All Adrift; Or, The Goldwing Club
by Oliver Optic · English · Gutenberg #25577 · 370,301 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: All Adrift; Or, The Goldwing Club
Author: Oliver Optic
Release date: May 23, 2008 [eBook #25577]
Most recently updated: January 3, 2021
Language: English
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[Illustration: THE BOAT BUILDER SERIES
OLIVER OPTIC
William T. Adams]
The Boat-Builder Series.
I.
ALL ADRIFT;
OR,
THE GOLDWING CLUB.
II.
SNUG HARBOR;
OR,
THE CHAMPLAIN MECHANICS.
III.
SQUARE AND COMPASS;
OR,
BUILDING THE HOUSE.
IV.
STEM TO STERN;
OR,
BUILDING THE BOAT.
V.
ALL TAUT;
OR,
RIGGING THE BOAT.
VI.
READY ABOUT;
OR,
SAILING THE BOAT.
[Illustration: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THERE? DEMANDED PEARL." PAGE
252.]
[Illustration: OLIVER OPTIC'S
BOAT-BUILDER SERIES.
ALL ADRIFT.
BOSTON, LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS.]
_The Boat-Builder Series_
ALL ADRIFT
OR
THE GOLDWING CLUB
BY
OLIVER OPTIC
AUTHOR OF "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD" "THE GREAT WESTERN SERIES" "THE ARMY
AND NAVY SERIES" "THE WOODVILLE SERIES" "THE STARRY-FLAG SERIES" "THE
BOAT-CLUB STORIES" "THE UPWARD AND ONWARD SERIES" "THE YACHT-CLUB
SERIES" "THE LAKE-SHORE SERIES" "THE RIVERDALE STORIES" ETC. ETC.
_WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS_
BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK
CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM
1883
COPYRIGHT, 1882,
BY WILLIAM T. ADAMS.
_All rights reserved._
TO MY GRANDSON
ROBERT ELMER RUSSELL
This Book
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
PREFACE.
"All Adrift" is the first volume of a new set of books, to be known as
"THE BOAT-BUILDER SERIES." The story contains the adventures of a boy
who is trying to do something to help support the family, but who finds
himself all adrift in the world. He has the reputation of being rather
"wild," though he proves that he is honest, loves the truth, and is
willing to work for a living. Having been born and brought up on the
shore of Lake Champlain, he could not well avoid being a boatman,
especially as his father was a pilot on a steamer. Nearly all the scenes
of the story are on the water; and the boy shows not only that he can
handle a boat, but that he has ingenuity, and fertility of resource.
The narrative of the hero's adventures contained in this volume is the
introduction to the remaining volumes of the series, in which this boy
and others are put in the way of obtaining a great deal of useful
information, by which the readers of these books are expected to profit.
Captain Royal Gildrock, a wealthy retired shipmaster, has some ideas of
his own in regard to boys. He thinks that one great need of this country
is educated mechanics, more skilled labor. He has the means to carry his
ideas into practice, and actively engages in the work of instructing and
building up the boys in a knowledge of the useful arts. He believes in
religion, morality, and social and political virtue. He insists upon
practice in addition to precept and theory, as well in the inculcation
of the duties of social life as in mechanics and useful arts.
If the first volume is all story and adventure, those that follow it
will not be wholly given up to the details of the mechanic arts. The
captain has a steam-yacht; and the hero of the first story has a fine
sailboat, to say nothing of a whole fleet of other craft belonging to
the nabob. The boys are not of the tame sort: they are not of the
humdrum kind, and they are inclined to make things lively. In fact, they
are live boys, and the captain sometimes has his hands full in managing
them.
With this explanation, the author sends out the first volume with the
hope that this book and those which follow it will be as successful as
their numerous predecessors in pleasing his young friends--and his old
friends, he may add, as he treads the downhill of life.
DORCHESTER, MASS., AUG. 21, 1882.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. PAGE
A GROWLING PASSENGER 13
CHAPTER II.
A SHORT AND DECISIVE CONFLICT 24
CHAPTER III.
A BRILLIANT SCHEME MADE POSSIBLE 34
CHAPTER IV.
IN THE CABIN OF THE GOLDWING 45
CHAPTER V.
A BOAT WITH A BAD REPUTATION 55
CHAPTER VI.
THE ROBBERY AT THE HOTEL 66
CHAPTER VII.
THE MAN THAT LOOKED THROUGH THE KEYHOLE 76
CHAPTER VIII.
THE COLCHESTER CLUB CHANGES ITS NAME 87
CHAPTER IX.
A WEATHER HELM AND A LEE HELM 98
CHAPTER X.
THE MISSISQUOI IN PURSUIT 109
CHAPTER XI.
THE BEGINNING OF THE CHASE 119
CHAPTER XII.
A ROUGH TIME OF IT 129
CHAPTER XIII.
SAFE UNDER A LEE 140
CHAPTER XIV.
EARLY IN THE MORNING 150
CHAPTER XV.
THE STRATEGY OF THE CHASE 161
CHAPTER XVI.
A GRAVE CHARGE AGAINST THE SKIPPER 172
CHAPTER XVII.
DORY DORNWOOD DECIDES TO "FACE THE MUSIC" 183
CHAPTER XVIII.
DORY LOCKS HIS PASSENGERS INTO THE CABIN 194
CHAPTER XIX.
PEARL HAWLINSHED RESORTS TO VIOLENCE 205
CHAPTER XX.
MR. PEPPERS FINDS THE TABLES TURNED 215
CHAPTER XXI.
Another Element in the Contest 226
CHAPTER XXII.
THE GAME AMONG THE SHALLOWS 237
CHAPTER XXIII.
HEADED OFF ON BOTH SIDES 247
CHAPTER XXIV.
THROUGH VARIED STRIFE AND STRUGGLES 257
CHAPTER XXV.
WIND SOUTH-SOUTH-WEST BLOWING FRESH 268
CHAPTER XXVI.
DORY DORNWOOD MANOEUVRES TO ESCAPE 278
CHAPTER XXVII.
DORY MAKES A HARBOR FOR THE NIGHT 289
CHAPTER XXVIII.
TERRIBLE INTELLIGENCE FROM HOME 300
CHAPTER XXIX.
CAPTAIN GILDROCK HAS DECIDED OBJECTIONS 310
CHAPTER XXX.
CAPTAIN GILDROCK DILATES UPON HIS NOTABLE SCHEME 321
ALL ADRIFT;
OR,
THE GOLDWING CLUB.
CHAPTER I.
A GROWLING PASSENGER.
"Boy, I told you to bring me some pickles," said Major Billcord, a
passenger on a Lake Champlain steamer, to a boy in a white jacket, who
was doing duty as a waiter at dinner in the cabin.
"Yes, sir; and I brought them," replied Dory Dornwood, as he took the
dish of pickles almost from under the passenger's nose, and placed it
quite under his nose.
"No impudence to me, boy!" exclaimed Major Billcord, as he bestowed a
savage glance at the young waiter.
"I beg your pardon, sir: I did not mean to be impudent," replied Dory
meekly.
"Waiter, bring me a piece of roast beef rare. Now, mind, I want it
rare," said the passenger sitting next to the major.
"Yes, sir; in a moment, sir," added Dory, to indicate that he heard the
order.
"When I send you for any thing, you should put it where I can see it,"
added Major Billcord sternly.
"I thought I put the pickles where you could see them," answered Dory,
as he started for the pantry to obtain the roast beef rare.
"Here, boy, stop!" called the major. "Where are you going now? Bring me
the boiled onions, and I want them well done."
"Yes, sir," replied the waiter, as he darted after the onions, and
returned with them in an instant; for he found the dish in another part
of the table. "The boiled onions," he added, as he placed them beside
the snappy passenger's plate, so that he should be sure to see them.
"Isn't it about time for my roast beef, waiter?" asked the next
gentleman.
"In a moment, sir."
"These onions are not half done, boy!" exclaimed the major. "I told you
to bring me onions well done, and not raw onions."
"I don't cook them, sir; and I brought such as I find on the table,"
pleaded Dory, as he started to fill the order of the next passenger.
"Here! come back, boy! I want boiled onions well done, and I don't want
any impudence," snarled the major.
Dory brought another dish of onions, and placed them by the side of the
gentleman's plate. He repeated the order of the next passenger to assure
him that he had not forgotten it, and was in the act of rushing for it,
when Major Billcord broke out again.
"These onions are no better than the others: they are not half cooked.
Now go to the steward, and tell him I want boiled onions well done."
"Get my roast beef first," added the next passenger.
"Here, waiter! bring me a sidebone of chicken, some green pease,
string-beans, pickled beets, boiled cabbage, a plate of macaroni, and
any other vegetables you may happen to have; and don't be all day about
it," said the passenger on the other side of Major Billcord.
"In a minute, sir," replied Dory.
"Go to the steward at once, and tell him what I want," stormed the
major.
"Waiter, bring me a plate of roast stuffed veal, with a specimen of all
the vegetables on the bill of fare. Don't leave out any. If you leave
out any of them, I will travel by railroad the next time I go north,"
shouted another passenger.
Dory did not wait to hear any more. He was not a waiter of great
experience, and he found that the confusion of orders was rather trying
to him. He went to the carving-table, delivered the message of Major
Billcord to the steward, and called for the orders he had received.
Before he had his tray ready, the steward brought him the onions; and he
carried them with the other articles to the table.
"Your onions, sir," said he, as he placed the little dish where the
irate gentleman could not help seeing them.
While Dory was serving the other passengers, whose orders he had taken,
and while half a dozen others were clamorous for every item on the bill
of fare, Major Billcord thrust his fork into one of the odoriferous
vegetables brought to him.
"These are not a whit better done than the others were!" exclaimed Major
Billcord, dropping his knife and fork in disgust. "What do you mean,
boy, by bringing me such onions as these?"
"The steward gave me those onions for you, sir," pleaded Dory, who was
certainly doing his best to please all the passengers at the dinner
table; and the young waiter had already learned that this was not one of
the easiest tasks in the world.
"Don't tell me that, you young rascal! You haven't delivered my message
to the steward," growled the irate passenger.
"Yes, sir: I told him just what you wanted, and he sent the dish of
onions to you, sir," Dory explained.
"The steward would never have sent me such onions as these. You haven't
been to him as I told you. You are an impudent young cub, and you are no
more fit for a waiter than you are for a steamboat captain."
"I brought the onions the steward sent; and it isn't my fault that they
are not right," said Dory gently, though he did not always speak and act
in just that way.
"Is my dinner to be spoiled by the stupidity and carelessness of a boy?"
demanded Major Billcord. "If I have any influence on board of this boat,
such blockheads shall not be employed as waiters."
"I will get any thing you wish, sir," added Dory, appalled at the remark
of the important passenger.
"Don't come near me again! Go, and tell the steward to send another
waiter to me," was all the reply the major would give him.
Dory Dornwood intended to deliver even this message to the steward; but
he was kept very busy by the wants of the other passengers, so that he
could not go at just that minute. He had been instructed to serve all
persons at the tables alike; and he was not quite old enough and
experienced enough to comprehend that his instructions were to be obeyed
in a Pickwickian sense on certain occasions.
Major Billcord sat back in his chair, and watched the movements of the
boy-waiter for the full space of fifteen seconds, which he doubtless
interpreted as fifteen minutes. It was not to be expected that he could
finish, or even go on with, his dinner without the boiled onions well
done. Possibly he did not care so much for the aromatic vegetable as he
did for his own sweet will. At any rate, he would not touch another
morsel of food; and, when the fifteen seconds had fully expired, he was
ready to make another demonstration.
"Boy, didn't I tell you to go and call the steward, and tell him to send
me another waiter?" demanded Major Billcord, as savagely as though Dory
had struck him in the face.
"Yes, sir, you did, and I am going; but we are all very busy, and the
passengers want a great many things. I am going now, sir," replied Dory,
who thought it might be safer to let the rest of the passengers wait
than to anger so great a magnate as the major.
Dory delivered his message, and the steward uttered an exclamation which
would have cost him his situation if Major Billcord had heard it. The
head of the culinary department went to the place occupied by the
important personage.
"If you don't discharge that boy before supper-time, there will be
trouble," said the major when the steward presented himself. "He is
stupid, careless, and impertinent. He had the presumption to tell me
that he did not cook the onions, and it was not his fault that they were
not properly done."
Possibly the steward might have voted on the same side of the question,
if he had considered it prudent to express an opinion; but he apologized
for the cook, and said nothing about the waiter. He explained that he
had been to the kitchen for the onions, and had sent the best on the
boat to the distinguished passenger.
"Then the young rascal gave them to some other person!" exclaimed Major
Billcord. "The boy is not fit for a waiter."
"He is only serving for a week or two, while one of our regular waiters
is away. He is the son of one of the second pilots."
"Which one?" demanded the angry passenger.
"Dornwood. He says the boy is a little wild, and he wants to get
something for him to do," added the steward. "The boy is rather more
than his mother can manage when his father is away, as he is all the
season."
"This is not a reform-school, and we don't want any such scallawags on
the boat. But you needn't tell Dornwood that I said any thing about his
boy," added the major in a low tone.
Of course the steward would not say any thing on such a delicate
subject. After dinner Dory Dornwood was called up and discharged. He
tried to explain that he had done his best, and had not spoken an
impudent word. The steward had been satisfied with him, but it was
impossible to resist the influence of such a man as Major Billcord.
Perry Dornwood was the second pilot of one of the night boats for this
week; and Dory could not run to his father with his grievance, for he
felt that he had a grievance. Possibly it would have done no good if he
had. His father had had some trouble with him, and he was more inclined
to believe the worst that could be said of his son than the best.
Perry Dornwood the pilot had rather forced himself into the position he
occupied. He was a good enough pilot; but he drank too much whiskey to
be fully reliable. He was never drunk, at least not when on duty; but he
was generally pretty well soaked in liquor. The captain of his steamer
did not believe in him, and Perry's position had been nearly lost
several times; but some kind of an influence still kept him in his
place.
The pilot lived in Burlington. He had a wife and two children, a son and
a daughter. Mrs. Dornwood was a most excellent woman, but she was almost
discouraged under the trials and difficulties which beset her path in
life. Her husband did not half provide for his little family; and it was
all the poor mother could do to scrub along, feeding and clothing the
boy and girl.
The pilot had work only a portion of the year on the lake, and he was
not disposed to find other employment when not so engaged. Even the
money he did earn did not all find its way into the expenditures for
taking care of the family. It was feared by the good woman that her
husband gambled.
Dory--his name was Theodore--was now fourteen years old. His mother had
explained to him the condition of the family finances. They had nothing,
and Perry Dornwood owed many debts. The boy had been wild, but those
who knew him best said there was nothing bad about him. He had looked
for work, and his father had found it for him. Now he had lost his
place; and his discharge was a very heavy blow to him, though he was
wild.
CHAPTER II.
A SHORT AND DECISIVE CONFLICT.
Dory Dornwood appeared to be in no hurry to get home after his
discharge. The steamer stopped at Burlington after his fate had been
decided, and the steward expected him to take his things on shore. The
ex-waiter evidently had other views, for he kept out of sight until
after the boat had left the wharf.
When the steamer reached Plattsburg, Dory Dornwood went on shore. He
visited all the hotels in the place, and endeavored to obtain a
situation as a waiter, or as any thing else--he did not care what--by
which he could earn some money to help support the family. He could
obtain no situation, though he heard of a place a few miles out in the
country where a boy was wanted. Dory had no money,--not a penny; for his
father collected his wages. He decided to visit the place at once, so as
to be the first to apply for the position.
After he had walked a couple of miles, and had one more to go, he came
to a piece of woods through which the road extended. He began to feel
very tired, for he had done a day's work before he landed from the
steamer. It was now nearly eight o'clock in the evening. He had eaten no
supper, and not much dinner; for the events in the cabin had taken off
his appetite. With no money and no friends, he was not very clear as to
where his supper was to come from. The question of a lodging was
involved in quite as much doubt.
The weather was warm; and, if he was compelled to lodge in the woods, it
would not be the first time he had slept in the open air. Though he had
rather more than his fair share of pride, any farmer would give him a
meal of victuals for the asking. But just now he was tired, and he
wanted rest. He walked a short distance from the road, and seated
himself on a rock. It was not comfortable; and he stretched his body
upon the ground, which was covered with a clean carpet of fine needles.
Of course he could not help thinking of the great event of the day; and,
while he was considering it, he fell asleep. Possibly his slumber
continued an hour; and it might have continued another hour, or even all
night, if he had not been disturbed by footsteps near him. The nails in
the heel of a heavy boot grated upon a flat rock, and this was the noise
that awakened the tired sleeper.
Dory half rose from his reclining posture, and discovered a man moving
stealthily towards the road. He was creeping with the utmost care: and
probably the scraping of his boot against the rock had admonished him to
be more careful; at any rate he acted as though such were the case.
The seeker for a situation was wide awake as soon as he was awake at
all. He sat on the ground watching the stranger as he crawled towards
the road. It was quite dark, but the opening made by the highway
admitted some light from the stars. Dory thought the stranger had
something in his hand. If the man had walked right along, the boy would
have thought nothing of the fact that he was in the woods after dark;
but he was creeping like a cat, and Dory's curiosity was aroused.
He got upon his feet, and walked after the mysterious stranger. He did
not care to show himself, and he kept one of the big trees between
himself and the man all the time. Near the road a fringe of bushes had
sprung up, and in their foliage the man concealed himself. Dory had
obtained a better view of what the stranger had in his hand; and, though
he was not sure of it, he thought it was a gun. Was the man out hunting
in the dark? There were no deer so near the town, and it was hardly
likely that the person was gunning in the darkness.
Dory continued to creep from tree to tree until he could not have been
more than a couple of rods from the concealed night wanderer. If he had
not believed the man had a gun in his hand, he would have left his
concealment and gone about his business; for he had come to the
conclusion that the affair, whatever it was, did not concern him. But he
felt a little bashful about leaving, lest the gun might go off, and the
shot accidentally strike him.
The next minute he was confident that he heard footsteps in the road.
Before he had time to satisfy himself fully on this point, the gun in
the hand of the stranger went off; and its going-off proved to Dory
that it was a gun, as he had supposed, and even believed.
"Help! help!" shouted some one in the road; and the voice proved that
there was some one there.
Scarcely had the word been uttered before the man in the bushes broke
from his place of concealment, and rushed towards the road. Dory was too
much interested in the affair to remain at a distance any longer. It was
none of his business; but it was plain enough that the mysterious
stranger had fired his gun at the person who shouted for assistance from
the road. Dory reasoned, that, as he had fired the gun once, he could
not fire it again without reloading it; and he had not had time to do
this.
But there was some sort of wickedness in progress, and Dory ran with all
his might to the road; and, even if he had not run with all his might,
it would not have taken him a great while to accomplish two rods. When
he came to the opening, he saw one man spring upon another. The former
dropped the gun he carried in his hand, and it was plain that he had
fired the shot.
The two men clutched each other, though one of them tried to say
something to the other. Dory had lots of blood in his veins, and it
began to boil as though it was over a hot fire. All his sympathies were
with the man who had been attacked. The other had crept upon him like a
thief in the night, had fired at him, and then had followed up the
attack with a hand-to-hand onslaught.
"Don't, Pearl!" pleaded the man who had been attacked. "Consider what
you are doing! You will ruin yourself! You are sure to be discovered,
even if you kill me!"
Dory did not wait to hear any more. He had a strong impulse to take a
hand in the affair, though it was none of his business. The stranger who
had wakened him from his slumbers was back to him, and the boy thought
his opportunity at the present instant was too good to be lost.
The supperless wanderer flung himself upon the shoulders of the
assailant, and grappled him around the throat with all his strength. He
was well aware, that, if he failed at the first dash, his chance would
not only be gone, but he would be in danger of being entirely wiped out
by his intended victim.
Dory was not a very heavy boy, but he was remarkably active. He dug his
knees into the back of the man, and in a moment he brought him to the
ground. The stranger then turned his attention to his assailant, and he
made short work of him. He seemed only to shake himself, and Dory went
half way across the road.
The ex-waiter was on his feet again in an instant. He looked at the
assailant, and saw that he had a sort of cloth mask on his face. As the
boy sprang to his feet, the stranger was in the act of picking up his
gun. He snatched it from the ground, and then fled into the woods. The
conflict appeared to be ended.
Dory puffed like a fish out of water. He had been laboring under
tremendous excitement, which is not at all strange; for it would have
stirred the blood of any one to see another attacked with a deadly
weapon.
Dory watched the woods, and rather expected that a bullet would soon be
travelling from that direction towards him and the person who had been
attacked. But his companion in the road did not seem to be at all
alarmed: at least he did not make any haste to seek a safer position.
"It is dangerous being safe just here," said Dory, when he had collected
his scattered thoughts, and realized that it was time something was
done. "I think we had better move on, or that gun will go off again."
"I don't think it will go off again," replied the man in the road, in a
very sad, rather than an alarmed or indignant tone.
"Didn't that man fire at you? Won't he do it again?" demanded Dory.
"I don't think he intended to hit me; though he fired at me, or he fired
his gun. I don't believe he fired it at me," answered the stranger in a
confused manner.
"If he fired at you, of course he meant to hit you. What in the world
should he fire at you for if he didn't mean to hit you?" asked Dory,
wondering at the reasoning of his companion in the road.
"I am confident I am right; but we won't say any thing more about it
just now," added the stranger, who seemed to be struggling with other
emotions than those of fear or indignation.
"That's very queer," said Dory, puzzled at the strange conduct of the
man who had been fired at. "I think you will get a bullet through your
head if you stay here much longer."
"I am not afraid of a bullet; but I don't think I had better stay here
any longer," replied the stranger. "Which way are you going, young man?"
"I was going over to a place they call Belzer's."
"That is a mile from here. Were you going there when that gun was
fired?" asked the man eagerly.
"Well, not just at that minute. I was tired out, and I lay down in the
woods to rest me. I was going over to Belzer's to see if I could get a
place to work. I"--
"You are too late: they hired a boy at Belzer's this afternoon," added
the man.
"That's just my luck," added Dory, discouraged at this intelligence.
"The luck shall not go against you this time. You have no errand at
Belzer's now; and, if you will walk to Plattsburgh with me, I will make
it all right with you; and you shall not be sorry that you did not find
a place at Belzer's, which is not a proper place for a boy like you."
"If there is no place there for me, and it is not the place for me, I
shall return to Plattsburgh," answered Dory, as he started with the
stranger in the direction from which he had come when he took to the
woods.
In a short time they came out into the open country; and there was no
longer any danger that the attack from the mysterious assailant would be
renewed.
"Young man, you have done me a great service; and you have done a
greater one to another person," said the stranger.
"Who's that?" asked Dory, puzzled by the strange speech of his
companion.
"I mean the one who fired the gun at me," answered his fellow-traveller.
"That's funny!" exclaimed Dory. "You and he seem to be fooling with each
other. He shot at you, and didn't mean to hit you; and now I have done
him a great service. I suppose you don't mean to pay me for the service
I did him," laughed Dory.
"I should be willing to pay you more for what you did for him than for
what you did for me."
Dory was bewildered.
CHAPTER III.
A BRILLIANT SCHEME MADE POSSIBLE.
Dory began to think his companion was a lunatic. Certainly he was a
Christian man, for he seemed to have nothing but kindness in his heart
towards his late assailant.
"I don't want any pay for what I did for either," said Dory Dornwood, as
he saw his companion thrust his hand into his pocket, and he feared that
his joke had been taken in earnest.
"We will talk about that when we get to Plattsburgh. Will you tell me
your name, young man?"
"My name is Theodore Dornwood, though almost everybody calls me Dory.
But I don't care what they call me, if they don't call me too late to
supper, or don't call me at all, as nobody did to-night," replied Dory.
And an emphatic wrenching at his stomach, just at the moment he spoke,
compelled him to repeat that ancient witticism.
"You have had no supper, Dory?" demanded his new friend, with much
sympathy in his tones.
"Not a bit, and not much dinner," added Dory. "Major Billcord spoiled my
dinner. And I dare say he charges me with spoiling his dinner: but I
didn't; it was the cook."
The curiosity of his companion was excited, and Dory told the whole
story of his experience as a waiter at dinner that day. In answering the
questions of the stranger, he told the history of himself and his
family. He enlarged upon his efforts to obtain a situation, and declared
that he wanted to do something to help his mother, and make things
easier for her.
Just as he was finishing his narrative, they reached the front of a
farmhouse. The stranger led the way to the door, and knocked. Presently
the door was opened by a man with a lamp in his hand. Dory wondered what
his companion wanted there; for he had not spoken of making a call on
the way to the town.
"Ah! is that you, Basil Hawlinshed?" said the occupant of the house, as
the light from his lamp fell upon the face of the stranger,--a stranger
to Dory, though he did not appear to be such to the man of the house.
"I am glad to see you. Come in!"
"Thank you, Neighbor Brookbine. I am sorry to trouble you: but this
young man with me has not been to supper yet; and it makes my stomach
turn somersets to travel with any one who has not been to supper when it
is after nine o'clock in the evening."
"Come in! come in, Neighbor Hawlinshed! though I suppose you are to be
no longer my neighbor. The boy shall have the best supper we can get up
for him at this time of night."
Mr. Hawlinshed--for this appeared to be the name to which he
answered--and Dory followed him into the house. When he had gone to make
preparations for the supper, Dory's companion led him to one side of the
room.
"Will you do me a favor, Dory?" said Mr. Hawlinshed.
"I will try with all my might to do it," replied Dory.
"Don't say one word about what happened in the woods while you are in
this house," said Mr. Hawlinshed earnestly, and with much emotion.
"Oh, that's an easy one!" replied Dory gayly. "I could do that, and only
half try."
"Be very sure you don't speak a word about the matter, or even hint at
it in the most distant manner," continued Mr. Hawlinshed with painful
emphasis.
"Not a word or a hint, sir. No one shall squeeze it out of me with a
cider-press," protested Dory.
Mr. Brookbine came into the room, and Mr. Hawlinshed tried to compose
himself. The talk of the two men was upon subjects in which the boy felt
no interest. He was more concerned about his supper than about the
affairs of the two speakers. But he learned that Mr. Hawlinshed had been
a farmer, and had just sold his farm for forty-five hundred dollars in
cash. He was going to another part of the State to engage in the lumber
business.
Nothing was said which afforded Dory a clew to the strange event in the
woods. He fancied it had some connection with the money the farmer had
received for his farm. The hungry boy was called into another room by
Mrs. Brookbine to eat his supper. He found a plentiful meal on the
table, and he did ample justice to it. While he was eating, the farmer's
wife, who was a motherly sort of woman, plied him with questions; and he
answered all those that related to himself, but he was extremely careful
not to betray the confidence of his new friend.
Dory felt like a new creature when he had finished his supper, which he
thought was quite good enough to have suited Major Billcord; though he
was sure that it would not have suited him, for the simple reason that
he was never suited with any thing. Mr. Hawlinshed offered to pay for
the meal, and Farmer Brookbine felt insulted by the proposition. The
visitor explained that he should not have offered to pay for his own
supper, but he had brought an entire stranger into the house. Mr.
Brookbine declared that he always gave a meal of victuals to any one who
needed it. With many thanks the visitors took their leave, and resumed
their walk to town. In less than half an hour they were at a hotel in
Plattsburgh.
"I can't stay here, Mr. Hawlinshed," said Dory, as they entered the
house. "I have no money to pay my bill."
"Do you think I am a heathen, that I won't pay your bill after the
service you have done me?" asked Mr. Hawlinshed with a smile.
"I don't want anybody to pay for me," protested Dory.
"Don't talk so, my boy," added his new friend. "Come to my room, for I
want to talk with you."
Dory assented, though he had set his teeth against taking any thing that
looked like charity. He followed Mr. Hawlinshed up-stairs, where it
appeared that he had a room. It contained a trunk, a valise, and other
baggage.
"Dory, you have rendered me a service that you cannot understand; and I
am glad you cannot. I should feel mean to the end of my life if I did
not attempt to make some slight return for it," said Mr. Hawlinshed, as
he seated himself at a table. "I don't think you saved my life, for I
don't believe my life was in danger for a moment."
"I don't think I saved your life, but I think your life has been in
danger. Why, the fellow might have hit you by accident, even if he
didn't mean to," replied Dory. "But the villain went at you as though he
meant to tear you in pieces after he had fired the gun."
"It is hardly worth while to argue the question. I am very confident of
what I say. My life has not been in danger, but my money was in great
peril. I had forty-seven hundred and fifty dollars in my pocket when
that person attacked me," continued Mr. Hawlinshed.
"Jerusalem!" exclaimed Dory, who did not remember that he had ever
before been near so much money in all his life.
"I should have lost that money if you had not saved it, Dory. This was
the point I was coming to. Don't ask me any questions, for I don't want
to answer them."
"I won't ask any, if you don't want me to," added Dory, who was very
much mystified by the occurrences of the evening.
"So far as I know and believe, you are the only person who saw the
affair in the woods. The three who took part in the affray are the only
persons on earth who know any thing about it," added Mr. Hawlinshed.
"I did not see or hear anybody around while I was in the woods," replied
Dory. "I don't believe anybody else knows about it."
"That is very lucky, and I am only sorry that you happened to witness
the sad affair. Now, Dory, I don't want any other person to know any
thing about it."
"Nobody shall find out any thing about it from me," protested the boy.
"You used me very handsomely, and got a good supper for me when I should
have had to feed on wind if I hadn't come across you."
Mr. Hawlinshed looked the boy in the face; for he suspected that Dory
was making game of him when he weighed so insignificant a thing as a
supper against the help he had given him in the woods. He took out a
large pocket-book, which appeared to be filled with bank-bills. From
them he selected several bills, and tendered them to Dory.
"What's that?" asked the boy, as he looked suspiciously at the bills. "I
don't want any money for any thing I have done."
"Here is one hundred and five dollars," continued Mr. Hawlinshed. "The
five dollars is to pay any expenses you may incur in getting home, so
that you may have the hundred when you get there."
Dory looked at the money, and the temptation to take it was very great.
He could not bring himself to accept money for doing a kind act to a
person who needed his assistance. On this ground he stoutly refused to
touch the bills.
"Not for saving my life or preventing me from being hurt, Dory, but for
saving my money. I shall be very unhappy, and feel mean, if you don't
take the money. If I were rich, I should insist upon your taking
thousands. This is a very small sum for the service you have rendered,
for saving me from a loss which would have defeated the business
enterprise I have in view. Take it, Dory, for my sake, if not for your
own. It will be a great help to your mother," persisted Mr. Hawlinshed.
It looked easier to Dory than at first. He had saved his companion's
money, and prevented him from losing forty-seven hundred and fifty
dollars. But it took another half an hour of argument to satisfy Dory
that he was not doing a mean thing in taking the bills. He took them at
last, and his companion seemed to be happy in the fact that he had done
so.
Dory felt rich enough to buy out the New York Central Railroad, or to
become the proprietor of half the land that bordered on Lake Champlain.
He had an idea of buying out the steamer on which Major Billcord had
caused his discharge. At any rate, he must buy out something that would
float on the lake, for he was about half boy and half boat.
He put the money into the old wallet he carried; and he doubted if all
the money it had ever contained, even before it came into his
possession, would equal the amount he had just deposited in one of its
compartments. He had scarcely returned the treasure to his pocket,
before he thought of the use to which he would apply the whole or a part
of the money. It was a brilliant scheme. He had nursed it in his
imagination as an unattainable enterprise, but now the money in his
pocket rendered it possible.
"I feel better now, Dory," said Mr. Hawlinshed. "I have given you a
feather's weight where I owe you a ton, but I hope the time will come
when I can do better. I am going to write a letter now, and I want you
to deliver it for me to-morrow. Will you do so?"
"To be sure I will," replied Dory warmly.
"I shall leave by the boat going south in the morning; and I want this
letter delivered after I am gone," added Mr. Hawlinshed, as he began to
write on a sheet of paper on the table.
Dory considered his brilliant scheme.
CHAPTER IV.
IN THE CABIN OF THE GOLDWING.
"Here is the letter, Dory," said Mr. Hawlinshed when he had sealed and
directed the envelope. "You will have to go about a mile beyond the
place where we met last night. Mr. Pearl Hawlinshed," he added, reading
the address upon the letter.
"Pearl!" repeated Dory, as he took the letter and read the name for
himself.
"That is the name; and the person to whom it is addressed is my son,"
replied the writer of the missive.
"Your son!" exclaimed Dory, looking intently into the face of his new
friend.
"Yes: is there any thing very strange about that? He is my only son, my
only child; and his mother has been dead many years."
"Your son!" repeated Dory, as though he was unable to comprehend the
relation.
"Pearl Hawlinshed; and he is my son. Is there any thing very strange
about it?" asked the father, looking anxiously at Dory.
"But he is the man who fired the gun at you, and then pitched into you,"
added Dory.
Mr. Hawlinshed manifested a great deal of emotion. He dropped into his
chair, from which he had risen when he finished his letter. He appeared
to be greatly astonished that his companion had discovered the
relationship between himself and the person to whom the letter was
addressed.
"How do you know all that, Dory?" asked Mr. Hawlinshed, trying to calm
himself.
"I heard you call him 'Pearl' before I took a hand in the affair,"
replied Dory candidly. "I don't know that I should ever have thought of
the name again if you hadn't given me this letter."
"Then it is very unfortunate that I gave you the letter; but I wished to
be sure that it reached him," said Mr. Hawlinshed, very much perplexed
at the situation. "You know more than I supposed, and I am very sorry
for it. The terrible truth is no longer a secret between my son and
myself."
"I ought not to have let on that I knew his name," added Dory, who felt
that he had made a mistake.
"Since you knew the fact, I am glad that you spoke. You know that it was
my son that attacked me, and who attempted to take the money from me,"
continued the poor father bitterly.
"But it shall be all the same as though I did not know any thing about
it," protested Dory. "After one year or ten you will find that I can
keep a secret."
"I am willing to trust you, Dory; and I should be willing, even if I
could help myself, and were not entirely in your power," added the
unhappy father. "Now you will want to know something about the reason
why he attacked me, and tried to get my money from me."
"No, sir: I will not ask any thing about the difficulty. I suppose you
and your son could not agree, and I know another case just like it. It
is your family affair, and it is none of my business."
"It would take me hours to tell the whole story, and it is too painful
to dwell upon. You will keep the secret, Dory?"
"I will never hint that I ever heard your name. I will leave you now, so
that no one shall know that I ever saw you, or at least that I ever had
any thing to do with you."
"But, Dory, when you tell your mother about the money you have, you will
have to explain where you got it. I don't want you to tell any lies
about it."
"I shall not give her all the money, and perhaps not any of it," said
Dory.
"Not give it to her? I have taken you for a boy who wanted to help his
mother; and this view of your character has led me to trust you more
than I would if you had not told me your story."
"But I shall use the money for her benefit. I am not going to fool it
away. I shall make a business with it which will enable me to help her,"
replied Dory with enthusiasm.
"What is the business, Dory?"
Dory hesitated. There was a contingency about it, and he was afraid that
Mr. Hawlinshed would not approve his plan. He was not altogether clear
in regard to it himself, and he did not care to commit himself.
"I should like to keep that as my secret. I am going to help my mother;
but I am not sure that I can make the plan work, and I don't want to say
any thing about it yet."
"But you will have to explain where you got your money," suggested Mr.
Hawlinshed.
"I will promise never to say one word about what happened in the woods.
I will give this letter to your son to-morrow morning, and then I will
bury the whole thing forever. No one shall ever know where the money
came from."
Mr. Hawlinshed had a great many doubts, as well he might have had. But
he was in a very trying situation himself. His relations with his son
were unpleasant. He had no malice or ill feeling towards Pearl, and all
he wanted was to conceal the sad act of the young man.
Dory was very tired; and he could not help gaping, he was so sleepy. He
shook hands with his new friend, who said they might never meet again.
If he returned to the vicinity of Burlington, he should certainly look
him up; and he hoped he should find him an honest, industrious, and
prosperous young man. Dory left the room.
He kept one hand in his pocket on the wallet which contained the
treasure that was to open up the brilliant scheme by which he hoped to
support his mother and sister. He went out of the hotel without any
definite idea of where he intended to go. It was ten o'clock by this
time. He was not penniless now, as he had been before. He was rich
enough to spend the night, or even a week or a month, at the Witherill
House; but the idea of going there, or to any other public house, did
not occur to him.
Though he had five dollars for "expenses," he could not think of paying
out a dollar, or even half a dollar, for a night's lodging. That would
do very well for Mr. Vanderbilt, but not for him. It would be throwing
money away. He walked down to the lake. He was not so sleepy as he had
been. Stirring himself had waked him up. As he came to the wharf, his
brilliant scheme leaped into his head again.
During his stop at Plattsburgh the day before, he had seen a sailboat,
which was to be sold at auction with other effects of its deceased
owner. He had looked the craft over, and asked a great many questions
about her. Though she was twenty-five feet long, and was handsomely
fitted up, the knowing ones said she would not bring a hundred dollars
at auction.
She could not have cost less than five or six hundred, but she had a bad
name. Her late owner had been drowned in consequence of her upsetting.
People said it was the fault of the boat. She carried a lee helm, and
upset when there was no excuse for her doing so. She had been known to
tip over three times, and she was sure to drown whoever bought her.
Dory looked her over very carefully. He had been about all sorts of
boats ever since he was a small boy. In fact, he was a natural
water-bird, almost as much so as a duck. He was a born mechanic, and his
taste not less than his associations had led him to apply his mechanical
genius to boats and boating.
The name of the boat was the Goldwing. Dory had examined her the day
before, and he "took no stock" in her bad name. He was very sure that
any boat would behave badly if rigged and ballasted as the Goldwing was.
He wished he owned her, or that he could obtain the use of her for the
season. He was confident that he could redeem her reputation.
In connection with this boat had bubbled up his brilliant scheme. If he
had her at Burlington, or at several other points on the lake, he could
make five dollars a day, if not six or eight, by taking out parties.
Such a business was more to his taste, and afforded a better field for
his talents, than tending table in the cabin of a steamer.
But it was no use to think of the Goldwing. If five dollars would have
bought her, he had not the money to invest in the enterprise. He had no
friend upon whom he could call for aid in such a speculation. He might
as well think of buying and running one of the large steamers on the
lake.
But since dark that evening the whole aspect of his fortunes had
changed. He had over a hundred dollars in his pocket, and the Goldwing
was to be sold the next day. He did not wish to put all his little
fortune into a boat; but he was determined to have the boat, if she was
knocked down for a sum within his means.
The Goldwing lay at the wharf. Dory surveyed her as well as he could in
the darkness, and then he stepped on board of her. She had been built
on purpose for her late owner, on a model somewhat different from her
class of boats on the lake; and this created a prejudice against her in
the boating fraternity. Dory had seen her frequently under sail, and he
was delighted with her.
She was decked over forward, and had a little cabin in this part of the
craft. The doors which opened into this apartment were not locked, and
Dory went into it. He lighted a match, and discovered a lantern hanging
from a deck-beam. He lighted it, and found that the cabin was furnished
with two berths, in each of which was a berth-sack. As he looked over
this part of the fitting-up of the boat, he gaped again.
He might as well sleep there as in any other place. He had no fear that
the ghost of the late owner would disturb him. He arranged the doors so
that they could not be opened without waking him, and then lay down in
one of the berths. He was going to think over his brilliant scheme; but,
before he had done much thinking, he fell asleep.
He did not wake till the swash of the night boat from the south caused
the Goldwing to bump against the wharf. It was five o'clock in the
morning. He felt in his pocket, and found that his money was safe. He
slept another hour after this, and then went on shore. He got his
breakfast at a restaurant, and then started to deliver the letter.
He reached his destination in about an hour. He inquired for Pearl
Hawlinshed, and found him without any difficulty. He was about
twenty-two years old. He did not look like the ferocious being he
expected to find in a man who was wicked enough to fire a gun at his
father. He was pale, thoughtful in his look, and was rather inclined to
melancholy. Dory thought he had enough to think about, and that it was
his duty to be melancholy.
Pearl asked him where he got the letter, and Dory said it had been given
him by a man in Plattsburgh to bring out to him. He did not wait to
answer any questions; and he felt in honor bound not to inquire into any
thing relating to Mr. Hawlinshed, father or son.
He returned in season to attend the auction. It was like a funeral
party. Dory made the second bid for the boat.
CHAPTER V.
A BOAT WITH A BAD REPUTATION.
People looked at the boy as he continued to bid on the Goldwing. The
auctioneer asked him some questions touching his ability to pay for the
boat if she should be knocked off to him. Dory declared he would pay for
the Goldwing on the spot if she was sold to him, and his bid was
accepted.
There was only one other bidder, and he looked daggers at Dory every
time he increased upon his bid. This man evidently expected to buy the
boat for fifteen or twenty dollars, and that there would be no one to
bid against him. When the figures reached thirty dollars, the other
bidder protested that he was bidding against nothing, for no one
supposed that a mere boy could pay for the boat. Until this time Dory
had not seen the other person who wanted the Goldwing.
"If he don't pay, Mr. Hawlinshed," said the auctioneer, "we will put it
up again, and then you can get the boat at your own price; for there
don't appear to be anybody else that wants the craft."
When Dory heard the name of the other bidder, he turned, and saw that it
was Pearl Hawlinshed. He was greatly surprised, and in his confusion he
came very near letting the auctioneer knock off the boat to his rival in
the contest for the Goldwing. But he put in another bid; and Pearl
followed him up sharply until forty dollars was reached, when he
declared that he would not give any more for the boat. Then it was
knocked off to Dory at forty-two dollars.
Pearl Hawlinshed looked at the purchaser very savagely, as though he had
done him an ill turn in bidding for the boat. But there was still a hope
that he could not pay for it. Dory went into the cabin of the Goldwing,
and counted out the money; for he did not care to show all he had in his
wallet. He was out of sight but a moment; for his money was all in
ten-dollar bills, except the five which he had changed to pay for his
breakfast.
"Here is the money," said Dory, tendering the amount to the auctioneer.
"Please to give me a receipt."
"You have lost the boat, Hawlinshed," said the auctioneer, as he took
the money. "If you will come into the steamer office, I will give you a
receipt, young man. What is the name?"
"Theodore Dornwood."
"Do you live in Plattsburgh?"
"No, sir: in Burlington."
"Are you buying the boat for yourself?"
"You may make the receipt out to me," replied Dory.
"He is buying her for some other person," said Pearl Hawlinshed. "I
should like to know who it is."
The auctioneer did not ask any more questions, but led the way into the
steamboat office, where he gave the required receipt. Dory felt that he
was now the owner of the Goldwing. If he had owned one of the Champlain
steamers, he would not have felt any better. He was anxious to get on
board of her, and start her on the way to Burlington. As he went out of
the office, he found Pearl Hawlinshed at the door.
"Are you not the boy that brought me a letter this morning?" asked he,
looking at the new owner of the Goldwing with a scowl.
"I carried a letter to you this morning," replied Dory, not particularly
pleased with the manner of Pearl.
"Where did you get that letter?" demanded Pearl in a very lordly and
overbearing tone.
"A man gave it to me; and I promised to give it to you myself," answered
Dory. "That is the whole of it, and nothing more need be said about the
matter."
"You said you were buying this boat for another man," continued Pearl.
"I didn't say so. I have not said any thing about who I was buying her
for," replied Dory, moving towards the side of the wharf where the
Goldwing lay.
"Yes, you did! Don't lie about it," said Pearl in a very offensive way.
"I said nothing of the kind," added Dory.
"Didn't he say he was buying the Goldwing for another man, Mr. Green?"
continued Pearl, appealing to the auctioneer.
"No, he did not, Hawlinshed," answered the auctioneer. "I asked him if
he was buying the boat for himself, and he said I might make out the
receipt to him. That was all that was said about it."
"Well, it is all the same thing: he gave the inference that he was
acting for somebody else. I should like to know who you bought her for,"
persisted Pearl.
"I have bought the boat, and paid for her; and I have nothing more to
say about the matter," replied Dory sharply, as he walked towards the
boat.
"This is a matter that concerns me, and I want to know about it," added
Pearl, following the new owner of the Goldwing to the boat. "You brought
me a letter this morning; and now you have bought this boat, when I was
the only man in this vicinity that thought of such a thing as buying the
Goldwing."
"What has the boat to do with the letter?" asked Dory, who thought it
was a little strange that he had come in contact with the son of his new
friend in connection with the Goldwing.
"That is what I want to know," answered Pearl gruffly. "You see, I don't
believe that a boy like you--for you don't look like the son of a
gentleman--came over here from Burlington to buy that boat. If anybody
over there had wanted her, he wouldn't have sent a boy over here to buy
her for him."
"You can believe any thing you like about it," added Dory, as he stepped
into the standing-room of the Goldwing.
"I want to know who gave you that letter," said Pearl, pushing the
matter.
"I suppose the man that wrote it gave it to me. You got the letter, and
you ought to know more about it than I do."
"I know all about him."
"Then I can't tell you any thing."
"But I want to connect that man with this boat."
"You can connect them if you like. Was there any thing about the
Goldwing in the letter?" asked Dory, who was quite as much puzzled as
Pearl appeared to be.
"None of your business whether there was or not?" exclaimed Pearl
savagely; and the letter was evidently not a pleasant topic to him. "I
am not here to answer questions."
"Nor I either; and here we are equal," replied Dory, as he took the
tiller of the sailboat from the forward cuddy, and inserted it in the
rudder-head.
"The man that gave you that letter got you to buy this boat for him,"
said Pearl. "He knew I wanted her, if you did not."
"The man that wrote that letter never said a word to me about this boat,
or any other; and I did not buy her for him," replied Dory, startled by
the statement of the waspish young man.
Dory was afraid the events of the day might connect him with the elder
Mr. Hawlinshed, who had taken the steamer for the south while he was
absent in delivering the letter. He had come to the conclusion that
Pearl Hawlinshed was a "hard case," as he must be, or he could not have
assaulted his father in the woods. There was plainly a quarrel between
father and son, and he did not wish to know any thing more about it. All
he cared about the matter was to keep the secret inviolate.
"I suppose if you did it you would lie about it," added Pearl.
"You should not judge me by yourself," added Dory quietly.
"Don't give me any of your impudence, or there will be a broken head
round here somewhere," snarled Pearl.
Dory did not want a broken head, and he did not want to give the son of
his friend a broken head; and he did not want to quarrel with the
waspish fellow. He concluded that it would be the wisest policy to say
no more, and he went on with his preparations for getting the boat under
way. The wind was blowing very fresh from the north-west.
The Goldwing had a bad reputation in Plattsburgh, and he had his doubts
about going across the lake in her. He could see the white-caps down
Cumberland Bay, and he decided to put a reef in the mainsail. Pearl
Hawlinshed was not disposed to leave. He had obtained no satisfaction
from the purchaser of the Goldwing, and he evidently believed there was
some trickery by which he had been prevented from purchasing the boat at
his own price.
"That boat will drown you if you go out in her to-day," said Pearl; and
he seemed to realize some satisfaction from the prospect.
"I may not go out in her to-day," replied Dory, glancing at the
white-caps down the bay.
"You were a fool to buy her," added Pearl.
"Am I a greater fool than you would have been if you had bought her?"
asked Dory.
"I know just what she wants to make her all right."
"So do I."
Just then a small steamer was seen coming up the bay. She was laboring
heavily in the rough waves, and both of them gave their attention to
her. She was evidently in the hands of a skipper who did not know how to
manage her. The wind had breezed up within an hour, and she had been
caught out in the lake. She was within half a mile of the wharf; but
Pearl Hawlinshed declared that she would go to the bottom before she
reached the pier.
He was quite excited about the steamer, and left the Goldwing to walk
down to the end of the wharf, where he could get a better view of the
struggling craft. Dory was glad to see him move off. He was as glad to
get rid of him as Sindbad was of the Old Man of the Sea. He did not like
Pearl: in fact, from what he knew of him, he hated him.
Dory had already hoisted his reefed mainsail. It was shaking and
pounding with tremendous energy, as he sat in the standing-room, waiting
to decide whether or not he should put out into the lake. But he wanted
to get rid of Pearl, and he hoped he should never see him again. While
his disagreeable companion was walking down the wharf, he cast off the
bow line which held the Goldwing to the pier, and hoisted the jib.
The sails caught the breeze, and the Goldwing darted off from the wharf
as though she had been shot from a gun; but she did not exhibit any
tendency to go over under her present sail. He ran her outside of the
breakwater; and, when he had the boat in a sheltered place, he let go
the anchor.
He had got rid of Pearl Hawlinshed, and he was entirely satisfied with
himself on this account. He had the Goldwing by himself now, and he
immediately proceeded to make another examination of the boat and her
furnishings. He got at the ballast, and arranged it to his mind. The
fault in the rig he could not correct, but he thought he could overcome
the difficulty in this direction in carrying sail.
"Hallo, Dory Dornwood!"
It was the voice of Corny Minkfield; and it came from the little
steamer, which had now passed out of danger under the breakwater.
CHAPTER VI.
THE ROBBERY AT THE HOTEL.
Pearl Hawlinshed found that his prediction in regard to the little
steamer was not verified. She did not go to the bottom in spite of her
bad management. It was no fault of her skipper that she did not, for he
had certainly done his best to sink her. Dory recognized her as a boat
that had been kept for all sorts of uses at Burlington.
If Pearl was not satisfied with what had passed between him and the new
skipper of the Goldwing, it was too late to do any thing about it now.
The boat was off, and he was confident that her skipper had left the
wharf to avoid him; for why should he prefer to lie at anchor at the
breakwater when her former moorings were so much more convenient?
Pearl Hawlinshed had been a wayward boy. He had worked on his father's
farm; he had tended bar at a saloon; he had worked on the steamers on
the lake; and now he evidently desired to try his hand at boating. If
the Goldwing was worth any thing, she was certainly worth forty dollars;
and it is difficult to see why he limited himself to this sum. Perhaps
he had no money to buy her, since he had failed to relieve his father of
the amount in his possession.
The Goldwing was gone, and there was nothing to keep him on the wharf.
He walked up to the Witherill House, where his father had stopped the
night before. He was well acquainted there, and he immediately found
himself in demand as soon as he entered the office. There appeared to be
a considerable excitement about the house.
"You are just the man I want to see, Pearl Hawlinshed," said the
landlord, as he entered the office.
"Well, what is wanted of me?" asked Pearl.
"Where has your father gone, Pearl?" asked the landlord, as though he
felt a great interest in the question.
"That is more than I know," replied Pearl.
"But he took the boat going south this morning. Don't you know where he
has gone?"
"He is going into a lumber speculation in Lawrence County: that's all I
know about it. He is going to lose all his money if he can; and I reckon
he can," replied Pearl roughly.
"Do you know who the boy was that was with him last night, Pearl? He was
a young fellow about fourteen years old. He came into the house with
your father, and went up-stairs with him."
"I don't know who he is. What's the matter?" asked the graceless son,
wishing to know more before he committed himself.
"A man was robbed of a hundred and fifty dollars in the house last
night. He had the room next to your father; and the boy was seen in the
hall about ten o'clock in the evening. We thought he might know
something about the money," replied the landlord.
"I have no doubt he knows all about it," added Pearl, delighted to
connect the purchaser of the Goldwing with a crooked transaction; for he
had no doubt that the boy who was with his father had obtained the money
with which he bought the boat by stealing it. "This explains the whole
matter. It is all as clear as any thing can be now."
"What is clear, Pearl?" asked the landlord.
"The boy who was with my father last night has just purchased the
Goldwing, poor Lapham's boat; and very likely she will drown the boy
before noon, as she did Lapham."
"What has all this to do with the robbery? I would rather have given a
hundred and fifty dollars than have the thing happen in my house. What
has the boat to do with the money lost, Pearl?"
"Why, the boy paid cash for the boat; planked it right down on the nail
the moment the boat was knocked off to him," answered Pearl, chuckling
his satisfaction at finding Dory in such a scrape.
"Paid cash for the boat, did he? But who is the boy? Does he belong in
Plattsburgh?" asked the landlord, beginning to see the relation of the
boat to the money.
"The boy says his name is Theodore Dornwood, and that he lives in
Burlington."
"Dornwood!" exclaimed the landlord. "That was the name of the pilot that
wrecked the Au Sable last night."
"Wrecked the Au Sable?" repeated Pearl curiously.
"Haven't you heard the news?"
"I haven't heard any such news as that. Is she really wrecked? I used to
work on that boat," added Pearl, opening his eyes very wide.
"Where have you been all the morning? It has got to be an old story by
this time. The Au Sable was run on shore, and sunk. No one was lost; but
several were injured,--how many, I don't know."
"But how came she ashore? It wasn't even foggy last night," said Pearl.
"That's the mystery. The boat ran on to a point of rocks. The report
thinks the pilot in charge was trying to run the boat over the land. His
name was Dornwood; and he must have been either drunk or asleep, or
both. But all this is neither here nor there. What about this boy? He
may be the son of this pilot for aught we know."
"I don't know any Dornwood. He was not a pilot in her when I was on the
Au Sable."
"How do you know that the boy who was with your father bought the
Goldwing, Pearl?" inquired the landlord, who had told his news and lost
his interest in it till another uninformed person came along. "I don't
want to accuse any person of robbing my house without the means of
proving the charge."
"Oh, it's all straight, you may depend upon it!" replied Pearl. "I
thought the boy looked like a young rascal, and now I know that he stole
the money. Of course it is no sale, so far as the boat is concerned. How
is that?" asked Pearl, who seemed to realize for the first time, that,
if the money paid for the Goldwing was stolen, it would have to be
returned to the rightful owner.
"I should say it would be no trade under the circumstances. But you
don't tell me how you know it was this boy that was with your father
last night in my house," said the landlord impatiently.
"I don't know that he was in your house with my father. He was with my
father last night, for he told me so. He brought me a letter from my
father this morning. When we were bidding on the Goldwing, I found it
was the same boy. That's how I know it; and there is no mistake about
it," added Pearl.
"It looks as though there might be something in it. At any rate we will
have the thing looked into. Where is the boy now? What has become of
him?"
"The last I saw of him he was in the Goldwing, at anchor off the
breakwater, on the outside. I have no doubt he is going to Burlington in
the boat as soon as the weather is fit for him to sail."
"Perhaps he has gone by this time," suggested the landlord.
"I don't believe he has. It is blowing heavy out on the lake; and the
boy knows what sort of a boat the Goldwing is, for I warned him that she
would drown him."
"There seems to be no doubt that the boy is the same one that went to
your father's room last night, though that don't prove that he robbed
the room of one of my guests. I should like to see the boy, and have him
explain what he has been about," added the landlord.
"We will have him arrested if he can't tell a straight story," said
Pearl. "If you authorize me to do it, I will bring the boy up here; but
I may have to get a steamer to chase him, and there will be some expense
about it."
"I will pay any reasonable expense," replied the landlord. "You are not
an officer, and of course you can't arrest him."
"But I will bring him up here, whether I am an officer or not,"
continued Pearl. "I am as much interested in getting him back as you
are."
"How is that?"
"I wanted to buy the Goldwing; and I expected to get her for about
twenty dollars, though her sails cost more than that. The young rascal
tricked me out of her. If he stole the money, it is no trade, and the
boat will have to be put up again."
The landlord was satisfied that Pearl would bring the boy to the hotel
if it were possible. Pearl was very sure that he would do it. Without
knowing any thing particular about the Burlington boy, he had taken an
intense dislike to him; but he had no suspicion that he was the person
who had interfered with his operations in the woods the night before. He
hastened down to the wharf, where he found the little steamer that he
had seen struggling with the big waves in the lower bay.
"You have had a rough time of it," said Pearl to a man he found on the
deck of the boat.
"Rather rough; but we came through all right," replied the man.
"What boat is this?" inquired the thief-taker, as he already regarded
himself.
"This is the Missisquoi. A man in Plattsburgh bought her, and I came to
fetch her over; but he won't be here till to-morrow night," replied the
temporary skipper. "I fetched over a lot of boys from Burlington, and
they made things lively on the way."
"Do you know a boy in Burlington by the name of Theodore Dornwood?"
asked Pearl.
"Well, I guess I do. Everybody that has any thing to do with boats in
Burlington knows all about him. He is a little wild, but he is as smart
as a steel trap," replied Captain Vesey, as he was called by courtesy.
"Is he an honest boy?" asked Pearl, as though that were a matter of the
utmost consequence to him.
"I guess he is. He is worth two of his father, who was the pilot on duty
on board of the Au Sable last night, and tried to take the boat across a
p'int of land. He didn't make out, and I guess it will be a bad job for
him."
"Where are the boys you brought over?" inquired Pearl, looking about the
boat for them.
"You see, they came over here on a lark, and will have to get back the
best way they can. We found Dory in a sailboat, anchored off the
breakwater. The boys wanted me to put them aboard of her, and I did.
Dory says he is going to sail the boat to Burlington, and the rest of
the boys are going with him. They are the wildest set of boys on the
lake."
"I suppose you don't object to earning five dollars with this boat
before you deliver her to her owner?" suggested Pearl in an indifferent
sort of way.
"I guess not," said Captain Vesey, with a broad grin on his face. "I
never object to making five dollars, or one dollar, for that matter."
"I want to see Dory Dornwood on some particular business; and, if you
will put me on board of his boat, I will give you five dollars," said
Pearl in an insinuating tone.
Captain Vesey was ready to do it.
CHAPTER VII.
THE MAN THAT LOOKED THROUGH THE KEYHOLE.
Pearl Hawlinshed had not looked to see if the Goldwing was where he had
last seen her, outside of the breakwater. The water was unusually low on
the lake; and, though he saw the topmasts of several boats beyond the
breakwater, he was unable to determine whether or not any of them
belonged to the Goldwing. Captain Vesey had seen no boat go out, and
Pearl concluded that she was still at anchor.
Pearl made his trade with the acting skipper of the little steamer,
which was hardly more than a steam-launch. Mr. Button the engineer, who
was to remain in the employ of the new owner, was wiping the water off
the machinery. He was called, and informed of the arrangement with
Pearl. To the astonishment of both, he refused to move the Missisquoi
from the wharf.
"I reckon the boat is in my care until she is delivered to the new
owner," argued Captain Vesey.
"It don't make any difference to me whose care she is in. I won't go out
with a man who don't know any more about handling a boat than you do,
Captain Vesey," replied Mr. Button warmly. "It was only by a miracle
that we got over here at all. I expected to go to the bottom every
minute of the time until we got inside of the breakwater."
"I reckon I know how to handle a steamboat as well as the next man,"
returned Captain Vesey indignantly.
"That depends upon how much the next man knows about a tug-boat. If the
next man don't know any more about it than you do, I don't want to run
the engine for him."
Pearl could not help being on the engineer's side of the controversy. He
and Dory had agreed that the captain of the Missisquoi did not
understand his business. But Pearl Hawlinshed believed that he knew all
about a steamer, and all about the lake. He considered himself competent
to command one of the large steamers.
"I am going with you, Mr. Button, and it will be five dollars in your
pocket, as well as the captain's," interposed Pearl, who was disposed to
be liberal with the landlord's money.
"My life is worth something to me; or at any rate it is to my family,"
replied Mr. Button doubtfully. "Do you know about handling such a boat
as this?"
"I know all about it: I used to sail in the Au Sable," replied Pearl
confidently.
Mr. Button was doubtless a good engineer, but he was not a very shrewd
man. If he had been, he would have asked in what capacity the applicant
for the use of the Missisquoi served on board of the Au Sable. Possibly
Pearl would have evaded the question, or lied about the matter, for he
had simply been a waiter in the cabin for a few weeks. But Pearl thought
he knew all about a steamer, and all about the navigation of the lake.
"If you are a steamboat man I have no objection to taking the boat out,"
added the engineer. "It is a very rough day on the lake, and one has to
know something about handling a boat in such big waves."
"But I am the captain of this boat, and I reckon I don't want any boss
over me," interposed Captain Vesey at this point.
"We shall have no trouble," added Pearl, as he walked aft with the
captain. "I shall not meddle with your management of the boat. I only
said what I did to quiet the engineer."
But the boat had to take in a supply of fuel, for which Pearl promised
to pay out of the landlord's pocket. She could not leave for a couple of
hours. Pearl wanted to go back to the hotel, and attend to some matters
in connection with his mission which he had forgotten.
"I am to pay you five dollars, and the engineer five dollars, when you
put me on board of the Goldwing," said Pearl, as he was about to leave
the boat. "Is that the trade?"
"That's it," replied the engineer; and so answered the captain.
Pearl walked up the pier, and then went down the railroad till he could
see outside of the breakwater. He found the Goldwing lay at anchor in
the place she had chosen at first. Ten dollars would be a good sum to
pay if the Missisquoi was obliged to take him only out to the
breakwater. But, the sooner he brought Dory on shore, the sooner the
Goldwing would be put up at auction again.
He walked to the Witherill House, and informed the landlord of what he
had done, and declared that the boy who had stolen the money should be
handed over to him in a couple of hours. The hotel-keeper did not object
to the expense; but he wished his representative to be careful how he
managed the business, for it was by no means certain that the boy had
taken the money.
"I am as certain of it as I am of my own existence," replied Pearl
warmly. "I have found out something about the boy since I was here. He
has the reputation of being wild, and no one sent him over here to buy a
boat. And a fellow like him don't have forty or fifty dollars to invest
in boats."
"All that may be; but you can be careful just as well as not," added the
landlord.
"He is nothing but a young cub, and has no friends, so that nothing will
come of it if he shouldn't happen to be the thief."
"If he has no one to defend him, so much the more reason why he should
be fairly dealt with," replied the hotel-keeper,--a sentiment with
which Pearl Hawlinshed had no sympathy. "I have seen Moody since you
went out, and he says a man was looking into the keyhole of the room
next to his about ten o'clock last evening. That was your father's room.
Have you any idea who that man was, Hawlinshed?"
"I haven't the least idea in the world," answered Pearl; and possibly
the landlord did not notice his confusion when he replied, "Very likely
it was this same boy."
"It wasn't a boy, but a man: I asked Moody particularly about this
matter."
"I don't know any thing about the matter at all," protested Pearl. "If
the man that lost the money saw any thing of this kind, why didn't he
tell of it before?"
"I asked him this question, and he says he did not think of it before.
The fact of it is, that Moody had been drinking, though he sticks to it
that he wasn't drunk. He went into his room at about ten o'clock, and
put the money into his trunk, for he was afraid he might lose it. He saw
the man looking in at the keyhole of your father's room when he went
into his own to put the money in a safe place. He heard voices in the
next room when he opened his trunk. The boy was with your father at that
time very likely."
"If the man had been drinking, it is not probable that he knows much
about the boy or the man," added Pearl.
"He had not got very tipsy, or he would not have thought to look out for
his money. But bring the boy up, if you can get him without violence or
outrage. If he explains where he got the money to buy the boat, that is
the end of the matter so far as he is concerned. In my opinion the man
who was looking in at the keyhole of your father's room is more likely
to be the thief than the boy."
"Where did the boy get forty-two dollars to pay for the boat, then?"
demanded Pearl.
"I give it up," laughed the landlord. "But we are likely to know
something more about the case before dinner-time. I called in Peppers,
who used to be a detective in New York City; and he is at work on the
case now."
"What did you do that for?" demanded Pearl, who did not seem to relish
the information. "You set me at work on the case; and now you have
called in another person to attend to it, after I have engaged a
steamer."
"All I asked you to do was to bring the boy in to be questioned. Peppers
won't interfere with any thing that you may do," replied the landlord,
not a little surprised at the objection of Pearl.
"What is Peppers doing?" asked Pearl uneasily.
"I don't know what he is doing: at least, I don't know much about it,
and he told me not to tell what I did know."
"But you can tell me, for I am at work on the case," said Pearl in a
coaxing tone.
"No: I won't tell you any thing. You won't interfere with each other,
and it is best for each of you to work on his own hook," replied the
hotel-keeper, as he turned to attend to a guest who wished to speak to
him.
Pearl saw that it was useless to press the matter any farther; and he
was evidently very much disturbed about the turn the investigation had
taken during his absence. He was particularly anxious to know what the
detective was about, but he was unable to obtain any information from
any person. He returned to the steamboat wharf. When he came in sight of
the breakwater, he was not a little startled to see the Goldwing dart
out from behind the structure, with only a small jib and a reefed
mainsail.
He was startled; because not more than an hour had elapsed since he left
the Missisquoi, and he expected it would be another hour before she
would be ready to go in pursuit of the Goldwing. The latter could sail
like the wind if she would only keep right side up, and she would get a
long start of the steamer. Besides, Pearl did not like the looks of the
big waves on the lake any better than Mr. Button had; and he was not
altogether sure that he could manage her any better than Captain Vesey
had done.
The Goldwing was running from the end of the breakwater over towards the
main shore, and it was possible that Dory intended to make a landing at
Plattsburgh. But it was not more than a quarter of a mile from the
breakwater to the shore, and he could soon tell what she intended to do.
He hastened down the railroad to settle this point. In the furious
breeze that was blowing, the Goldwing seemed to leap over the water. If
she intended to go up to the wharf from which she had started, she would
have to tack in a moment.
Pearl ran with all his might; for it occurred to him that if he could
induce Dory to come on shore and go up to the hotel with him, he might
save the ten dollars he had agreed to give the captain and engineer, and
contrive some way to have it stick in his own pocket. The Goldwing ran
within a hundred feet of the shore, and Pearl got behind a car on a side
track to ascertain what she intended to do.
Gradually her main sheet was let off, and the Goldwing was headed to the
southward. This settled the matter. The boat was not going back to the
wharf. Her skipper had evidently run her over in that direction in order
to get her under the lee of the shore, where she would not get the full
force of the wind.
"Hallo! on board of the Goldwing!" shouted Pearl, as he ran to the
water's edge, yelling as loud as he could.
"On shore!" replied Dory, "what do you want?"
"You are wanted at the hotel," replied Pearl.
Dory discovered by this time who it was that hailed him; and he took no
further notice of Pearl, who hastened to the wharf.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE COLCHESTER CLUB CHANGES ITS NAME.
"What in the world are you doing over here, fellows?" asked Dory
Dornwood, as the four passengers of the Missisquoi tumbled in over the
stern of the Goldwing.
"And what under the breezes of Lake Champlain are you doing in this
boat?" shouted Thad Glovering, who was the first to get a footing in the
standing-room of the Goldwing.
"What boat is it?" asked Nat Long in a blustering manner.
"What are you going to do with her, Dory?" demanded Dick Short.
"Can't you take us over to Burlington in her?" queried Corny Minkfield.
"How many questions do you think I can answer at once, fellows?" replied
Dory. "I am going over to Burlington as soon as the weather is fit; and
you can go with me if you like."
"All right, Dory! Hurrah for Dory Dornwood! You are all right, and so
are we: only we are half starved, for we haven't had any breakfast this
morning," said Thad Glovering.
It must be confessed that the party that arrived in the Missisquoi were
not very promising-looking boys. They had a wild, harum-scarum
appearance and manner, which fully justified the description Captain
Vesey had given of them. In a word, they were evidently wild boys; and
in this respect they did not differ much from Dory himself.
They are the boat-builders whose exploits and achievements are to be
recorded, and they may as well be introduced at this as at any other
time. Thad Glovering was an orphan, who lived with his uncle. As this
relative had several children of his own, the added one was a burden to
him, for he had but small wages. Thad declared that he was willing to
work; but up to this time nothing had been found for him to do. The
worst that could be said of him was that he was wild.
[Illustration: "THE FOUR PASSENGERS TUMBLED IN OVER THE STERN OF THE
GOLDWING." PAGE 87.]
Nat Long's father was a deck-hand on a steamer; and, as he was away most
of the time, Nat was permitted to have his own way. His mother was dead;
and his older sister, who had the care of the family, found herself
unable to control him. He was not a confirmed bad boy, and had worked
for a year in one place, and done very well. A change in the business
had thrown him out of work, and he had been unable to find another
situation. Idleness led him into mischief; and, without some kind of
control, it was only a question of time when he got into the hands of
the law for some crime.
Dick Short and Corny Minkfield were the sons of widows, both of whom had
some property. Their mothers were able to support them without work; but
work was the one thing they needed, whether it was with the head or the
hands.
These five boys lived near together, and they had been cronies from
their earliest school-days. Two of them were usually well dressed; and
the others were somewhat ragged, and considerably patched, showing the
efforts of their protectors to keep them decent. They had all been to
school up to the present time, and now it was vacation; and the next
thing to be decided by their friends was what should be done with them.
Dick and Corny were to go to the high school; but the others must go to
work, and earn their own living,--do something for the support of their
parents.
Dory had gone to work before the school closed for the summer, and all
the boys talked as though they intended to do something. But they did
not feel like going to work in vacation time. They had always had great
larks on the lake when school did not keep, and they were not disposed
to dispense with the good time the present year.
It could not be said that one of these boys was really bad. But they
kept all kinds of company; and, in the absence of any strong controlling
force, they were in great danger of becoming "hard boys." Sometimes they
assisted about the steamers and other vessels; and, by making themselves
useful, they obtained the privilege of sailing on the lake. Their
associations were not always of the best character. They were all "smart
boys;" and wise and steady people who knew them wished they might be put
to some useful labor, or be subjected to some salutary control. Mrs.
Short and Mrs. Minkfield had both been warned of the peril of their
sons; and both had considered the means of redeeming them from the bad
company into which their habits threw them. But they had not done any
thing beyond reasoning with the boys, who always promised to mend their
ways.
Assisted by his four cronies, Dory Dornwood had built a sort of bateau,
a flat-bottomed craft, in which they used to row about the lake near the
shore. It was a rude boat; for the young boat-builders had few tools,
and very inferior lumber for the construction of the bateau. But it
would carry them all, and Dory was the captain of the craft. She was
called the Colchester; and the boys formed a club for aquatic sports, to
which they gave the name of the boat.
Doubtless the Colchester Club gave a great deal of satisfaction to its
members. Unfortunately the Colchester broke adrift in a September
squall, and went to pieces on Colchester Reef, as reported by the
light-keeper. No other boat could be obtained; but the members all said
that as soon as they got to work they should give a portion of their
earnings for the purchase of a suitable craft for the association. Up
to this time they had not gone to work, and the successor of the
Colchester did not appear.
Dory proceeded to answer the questions of his fellow-members of the
Colchester Club. The boat in which they found him belonged to him; and
this was the most astounding statement he made in the course of the
interview. They opened their eyes, and stared at Captain Dory, as they
called him, in silent wonder. Then they looked the boat over with
renewed interest, and seemed to be unable to believe the statement of
their companion.
"The Colchester Club shall have the use of her when I am on board,"
added Dory magnanimously.
"That's handsome; and we shall have the biggest kind of times," added
Thad Glovering. "I'll tell you what we'll do, fellows. We will change
the name of the club, and call it after this boat. What is her name,
Dory?"
"You will find it on the stern, and also on the bowsprit," replied the
skipper of the Goldwing. "It isn't a bad name either."
Two of the members of the club looked over the stern, and two others
rushed to the bow. The name was of the utmost consequence, and Dory
thought it was better for them to read it for themselves than for him to
tell it. Besides, there was a good deal of style in the way the name was
put on in the three places.
"Goldwing!" shouted Corny Minkfield, who was the first to read the name
on the stern. "And there is a gold wing under it."
"Goldwing!" repeated Dick Short, as he read the name on the heel of the
bowsprit. "And there is a gold wing here too."
"Isn't that a splendid name for a boat! Goldwing!" exclaimed Nat Long.
"I don't think you could find any thing better than that if you should
study for a month."
"Or any thing better for a club," added Thad Glovering. "The Goldwing
Club! How do you think that sounds, fellows?"
"I don't believe any thing could sound any better," added Dick Short.
"But we haven't looked the boat over yet."
All hands proceeded to attend to this duty at once. The Colchester had
been a rough, flat-bottomed craft, with neither shape nor comeliness
about her. Whatever first-class sailboats the members of the club had
seen had been only at a distance; and consequently their ideal of
beauty, symmetry, comfort, and convenience in a boat was not very high.
The Goldwing was perfection itself to them, though it might not have
been to more experienced observers. They were ecstatic in their praises
of the Goldwing, and did not believe there was a finer sailboat on the
lake than she was.
"You don't mean to say that you own this craft, Dory Dornwood!" said
Thad when the party had exhausted their vocabulary of fine words
applicable to a beautiful sailboat.
"I have said it once, and I will say it again if it will do any good,"
replied Dory. "The Goldwing is mine, and she don't belong to anybody
else. You can go the last cent you've got on that."
"Get out, Dory!" exclaimed Dick Short, punching the skipper in the ribs.
"You are selling us too cheap, Dory."
"I'm not selling you at all!" protested Dory. "I wouldn't take
twenty-five cents apiece for you, though that would make a dollar."
"You can't expect us to believe that you own such a magnificent boat as
this, Dory, unless you tell us where you got her," said Corny Minkfield
very seriously.
"I can expect it, and I do expect it," added Dory, taking the
auctioneer's receipt from his pocket. "I shall prove to you that she is
mine, and without saying another word."
Dory handed the receipt to Corny, and said nothing more. The sceptic
read the paper out loud, and of course that settled the question. There
was no room for a doubt after the reading of the receipt.
"Forty-two dollars!" exclaimed Corny, as he handed the receipt back to
the skipper. "Judging by the cost of the Letitia, she ought to be worth
four or five hundred dollars."
"Forty-two dollars is nothing for a boat like this," added Dick Short,
whose mother was worth money, and therefore he had less respect for
forty-two dollars than most of the other members.
"But where did you get the forty-two dollars?" asked Thad, who had
hardly ever possessed even half a dime at one time.
"Haven't I proved that the Goldwing is mine?" demanded Dory rather
warmly; for he did not want his fellow-members of the Goldwing Club
skirmishing about in the region of the great secret of his lifetime.
"All I have to say about it is, that I came honestly by the money, and I
don't want any more questions asked."
Dory Dornwood, though he was rather wild, scorned to invent a lie to
explain where the money came from, as perhaps some of his companions
might have done under similar circumstances.
The other members of the Goldwing Club looked at one another; and Nat
Long winked at Corny Minkfield, as much as to say "There is a cat in the
meal somewhere." After the imperative warning from the skipper that
nothing more was to be said about the forty-two dollars, no more
questions were asked; but it was evident that the members all kept up a
tremendous thinking on the subject. But even this matter became stale in
a few minutes in the excitement of the hour.
"Forty-two dollars is dirt cheap for a boat like the Goldwing," said
Dory, breaking the silence. "I have no doubt she cost four or five
hundred dollars; but I ought to tell you that she has a bad name."
"A bad name! The Goldwing?" exclaimed Thad; and all of the party seemed
to think it quite impossible that such a splendid boat as the Goldwing
could have any thing but a first-class reputation.
"She drowned the man that owned her. She upset, and then went to the
bottom. Now, if any of you want to go on shore, you can."
The members of the Goldwing Club looked aghast at one another.
CHAPTER IX.
A WEATHER HELM AND A LEE HELM.
"Is the Goldwing in the habit of upsetting? Does she make a regular
thing of it?" asked Thad Glovering.
"I have heard of her doing it twice before; though I believe she never
drowned any one but her owner," replied Dory candidly and seriously.
"But I don't want any fellow to sail in her that don't want to."
"We can stand it as well as you can, Dory," added Corny Minkfield. "I
suppose she would drown you as easily as she would any of the rest of
us."
"There is nothing to make any of us stand it if we don't want to,"
continued Dory. "I have told you the worst of it, and there isn't any
law to make any of you sail in the Goldwing."
"But we want to sail in her; and this is the Goldwing Club now. But we
don't want to be drowned," said Thad. "I think my uncle would like to
get rid of me, but I don't believe he would want to have me drowned."
"I don't want to be drowned any more than you do, and I know my mother
wouldn't want any such thing to happen to me. Of course I wouldn't go
out in the Goldwing if I thought she was going to spill me into the
lake," added Dory. "I have told you the worst of it, and now you can go
ashore at Plattsburgh if you want to."
"I am willing to take my chances if you are, Dory," replied Thad with
some hesitation. "It is blowing a young hurricane to-day, and you said
you should not go till the weather was fit."
"I am not going to drown myself or you either, if I can help it,
fellows," Dory proceeded. "I heard about the Goldwing the last time I
was up here. I asked all about the drowning of the man that owned her,
and a boatman who saw the whole of it told me all about it."
"How long ago was it that the man was drowned?" asked Nat Long.
"It was about three weeks ago. The boat lay on the bottom a week before
they raised her," replied Dory.
"Was it blowing hard when he was drowned?" inquired Corny.
"No: it was just a good sailing-breeze. I think I know what the matter
was with the boat. I believe I can make her all right, if I have not
already done it; for I have been at work on her this morning."
"What was the trouble with her?" asked Thad, who considered the skipper
competent to put any thing to rights about a boat.
"She was ballasted so that she carried a lee helm," answered Dory, as
solemnly as though he settled the fate of a nation by his words.
"Carried a lee helm!" exclaimed Dick Short. "Is that what the matter
was?"
"Carried a lee helm!" repeated Thad. "That was bad!"
"Carried a lee helm! If it was bad for her, she ought to have left her
lee helm on shore."
"What did she carry it for?" asked Nat Long.
"She carried it because she couldn't leave it behind," replied Dory. "It
is a bad habit, such as some men carry with them through life, for the
reason that they can't get rid of it."
"I say, Dory, what is a lee helm?" asked Thad. "You know that we don't
know any thing more about sailing a boat than we do about making a
watch."
"You used to sail Mr. Jones's boat: but we never went with you then,
Dory; and we never had any chance to learn how to sail a boat," added
Corny. "I have no more idea what a lee helm is than I have what the man
in the moon had for dinner to-day."
"That's what's the matter with all of us," added Thad, laughing.
"I didn't mean to bother you, fellows; but that is just what ailed the
Goldwing, and she had it bad. But any boat would have behaved in the
same way if she was not properly trimmed. I don't think Mr.
Lapham--that's the man that owned the Goldwing, and was drowned; I
couldn't think of his name before--understood a boat very well. Look
here, fellows!"
Dory Dornwood pointed to a mast-hole in the deck, which had been
stopped. The foremast had been moved nearly two feet aft of the place
where it had been stepped by the builder.
"The boatman told me that Mr. Lapham had changed the place of the
foremast, so that he could make room for a locker in the head. If she
had a bigger jib, it would be all right. The ballast was badly stowed,
and that is what made her carry a lee helm."
"Now we know all about what did it, but we don't know what a lee helm
is," added Thad, laughing. "I wish you would tell us what the thing is
before you say any thing else."
"A boat ought to carry a weather helm, though not too much of it,"
replied Dory, knitting his brow as though he was struggling with a big
idea, though he was only thinking how he should make his companions
understand him.
The other members of the Goldwing Club could pull an oar or handle a
paddle; and that was really all they knew about boating, though they
were very ambitious to learn.
"I believe that. A boat ought to carry a weather helm. I think the
legislature ought to make a law that a boat should carry a weather helm,
and make it a state-prison offence to carry a lee helm, which is very
bad," said Corny Minkfield.
"If you are going to do all the talking, I haven't any thing more to
say," replied Dory with dignity.
"Don't get mad, Dory. We don't know what a weather helm is any better
than we do what a lee helm is," added Corny, as an apology for the
interruption.
"I was going to tell you what a weather helm is; for, when you know what
one is, you will understand the other: but you keep putting your oars
in, fellows, so that I don't get a chance."
"We won't say another word until we know what a weather helm is, and
what a lee helm is," said Thad. "Dry up, fellows! not another word."
"A boat ought to carry a weather helm," Dory began again; and then he
paused to give his companions a chance to interrupt him.
Corny was just going to remind him that he had said this before, when
Thad put his finger on his lips, and the remark was suppressed. Dory
looked at them all, and found that they intended to "give him the
floor;" and then he proceeded with his explanation.
"The wind don't always blow just the same," Dory proceeded; and Corny
could hardly help making a comment on this sage remark. "I don't mean on
different days, but within the same hour. In other words, the wind don't
come steady. To-day it comes down in heavy flaws. You can see the
effect of the puffs on the top of the water. A vessel keeps tipping a
little in almost any breeze."
The members of the Goldwing Club nodded all around to indicate that they
understood the matter so far.
"When a flaw or puff comes," Dory continued, "it changes the course of
the boat. The helm has to be shifted to meet this change. Almost always
the tiller has to be carried to the weather side of the boat. Do you
know which the weather side of the boat is, fellows?" asked the
expounder of nautical matters.
"It is the side the weather is on, of course," replied Corny.
"It is the side from which the wind comes," added Thad, who thought it
was not quite fair to make fun of the remarks of the skipper when he was
doing his best to have them understand the difficulty with the Goldwing.
"And what do you call the other side?" asked Dory.
"The lee side, I think," answered Thad.
"Right, Thad; and Corny was not so far out of the way as he meant to
be, for to a sailor the wind is about all there is of the weather. When
a flaw comes, and you have to carry the tiller to the weather side of
the boat to keep her on her course, that is a weather helm," Dory
proceeded.
"I see it!" exclaimed Nat Long, as though he had made a great discovery.
"I don't believe you do, Nat," interposed the skipper. "Suppose you
don't carry the tiller to the weather side, what will happen then?"
"I don't know that any thing will happen," answered Nat, rather abashed
at his own ignorance.
"That's the point of all that has been said," added Dory.
"Well, what will happen? Will she tip over?" asked Nat.
"That is the very thing she won't do; and that's the reason why a boat
ought to carry a weather helm, so that she won't tip over if the
helmsman don't happen to have his eyes wide open tight. If you don't put
the helm to the weather side, the head of the boat will come up to the
wind. As she comes up into the wind, it spills the sail."
"Spills the sail!" exclaimed Corny, who could hold in no longer. "I have
heard of spilling the milk, but not of spilling a sail."
"It means to spill the wind out of the sail," added Dory. "In other
words, it takes the wind out of the sail, and it don't press against the
sail any longer. And, if the wind don't press against the sail, of
course it won't tip the boat over."
"That's plain enough. I understand that first-rate," said Thad. "If a
puff brings the boat up into the wind, then the wind don't bear hard on
the sail, and it won't upset the boat."
"Now let us see how it works when a boat carries a lee helm. Instead of
coming up into the wind when a flaw strikes the sail, some boats go the
other way. The flaw crowds them off from the wind. The more she falls
off, the harder the wind presses against the sail. If the puff throws
the head of the boat far enough from the wind, it will blow square
against it; and, if there is enough of it, it will upset any boat. Then,
if you have to put the helm away from the wind in order to keep the
course, that's a lee helm; and it's a dangerous thing in any boat,
though it can generally be easily corrected if the skipper understands
the matter."
"I see it," said Thad. "I suppose the owner of this boat did not
understand it."
"They say he was obstinate about it, and would not take the advice of
those who did understand the matter," added Dory. "I have shifted the
ballast; and I think the Goldwing will work all right now, though I wish
the foremast was in the old hole."
The members of the club declared that they understood the matter
perfectly. They were willing to return to Burlington in the Goldwing if
it could be shown that she carried a weather helm. When the skipper had
finished his explanation, he went forward, and took another look at the
hole which had been stopped. He found a shingling hatchet in the cuddy,
and with this he attempted to drive out the filling of the mast-hole.
After a deal of pounding, he succeeded in the attempt.
He lost no time in demolishing the locker in the head which Mr. Lapham
had fitted there. For an hour he worked very diligently, assisted by all
the other members of the club; and the foremast was transferred to the
hole the builder had intended it should occupy. The stays were adjusted
again with the greatest care on the part of the skipper, and made
strong enough for the heavy weather that prevailed on the lake.
"Isn't there any thing to eat on board, Dory?" asked Thad. "We are
almost starved."
There was not a morsel of food on board, but Dory said he would go over
to the town if he could.
CHAPTER X.
THE MISSISQUOI IN PURSUIT.
Of course Dory Dornwood had no suspicion of what had transpired on shore
since he departed in the Goldwing. The hunger of the other members of
the club reminded him that he might make a long passage to Burlington,
or that he might be compelled to lie at anchor for a whole day before it
was safe to cross the lake in the present state of the weather. He might
be hungry himself as well as his companions, and he had not thought to
lay in a stock of provisions for the voyage.
For this reason he was all the more willing to land at Plattsburgh. He
hoisted the reefed mainsail again, and directed a couple of the party to
get up the anchor. The Goldwing darted off at a furious rate, as she had
before, when the fresh breeze filled her sails. She took the wind on her
quarter at first; but Dory soon braced her up as she rounded the
southerly beacon at the end of the breakwater, and headed the boat for
the main shore.
"How does she work now, Dory?" asked Thad when the boat was on her
course. "Does she carry a lee helm?"
"Not at all. It takes all my strength to keep her from luffing up,"
replied the skipper.
"There's another new word," added Corny Minkfield. "What in the world
does 'luffing up' mean?"
"'To luff' is to come into the wind. I mean by that, to turn the head of
the boat in the direction from which the wind comes," replied Dory. "But
what she does under her present sail don't settle the question. I took
the bonnet off the jib before I left the wharf this morning."
"The bonnet!" shouted Corny. "Does the boat wear a bonnet?"
"Of course she does. You never made the mistake of putting a boat in the
masculine gender. You always say 'she' in speaking of a boat; and of
course she wears a bonnet when she goes out."
"But when the weather is bad you take the bonnet off; and that is not
the way the ladies do," suggested Thad.
"In rough weather the bonnet makes it all the rougher," added Dory. "The
bonnet is a continuation of the jib, laced to the lower part of the
sail. Taking off the bonnet amounts to the same thing as reefing the
sail."
"Reefing the sail is taking in a part of the sheet by tying it up in a
fold," said Nat Long, looking very wise.
"Not much!" answered the skipper.
"That's what my father told me; and he is a deck-hand on board of the
Champlain," persisted Nat.
"I don't believe he said any thing of the kind, Nat. Taking up a part of
the sheet by tying it into a fold would be a queer operation. Do you run
away with the idea that the jib is a sheet?"
"I don't run away with the idea; but of course a sail is a sheet."
"Not at all. This is a sheet," answered Dory, raising the main sheet,
the end of which he held in his left hand, while he steered with his
right.
"How can that be a sheet when it is a rope?" demanded Nat incredulously.
"You are thinking of the sheets between which you sleep. In a boat all
sheets are ropes. This is the main sheet, because it is fastened to the
main boom,--the stick at the lower part of the sail. This is the jib
sheet," continued Dory, indicating the rope attached to the lower part
of the jib, which led aft into the standing-room, where the helmsman
could haul it in or let it off as occasion required.
"There is a man hailing us from the shore," said Thad, as Pearl
Hawlinshed called to Dory from the railroad.
"I don't want to see that man," said Dory, recognizing the voice of the
disagreeable man from whom he had fled when he left the wharf.
"Do you know him?" asked Thad.
"I never saw him until this morning. He bid against me for this boat,
and he is mad because he didn't get it," replied the skipper. "I think
he means to do me mischief if he can, and he can't if I keep out of his
way."
He could not answer any questions without endangering his great secret.
He was on the point of tacking when he heard the call. To go up to the
wharf would be to fall into the company of Pearl, and he decided not to
do it. Instead of coming about, he let off the sheets, and headed the
Goldwing to the southward.
"You are going the wrong way, Dory," said Thad.
"I don't care about going on shore at Plattsburgh again, fellows; but we
will get something to eat at Port Jackson," replied Dory, without
explaining his reason for not wishing to land at the town.
"But we shall starve to death before you get there," protested Corny.
"We have not had a mouthful of any thing to eat to-day. Captain Vesey
said we might go with him if we would be on board at five o'clock in the
morning, and we had no chance to get any breakfast."
"I am sorry I can't do any thing for you just now; but it is only six
miles to Port Jackson, and I think we shall be there in about an hour,"
replied Dory. "I think the fellow that hailed me is wicked enough to get
this boat away from me if he can; and I don't care about meeting him
again."
The members of the Goldwing Club settled down in the most comfortable
places they could find. A couple of them took possession of the berths
in the cuddy, and two others stretched themselves on the seats in the
standing-room. They were not so wild as Captain Vesey had reported them
to be on the passage from Burlington. They were faint and hungry; for it
was now nearly noon, and the voyagers in the Missisquoi had fasted the
greater part of twenty-four hours.
The Goldwing was under the lee of the land, where there was no sea; but
the wind came in very sharp puffs, as the openings in the shore exposed
the boat to the unsteady blast. But she carried so little sail that she
went along very easily, and showed no more tendency to upset than any
well-built boat would in such puffy weather. The party on board saw
nothing in her behavior to warrant the bad reputation she had
established.
Three miles brought the boat to Bluff Point; and the shore was so
elevated here, that the skipper stood farther out into the lake so that
he might not lose the wind. The Goldwing behaved so well, that Dory was
beginning to have a great deal of confidence in her, so that he did not
hesitate to venture farther from the shore.
The schooner appeared to be making about six miles an hour. Passing
between Valcour's Island and the main land, the Goldwing arrived at
Port Jackson inside of an hour; but, before the boat entered the little
bay on which the port is situated, the boys had another sensation. Dory
had hardly thought of looking astern in the run of the Goldwing down
from Plattsburgh.
"There's a steamer coming down the same way we did," said Dick Short, as
he rose from his place on the seat, just as the schooner was going into
the port. "It looks just like the Missisquoi."
"It is the Missisquoi," added Thad, after he had surveyed the boat.
"It certainly looks like her," said Dory, who was trying to make out
what this appearance meant.
His companions had told him the destination of the Missisquoi; and he
was satisfied that she could have no business in this part of the lake,
as she was to be used in towing lumber in the north. He had seen the
little steamer go up to the wharf where the Goldwing lay. He could not
get rid of the idea that her present trip to the southward was in some
way connected with him, and that Pearl Hawlinshed was on board of her.
But he could not disappoint the hungry clubbists again, and he ran the
schooner into the bay. He immediately informed his passengers that he
could remain at the port but a few minutes. He was going up to the store
to obtain provisions for the boat, and would give them something to eat
as soon as she was under way again. Then it appeared that only one of
them had any money,--Corny Minkfield, whose mother had given him
permission to make the trip over to Plattsburgh,--and he had only half a
dollar.
Corny went with Dory to the store. They bought a large supply of bread
and crackers, a salt fish, and finally the storekeeper offered to part
with a ham he had cooked for the use of his own family. Half a small
cheese was added to the stock of provisions, which Dory paid for, and
they hastened back to the wharf.
"Have you seen any thing of that steamer?" asked Dory, as he came within
hailing distance of his companions.
"She has not shown herself yet," replied Thad.
"We have been gone longer than I intended, for the boiled ham took more
time than all the rest of the things," replied Dory, as he and Corny
deposited their joint burden on the forward deck of the Goldwing. "The
Missisquoi was this side of Crab Island when I saw her, and she can't be
far off."
"What do we care for the Missisquoi now?" asked Corny.
"Cast off that bow line, Dick Short," added Dory, without answering the
question.
The skipper shoved the schooner off from the wharf, and told Dick to
hoist the jib. Heading the Goldwing to the eastward, Dory stood out of
the harbor. The boat was hardly under way before the Missisquoi put in
an appearance at the northern entrance of the bay. Dory kept on his
course after he had calculated the point at which the steamer was likely
to come nearest to him.
"There she is!" exclaimed several of the club in the same breath. "She
is striking in ahead of us."
The Missisquoi was less than a quarter of a mile from the Goldwing. It
could plainly be seen that there were two men in her pilot-house; and
Dory was confident that Pearl Hawlinshed was one of them. His intentions
were certainly very serious if he had gone to the expense of hiring a
steamer to chase him. Probably he had found some way to break up the
sale of the Goldwing. But, whatever his mission, the skipper did not
want to see him. He was too closely connected with the secret of the
night before to come any nearer to him. He decided, that, if the son of
his liberal friend succeeded in "interviewing" him, he would have to run
for it.
"I don't understand what that fellow wants of you, Dory," said Corny
Minkfield.
"And I don't understand it any better than you do," replied Dory. "All I
have to say about it is, that I don't like the looks of the fellow, and
I mean to keep out of his way. Pass round the grub, Corny."
Dory thought the food would stop their mouths, and it did. His
fellow-voyagers asked no more questions, for they were too busy with the
provisions to give attention to any thing else.
As the Goldwing went out from the land, she began to feel the force of
the wind, and she darted ahead under the influence of the sharp puffs. A
few minutes later the Goldwing passed the bow of the Missisquoi not more
than forty rods from her.
CHAPTER XI.
THE BEGINNING OF THE CHASE.
"Goldwing, ahoy!" shouted Pearl Hawlinshed from the bow of the
Missisquoi. "I want you, Dory Dornwood!"
The skipper of the Goldwing decided to take no notice of the dangerous
man. The other members of the club were so deeply interested in filling
their empty stomachs that they gave no attention to the call of Pearl.
The provisions had been taken into the cuddy, and Corny was helping his
companions. Those who were not in the cabin were sitting on the floor of
the standing room, and they could not see the Missisquoi.
"Don't you hear me? I say, I want to see you, Dory Dornwood!" shouted
Pearl again with all his might.
Dory could see that those in charge of the Missisquoi were not managing
the chase very well. Instead of steering the steamer to a point ahead
of the Goldwing, Captain Vesey had run her directly for her. If the
schooner had come to when directed to do so, as the captain of her
evidently expected, it would have been all right. As it was, the
Goldwing had made the eighth of a mile by the blunder.
Dory had practically intimated to his pursuer, that, if he wanted him,
he must come after him. He knew that the steamer could not make more
than eight miles an hour at her best, and she was not likely to do as
well as this in the heavy sea of the lake out from the shore. The
skipper of the Goldwing did not expect to outsail the Missisquoi under
his present short sail.
When Pearl saw that Dory had no intention of coming to and waiting for
him to go on board of the schooner, he called to Captain Vesey to follow
the Goldwing. Instead of doing so, he rang his bell to stop the engine.
Dory could not hear what passed between the captain and his passenger;
but he was aware that an animated discussion was in progress on board of
the steamer.
The Goldwing was certainly behaving very well for a boat with such a bad
reputation. Dory had been gaining confidence in her ability every
moment of the time since she left the breakwater. It was evident to him
that sailing on the wind was her weak point, or rather her dangerous
one. But she had the wind on her port quarter at present; and Dory did
not care to run her directly before the wind, as he would have been
obliged to do if he had taken a direct course for Burlington.
The skipper no longer doubted the ability of the Goldwing to cross the
lake, violent as the sea was at a distance from the shore. He headed her
for Garden Island, nearly half a mile south of Valcour's Island, which
sheltered the boat from the full force of the strong wind. From Garden
Island to Providence Island, off the south-western extremity of South
Hero, it was only two miles and a half. Not more than half of this
distance would be through the roughest water; for Valcour's sheltered a
considerable portion of the course.
Dory wondered what the discussion between the captain and the passenger
of the Missisquoi was all about. He judged that the master of the
steamer was not willing to follow the Goldwing any farther. He hoped
they would continue the dispute for a while longer. If they did, he
should be out of their reach in a short time; for he was confident the
schooner was making at least six miles an hour.
But the skipper was not to be fully gratified; for the next time he
looked about at the steamer, she was under way again, and with her bow
pointed to the Goldwing. She was half a mile astern of the schooner, and
this was a considerable distance for her to gain. But Dory began to feel
the excitement of the race, for it was evident that there was to be a
race.
The high land at the southern end of Valcour's Island was making it
altogether too mild for the Goldwing, for the Missisquoi was evidently
gaining very rapidly upon her. Dory started the sheets, and ran to the
southward, where he could get more wind. The steamer promptly changed
her course, and followed the schooner. It was plain that Captain Vesey
or Pearl Hawlinshed, whichever was managing the steamer, had no idea of
using any thing like tact or stratagem in the chase. Probably the pilot
did not consider that any thing of the kind was necessary, and that the
steamer ought to overhaul the sailboat simply by outsailing her.
By this time the other members of the Goldwing Club had eaten all they
could, and their occupation became uninteresting. Corny put the
provisions into a locker in the cabin, and there was enough left for two
or three meals more. First one stood up, and then another, until all had
taken a view of the Missisquoi.
"The steamer is chasing you, Dory," said Thad, as though he had made a
discovery. "She is following us with all her might."
"I know it," replied Dory, looking behind him at the steamer.
"What is she chasing us for?" asked Corny.
"She wants to catch us," added Dory.
"Is it to find out whether she can beat the Goldwing?" asked Nat. "She's
a steamer, and she ought to beat her every time."
"Perhaps she ought to, but I don't intend that she shall."
"You don't expect to run away from a steamer, do you, Dory?" said Dick
Short.
"I don't expect to let her catch us; but it will depend upon how fast
that steamer can go," added Dory.
"But what does she want to catch us for, Dory?" persisted Corny,
repeating the question he had put before.
"I thought I told you about it. The man in the bow wanted to buy the
Goldwing. I bid over him, and got the boat. That made him mad. This is
all I know about the reason for his chasing us. He is a wicked fellow,
and I think he means to do me harm. All I want to do is to keep out of
his way," replied Dory. "I don't know what he wants of me, and you are
just as wise as I am. We won't say any thing more about that matter."
"Of course he will catch you," added Thad. "Who ever heard of such a
thing as a sailboat running away from a steamer?"
"No matter whether we ever heard of such a thing or not, we are going to
try it now," replied Dory. "But I can't have you fellows flying about
all over the boat any longer. Two of you sit on each side of me, and I
think there will be fun in this thing before we get through with it."
"All right, Dory: you are the captain of this ship, and we will do just
what you say," replied Corny.
The boys disposed of themselves as the skipper directed, and sat as
still as they could, which was not saying much. But Dory was satisfied
that they would keep still enough as soon as the boat got a little more
to the eastward, where she would feel the full force of the strong
breeze.
"She is gaining on us, Dory," said Thad; and he and his companions were
watching the Missisquoi all the time. They were beginning to get excited
over the race, though they seemed to be sure that it would soon come to
an end by the steamer overtaking the Goldwing.
"I expect her to gain on us while we are here in still water; but I
think she will roll a great deal more than the Goldwing when we get out
into the lake," replied Dory.
"Creation! didn't she roll coming over from Burlington?" exclaimed
Corny. "I thought she was going to roll clear over. Mr. Button the
engineer said Captain Vesey did not know how to handle her."
"Don't you expect that the Goldwing will roll in the big waves?" asked
Thad.
"Of course she will; but she sits lighter on the water than that
steamer, and she won't dive into the waves so deep. But wait, and we
shall soon see what we can do," replied Dory. "You fellows have eaten
all you can, and I have not had any thing since my breakfast early this
morning."
"I will steer for you, Dory, while you eat your dinner," proposed Corny.
"Did you ever steer a sailboat, Corny?" asked Dory with a smile.
"I never did; but I think I can do it," replied the volunteer.
"I would rather have you make a beginning when it don't blow quite so
hard. If the Goldwing is going to upset, I want to know how it is done."
No one in the party had ever sailed a boat, and the skipper was not
willing to resign the helm to any of them. At his request Corny brought
him something to eat, and he disposed of it while he kept his place at
the helm. By the time he had finished his first slice of ham, and a
corresponding portion of bread and cheese, the Goldwing was up with
Garden Island. The skipper, for his own purposes, had run to the west of
it. Although he felt like disposing of another slice of ham, he was too
much interested in his occupation to attend further to the question of
rations just then.
Dory did not tell his companions what he had been thinking about; but he
hoped to leave the Missisquoi at this point, or to get a better start of
her. He preferred to explain his plan after he had carried it out if it
were a success, or to keep silent if it were a failure. He watched the
Missisquoi very closely, for his own movements would depend upon hers.
There was plenty of water to the northward of the island, but there was
a shoal to the southward.
If the captain of the steamer had been wise, if he had had his eyes
open, he would have kept to the eastward; but he followed directly in
the wake of the Goldwing, and was within less than a quarter of a mile
of her.
"Do you know how much water the Missisquoi draws, Thad?" asked Dory, as
the Goldwing came up with the island.
"I heard Captain Vesey say that she drew six feet when she had her coal
in," replied Thad.
"I heard him say so when we were off Apple-Tree Shoal," added Corny. "I
asked him why he didn't go close up to the buoy; and he said there was
not more than six feet of water on the shoal, and the boat might touch
bottom."
"I thought she didn't draw over five feet. If she draws six, so much the
better," added Dory.
"Why is it so much the better, Dory?" asked Thad.
"Hold on all, and don't ask any more questions!" said Dory, laughing. "I
have business on my hands just now, and I will tell you all about it in
about ten minutes."
The skipper had gybed the boat under the lee of Valcour's; but the wind
was too fresh where he was now to repeat the manoeuvre. It was a gale
in this part of the lake, and the Goldwing worked very lively.
"Corny, I want you to handle that jib-sheet," said he when he was ready
for his next move.
"But I don't know how," pleaded Corny.
"Do what I tell you, and do it in a hurry when I give the word. This is
the jib-sheet, fast to this cleat. When I shift the helm, the jib will
shake. Haul in upon it as fast as you can, and get all you can, and keep
it when you get it. I shall do the same with the main-sheet."
The skipper put the helm down.
CHAPTER XII.
A ROUGH TIME OF IT.
The instant the helm was put down, the head of the boat promptly swung
up in the direction of the wind. Both of the sails began to flap and
bang in the fierce gale.
"Now haul in, Corny!" said Dory, as he did the same by the main-sheet.
"No, Thad! He don't want any help. Let him alone! Take a turn on the
cleat," added the skipper, when one of the party wanted to help.
It was necessary only to take in the slack line of the sheet, and no
hard pulling was required. The boat was now headed to the westward,
which was the opposite course from that which she had been sailing when
he headed her to the southward.
"Now we are on the wind, which is said to be the dangerous course in the
Goldwing's sailing," added the skipper; and this was the first time he
had her close-hauled.
He watched her with the most intense interest, but he had no fault to
find with the boat. It took all his strength at the long tiller to keep
her from coming up into the wind. There was no lee helm now, with only a
jib and mainsail; though she might exhibit this failing when she had all
sail on. In fact, she carried too much weather helm; for it impeded her
progress.
"She works like a lady!" exclaimed Dory with enthusiasm.
Having satisfied himself in regard to the working of the boat, he turned
his attention to the Missisquoi again. He saw that Pearl Hawlinshed was
at the wheel of the steamer. He had evidently learned wisdom from the
movements of the Goldwing. He had turned the helm of the steamer, so
that she was now headed to the westward.
Probably Pearl had begun to do some reasoning by this time. Instead of
running directly for the schooner, he had taken a course to intercept
her when she attempted to go to the northward, as he doubtless believed
she intended to do.
The Goldwing was now on the starboard tack; and the Missisquoi was
running abreast of her, towards the west shore of the lake. Dory
contrived to cramp her so that she did not make much headway, and the
steamer gained so rapidly on her that she was soon a considerable
distance ahead of her.
"Now, Dick Short, we are going about. When Corny lets go of the weather
jib-sheet, I want you to haul on the lee-sheet," said the skipper when
he was ready for the next move.
"Where are we going next, Dory?" asked Thad, confused by the many
movements of the skipper.
"No questions now, Thad. Keep your eyes wide open, and you will see for
yourself. Let go, and haul! Let go the sheet, Corny! Haul in, Dick! Be
lively about it! You must get the sheet in while the sail is shaking, or
you can't do it at all," said Dory sharply, as he put the helm down.
The Goldwing whirled around like a top, when her helm went down. The
hands in charge of the jib-sheets were zealous to do their duty
promptly, and in an instant the sails were drawing on the port tack.
But this did not give the course the skipper wanted. He handled the
boat very cautiously on account of her bad reputation.
Gradually he let off the main-sheet, while Dick was directed to do the
same with the jib-sheet. At the same time Dory kept the helm up, and the
boat fell off until she was headed for the southern side of Garden
Island. She took the wind over her port quarter. It came in heavy gusts,
the Goldwing careening until her gunwale went under at every flaw.
"I don't know about this," said Thad.
"About what, Thad?" asked Dory quietly.
"We are about half under water. This is shaky sailing, in my opinion,"
added Thad, as a wave broke against the side of the boat, and drenched
most of the members of the club to the skin.
"We may get wholly under water before we get through with this trip,"
replied Dory. "But she will come up every time she goes down. For my
part, I never saw a boat work any better than the Goldwing is doing."
"But you will drown the whole of us, Dory!" protested Thad.
"She is working first-rate, Thad; and this isn't more than half as
lively as it will be before we get across the lake."
"Are you going across the lake now, Dory?" asked Corny.
"Certainly I am. We are bound for Burlington, aren't we? Didn't you want
me to take you home?"
"But we don't want you to drown us, and this boat has a bad habit of not
keeping on the top of the water."
"She will keep on the top of the water most of the time, and the worst
you have to fear is a wet jacket."
Just as the schooner was going in under the lee of Garden Island,
another wave broke against her side, and about half a barrel of water
dropped into the standing-room.
"There it is again!" exclaimed Thad.
"That's all right," added Dory. "No boat can keep all the water on the
outside of her in such a sea as this. But she is working beautifully. Do
you see that rope, Thad?" continued the skipper, pointing to the line by
which the centre-board was handled.
"I see it, but I haven't the least idea what it is for."
"I want you and Nat to haul up the centre-board, for we don't need quite
so much of it while we are going free."
The two boys named cast off the line, and pulled with all their might;
but they could not start the board, as Dory did not suppose they could
while the whole force of the wind was acting against it. The two hands
at the line did not know what the centre-board was, or where it was; but
the skipper thought, as they seemed to be a little concerned about their
safety, that it was better for them to be employed.
"It's no use!" cried Thad. "I don't know what we are pulling at; but,
whatever it is, it won't come."
"What is there down there?" asked Nat Long, looking into the pump, which
was at the end of the centre-board casing.
"Now try it once more, fellows," said Dory, as he luffed the boat up,
and thus relieved the centre-board from the pressure.
"Now it comes," added Thad. "Shall we haul the thing through that hole?"
"No: that will do. Make the line fast to the cleat, as you found it."
"But what does all that mean? I never saw a boat that had a thing like
that in it," inquired Nat Long.
"You will learn all about it by and by. I have no time now to explain
any thing," answered Dory, looking behind him to ascertain the position
of the Missisquoi.
The steamer had come about. Pearl had found that he had been reckoning
wrong in regard to the movements of the Goldwing. Judging from his
present career, he was disgusted with strategy; for he was again running
directly for the schooner. The Missisquoi was laboring heavily in the
big waves, and her pilot did not appear to know how to favor her. At any
rate, he followed the schooner without regard to the wind or the waves.
"She is after us," said Corny, as the Goldwing went into the
comparatively smooth water under the lee of Garden Island. "She is going
to catch us, too, in the course of the next fifteen minutes."
"When she catches us, you tell me of it: will you, Corny?" added Dory.
"I think you will know it as well as I do, Dory. What's the use of
keeping this thing up? Let us hold on, and see what the fellow wants of
you," replied Corny.
"We will have the fun of the race if we don't have any thing more," said
Dory. "This is smooth sailing just here, but we shall have it rough
enough in about two minutes more. If any of you fellows don't want to go
back to Burlington, I will put you on shore at Garden Island."
"We might have to stay there a week," suggested Corny.
"I couldn't help that," answered Dory. "I told you not to come with me
if you were afraid of the boat."
"She is as safe for us as she is for Dory," added Dick Short.
"We shall get under the lee of Providence Island in about twenty
minutes. If you can stand it for that time, you will be all right,"
continued the skipper, who did not wish to waste his time, and lose the
race, by putting any of his crew on shore.
"I don't want to go ashore," said Nat Long. "I can stand it as long as
Dory can, and I shall not back out."
This exhibition of pluck had its effect on the others, and no one was
willing to admit that he wished to go ashore. But the appearance of the
lake ahead was appalling to most of them, though they had crossed it
that day in the little steamer. The bad reputation of the Goldwing was
what made it look so dubious. Dory had been as doubtful about crossing
as any of them; but he had tested the boat under her present sail, and
all his doubts had been removed. For a boy of his age he had had a great
deal of experience in sailing a boat; and he knew by the feeling, rather
than by any thing he could see, that the schooner was working well. He
believed that she was entirely safe.
He had ascertained the draught of the Goldwing at the wharf, and he was
perfectly familiar with every part of the lake. When the boat came up
with the island, he ran within a few rods of it. He looked astern at the
Missisquoi as he came into the still water under the lee of the island.
She had been gaining rapidly upon him; and, if his strategy failed,
Pearl Hawlinshed would soon be alongside of the Goldwing.
But he could hardly conceive of such a thing as its failing. He watched
the steamer with the most intense interest as he increased his distance
from the island. The schooner passed out into the open lake. The gusts
of wind increased in fury, and even the reefed mainsail seemed to be
more sail than she could carry.
More than once, under the pressure of the savage gusts, the boat heeled
down till the water rolled in over the lee gunwale. The heavy waves
broke continually over the other side; and, before the Goldwing was half
way across the open part of the lake, the water rose above her bottom
boards.
"This is awful, Dory," said Thad. "I don't believe we shall ever get to
the other side of the lake. If I had thought it was half as bad as this,
I wouldn't have come."
"It is very wet; and that is the worst you can say of it," replied Dory.
"We are going over all right, but we must keep more of this water on the
outside of the boat. Thad, you may man the pump; for it is getting
rather damp in the standing-room."
The members of the Goldwing Club looked decidedly shaky, with the
exception of the skipper. No one responded to the timid sentiment of
Thad; but probably all of them felt it, and wished they were on shore,
though that shore were the one they had just left.
"The Missisquoi has stopped!" cried Corny, when the Goldwing was about
half way over to Providence Island. "She has chosen a quiet place under
the lee of that little island."
"She has stopped, that's a fact," added Thad.
"I thought she would," replied Dory, as he let off the sheet when a
heavy gust struck the sails. "The Missisquoi is aground."
CHAPTER XIII.
SAFE UNDER A LEE.
"How do you know she is aground, Dory?" asked Corny, after a careful
examination of the position of the Missisquoi.
"She wouldn't have stopped there if she hadn't got aground. She has done
the very thing I wanted her to do, and the very thing I did my best to
have her do," replied Dory triumphantly.
"Do you mean to say that you did it, Dory?" asked Thad, still pumping
away with all his might.
"I don't mean to say that I got the steamer aground. I saw that neither
Captain Vesey nor the other fellow knew much about the lake; for the
Missisquoi followed the Goldwing wherever she went," Dory explained. "I
ran close to the island, hoping the steamer would follow me, as she has
been doing, because there is not more than four feet of water close up
to the land where I went. She had either to follow us in a straight
line, or to go to the southward of the shoal. I was sure to make
something in getting away from her."
"What will she do now?" inquired Dick Short.
"She must either work off the shoal, or stay there; and I am sure I
don't care what she does," added Dory, as he looked ahead at the savage
waves that were piling up in the path of the schooner.
The Goldwing was more than half way across the lake: and, the farther
she went, the rougher the lake was; for the longer was the sweep of the
wind. But Dory was not in a hurry when he found the steamer could no
longer follow him. He had been very careful not to lose any thing by
letting off the main-sheet, except when it was absolutely necessary to
do so in order to keep the boat right side up.
Going nearly before the wind, it took a long sweep to reduce the
pressure on the mainsail; and the water flowed in over the lee side
about as fast as Thad could pump it out. The boys looked at each other,
and there is no doubt that they all wished they were on shore. They kept
an eye on the skipper's face, to note any anxiety or alarm on his part.
Dory was confident the boat would not take in water enough to swamp her
while he could control her with the helm; but he felt that he had his
hands full, and that he should be very fortunate if nothing happened to
cripple the boat.
"I have got about enough of this thing," said Thad.
"Nat, you take Thad's place at the pump," interposed Dory. "One hand
needn't do all the hard work."
"All right! I am ready to do my share of the work," replied Nat, as he
took Thad's place at the pump.
"I didn't mean that. I am not tired," added Thad. "The farther we go the
worse it is, Dory; and I have had about enough of this sort of sailing."
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked Dory pleasantly. "Are
you going to get out, and walk the rest of the way? Or will you swim
ashore? I don't think you will find it is any easier walking or
swimming, or any safer."
"Can't we turn about and go back?" inquired Thad, looking with dismay
at the waves ahead, and at the water that poured in over both rails.
"We are more than half way over, and it is hardly worth while to go
about," replied Dory. "If we return, we shall have to beat back; but we
are in no hurry now, and perhaps we can ease off a little more."
"I don't see how you are going to ease off, Dory," said Thad. "Here we
are right in the thick of it; and we must take it as it comes, unless
you go back."
"Do you see those cleats on the mainmast, Thad?" asked Dory, making
ready to do something,--"one on each side of the mast, with a rope
leading up? Do you see them?"
"I don't know what cleats are," answered Thad.
"Those brass things, with ropes around them."
"I see them. These are what you hoist the sail with," added Thad, as he
grasped the ropes.
"Now let go both ropes together when I give the word. Not yet! All the
rest of you, grab the sail when it comes down, and mind the gaff don't
hit you in the head."
"What are you going to do, Dory?" asked Thad. "I have the ropes in my
hands."
"I am going to take in the mainsail. That will ease her off; and I can
work her before it with the jib alone."
At this moment a tremendous gust struck the mainsail, and Dory crowded
the helm down; but the schooner took in a large quantity of water over
the lee side as she careened.
"Let go the halyards, Thad!" shouted the skipper as the boat swept
around. "Look out for the sail, all of you!"
But the sail did not readily come down, the pressure upon it causing it
to bind. But Dory continued to luff until it was released.
"Haul down the sail lively!" called Dory with energy, when the canvas
began to thrash and beat about as though it was bound to tear itself
into shreds.
Under the direction of the skipper the sail was secured after a great
deal of difficulty. Dory let her off again under the jib alone. This
proved to be a decided change for the better. The Goldwing kept on a
tolerably even keel, and drove ahead almost as fast as she did before.
"She's doing a good deal better," said Thad, who began to breathe freer
than he had since the boat went into the worst of it. "Why didn't we do
that before?"
"Because we were trying to keep out of the way of the Missisquoi
before," replied Dory.
But it was not baby play, even with nothing but the jib set. The
mainsail had steadied the boat to some extent; but now she began to roll
tremendously, and was not so readily controlled by the helm. The waves
broke over her on the weather side, but she did not scoop up the water
on the lee side.
The Goldwing had taken in so much water that it was swashing about in
the standing-room. Dory directed Nat to keep pumping. Dick Short was
told to take a pail which belonged to the boat, and Corny was armed with
a tin dipper. The members of the club were glad to have something to do,
as almost any nervous person is; and they worked with tremendous zeal.
In a short time the pump sucked, and not another dipperful of water
could be taken up in the well.
"Now we are all right," said Dory. "We can take it easy now."
"We are almost over to Providence Island," added Corny.
"We shall be in smooth water in ten minutes more."
"But we are a long way from Burlington," suggested Thad.
"At least a dozen miles," said the skipper. "Of course you know that we
can't get there, fellows, without going outside of Colchester Point. All
the rest of the way is quite as bad as, if not worse than, we have been
having for the last twenty minutes."
"Are we going right along to Burlington, Dory?" asked Thad in dismay at
the information given by the skipper.
"I think not at present," replied Dory. "But you have been through this
once before to-day."
"It wasn't half so bad as it is now," protested Corny. "It didn't begin
to blow very hard until we got to Valcour's Island."
"Did the Missisquoi make better weather of it than the Goldwing?" asked
Dory.
"The lake didn't begin to be as rough as it was a little while ago,"
replied Corny. "The steamer pitched tremendously, and we all had to pump
after we got beyond Valcour's."
"Do you see any thing of the Missisquoi?" asked Dory, who had been too
busy to give any attention to the steamer.
"I can just see her at the south of the island. She has not got off
yet," replied Corny.
"She is under the lee of the two islands; and they can be very
comfortable on board of her for the rest of the day,--a great deal more
comfortable than they would be out in the lake where we have been,"
added Dory.
The Goldwing was abreast of Providence Island by this time. The waves
swept furiously along the south-west shore of the land.
As soon as she reached the south-east point, the skipper luffed up; but
the boat was not inclined to make any headway on the new course.
"Let off the centre-board, Thad," said the skipper, as the boat began to
make more leeway than headway.
Thad had got the hang of this rope; and, as the centre-board went down,
the boat came up to the work. With the help of an oar and a great deal
of coaxing, the skipper got her close up to the shore in seven feet of
water. He had instructed Corny how to get the anchor overboard. The boat
was entirely out of the heavy sea, though the water rose and fell under
the influence of the waves which were rolling along the other side of
the island.
"Here we are as safe as though we had the boat on the top of Mansfield
Mountain," said Dory, after he had secured the cable, and stowed the
jib.
"I never expected to come out of it alive," said Thad, as the skipper
seated himself in the standing-room to recover from the excitement of
the perilous run across the lake.
"Nor I either," added Nat Long.
"It looked very shaky," said Corny; "but I didn't give it up at any
time."
"Now, really, Dory, did you expect to get out of that scrape?" asked
Thad. "Be honest about it, and tell us what you actually thought."
"Of course I knew that something might break, just as I know that a
horse may run away with me when I'm out riding. The wagon or the harness
might break, and that would spoil the best calculation," replied Dory.
"But, without any thing breaking, didn't you expect the boat would go to
the bottom?" urged Thad.
"I didn't expect any thing of the kind. I have been out in a sailboat
when it was as bad or worse than it is to-day. If nothing broke, I knew
we should come out of it all right; and I never thought of such a thing
as going to the bottom. It looks a good deal worse to you fellows who
were never out in a sailboat when it blew hard than it really is. I
didn't think there was any great danger when we started out: if I had, I
shouldn't have come over," said Dory quietly.
The members of the Goldwing Club had the idea that they had had a narrow
escape, and the skipper was not inclined to allow them to make heroes of
themselves. The motion of a boat in a heavy sea seems terrible to those
who are not accustomed to it, and the boys were disposed to make the
worst of it.
"I wouldn't try it again if you would give me the Goldwing," said Thad
with emphasis.
"After you have been through that sort of thing a few times, you will
not mind it at all. It was what I call a lively time: that's all," added
Dory. "I went down to St. John with Bill Pitts in a sailboat, and we had
a rougher time than this all one day."
Dory thought he should like the rest of his dinner by this time.
CHAPTER XIV.
EARLY IN THE MORNING.
The skipper of the Goldwing had an excellent appetite, and the other
members of the club had regained theirs by this time.
Fortunately they had plenty of provisions, for there was nothing for
them to do but eat during the rest of the day. It continued to blow as
fresh as it had since the middle of the forenoon till dark.
Dory thought it would abate at night, but there were no signs of a
change. The party were pretty thoroughly tired out after the labor and
the excitement of the day. The boys gaped until they had nearly thrown
their jaws out of joint.
There was room enough in the cabin for four of the club,--two in the
berths, and two on the floor between them. Dory decided to sleep in the
standing-room, where he was most likely to be waked by any change in the
position of the schooner. By eight o'clock all hands were fast asleep.
Half of them had nothing better than "the soft side of a board" to sleep
on, but they were too tired to need beds of down.
The skipper was the most wakeful sleeper in the party, but he slept for
several hours without waking. When he did wake, he sprang to his feet as
if conscious that he had neglected his duty as a faithful skipper. He
had no idea of what time it was when he sprang to his feet. All was
still around him, and the Goldwing appeared to be in precisely the
position he had left her when he turned in.
He could no longer hear the roar of the big waves as they dashed against
the south side of the island. The violent wind had subsided, and the
lake seemed to be as calm as the dream of an infant.
He looked all about him in the darkness, but there was nothing to demand
his attention. His companions were all sleeping, and some of them were
snoring, on their hard beds. Dory began to gape when there proved to be
no grounds for excitement. He concluded that he could not do any better
than finish his night's rest. Taking the most comfortable position he
could find in the standing-room, he turned in again, and was soon fast
asleep.
When he woke in the morning, it was after sunrise. The rest of the club
were still fast asleep. The skipper felt like a new man after his long
rest. A gentle breeze was rippling the surface of the lake. It came from
the westward, and the promise was that the day would be fine. Without
calling his companions, he loosed the sails, and turned out the reefs
from the fore and main sails. He laced on the bonnet of the jib, and
shipped the short tiller, instead of the long one he had used the day
before.
So far he had not seen how the sails set when all spread, and he was
interested in his present operation. He hoisted the mainsail. It was not
so large but that he could handle the throat and peak halyards at the
same time. He was entirely satisfied with the set of this sail. The set
of the foresail pleased him equally well.
The anchor-rope was rove through a block made fast near the heel of the
bowsprit, so that the anchor could be weighed without any difficulty. He
succeeded in getting it up without waking his shipmates, though he took
no especial pains to avoid arousing them. They had got up at four
o'clock the morning before, and probably had not slept much lest they
should oversleep themselves, and lose the excursion to Plattsburgh.
Dory hoisted the jib. He was delighted with the appearance of the
Goldwing with all sail set. There was hardly a puff of air behind the
island, and it was some time before he got fairly under way. But he
enjoyed the sight of the boat so much, that he was in no haste to get
home. So far as he knew, his mother supposed that he was still waiting
on the table in the cabin of the steamer; and she could not be anxious
about him. He had not heard of the loss of the Au Sable, and he had no
suspicion that his father was not still piloting her up and down the
lake.
After a while he succeeded in getting to the southward of Providence
Island, so that he could catch the breeze from across the lake. He got
just enough to fill the sails; and this afforded him the opportunity to
test the working of the boat after he had shifted the ballast, and
changed the position of the foremast. There was hardly wind enough for
a fair test, but he was delighted to find that the boat carried a
weather helm.
As he went farther out from the land, he got more breeze; and the result
was entirely satisfactory. Indeed, he had been practically sure that he
could remedy the defect in the working of the Goldwing before he bought
her. If he failed to do so, he had thrown his money away; for parties
would not employ him if he had an unsafe boat. He intended to invite two
or three prominent boatmen to sail with him when he had put the boat in
first-rate condition, and get their opinion as to her safety and her
sailing qualities.
Dory was so much absorbed in the beautiful appearance of the Goldwing,
that he neglected to do what an old sailor is continually doing when
afloat. He had not looked about him to see what beside the Goldwing was
afloat on the lake. He had headed the boat to the south, so as to pass
to the west of Stave Island. He was looking ahead, and dreaming of the
future.
In the quiet of the still morning he heard a puffing sound at a
distance. He turned to see what it was, and discovered a small steamer
about a mile to the westward of him. He had seen a boat in that
direction when he came out from behind the island, but he took no notice
of her. He had forgotten all about the Missisquoi: he had not even
thought to look and see if she was still aground on the Garden Island
shoal.
The sight of the little steamer, like a dozen others on the lake,
reminded him of his pursuer of the day before. He looked with interest
in the direction of Garden Island. The Missisquoi was not there. She had
got out of that scrape. Then he noticed that the little steamer in the
middle of the lake was headed directly for the Goldwing. She looked just
like his late pursuer.
Dory was rather excited at the thought of a continuance of the chase;
for with the light breeze he had no chance at all, and he did not like
to come in collision with Pearl Hawlinshed. He looked the boat over very
carefully. He had often sailed in her, and steered her; but she was too
far off for him to be entirely sure in regard to her identity. But he
was confident that it was the Missisquoi.
Certainly Pearl Hawlinshed had some very strong motive for continuing
the chase a second day. What could he want of him? Dory concluded that
he either expected to recover the Goldwing, or that he connected him in
some manner with his father. Whatever his motive, Dory did not want to
see him.
He was confident that the steamer he saw was the Missisquoi, and that
Pearl was still in pursuit of him. He had led the steamer into a trap
the day before, and possibly he might do it again. He could at least run
into shoal-water, where the Missisquoi could not follow him. He was
familiar with the soundings in all parts of the lake, for his father had
instructed him in the navigation.
Dory was assured that the wind would freshen as the sun rose higher; but
it would make little difference to him how much wind there was by and
by, if the steamer overhauled him before it came. He thought he was
making about four miles an hour, but the steamer was good for at least
six. She had a mile to gain, and that would take her ten minutes.
Following out the calculation, Dory thought the steamer would overhaul
him in fifteen minutes. In that time he could make a mile.
"Hallo, Dory! You are up and dressed," exclaimed Thad Glovering,
thrusting his head out at the cabin-door.
"Dry up, Thad! I am busy now," replied Dory impatiently; for he was in
the midst of his calculation of what he should do to avoid the
Missisquoi.
"You don't seem to be doing any thing, Dory," added Thad, as his body
followed his head out at the door.
"Don't disturb me, please, but call the fellows. I want them in the
standing-room, so as to trim the boat, and make her sail better,"
answered the skipper, as he went on with his calculation.
He had time to make only a mile before the steamer would be down upon
him. He was about abreast of Stave Island now. Less than a mile south of
it were two ledges, on which the water was not more than six feet deep.
Going to the southward, vessels must keep Juniper Light open to the
westward of Colchester Reef Light, in order to avoid these reefs. There
were no buoys on them, for they lay outside of any usual course of
vessels bound up and down the lake.
The experience of the Missisquoi in getting aground the day before would
render her pilot wary about following the Goldwing. The two reefs were
half a mile apart; and the pursuer must either keep away from them, or
run the risk of getting aground on one of them. The Goldwing could go
over either of them in perfect safety, for she drew only three feet with
her board up.
Dory was satisfied with his calculation, and he was reasonably confident
that the Missisquoi would not get within a quarter of a mile of the
Goldwing; but, if this expedient failed, he had another to which he
intended to resort.
The other members of the club had come out into the standing-room, and
seated themselves as they had been required to do the day before. They
were all wide awake; but they had been cautioned by Thad not to disturb
the skipper, and they were silent till he spoke to them.
"You have come to life again, fellows," said he when he had fully
arranged his plan.
"So have you, Dory," replied Corny. "Thad said we were not to speak to
you, or we should bust your calculations. We all thought you had the
blues."
"I suppose you know the steamer that is following the Goldwing," replied
Dory. "It is the Missisquoi, and she is after us again to-day. I have
been thinking how we should keep out of her way."
"How are you going to do it?" asked Corny. "We may enjoy the fun if we
know something about it."
The skipper explained his plan in full, and his companions were quite
interested in it. There was no chance for a race while only a four-knot
breeze favored the Goldwing. With a good stiff breeze the skipper
believed he could beat the steamer; but, in the absence of such a wind,
he must resort to strategy. But strategy was quite as exciting to his
companions as a race. It afforded the opportunity for one craft to come
out better than the other.
The wind was sensibly freshening, but the Goldwing did not need any more
wind just then. She was almost up with Stave Island Ledge, and her
skipper was disposed to wait and see what his pursuer would do. As he
approached the dangerous reef,--dangerous to any craft drawing more than
five feet,--he started his sheets, and stood to the eastward of the
rocks.
The Missisquoi was within an eighth of a mile of the Goldwing, and the
skipper saw that Captain Vesey was at the wheel. He seemed to know about
the reef, and sheered off. Probably he had discovered by this time that
Pearl Hawlinshed knew even less than he did about the difficulties of
navigation in Lake Champlain.
CHAPTER XV.
THE STRATEGY OF THE CHASE.
Dory Dornwood had accomplished all that he intended by his plan. The
pilot of the Missisquoi would not dare to cross the ledges, and it would
be necessary for her to go nearly a mile to the southward to get around
them. Dory calculated that his manoeuvre had given him two miles the
start of the steamer.
Captain Vesey and Pearl Hawlinshed seemed to be holding a consultation.
Dory imagined that Pearl was trying to persuade the captain to venture
in among the rocks. If so, he was not successful; for the Missisquoi did
not come any nearer to the ledge.
"What is she going to do next, Dory?" asked Corny Minkfield, while the
boys were waiting for the next move of the steamer.
"That's more than I know," replied Dory, chuckling at the success of his
plan. "I think Captain Vesey had enough of getting aground yesterday,
and he don't want to spend the day laid up on one of these ledges. I
believe the steamer would go over Champion Rock all right; but her
captain is shy, and I don't think he will come any nearer than he is
now."
Dory had headed the Goldwing to the east. As he had predicted, the wind
was increasing, and the schooner carried quite a bone in her teeth. It
looked a little like a game of chess, where each player has to wait a
long time for the other to make his move. The captain and his passenger
appeared to be still engaged in the discussion in the bow of the boat.
Dory thought he could quicken their movements; and, hauling in his
sheets, he stood to the south.
"There she goes!" exclaimed Thad, as the steamer started her propeller
again.
"I think we can keep her moving," replied Dory. "She will go to the
southward as fast as we do, to head us off. We can play this game as
long as she can."
"But who wants to stay here all day fooling with that steamer?" said
Corny.
"I don't know that we have any thing better to do," added Dick Short.
"We have got enough to eat to last us all day."
"I think we shall have some variety in this thing. Captain Vesey has to
deliver the Missisquoi to her new owner to-night, and he can't stay here
much after noon," replied Dory.
In fifteen minutes the steamer was well to the southward of Champion
Rock, and began to turn to the eastward.
"She is coming around to pick us up on this side of the rocks," said
Thad.
"That's all right, but she won't pick us up," answered Dory. "I am
afraid it will get very monotonous before she overhauls us by her
present tactics."
Dory put the boat about, and stood to the north. He continued on this
tack until the Missisquoi was directly south of Stave Island, and of
both ledges, which were in a line with the island. She had gone half a
mile farther to the southward than was necessary to avoid Champion Rock;
but her pilots were not well posted, and they seemed to be determined to
keep on the safe side.
The skipper waited until the steamer was half a mile to the eastward of
the ledges, and then he proceeded to beat across the dangerous ground.
He took a southerly tack first, so as to bother the pilot of the steamer
as to his intentions. The Missisquoi kept on her course, and Pearl was
evidently bothered.
The pursuer had not thought there could be any difficulty in capturing
the owner of the Goldwing when he had a steamer to use in chasing her.
He had found out his mistake. The captain and engineer had not earned
their five dollars apiece yet, for they had not put the passenger on
board of the schooner. Doubtless they were continuing the chase for the
purpose of obtaining their money, for the boys were satisfied that
Captain Vesey had no other interest in the pursuit.
As the Missisquoi put her helm to starboard, in order to run to the
north, Dory tacked the schooner, and stood off to the north-east. This
course would carry him directly over Stave Island Ledge. The effect of
this move was soon apparent, for the steamer stopped her screw again.
Her pilots could see that it was useless to go any farther on her
present course. By the time she got a mile farther, the Goldwing would
be on the other side of the ledges. Another discussion seemed to be in
progress between the captain and the passenger. But it was not continued
long; for the Missisquoi put about, and stood to the westward.
"She has got enough of that," said Thad. "I don't believe she will keep
it up much longer."
"It is cool and comfortable here, and I think we can stand this sort of
thing as long as she can," added Dory.
"Of course we can; but the game is ended, and the Missisquoi is going
back to Plattsburgh," suggested Corny.
"The game is not ended yet," replied Dory: "in fact, it has but just
begun."
"What's the reason it isn't ended?" demanded Corny, who did not like to
have his conclusions disputed. "What is the steamer going off in that
direction for, if there is to be any more fun?"
"Is that the way to Plattsburgh, Corny?" asked Dory quietly.
"She has gone off and left us, whether she is bound to Plattsburgh or
not. If she means to catch us, why don't she stick to it?" continued
Corny.
"She is sticking to it. The way to catch a pigeon is to put salt on his
tail, you know," answered Dory, laughing. "She is beginning to play her
game now. If she had gone to the north-west, instead of to the west, I
might believe she had given it up; and I should be ready to head the
Goldwing for Burlington as soon as I saw her to the eastward of
Valcour's Island."
"What do you think she means to do, Dory?" asked Thad.
"I am very clear what she means to do. I wouldn't give anybody two cents
to write it down for me," replied the skipper confidently. "She has gone
to the west so that she can coax us out from these ledges. If she could
get us away from these dangers, where she could chase us, she would soon
be up with us."
"There are plenty of rocks and shoals south of us," suggested Thad.
"But there are buoys on them, and a hundred feet of water between them.
Very likely Captain Vesey knows his way among them. We can very soon see
whether she has given up the chase or not," said Dory, as he put the
boat about, and headed her to the south.
"Are you going to run for Burlington, Dory?" asked Corny.
"We are headed in that direction now," replied the skipper.
"But the steamer does not change her course," continued Corny.
"And she won't change her course until we have gone a couple of miles
farther to the southward. They are getting smart on board of the
Missisquoi," added Dory, like one who is driving a winning horse.
All hands watched the steamer very closely, and Corny would have given
something handsome to have it made out that Dory was mistaken in his
calculations. He was loyal to the skipper, but he did not like to have
statements of the latter prove true every time. The steamer did not
change her course, but she did not seem to get ahead very fast.
In half an hour the Goldwing was off Colchester Reef Light. The
Missisquoi was still headed to the west; and Corny was beginning to feel
triumphant, though he was not confident enough to say much. The steamer
was three miles distant; but Dory was satisfied by this time that she
had stopped her propeller, and was only waiting for the schooner to get
a little farther to the southward, where she could not dodge in among
the dangerous rocks.
"She is coming about!" shouted Thad.
"It is about time for her to do something," replied Dory. "But she is
not coming down this way."
"How do you know she isn't, Dory Dornwood?" demanded Corny, who was
rather indignant when the skipper made another prediction.
"I think I understand her little game," answered Dory mildly; for he
felt that he could afford to disregard the sharp tones of Corny.
"Where is she going?" asked Corny, wishing to make the skipper commit
himself fully.
"She is going to the eastward," replied Dory without any hesitation; for
it was all a plain case to him.
"How do you know she is, Dory?" demanded Corny. "She is still turning;
and she isn't headed any way yet."
"I think it is easy enough to see what she is about, Corny. Can't you
see it with your eyes shut?"
"No: I'm sure I can't; and I don't believe you can, Dory Dornwood,"
added Corny.
"She is now just as far west of Champion Rock as we are south of it. She
is going to the eastward, so as to cut us off if we try to reach the
ledges again. I think she has got her course now."
It was plain enough to all the members of the Goldwing Club, that, as
they could see the whole of the starboard side of the Missisquoi, she
was headed to the eastward. Corny gave it up when he saw that he could
hold out no longer. From the smoke that poured out of the smoke-stack of
the little steamer, it was plain that she was crowded to her best speed.
"She is in a hurry now," said the skipper, laughing.
"She is going to do a big thing now," added Thad. "She is going to catch
us, sure."
"But I think we had better be doing something," continued the skipper,
as he put the Goldwing before the wind.
"What are you going to do now, Dory?" asked Corny.
"That will depend upon circumstances," replied Dory, who suddenly
appeared to be disposed to keep his own counsel.
As soon as the schooner was up with the light-house, the skipper hauled
in his sheets again, and headed the Goldwing to the north-east. This
course seemed to bother the steamer, for it made it evident that the
boat did not intend to go near Champion Rock.
"She's after you again," said Corny a few minutes later. "She has
altered her course, and is coming down this way to head you off."
"All right! Let her come," replied Dory.
"But we are getting pretty close together," added Thad. "She is going to
catch us this time. At least, I am afraid she is."
"Don't worry about it, Thad. She isn't going to catch us on this tack."
The Missisquoi was coming in between Hog's Back Island and the reef of
the same name. She kept the red buoy on her starboard, and the black on
her port hand. She was hardly more than a quarter of a mile from the
Goldwing, and running for a point ahead of her. It began to be very
exciting for the boys, for they believed she would overtake the
schooner in a few minutes more.
But the Goldwing came out just a little ahead; and the steamer was
astern of the boat, but not more than a hundred yards. She gained on her
every minute, until suddenly the Missisquoi stopped.
CHAPTER XVI.
A GRAVE CHARGE AGAINST THE SKIPPER.
The Missisquoi was aground. This result was exactly what the skipper of
the Goldwing intended and expected, if the pilots of the steamer
followed the schooner. Colchester Light is about west of a point having
the same name. Extending north from Colchester Point is a shoal, on
which, at the present low stage of the water, there was a depth of from
two to eight feet. It was two miles and a half long from its northern
extremity to the point.
Dory struck the shoal not more than a quarter of a mile north of Law
Island, where the water was only about four feet deep. The Goldwing went
over it without any difficulty; but there was not water enough for the
steamer. Ordinarily a small steamer could have crossed any part of the
shoal, but the lake had not been so low before for years.
The skipper of the schooner had calculated upon using this shoal in the
same manner that he had used Champion Rock and Stave Island Ledge. If he
had not depended upon this shallow water, he would not have left the
ledges. But he did not expect that Captain Vesey would attempt to follow
him where there was not more than four feet of water. It was evident
enough that neither the captain nor Pearl was a competent pilot.
"Here we are," said Dory quietly, as he put the helm down, and came up
into the wind.
"What's the matter now?" asked Corny.
"Nothing the matter; but the Missisquoi has concluded not to come any
farther in this direction just now," replied Dory, as he headed the
schooner to the north-west.
"She has stopped!" exclaimed Thad.
"That is just what she has done," added the skipper.
"What has she stopped there for?" asked Corny.
"She couldn't very well help it, for she is hugging the bottom."
"Hugging the bottom! What do you mean by that?" demanded Corny.
"In plain English, she is aground." And the skipper proceeded to explain
the situation to his companions.
"Then, you knew what you were about all the time, Dory," said Thad, with
something of admiration in his tones and manner.
"I thought I did all the time; but I did not expect the Missisquoi would
try to go over a place where the bottom is so near the top as it is on
this shoal," answered Dory. "There is nearly seven miles of deep water
to the eastward of this shoal to the head of Mallett's Bay. The lake is
thirteen miles wide on just this line."
"Were you going up Mallett's Bay?"
"Not at all. I expected to run back and forth over this shoal until the
Missisquoi had enough of it, and then I was going to Burlington."
"Will the steamer get off the bottom?"
"She was running at her best speed when she struck the bottom; and I
don't believe she will get off in a hurry," replied Dory.
"All we have to do is to go to Burlington, then," added Corny.
"We won't be in a hurry about it," said Dory. "I want to see if she can
get off. They are backing her now, and there is Captain Vesey at work
with a pole. The steamer seems to stick hard. Her bow is about a foot
out of water, but I think she is afloat at the stern. They may work her
off if they manage it well."
"That other chap has gone to work with a pole too," said Dick Short.
"I hope they will have a good time," added Dory, as he put the schooner
about, and headed her across the bow of the Missisquoi.
The skipper wished to obtain a better view of the position of the
steamer, to enable him to decide whether it was safe for him to proceed
to Burlington. With the wind on the quarter, he ran within ten yards of
the stem of the Missisquoi. As he approached her, he saw that her
water-line was lifted at least a foot above the surface of the lake,
indicating that she was firmly fixed on the hard bottom.
"Hallo there, Dory Dornwood!" shouted Pearl Hawlinshed when the Goldwing
came within hail of the steamer. "Come alongside! I want to see you."
"What do you want of me?" asked the skipper.
"I want to see you about that money," added Pearl.
"What money?"
"You know what money as well as I do!" roared Pearl with a string of
oaths. "The money you stole at the hotel!"
"The money Dory stole!" ejaculated Corny Minkfield, with a look of
horror on his face.
"What hotel? I didn't steal any money at any hotel," returned Dory,
startled at the charge.
"Yes, you did! It's no use to deny it. The landlord sent me off after
you; and you'll have to pay for it, for the wild-goose chase you have
led me on," cried Pearl, who had evidently lost his patience and his
temper.
"I didn't know any money had been stolen from a hotel; and I didn't
steal it," cried Dory, as the Goldwing passed out of easy talking
distance from the steamer.
"You stole the money to buy that boat, and it's no sale!" yelled Pearl.
"Stole the money to buy the boat!" exclaimed Corny, looking at his
fellow-members of the Goldwing Club.
"I don't believe it!" ejaculated Thad Glovering. "Dory isn't that kind
of a fellow. He wouldn't do such a thing."
Nat Long and Dick Short said nothing. They seemed to be in doubt. All of
them wondered where Dory could have got the money to pay for the
Goldwing, and the charge of Pearl Hawlinshed appeared to explain the
whole matter. Certainly the astonishing statement of Pearl made it look
very bad for the skipper of the Goldwing. When they asked where he got
the forty-two dollars to pay for the boat, Dory had refused to explain,
and had insisted that no more questions should be asked about the
subject.
Nat had winked at Corny to intimate that this disposition of the matter
was not satisfactory; but, as they were expecting a fine sail in the
schooner, they had been politic enough to keep silence. Now they looked
from one to another, for they did not like to say just what they
thought.
Dory was silent also. His heart was swelling with emotion. He was
accused of stealing, and he could not help seeing that he was in a very
uncomfortable situation. Pearl's father had given him the money, and he
had promised not to say a word about it. There seemed to be some
terrible secret between Pearl and his father. The latter had given Dory
one hundred and five dollars for the service he had rendered him in the
woods, and wished him not to tell where he got the money lest it should
lead to the exposure of the secret.
Pearl evidently had something against him. It might be nothing more than
the fact that he had outbid him at the sale of the boat. But the son
plainly suspected that Dory had some relations with his father, for he
had intimated as much as this.
The skipper of the Goldwing was considering what he should do. He was
ready to meet the charge against him, though he could not explain where
he got the money to pay for the boat. Pearl was after him for stealing
the money at a hotel,--what hotel he did not know. Was Pearl a constable
or a police-officer?
If his pursuer was an officer of the law, he was ready to give himself
up. He was anxious to know in what manner he was connected with the
theft. But it might be all a trick on the part of Pearl to get the boat
away from him. He did not mean to put his head into any trap. While he
was considering the situation, Corny could hold in no longer.
"I want to know about this business," said Corny, after he and his
companions had been looking at each other in silence for full five
minutes.
"What do you want to know, Corny?" asked Dory.
"I want to know where you got the money to buy this boat," replied
Corny, rather more warmly than the occasion seemed to require.
"I shall not tell you," answered Dory firmly, but very quietly.
"You won't?"
"No, I won't," repeated Dory. "That is my secret. I have to keep it, not
on my own account, but for the sake of a person who was very kind to me,
and gave me a meal when I was hungry. That is all I can say about the
case. I didn't steal a dollar or a cent, and I am willing to face any
man that says I did."
"That fellow in the steamer says you did; and we have been running away
from him since yesterday morning," replied Corny.
"That man, whose name is Pearl Hawlinshed, has something against me;
and I don't care about putting myself into his hands," answered Dory.
"I suppose you don't," added Corny with a sneer. "I don't like this
thing a bit. We have been with you since yesterday morning, and they say
the receiver is as bad as the thief."
"Do you believe I am a thief, Corny?" said Dory, looking his accuser
squarely in the eye.
"I don't see how I can believe any thing else. I don't want to believe
such a thing of you, Dory. Fellows like you and me don't have forty-two
dollars in every pocket of their trousers; and you won't tell us where
you got the money," answered Corny a little more moderately.
"You talk and act just as though you did want to prove that I stole the
money I paid for the boat," added Dory. "All I ask of the fellows is to
believe that I am innocent until I am proved guilty."
"That's the talk! that's fair! I don't believe Dory did it!" exclaimed
Thad.
"Let him tell where he got the money, then," replied Corny.
"That's his business, if he don't choose to tell," argued Thad. "It
don't prove that Dory is a thief because that fellow says so. We don't
know any thing about that fellow."
"Do you believe that he would chase us for two days in a steamer if
there wasn't something serious the matter?" asked Corny.
"Yes, if he wanted to get this boat," replied Thad.
"Well, I have had enough of this thing. Here we are cruising all over
the lake with a thief, running away, and dodging a steamer sent after
him; and we are getting into it as deep as he is," blustered Corny.
"Shut up, Corn Minkfield, or I'll smash your head!" exclaimed Thad,
leaping to his feet, and moving towards the sceptic.
"None of that, Thad!" interposed Dory, putting his arm between the two
belligerent members. "I don't want any fight over it."
The skipper put the helm up, and gybed the boat.
"What are you going to do now?" demanded Corny when Thad had resumed his
seat. "I am not going to be carried all over the lake with one who is
running away from the officers."
Thad sprang to his feet again, but Dory quieted him.
"I am going back to Plattsburgh to face the music," said Dory.
Corny looked more disgusted than ever.
CHAPTER XVII.
DORY DORNWOOD DECIDES TO "FACE THE MUSIC."
"I'm not going back to Plattsburgh!" exclaimed Corny Minkfield. "My
mother will want to know what has become of me by this time."
"What are you going to do, Corny?" asked Dory in the gentlest of tones.
"I am going back to Burlington," answered Corny.
"All right! I don't object," added Dory, as he headed the boat for
Plattsburgh.
Thad laughed, and Nat and Dick smiled. Corny talked and acted as though
he "owned things;" and the others were rather pleased to see him taken
down a peg when he was in this mood.
"You promised to take us back to Burlington, Dory; and now you are going
to drag us back to Plattsburgh," growled Corny.
"But you don't want to sail all over the lake with a thief. If I go to
Burlington now, I shall be running away from the officers. I must go to
Plattsburgh, and face the music."
"Hurrah for Dory!" shouted Thad. "Is that the way a thief does it?"
"Hurrah for Dory!" added Dick Short. "That isn't the way a thief does
it."
"But I want to go home. I don't want my mother to worry about me," added
Corny.
"You called me a thief just now, and I can't run away from the place
where they accuse me. I will put you ashore at the light-house, or on
Colchester Point."
"You might as well put me ashore on Stave Island. I want to go back to
Burlington."
"We are bound to Plattsburgh now; and I shall not stop to rest until I
have seen the men that charge me with stealing that money," replied Dory
very decidedly.
"The man that charges you is in that steamer, and you run away from
him," retorted Corny.
"The Missisquoi is hard and fast aground. If I give myself up to him, I
shall only have to stay on board of her all day; for he may not get off.
I may be in Plattsburgh before he is."
Corny grumbled a while longer, but the skipper took no further notice of
him. The course of the Goldwing carried her within a short distance of
the stern of the Missisquoi. Captain Vesey and Pearl had tugged at the
poles until they saw that it was useless to attempt to get the steamer
off in that way.
Pearl was plainly disgusted with the situation. The bow of the boat was
as far out of water as when the schooner passed her before, and the
efforts with the poles had not started her a hair. When the enterprising
extra pilot of the steamer saw the Goldwing coming, he hastened to the
stern.
"Come alongside, Dory Dornwood! I will make it as easy as I can for you
when we get to Plattsburgh. Take me on board," shouted Pearl.
"I am going to Plattsburgh to face the music," replied Dory.
"Take me with you!" called Pearl.
"I don't want you," answered Dory.
"I can get you off, and make it all right with you."
"No, I thank you," added Dory; and he declined to take any further
notice of his persecutor.
For the present the excitement was ended. It was about seven in the
morning, as Dory judged by the height of the sun. Thad got out the
provisions; and, though there was not much variety to the repast, the
boys ate heartily. After the meal some of them went to sleep. Before ten
o'clock the Goldwing was alongside the wharf, in the position where Dory
had first seen her.
The skipper lowered the sails with the help of the rest of the club,
though Corny was still too much disgruntled to do any thing. Every thing
was put in order on board, and Dory locked the cabin. Before he had
finished, Corny went off alone. Just as the party were going to leave
the wharf, a couple of men came down. They walked directly to the boat,
as though they had seen her coming up the bay, and had business with
her.
"Is this the boat that went off from here yesterday morning?" asked one
of the men.
"Yes, sir: this is the boat," replied Dory, hoping that the men's
business related to the charge against him.
"Are you the boy that bought her?" continued the man who did the
talking.
"Yes, sir: I am the one that bought her and paid for her," answered
Dory. "Do you know of anybody in this town that wants to see me?"
"I can't say I do," said the man, looking at the other one, and
laughing.
"There was a little steamer here in the forenoon."
"That was the Missisquoi."
"A man went off in her to look up this boat. Have you seen any thing of
the steamer?" asked the man.
"Yes, sir: she is hard and fast aground on the Colchester shoal, near
Law Island. The man that went in her to look up this boat was Pearl
Hawlinshed. I don't believe in him, and I kept out of the way of him and
his steamer."
"How could you keep out of the way of a steamer in a sailboat?"
"I managed it. But I didn't know till he hailed me from the steamer that
I was charged with stealing some money from one of the hotels. Can you
tell me any thing about the matter, sir?"
"I think we can tell you all about it," replied the speaker. "This is
Mr. Moody, the man that lost the money."
"And this is Mr. Peppers, the detective, who is looking up the case,"
added Mr. Moody.
"As soon as I heard about it, I came back to face the music," said Dory.
"Your name is Dory Dornwood, I learn," said Mr. Peppers.
"Theodore Dornwood is my name, but I am called 'Dory.'"
"Just now we are rather more anxious to find the other man than we are
to get hold of you," continued Peppers. "I don't believe there will be
much music for you to face, Dory."
"But Mr. Hawlinshed said I was wanted here, and I have come. Is he an
officer?" asked Dory.
"He is no officer, and he had no right to arrest you."
"Hallo, fellows!" shouted Corny Minkfield, coming down the wharf: "there
is a steamer over here which is going to Burlington, and we can go in
her."
"I should rather go in the Goldwing," said Thad, looking at his
companions.
"You must be in a hurry about it, for she will be off in a few minutes,"
added Corny. "We won't get home to-day if we don't take this chance."
"When are you going, Dory?" asked Nat Long.
"I don't know when I shall go. If you have a chance to go, you had
better use it," replied Dory.
After a little discussion, the four members of the Goldwing Club decided
to improve the opportunity to get home; for Dory could not say that he
should go to Burlington that day. All of them but Corny took occasion to
say that they believed Dory was all right, so far as the money was
concerned; for the detective did not seem inclined to say any thing
about the matter beyond the rather encouraging statement he had already
made. A few minutes later the skipper saw a small steamer leave another
part of the town, and he was again alone so far as friends were
concerned.
"I think we had better go up to the Witherill House, and look the case
over," said Peppers, after the boys had gone.
"Why do you say there will not be much music for me to face, Mr.
Peppers?" asked Dory, as they walked up the wharf. "I am accused of
stealing the money, and I don't understand the matter."
"I am sorry Hawlinshed did not come back with you," replied the
detective, without answering the question. "In fact, we want him more
than we want you."
"Do you want him as evidence against me?" inquired Dory very anxiously.
"We are looking into the case, and finding out all we can. We have some
ideas, but we don't say much about them," said the detective.
Dory could not get any thing more out of the officer. They soon reached
the hotel, where he was introduced to Mr. Velsey, the landlord, who was
informed that the skipper of the Goldwing had come to face the music,
whereat he looked very good-natured, and conducted the party to a
private parlor.
The landlord wanted to know where Dory had been since he left the hotel
the morning before; and he told the story in full of his trip on the
lake, and the pursuit of the Missisquoi. The hotel-keeper and the
detective were very much amused at the manner in which he had dodged the
steamer, and especially when the hero stated that he had left his
pursuers aground on Colchester Shoal.
"But, if I am charged with stealing this money, I want to know about
it," said Dory when he had finished his narrative. "Pearl Hawlinshed
said I was wanted here; and here I am."
"You were about the hotel night before last, were you not?" asked
Peppers.
"I was. I was here to see a gentleman who had a room on the next floor.
I left between ten and eleven," replied Dory promptly.
"I don't think it is any use to go into that matter, Peppers,"
interposed Mr. Velsey, when he saw that the detective was disposed to
make as much parade over the case as possible. "Come to the point at
once."
"Have you any money, Dory?" asked the officer, evidently coming to the
point as directed.
"I have: I have sixty dollars and some change," answered Dory, without
any hesitation, as he put his hand upon his wallet in his pocket.
"Have you any five-dollar bills?" continued the detective.
"I have two five-dollar bills. The rest of the money is in tens."
"Will you show me the fives?"
Dory produced his wallet, and handed the two bills to the officer.
Peppers passed them to Moody at once. The latter shook his head, and
handed them back to the detective, who returned them to the owner. The
skipper wondered what all this meant, and was very much surprised that
Peppers did not ask him where he had got the money he paid for the
Goldwing.
"That sets you all right, Dory Dornwood," said the landlord. "I am sorry
we made you come back to Plattsburgh, but Hawlinshed was sure you were
the one that stole the money from Moody's room. We are satisfied now
that another person committed the robbery."
"Then you don't want to send me to jail?" added Dory, with a sensation
of the most intense relief.
"Not at all. We didn't know so much about the case yesterday forenoon as
we do now. The next man we want to see is Hawlinshed. You say he is
aground somewhere in the steamer."
"On the Colchester Shoal: at least he was three hours ago," added Dory.
"That's in Vermont, but I will give you ten dollars to put Peppers in
the same boat with him."
Dory was glad enough to do it. The tables had turned.
CHAPTER XVIII.
DORY LOCKS HIS PASSENGERS INTO THE CABIN.
Ten dollars! And this sum was to be made with the Goldwing. It would pay
nearly one-fourth of what she cost, and add ten dollars to the sum he
was to have the happiness of giving to his mother.
"I don't understand yet why I am let off," said Dory, after he had
recovered from his amazement at the prospect of earning ten dollars.
"You are let off because you didn't do it," replied the landlord,
laughing. "I am sorry we accused you, but it looked bad for you at the
first of it. Peppers and Moody will tell you all about it after you get
into the boat. We have an early dinner ready, and you must dine before
you go."
In addition to all this, the landlord invited him to come to his house
whenever he was in Plattsburgh, and make himself at home there. The
hotel-keeper dined with them, and he asked Dory a great many questions
about the boat. Was she a dangerous boat?
"Any boat will tip over if you don't handle her right," replied Dory
sagely. "I sailed her across the lake yesterday when it blew a young
hurricane, and she is as safe as any boat I ever was in."
The young skipper proceeded to explain what had made the Goldwing so
unruly. He had overcome the difficulty, and he was sure that she was as
safe as any boat on the lake. He had perfect confidence in her, and he
was willing to have her tested in any weather by any boatman on the
lake.
"Pearl Hawlinshed wanted to buy her; and he claims to be the greatest
boatman on the lake, and knows his way all over it from Whitehall to St.
Johns," added the hotel-keeper. "He knows just where the bottom is in
every place."
"I think he does," replied Dory, laughing. "I know he found it yesterday
and to-day. Any fellow knows just where the bottom is, but he don't
always know how far it is from the top."
"I often have parties here who want a boat and a skipper; and I may be
able to turn some business into your hands, Dory," added the
hotel-keeper.
"Thank you, sir: that's what I want every day in the week, except
Sunday," replied the skipper of the Goldwing.
After dinner Dory and his passengers went to the wharf, and in a few
minutes they were standing up the lake. The wind was considerably
fresher than it had been in the morning, and the Goldwing made about six
miles an hour. The bad reputation of the boat had made some impression
upon Peppers, and at first he was very shy when she heeled over under
the influence of the smart breeze.
Dory soon satisfied him that the boat would not upset, with any thing
like fair treatment. He explained and illustrated the lee-helm business.
With the tiller fast in the comb, he allowed the craft to have her own
way. At the next gust she threw her head up into the wind, and spilled
all her sails. This satisfied both of the passengers, and they
manifested no more timidity.
In an hour and a half the schooner was up with Stave Island. The
detective had asked the skipper half a dozen times if he could see any
thing of the Missisquoi; but the islands had concealed her from view, if
she were still on the shoal. A few minutes more would enable him to
answer the question. Dory's passengers had plied him so closely with
questions since they started, that he had forgotten all about the matter
the officer was to explain to him; but the expectation of soon seeing
Pearl brought it back to his mind.
"You haven't told me yet why I was charged with taking Mr. Moody's money
from his room," said he.
"One reason was, that you were seen about the hotel, near Mr. Moody's
room; and the other was, that you had money enough to buy this boat,"
replied Peppers. "But I was satisfied that you didn't take the money as
soon as I got the facts from Moody."
"It was a lucky thing for you, my boy, that I fixed things as I did,"
added Moody.
"How did you fix things?" asked Dory.
"I have just started the business of making tomato-wine for sickness. I
sold two hundred dollars' worth of it in Plattsburgh, part of it to go
to New York. The merchant gave me a check for the money, and I went to
the bank to cash it. I received forty brand-new five-dollar bills,"
Moody explained, producing one of the bills. "I am trying to advertise
my business all I can; and I had a rubber stamp made, which the agent
delivered to me the day I got my money. I went to my room, and stamped
every one of those new bills with my business card in red ink. That is
the way I know the bills when I see them."
"And that is the reason why you wanted to see all the five-dollar bills
I had," added Dory.
"But we had looked over the bills you paid for the boat before," said
the detective. "We have been looking for bills with this red stamp upon
it since yesterday noon."
"Have you found any?" inquired Dory with interest.
"I found two of them. We have got to the southward of Stave Island now.
Can't you tell whether that steamer is in sight now?"
"Yes, sir: there she is, just where we left her this morning," replied
the skipper, as he glanced in the direction of the shoal. "I think Pearl
Hawlinshed has had a good time there all day."
"How far off is she?" asked Peppers.
"About two miles, but we shall reach her in twenty minutes. Where did
you find the two bills with the stamp on them?" asked Dory.
"Can they see us on board of that steamer, Dory?" asked the detective,
without heeding the question.
"They can see the boat; but of course they can't tell who is in her two
miles off," replied Dory.
"I am afraid I shall have some trouble with Pearl, Dory," said Peppers
anxiously. "The landlord was to give you ten dollars if you put me in
the same boat with Pearl."
"I think I shall earn the money without any trouble," replied Dory,
laughing with delight at the bright prospect before him.
"But, Dory, it makes some difference to me in what boat I happen to be
put with him, though you will earn your money all the same," added the
officer.
"All I can do is to put you on board of the Missisquoi. Of course I
can't put Pearl Hawlinshed on board of this boat if he is not willing to
come."
"But I don't want to be put on board of the Missisquoi," protested
Peppers. "There is where the rub comes. I am an officer in Plattsburgh,
but not in the State of Vermont. I can't arrest Pearl over here."
"Arrest him! Are you going to take him up?" asked Dory, not a little
astonished at this revelation.
"I am not going to do it over here; and he may make me no end of trouble
when he sees how the land lays," added Peppers; and at the same time he
sat down in the bottom of the standing-room.
"What are you going to arrest him for?"
"For stealing Moody's money!" exclaimed the detective desperately. "I
didn't mean to tell you the whole story just yet, but you have dragged
it out of me. Drop down here, Moody."
The loser of the money obeyed, though he seemed to be as much in the
dark as to the object of the movement as the skipper. Dory was worried
at the words of the officer; for, if he would not go on board of the
little steamer when he went alongside of her, he might not be able to
earn the promised reward.
"What is all this for, Mr. Peppers?" asked Dory, quite as anxious to
earn his money as the detective was to secure his prisoner.
"Can't we go into the cabin, and shut the doors, Dory?" asked Peppers.
"You can; but that would bring the boat down by the head so much that
she won't work well. If you want to do that, I will shift the ballast,"
replied Dory.
"I don't want Pearl to see me until we get him into this boat. It won't
do for me to take him out of the steamer over here. I am afraid to do
it. Shift your ballast, and then I will fix it up with you," added the
officer.
"Fix up the ballast!" exclaimed Dory, who did not care to have any one
meddle with the ballast but himself.
"No, no! Fix up a plan to get Pearl into this boat. Don't try to be so
thick, Dory," replied Peppers impatiently.
The skipper could not leave the helm to move the ballast, and neither of
his passengers knew any thing about a boat. But the men shifted the
fifty-sixes under the direction of the skipper. Five of them were
carried farther aft, and the passengers took their places one in each
berth in the cabin.
The doors opening into the standing-room were closed, but the slide was
left open till the schooner came alongside the Missisquoi. The men
declared that they were very comfortable in their quarters, and Dory
could not see why they should not be. He did not think there was any
better place in the known world than the cabin of the Goldwing.
"Now, how are we to get Pearl into this boat?" asked Peppers, with his
head at the opening by the slide.
"I don't think you will have any trouble about that," replied Dory. "He
wanted me to take him on board this morning, but I believe he will take
the boat away from me as soon as he comes on board."
"Don't you be alarmed about that, Dory. I can take care of him when I
get him within reach of my hand," added the detective.
"I believe he is as ugly as sin itself, and I think he hates me worse
than he does the Evil One himself. I have given him a big run the last
two days, and I gave him a chance to find the bottom twice."
"I will look out for you, Dory. I don't want him to know we are on board
of the boat till we get over to the other side of the lake," added
Peppers. "He will look into this cabin the first thing he does after he
comes on board. Can't you give us the key, and let us lock ourselves in,
Dory?"
"You can't lock the doors on the inside," answered Dory. "When the slide
is drawn, a hasp comes down from it, and all the doors are fastened with
a padlock."
"Then why can't you lock us in? You won't tip the boat over while we are
in here, will you?" asked the detective, as he thrust his head out far
enough to enable him to see the steamer, which was not more than a
quarter of a mile distant by this time.
"I will agree not to tip you over; but I can't tell what else may
happen, if I take such a fellow as Pearl Hawlinshed on board."
"If you have any trouble with him, all you have to do is to unlock the
door, and let us out; and we will take care of you."
"All right! I am satisfied to do any thing you say," added Dory, as he
went forward, drew the slide, and locked his passengers into the cabin.
By the change in the position of the ballast the boat was kept in good
trim. She dashed merrily through the water, and in a few minutes more
she was describing a circle around the grounded steamer.
CHAPTER XIX.
PEARL HAWLINSHED RESORTS TO VIOLENCE.
"Hallo! is that you, Dory Dornwood?" shouted Pearl Hawlinshed, as the
Goldwing came within hail of the steamer. "Come alongside, and take me
on board!"
"All right!" replied the skipper of the schooner, as he hauled in the
sheets with all his might.
"Take me on board, and I will make it all right with you," continued
Pearl, who did not seem to believe that Dory intended to take him on
board.
The skipper had brought the boat about so that all her sails were
shaking, but she had headway enough to carry her to the port quarter of
the steamer.
"Be all ready to jump on board when I come up alongside," called Dory.
"Are you going off to leave us, now that you have got us into this
scrape?" demanded Captain Vesey, springing to his feet; for he had
evidently been asleep on the quarter-deck.
"I am going to get a steamer to drag you off this shoal," replied Pearl.
"I will come back in a couple of hours or so."
"You may forget to come," added Mr. Button, the engineer. "I think you
had better pay me the five dollars you owe me before we part company."
"And five dollars you owe me," added Captain Vesey.
"I don't owe you any five dollars, either of you," replied Pearl
blandly, as he was about to leap on board of the Goldwing. "I was to
give you five dollars apiece if you put me on board of this boat, and
you haven't done it."
"We should have done it if we hadn't let you do the piloting," replied
Captain Vesey. "You owe us the money, and you must pay it."
"I think not," added Pearl, as he sprang on the forward deck of the
schooner. "You haven't done what I agreed to pay you for."
"Hold on!" shouted Button angrily. "If you don't pay me, I will take it
out of your hide."
"You will catch me first, won't you?" jeered Pearl, as he leaped down
into the standing-room of the boat.
"Don't carry him off, Dory," added Captain Vesey. "He is the biggest
rascal that ever floated on Lake Champlain."
"Keep off, Dory, if you know when you are well off!" said Pearl in
threatening tones.
But Dory was anxious to perform his part in the drama; and he filled
away on the starboard tack, pointing the head of the boat towards
Plattsburgh. His fellow-voyagers did not give Pearl a good character,
but this was not a surprise to the skipper. He knew what Pearl was
before he had seen him in the daylight.
"Here we are, Dory," said the villain, as he seated himself in the
standing-room. "You have dodged me times enough yesterday and to-day,
and I am glad to be alone on board of this craft with you."
The skipper did not express his satisfaction that they were not alone,
but he felt it just the same. Pearl was ugly, and Dory did not like the
looks of him. The new passenger gazed about him, and seemed to be
examining the boat for some time. He looked under the seats in the
standing-room, and opened a couple of lockers. Then he raised the
floor-boards, and looked at the ballast.
When he had done this, he seated himself again. He looked at Dory, and
then he glanced up at the sails. He watched the sailing of the schooner
in silence for a few minutes. He evidently had something on his mind,
and he appeared to be debating with himself as to the manner in which he
should open the subject. As his eyes wandered about the boat, they
rested upon the cabin-doors. He looked at them a moment, and then went
forward, and tried to open them.
"You keep the cuddy locked, do you, Dory?" asked he, as he pulled
several times at the doors.
"Just now I do," replied Dory, who had no skill in lying, and no
inclination to practise it. "I wish you would come aft, Mr. Hawlinshed.
When you are so far forward, it puts her down too much by the head."
"She works very well indeed, Dory Dornwood. What have you been doing to
her?" asked Pearl.
"I changed the position of the foremast, and have shifted the ballast,"
replied Dory, wishing the third passenger would come aft; for he was
afraid he might discover the presence of the others in the cabin.
"Do you happen to have the key to this padlock in your pocket, Dory?"
asked Pearl in an indifferent tone.
Just then he saw the inquirer drop his head, and put his right ear very
near the blinds in the doors of the cabin. But he did not act as if he
had discovered any thing. The skipper thought he heard some kind of a
noise in the cabin, as though one of its occupants had coughed or
sneezed. But he was not sure of it, and the noise was just as likely to
have been the dashing of the water against the bow of the boat.
"You spoil the sailing of
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