of boat-building. But he was determined to see Captain Shivernock that very day in regard to the boat. Perhaps the strange man would give him a job to build a centre-board yacht, for he wanted one.
"Hallo! Juno, ahoy!" shouted Laud Cavendish.
Donald threw the boat up into the wind, under the stern of Laud's craft.
"I thought you were going down to Camden," said he. "You won't get there to-day at this rate."
"I forgot some things I wanted, and ran up to Searsport after them. But what are you doing in the Juno, Don John?"
"She's going to be sold, Laud," replied Donald, dodging the direct question. "Didn't you say you wanted to buy a boat?"
"I said so; and I want to buy one badly. I'm going to spend my summer on the water. What does the captain ask for her?"
"I don't know what the price is, but I'll let you know on Monday," added Donald, as he filled away again, for the yacht fleet was now in sight.
"Hold on a minute, Don John; I want to talk with you about her."
"I can't stop now. I have to go up to the Head and measure the yachts."
"Don't say a word to anybody about my buying her," added Laud.
He was soon out of hearing of Laud's voice. He wondered if the swell really wished to buysuch a boat as the Juno, and could pay three hundred dollars for her. His father was not a rich man, and he was out of business himself. And he wanted Donald to keep still too. What motive had he for wishing his proposition to be kept in the dark? His object was not apparent, and Donald was obliged to give up the conundrum, though he had some painful doubts on the subject. As he thought of the matter, he turned to observe the position of the two boats to the southward of him. Directly ahead of Laud's craft was an island which he could not weather, and he was obliged to tack. He could not lay his course, and he had to take a short and then a long stretch, and he was now standing across the bay on the short leg. Captain Shivernock had run over towards the Northport shore, and Donald thought they could not well avoid coming within hailing distance of each other. But the Juno passed beyond the north-west point of the island, and he could no longer see them. He concluded, however, that the captain would not let Laud, or any one else, see him afloat that day. He was a very strange man.
Donald ran the Juno around the point, andanchored her under the lee of Turtle Head. The fleet was still a couple of miles distant, and after he had lowered and secured the mainsail, he had nothing to do but examine the fine craft which had so strangely come into his possession. He went into the cuddy forward, and overhauled everything there, till he was fully qualified to set forth the merits of her accommodations to a purchaser. The survey was calculated to kindle his own enthusiasm, for Donald was as fond of boating as any young man in the club. The idea of keeping the Juno for his own use occurred to him, but he resisted the temptation, and determined not even to think of such an extravagant plan.
The yacht fleet was now approaching, the Skylark gallantly leading the way, and the Christabel, with a reef in her mainsail, bringing up the rear. The Sea Foam did not seem to hold her own with the Skylark, as she had done before, but she was the second to drop her anchor under the lee of Turtle Head.
"I cam glad to see you, Don John," said Commodore Montague, as he discovered Donald in the Juno. "I was afraid you were not coming, and I went up to the shop to look for you. But how came you in that boat?"
"She is for sale," replied Donald, as the tender of the Skylark came alongside the Juno, and he stepped into it. "Do you know of anybody that wants to buy her?"
"I know three or four who want boats, but I am not sure the Juno would suit either of them," replied the commodore.
The boat pulled to the shore, and no one asked any more questions about the Juno, or her late owner. The members of the club on board of the several yachts landed, and Donald was soon in earnest conversation with Samuel Rodman.
"What does your father say?" he asked.
"He wants to see you," replied Samuel.
"Does he think I can't do the job?"
"He did not think so at first, but when I told him you would employ one or two regular ship carpenters, he was satisfied, and I think he will give you the job."
"I hope he will, and I am sure I can give him as good work as he can get anywhere."
"I haven't any doubt of it, Don John. But the Sea Foam isn't doing so well as she did thefirst day you had her out. The Skylark beats her every time they sail."
"Ned Patterdale hasn't got the hang of her yet."
"Perhaps not."
"I should like to have Bob Montague sail her, and Ned the Skylark; I think it would make a difference," added Donald. "Ned does very well, but a skipper must get used to his boat; and he hasn't had much experience in yachts as large as the Sea Foam. I spoke to you of a change in the model for the Maud; and if I'm not greatly mistaken, she will beat both the Sea Foam and the Skylark."
"I would give all my spending-money for a year, over and above the cost, if she would do that," replied Rodman, with a snap of the eye.
"Of course I can't promise that she will do it, but I expect she will," said Donald.
The club assembled under the trees, and the members were called to order by the commodore. The first business was to hear the report of the Regatta Committee, which proved to be a very interesting document to the yachtmen. The race was to take place the next Saturday, andwas open to all yachts exceeding twenty feet in length, duly entered before the time. All were to sail in the same class; the first prize was a silver vase, and the second a marine glass. The course was to be from the judge's boat, in Belfast harbor, by Turtle Head, around the buoy on Stubb's Point Ledge, leaving it on the port hand, and back to the starting-point. The sailing regulations already adopted by the club were to be in full force. The report was accepted, and the members looked forward with eager anticipation to what they regarded as the greatest event of the season. Other business was transacted, and Donald, who had brought with him a measuring tape and plummet, measured all the yachts of the club. Dinner was served on board of each craft, and the commodore extended the hospitalities of the Skylark to Donald.
In the afternoon, the fleet made an excursion around Long Island, returning to Belfast about six o'clock, Donald sailing the Juno, and catching a mess of fish off Haddock Ledge. He moored her off the shop, and was rather surprised to find that his own boat had not yet been returned. After supper he hastened to the houseof Mr. Rodman, with whom he had a long talk in regard to the building of the Maud. The gentleman had some doubts about the ability of the young boat-builder to do so large a job, though he desired to encourage him.
"I am willing to give you the work, and to pay you the same price your father had for the Sea Foam; but I don't like to pay out money till I know that you are to succeed," said he.
"I don't ask you to do so, sir," replied Donald, warmly. "You need not pay me a cent till you are perfectly satisfied."
"But I supposed you would want money to buy stock and pay your men, even before you had set up your frame."
"No, sir; we have capital enough to make a beginning."
"I am satisfied then, and you shall have the job," added Mr. Rodman.
"Thank you, sir," replied Donald, delighted at his success.
"You may go to work as soon as you please; and the sooner the better, for Samuel is in a great hurry for his yacht."
"I will go to work on Monday morning. Themodel, moulds, and drawings are all ready, and there will be no delay, sir," answered the young boat-builder, as he took his leave of his considerate patron.
Perhaps Mr. Rodman was not satisfied that the young man would succeed in the undertaking, but he had not the heart to discourage one who was so earnest. He determined to watch the progress of the work very closely, and if he discovered that the enterprise was not likely to be successful, he intended to stop it before much time or money had been wasted. Donald had fully detailed the means at his command for doing the job in a workman-like manner, and he was well known as an ingenious and skilful mechanic. Mr. Rodman had strong hopes that the young man would succeed in his undertaking.
Donald walked toward the house of Captain Shivernock, congratulating himself on the happy issue of his interview with Mr. Rodman. As he passed the book and periodical store, he saw Lawrence Kennedy, a ship carpenter, who had formerly worked with Mr. Ramsay, standing at the door, reading the weekly paper just from the press. This man was out of work, and was talking of going to Bath to find employment. Donald had already thought of him as one of his hands, for Kennedy was a capital mechanic.
"What's the news?" asked Donald, rather to open the way to what he had to say, than because he was interested in the latest intelligence.
"How are you, Donald?" replied the ship carpenter. "There's a bit of news from Lincolnville, but I suppose you heard it; for all the town is talking about it."
"I haven't heard it."
"A man in Lincolnville was taken from his bed in the dead hour of the night, and beaten to a jelly."
"Who was the man?"
"His name was Hasbrook."
"Hasbrook!" exclaimed Donald.
"Do you know him, lad?"
"I know of him; and he has the reputation of being anything but an honest man."
"Then it's not much matter," laughed the ship carpenter.
"But who beat him?" asked Donald.
"No one knows who it was. Hasbrook couldn't make him out; but likely it's some one the rogue has cheated."
"Hasbrook must have seen him," suggested Donald.
"The ruffian was disguised with his head in a bit of a bag, or something of that sort, and he never spoke a word from first to last," added Kennedy, looking over the article in the paper.
Donald wondered if Captain Shivernock had any dealings with Hasbrook. He was just the man to take the law into his own hands, and assault one who had done him a real or a fancied injury. Donald began to think he understood why the captain did not wish it to be known that he was on Long Island the night before. But the outrage had been committed in Lincolnville, which bordered the western arm of Penobscot Bay. It was three miles from the main land to the island. If the captain was in Lincolnville in "the dead of night," on a criminal errand, what was he doing near Seal Harbor, where the Juno was aground, at four o'clock in the morning? If he was the guilty party, he would naturally desire to get home before daylight. The wind was fair for him to do so, and there was enough of it to enable the Juno to make the run in less than two hours. It did not seem probable,therefore, that the captain had gone over to the other side of the bay, three miles off his course. Besides, he was not disguised, but wore his usual gray suit; and Hasbrook ought to have been able to recognize him by his form and his dress even in the darkest night.
Donald was perplexed and disturbed. If there was any probability that Captain Shivernock had committed the crime, our hero was not to be bribed by sixty or six thousand dollars to keep the secret. If guilty, he would have been more likely to go below and turn in than to walk three miles on the island for assistance, and he would not have gone three miles off his course. But Donald determined to inquire into the matter, and do his whole duty, even if the strange man killed him for it. Kennedy was reading his paper while the young man was thinking over the case; but, having decided what to do, he interrupted the ship carpenter again.
"Are you still out of work, Mr. Kennedy?" he asked.
"I am; and I think I shall go to Bath next week," replied Kennedy.
"I know of a job for you."