"We may strike upon the rocks and be dashed to pieces," suggested
Charles.
"If you are afraid—"
"O, no! I'm not afraid; I was thinking of the boat."
"If it is dashed to pieces in a good cause, let it be so."
"Good!" ejaculated Fred Harper. "That's the talk for me!"
"The water in the lake is very high, and I know exactly where the rocks lie. Keep steady; I will put you through in safety."
"Where is the Butterfly now, Frank?" asked William Bright.
"Wait a minute.—There she goes! Hurrah! she has passed the reefs safely. They pull like heroes. There! Up go her oars—they are in-board. There are a man and a woman in the water, struggling for life. The man is trying to save the woman. The chaise seems to hang upon a rock, and the horse is kicking and plunging to clear himself. Steady—pull steady."
"Tony will save them all," said Fred.
"Hurrah! there he goes overboard, with half a dozen of his fellows after him! There are six left in the boat, and they are working her along towards the man and woman. They have them—they are safe. Now they pull the lady in—hah—all right! I was afraid they would upset the boat. They have got her in, and the man is holding on at the stern. Tony has got a rope round the horse's neck, and the fellows are clearing him from the chaise."
The Zephyr was now approaching the dangerous rocks, and Frank was obliged to turn his attention to the steering of the boat through the perilous passage.
"Steady," said he, "and pull strong. All right; we are through. We are too late to do anything. They have landed the man and woman, and now they are towing the horse ashore. Tony's a glorious fellow! He is worth his weight in solid gold!"
"Can't we save the chaise?" asked Tim Bunker.
"We can try."
"Hurrah for the chaise then!"
"Bowman, get the long painter ahead," continued Frank.
"Ay, ay."
The coxswain of the Zephyr steered her towards the vehicle, which still hung to the rock, and, by a skilful maneuver, contrived to make fast the line to one of the shafts of the chaise.
"Ready—pull!" said Frank, as he passed the line over one of the thwarts.
The crew pulled with a will, and the jerk disengaged the chaise, and they succeeded in hauling it safely to the shore, and placing it high and dry upon the rocks.
CHAPTER VI.
HURRAH FOR TONY!
Tony and his six companions, who had been with him in the river, stood on the rocks shivering with cold, when the Zephyr's crew landed. The rest of her boys had been sent to conduct the lady and gentleman to the nearest house, and render them such assistance as they might require.
"You are a brave fellow, Tony!" said Frank, warmly, as he grasped the wet hand of his friend.
"I am very wet and cold, whatever else I may be," replied Tony, trying to laugh, while his teeth chattered so that he could hardly speak.
"You had better go home; you will catch cold," continued Frank.
"We must wait for the fellows."
"No, you shall take six of the Zephyr's crew, and pull home as fast as you can, and we will wait for the rest."
"We can do no more good here; so we may as well go. Thank you for your offer, Frank, and I will accept it. If you like I will take Fred Harper to steer down, for I should like to pull an oar myself to warm up with."
"Certainly;" and Frank detailed six of his club, including Fred, who seated themselves in the Butterfly.
"I don't know about those rocks, Tony," said Fred, as he grasped the tiller ropes.
"The water is so high, that there is no danger, I will have an eye to the passage when we get to it," replied Tony, as he took his old place at the bow oar.
The Butterfly pushed off, and in a few moments after passed the dangerous rocks in safety. Her crew pulled with energy, and it is quite likely that they got warm before they reached the boat-house.
It was some time before the rest of the Butterfly's crew returned to the rocks where they had landed.
"Where's Tony?" asked one of them, a boy of fourteen, but so small in stature that his companions had nicknamed him "Little Paul," of whom we shall have more to say by and by.
"They have gone home; we sent six of our fellows with them. They were too wet and cold to stay here," replied Frank. "You can return in our boat."
"The gentleman wants to see Tony very much."
"Who is he?"
"His name is Walker; it would do your heart good to hear him speak of
Tony."
"I dare say; but Tony is worthy of all the praise that can be bestowed upon him. How is the lady?"
"She is nicely, and she thinks Tony is an angel. She declares that a dozen strong men could have done no more for them."
"She is right; you did all that could have been done by any persons. The Butterfly's first laurel is a glorious one, and I can congratulate you on the honors you have won."
"Thank you, Frank," said Little Paul, modestly. "I am sorry you were not with us to share the honors."
"We should have been, if it hadn't been for Tim Bunker," said Charles
Hardy, a little sourly.
Tim had gone with the Butterfly, or Charles would not have dared to make such a remark.
"And if you had had your way, we shouldn't have come when we did," added
William Bright, smartly.
"What do you mean, Bill?"
"Didn't you protest against passing the rocks."
"I did, because it was directly in opposition to Captain Sedley's orders."
"Never mind, fellows," interposed Frank; "for my part, I am glad the Butterfly had it all to herself. She has just come out, and it will be a feather in her cap."
"But we saved the chaise," said Charles.
"We pulled it ashore; it was safe enough where it was. The Butterfly saved the lives of the man and woman, and of the horse. They would have drowned, and all the glory consisted in saving them. Tony and his crew deserve all the credit, and I, for one, am happy to accord it to them."
"That's just like you, Frank!" exclaimed Little Paul. "I believe, if the two boats had changed places, you would have given us all the credit."
"You behaved nobly."
"Just as you would have done if you had been in Tony's place."
"We will talk that over some other time. We are ready to return when you are."
"I suppose there is nothing more to be done."
They were about to embark, when they discovered a party of men approaching the place, several of them carrying ropes and poles.
"Hold on;" shouted Farmer Leeds, to whose house the boys had conducted the lady and gentleman. "We want your boat to get the chaise out of the river with."
"It is out now," replied Little Paul.
The boys waited till the party reached the river. A clump of trees had prevented them from seeing the chaise till they had got almost to the shore; and, as Little Paul expressed it afterwards, "they looked surprised enough, to see it high and dry upon the rocks."
"I must say one thing, Mr. Leeds," began Mr. Walker; "and that is, you have smart boys in this vicinity."
"Toler'ble," replied the farmer, with a smile.
"They are men in noble deeds."
"This boating business turns the boys into men; and though, in my opinion, it would be just as well to set 'em to work in the cornfields, there is no denying that it brings 'em out, and makes 'em smart."
"My wife would certainly have been drowned without their help."
"I daresay."
"But where is the little fellow that commanded the boat?" asked Mr.
Walker, scrutinizing the faces of the boys.
"He has gone home, sir; he was wet and cold."
"That is right; I am glad he has; I shall go and see him by and by. And these are the boys that brought the chaise ashore?"
"Yes, sir," replied Little Paul. "This is Frank Sedley, the coxswain of the Zephyr."
"Well, Master Sedley, I am under great obligations to you."
"Not at all to me, sir. Tony Weston saved you. We only pulled the chaise ashore."
"But you shall not be forgotten. The other boat is gone, you say?"
"Yes, sir. Tony Weston is the coxswain of the Butterfly."
"And a noble fellow he is, too. He will be a great man one of these days. It did my heart good to see how cool and collected he was; how skilfully he managed the boat, when it came down upon us like a race horse. He gave off his orders like a hero, and they were obeyed with a promptness and precision that would have been creditable to the crew of a man-of-war, after a three years' cruise. And then, when he ordered six of the boys to stay in the boat, and the rest to follow him into the water, it was really heroic. Over he went, with his crew after him, as though they had been so many ducks. And in the water, they worked with as much coolness and courage as though it had been their native element. I would give half my fortune to be the father of such a son."
"I would give all of mine," added Farmer Leeds. "You don't know half his worth yet. But there is nothing for us to do here; the men shall haul your chaise up to the house, and as we walk along I will tell you about Tony."
"Master Sedley, I shall see you again to-day or to-morrow. Tell Tony how highly I value his noble service, and tell him I shall call upon him this evening," said Mr. Walker, as he went away with Farmer Leeds.
"My father would be very happy to have you stop at his house while you remain in Rippleton," continued Frank, who was not sure that the farmhouse would accommodate him.
"As to that," interposed Farmer Leeds, "I can't offer you so grand a house as Captain Sedley's, but such as it is, you are welcome to it."
"Thank you, Master Sedley, for your hospitable invitation; but I think I will remain with my good friend here." And he departed with the farmer.
"All aboard!" said Frank, and the boys tumbled into the boat, and grasped their oars.
The Zephyr pushed off, and her cheerful crew pulled merrily down the river. Frank was conscious that the organization of the boat clubs had been the means of accomplishing the good work which the crew of the Butterfly had just achieved. He was aware that some of the people in the vicinity had cherished strong objections to the clubs, and that Tony had had considerable difficulty in persuading the parents of his crew to allow their sons to join. The adventure at the bridge, he thought, would have a tendency to reconcile them, and to elevate and dignify boating. At any rate a good deed had been done, and the parents of those who had taken part in it could not but be proud of the laurels their sons had earned.
The Zephyr, under Frank's skilful pilotage passed the rocks in safety, though, as they darted through the narrow channel, he could see their sharp edges only a little way below the surface of the clear water.
They had scarcely entered the open lake before they perceived the Sylph, under full sail with a smashing breeze, close aboard of them.
"Frank!" shouted Captain Sedley, who was at the helm, while Uncle Ben was gazing at them with a very sorrowful face from the half deck.
"Ay, ay, sir!" replied Frank, as he laid the Zephyr's course towards the sailboat.
Though his father had only spoken his name, there was something in the tone which could not be misapprehended; but it did not occur to him, he was so engaged in thinking of the incidents at the bridge, that he had disobeyed his father's command in passing into the river.
As the Zephyr approached, the Sylph luffed, and came up into the wind, to wait for her. Frank brought his boat round under the stern of the sailboat, and "lay to" an oar's length from her.
"Frank," said his father, sternly, "I am surprised that you should venture among those rocks, when I have expressly forbidden you ever to go into the river."
"But, father, there was—"
"How could you do such a thing, after I had so carefully warned you—so positively interdicted it? Suppose your boat had been dashed in pieces," continued Captain Sedley, who, though deeply grieved at his son's apparent disobedience, was too indignant to hear an excuse; for such he supposed Frank was about to offer—one of those silly, frivolous excuses which boys sometimes seize upon to palliate their misconduct.
"I protested against it!" said Charles Hardy, rising from his seat.
"Shut up!" exclaimed Little Paul, his cheek glowing with indignation, as he pulled Charles back into his seat.
"I went to save life, father," replied Frank, almost choked by his emotions, a flood of tears springing in his eyes and well-nigh blinding him.
"To save life!" said Captain Sedley, touched by the reply, and far more by Frank's emotion.
He saw that he had spoken too quick—that his son had not passed the rocks without a good and sufficient reason.
"Yes, sir," replied Frank, struggling to master his feelings; and then he related all that had occurred at the bridge; how Tony had saved the lady and gentleman, and the horse; and how his crew had pulled the chaise ashore.
"You did right, Frank; forgive my hasty words," said Captain Sedley, with deep feeling.
"Good, my hearty!" exclaimed Uncle Ben, clapping his hands.
A heavy load had been removed from the mind of the veteran, who had almost come to believe that Frank could do no wrong.
"Tony's a hero; and shiver my timbers, if he oughtn't to be president of the United States, when he's old enough," exclaimed Uncle Ben.
"He is a brave fellow. You have done well, both of you. However strict our orders are, no person should be a machine. Orders should be obeyed with judgment," continued Captain Sedley.
"That's a fact. I could tell a yarn about that," added Uncle Ben. "When
I was in the old Varsayles, bound round the Horn—"
"Another time we will hear your yarn, Ben," interposed Captain Sedley. "We will go over and see Tony now, and congratulate him on the honors the Butterfly has won. Haul in the gib sheet, Ben."
"Ready—pull!" said Frank.
"Who protested now, Master Charles Hardy?" asked Little Paul, as he good-naturedly punched the forward youth in the ribs.
"Circumstances alter cases," replied Charles, sagely, as he bent on his oar.
"Fact! but they altered them when the deed was done, not now, when you have found out that it was all right."
CHAPTER VII.
COMMODORE FRANK SEDLEY.
For a few days all Rippleton rang with the praises of Tony and his companions. All the particulars of the affair at the bridge had been given in the Rippleton Mercury, and the editor was profuse in his commendations of the skill and courage of the Butterfly Boat Club; and he did not withhold from the Zephyr the credit which was justly due. Tony was a hero, and his fame extended for many miles around.
Mr. Walker and his lady, who had been rescued from the river, visited Captain Sedley and the Weston family the next day. I need not tell my young readers how earnest he was in the expression of his admiration and gratitude. He was a wealthy merchant, and resided in a neighboring town. Being as warm-hearted and generous as he was just and discriminating, it was quite natural that he should give his feelings expression in some substantial token of his gratitude.
Before he left Rippleton, a check for five hundred dollars was placed in the hands of George Weston, with directions to give four hundred of it to the Butterfly, and one hundred to the Zephyr. In the division of the Butterfly's share, Mr. Walker desired that one hundred dollars should be given to Tony, and twenty-five dollars apiece to the crew; consenting, however, to let the whole sum be common property if the club desired.
This liberality was certainly munificent, princely; but Mr. Walker's wealth was quite sufficient to enable him to gratify his generous impulses. Tony said he felt a little "ticklish" about taking it, at first; but George assured him that Mr. Walker would feel hurt if he did not, and he concluded to accept it.
"But what shall we do with it, George?" asked the young hero, who was not a little embarrassed by the possession of so much money.
"That is for you to decide."
"What can we do with it?"
"It will buy heaps of candy," suggested George, with a smile.
"Candy!" said Tony, contemptuously.
"You can make a fund of it if you like."
"What for?"
"For any purpose you may wish. By and by, you may want money for something."
"What shall we do with it?"
"Put it in the Savings Bank."
"But the next thing is, shall we divide it? or let it remain as the property of the club? I suppose the fellows will all do just as I do."
"Perhaps the money would do the parents of some of them a great deal of good."
"I think very likely; we will let them vote upon it. Here comes Frank. I wonder what they are going to do with theirs."
"How do you do, Tony? I have come over to talk with you about the race.
Next Wednesday is the day, you know."
"I had forgotten all about the race in the excitement of the bridge affair."
"I don't wonder."
"What are you going to do with your money, Frank?" asked Tony. "Your club met last evening, I believe."
"We voted to buy some philosophical apparatus with it."
"Good! Did Tim Bunker vote for that?"
"He didn't vote at all. He wanted the money divided; but the vote was unanimous for spending it as I said. By the way, Mr. Walker was liberal—wasn't he?"
"Princely. He ought to have given you more and us less, though."
"No; he did perfectly right. We did not deserve even what we got."
"Just like you! But come into the club room—Butterfly Hall—and we will fix things for the race."
Frank and Tony discussed the details of the race, and at the end of an hour everything was arranged to the satisfaction of both. There was no difference of opinion except as to the length of the race. Tony, thought that twice up and down the lake, making an eight-mile race, would be best; but Frank felt sure that it was too long, and that it would tire the boys too much. So it was finally agreed that they should pull only once up and down, making about four miles.
As the Butterfly club were to meet that evening, Frank departed earlier than he otherwise would have done, so as not to be considered an intruder.
Tony's club were in high spirits that evening. The praise bestowed upon them had created a strong feeling of self-reliance in their minds. Their discipline had passed through a severe ordeal, and it was pronounced perfectly satisfactory by all concerned. They had done hard work, and done it well. Their success was the result of their excellent discipline. It would have been in vain that they had as good a commander as Tony, if promptness and obedience had been wanting.
"Now, boys," said Tony, when he had called the meeting to order, "we have arranged all the details of the race, and if you like, I will tell you about it."
"Tell us," said several.
The chairman proceeded to give them the substance of his conversation with the coxswain of the Zephyr; and the rules they had adopted were of course agreed to by all present.
The Butterfly boys, elated with the results of the bridge affair, were confident that they should win the race. Tony, however, was not so sanguine. He knew, better than they, how skilful Frank was; and, if the Zephyr had not labored under the disadvantage of having a new member, he would have been sure of being beaten.
"There is another subject which comes up for consideration to-night—I mean the gift of Mr. Walker. He has left it so that it may be divided among us, or held and used as common property," continued Tony.
The boys looked at each other, as if to pry into the thoughts of their neighbors. There was a long silence, and it was in vain that Tony called for the opinions of the members; they did not seem to have any opinions on the subject.
"We will do just as you say, Mr. Chairman," said Little Paul.
"So we will," added Henry Brown.
"I shall not say," replied Tony. "It is a matter for you to decide. George says we can put it in the Savings Bank, if we don't divide it, and keep it till we find a use for it. Perhaps, though, some of your parents may want it. If they do, we had better give each his share."
"Let us put it in the Savings Bank," said Dick Chester.
But Henry Brown looked at Little Paul, whose father was a very poor man, and had not been able to work for several months.
"Perhaps we had better divide it," suggested he.
"If you agree to divide it, each member shall have a thirteenth part of the whole four hundred dollars," added Tony.
"That wouldn't be right," replied Little Paul. "He gave a hundred to you; and certainly you are better entitled to a hundred than we are to a penny apiece."
"I will not take more than my share."
"We will only take what Mr. Walker awarded us," said Henry.
"That we won't," added several members.
"No!" shouted the whole club.
"But you shall, my lads," said Tony, stoutly. "George and I have agreed to that."
"But the commander of the ship ought to have a bigger share than the crew; besides, what could we have done without you?" argued Little Paul.
"And what could I have done without you?"
"It was your skill and courage, as the Mercury says, which did the business."
"It was your prompt obedience that crowned our labors with success. I tell you, boys, it is just as broad as it is long. The money shall be equally divided."
"Then we won't divide it," said Henry Brown.
"Very well; I will agree to that. We shall be equal owners then," replied Tony, with a smile of triumph; for in either case his point was gained.
"But what shall we do with it? Four hundred dollars is a heap of money. What's the use of saving it up without having some idea of what we mean to do with it?"
"We can put it to a dozen uses."
"What, for instance?"
"Why, enlarging our library; buying an apparatus, as the Zephyrs are going to do; giving it to the poor," replied Tony. "But I was thinking of something before the meeting."
The boys all looked at the chairman with inquiring glances.
"Out with it," said several of them.
"There are lots of fellows round here who would like to get into a boat club."
"More than twenty," added Little Paul.
"We have money enough to buy another boat."
"Hurrah!" exclaimed several of the members, jumping out of their chairs in the excitement of the moment. "Let us buy another boat!"
"What shall we call her?" added Dick Chestor.
Several of the boys began to exercise their minds on this important question, without devoting any more attention to the propriety or the practicability of procuring another boat. That question was regarded as already settled.
"Ay, what shall we call her?" repeated Joseph Hooper.
"What do you say to the 'Lily?'"
"The 'Water Sprite?'"
"The 'Go-ahead?'"
"Name her after Mr. Walker."
"No; after Tony Weston."
"You are counting the chickens before they are hatched," added Tony, laughing heartily.
"The—the—the 'Red Rover,'" said Joseph Hooper.
"That's too piratical," replied Little Paul.
"I wouldn't say anything about the name at present," suggested Tony.
"Wouldn't it be fine, though, to have three boats on the lake?" exclaimed Henry.
"Glorious! A race with three boats!"
"Who would be coxswain of the new boat?"
"Fred Harper," said little Paul. "The fellows say he is almost as good as Frank Sedley."
"If we had another boat we should want a commodore," continued Tony. "And I was thinking, if we got another, that Frank would be the commodore, and command the fleet. Then there would be a coxswain to each boat besides."
"That would be first rate."
"Let us have the other boat."
"Hurrah! so I say."
"I suppose we could buy two six-oar boats for our money," added Tony.
"And have four in the fleet?"
"Perhaps three four-oar boats."
"Five boats in the fleet! That would be a glorious squadron!"
The boys could hardly repress the delight which these air castles excited, and several of them kept jumping up and down, they were so nervous and so elated.
"Come, Tony, let us settle the business, and order the boats at once," said Dick Chester.
"We had better think a while of it. Something else may turn up which will suit us even better than the fleet. Of course we must consult Captain Sedley and George before we do anything," replied Tony.
"They will be willing."
"Perhaps they will, and perhaps they won't."
"I know they will," said Dick.
"We will consult them, at any rate. It is necessary to take a vote concerning the division of the money."
Of course the club voted not to divide; and it was decided that the money should remain in the hands of George Weston until the fleet question should be settled.
"Now, boys," said Tony, "next Monday is town meeting day, and school don't keep. We will meet at nine o'clock and practise for the race, which comes off on Wednesday afternoon, at three o'clock. Let every fellow be on hand in season."
The club adjourned, and the boys went off in little parties, discussing the exciting topic of a fleet of five boats, under the command of Commodore Frank Sedley.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RACE.
The day appointed for the race between the Zephyr and the Butterfly had arrived, and the large number of people congregated on the shores of Wood Lake testified to the interest which was felt in the event. Probably the exciting incident at the bridge, which had been published in the newspaper, imparted a greater degree of interest to the race than it would otherwise have possessed. It was a beautiful afternoon, mild and pleasant for the season, which favored the attendance of the ladies, and the lake was lined with a row of cheerful faces.
"All aboard!" said Frank, as he dissolved a meeting of the Zephyrs, which he had called in order to impart whatever hints he had been able to obtain from his father and others in regard to their conduct.
Above all, he had counseled them, in case they were beaten, to cherish no hard feelings towards their rivals. Not a shadow of envy or ill-will was to obscure the harmony of the occasion. And if they were so fortunate as to win the race they were to wear their honors with humility; and most especially, they were not to utter a word which could create a hard feeling in the minds of their competitors. Whatever the result, there was to be the same kindness in the heart, and the same gentlemanly deportment in the manners, which had thus far characterized the intercourse of the two clubs.
"All aboard!"
The Zephyrs were more quiet and dignified in their deportment than usual. There was no loud talk, no jesting; even Fred Harper looked thoughtful and serious. Each member seemed to feel the responsibility of winning the race resting like a heavy burden upon his shoulders.
The boat was hauled out into the lake, and once more Frank cautioned them to keep cool and obey orders.
"Don't look at the Butterfly after we get started," said he. "You must permit me to keep watch of her. Keep both eyes on me, and think only of having your stroke perfectly accurate, perfectly in time with the others. Now, remember, don't look at the Butterfly; if you do, we shall lose the race. It would distract your attention and add to your excitement. If she gets two or three lengths ahead of us, as I think she will on the first mile, don't mind it. Pull your best, and leave the rest with me."
"Ay, ay!" replied several, quietly.
"Do you think we shall win, Frank?" asked Charles, who had put the same question a dozen times before.
"We must think that we shall," replied Frank, with a smile. "Here comes the Butterfly. Now, give her three cheers. One!"
"Hurrah!"
"Two!"
"Hurrah!"
"Three!"
"Hurrah!"
This compliment was promptly returned by the Butterfly, as she came alongside the Zephyr.
"Quarter of three, Frank," said Tony.
"Time we were moving then," replied Frank, as he ordered the oars out, and the boats started for the spot where the Sylph, the judges' boat, had taken position.
They pulled with a very slow stroke, and not only did the respective crews keep the most exact time, but each timed its stroke with the other. It was exhibition day with them, and they were not only to run the race, but to show off their skill to the best advantage. Hundreds of people, their fathers and their mothers, their sisters and their brothers, were observing them from the shore, and this fact inspired them to work with unusual care.
It was a very beautiful sight, those richly ornamented boats, their gay colors flashing in the bright sunshine, with their neatly uniformed crews, their silken flags floating to the breeze, and their light, graceful oars dipping with mechanical precision in the limpid waters. As they glided gently over the rippling waves, like phantoms, to the middle of the lake, a long and deafening shout from the shore saluted their ears. The white handkerchiefs of the ladies waved them a cheerful greeting, and the Rippleton Brass Band, which had volunteered for the occasion, struck up Hail Columbia.
"Cease—rowing!" said Frank, as he rose in his seat.
Tony followed his example, though this movement had not been laid down in the program.
Frank then took the American flag which floated at the stern, and Tony did the same.
"All up!" said he. "Let us give them three cheers."
"Mind the coxswain of the Zephyr," added Tony, "and let them be all together and with a will."
"Hats off, and swing them as you cheer."
The cheers were given with all the vigor which stout lungs could impart, and the flags waved and the hats swung.
The salute was reiterated from the shore, and above the martial strains of the band rose the deafening hurrahs.
"Ready—pull!" and the boats resumed their slow and measured stroke, and the band changed the tune to the Canadian Boat Song.
When they reached the judges' boat, the two coxswains drew lots for the choice of "position," and the Butterfly obtained this advantage. The two boats then took their places, side by side, about two rods apart, ready to commence the race.
"Tony," said Frank, rising, "before we start I have a word to say. Whatever may be the result of the race, for myself and my crew, I pledge you there shall be no hard feeling among the Zephyrs."
"No, no, no!" added the club, earnestly.
"If you beat, it shall not impair our friendship; there shall be no envy, no ill-will. Do you all say so, Zephyrs?"
"Ay, ay!"
The Butterflies clapped their hands vigorously, in token of their approbation of the pledge, and Tony promised the same thing for his club.
"Now we are ready," added Frank. "Keep perfectly cool, and mind all I have said. Ready!"
Uncle Ben stood in the bow of the Sylph, with a burning slow match in his hand, ready to discharge the cannon which was to be the signal for starting. It was a moment of intense excitement, not only to the crews of the boats, but to hundreds of spectators on the shore.
It was undeniably true that the Zephyrs, in spite of the warnings which Frank had given them, were very much excited, and various were the expedients which the boys used to calm their agitation, or at least to conceal it. But it was also true that the Butterflies were much more excited. Discipline and experience had not schooled them in the art of "being mere machines," and they found it much more difficult than the Zephyrs to subdue their troublesome emotions.
The eventful moment had come. The oarsmen were bent forward ready to strike the first stroke, and the coxswains were leaning back ready to time the movement. Captain Sedley was gazing intently at the dial of his "second indicator," prepared to give Uncle Ben the word to fire.
"Ready, Ben—fire!"
Bang! went the cannon.
"Pull!" shouted Frank and Tony in the same breath.
Fortunately every oarsman in both boats hit the stroke exactly, and away leaped the gallant barks.
As Frank had deemed it probable, the Butterfly shot a length ahead of her rival after pulling a few strokes; but though the noise of the oars informed his crew of their relative positions, not an eye was turned from him, not a muscle yielded in the face of the dispiriting fact, and not a member quickened his stroke in order to retrieve the lost ground. Even Tim Bunker, who was supposed to have more feeling in regard to the race than the others, maintained an admirable self-possession. However much the hearts of the crew beat with agitation, they were outwardly as cool as though the Butterfly had been a mile behind them.
It is true, some of the Zephyrs, as they continued to gaze at Frank's calm and immovable features, wondered that he did not quicken the stroke; but no one for an instant lost confidence in him. "Frank knew what he was about." This was the sentiment that prevailed, and each member looked out for himself, leaving all the rest to him.
The Butterflies were quickening their stroke every moment, and consequently were continuing to increase the distance between the two boats. Every muscle was strained to its utmost tension. Every particle of strength was laid out, until Tony, fearful that some of the weaker ones might "make a slip," dared require no more of them. But they were already more than two boats' lengths ahead of their rival, and he had everything to hope.
Still the Zephyr pulled that same steady stroke. As yet she had made no extraordinary exertion. Her crew were still fresh and vigorous, while those of her rival, though she was every moment gaining upon her, were taxing their strength to the utmost.
They rounded the stake boat, which had been placed nearly opposite the mouth of the Rippleton River, and the Butterfly was still three lengths ahead. They had begun upon the last two miles of the race. Though the Zephyr still pursued her former tactics, her rival was no longer able to gain upon her. The latter had thus far done her best, and for the next half mile the boats maintained the same relative positions.
Frank was still unmoved, and there was some inward grumbling among his crew. An expression of deep anxiety had begun to supplant the look of hope and confidence they had worn, and some of them were provoked to a doubt whether Frank, in the generosity of his nature, was not intending to let Tony bear off the honors.
"Come, Frank, let her have, now!" said Tim, who could no longer restrain his impatience.
"Silence! Not a word!" said the self-possessed coxswain.
It was in the "order of the day" that no member should speak during the race; and none did, except Tim, and he could easily have been pardoned under the circumstances.
Not yet did Frank quicken the stroke of the Zephyr, though at the end of the next half mile she was only two boats' lengths astern of her competitor, which had lost this distance by the exhaustion of her crew. They had pulled three miles with the expenditure of all their strength. They lacked the power of endurance, which could only be obtained by long practice. "It is the last pound that breaks the camel's back;" and it was so with them. With a little less exertion they might have preserved some portion of their vigor for the final struggle, which was yet to come.
They had begun upon the last mile. The crew of the Butterfly were as confident of winning the race as though the laurel of victory had already been awarded to them; and though their backs ached and their arms were nearly numb, a smile of triumph rested on their faces.
"Now for the tug of war," said Frank, in a low, subdued tone, loud enough to be heard by all his crew, but so gentle as not to create any of that dangerous excitement which is sometimes the ruin of the best laid plans.
As he spoke the motions of his body became a little quicker, and gradually increased in rapidity till the stroke was as quick as was consistent with perfect precision. The result of this greater expenditure of power was instantly observed, and at the end of the next quarter of a mile the boats were side by side again.
"They are beating us!" said Tony, in a whisper. "Dip a little deeper—pull strong!"
The exciting moment of the race had come. The spectators on the shore gazed with breathless interest upon the spectacle, unable, though "Zephyr stock was up," to determine the result.
Not a muscle in Frank's face moved, and steadily and anxiously his crew watched and followed his movements.
"Steady!" said he, in his low, impressive tone, as he quickened a trifle more the stroke of the crew.
The Butterflies were "used up," incapable of making that vigorous effort which might have carried them in ahead of the Zephyr.
"A little deeper," continued Frank. "Now for it!"
As he spoke, with a sudden flash of energy he drove his oarsmen to their utmost speed and strength, and the Zephyr shot by the judges' boat full a length and a half ahead of the Butterfly.
"Cease—rowing!" said he. "Ready—up!"
The Butterfly came in scarcely an instant behind, and her oars were poised in air, like those of her rival.
A long and animating shout rang along the shore, when the result of the race was apparent, and the band struck up "See the conquering hero comes."
CHAPTER IX.
LITTLE PAUL.
"You have won the race, Frank, and I congratulate you," said Tony
Weston, as the Butterfly came alongside the Zephyr.
"Thank you, Tony; that is noble and generous," replied Frank.
"But it is the feeling in our club—isn't it, fellows?"
"Ay, ay, that it is!" shouted Little Paul. "Let us give them three cheers, to show the folks on shore that there are no hard feelings."
The cheers were given lustily—at least, as lustily as the exhausted condition of the Butterflies would permit. Each member of the defeated club seemed to feel it his duty to banish even the semblance of envy; and it was pleasant to observe how admirably they succeeded.
I do not wish my young readers to suppose that Tony's crew felt no disappointment at the result; only that there were no hard feelings, no petty jealousy. They had confidently expected to win the race, even up to the last quarter of a mile of the course; and to have that hope suddenly dashed down, to be beaten when they felt sure of being the victors, was regarded as no trivial misfortune. But so thoroughly had Tony schooled them in the necessity of keeping down any ill will, that I am sure there was not a hard feeling in the club. Perhaps they displayed more disinterestedness in their conduct after the race than they really felt. If they did, it was no great harm, for their motives were good, and they were all struggling to feel what their words and their actions expressed.
"Zephyr, ahoy!" hailed Mr. Hyde, from the Sylph.
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"The prize is ready for the winner."
The oars were dropped into the water again, and the Zephyr pulled up to the judges' boat.
"You have won the prize handsomely, Frank, and it affords me great pleasure to present it to you," said Mr. Hyde, as he handed him a purse containing the prize. "After the noble expressions of kindness on the part of your rival, I am sure the award will awaken no feeling of exultation in the minds of the Zephyrs, and none of envy in the Butterflies. I congratulate you on your victory."
Frank bowed, and thanked the schoolmaster for his hopeful words; and the Butterflies gave three cheers again as he took the prize. The Zephyr was then brought alongside her late rival.
"Starboard oars—up!" said Frank.
"Larboard oars—up!" added Tony.
"What now, I wonder?" queried Fred Harper.
"Forward oarsman, step aboard the Butterfly," continued Frank.
"Forward oarsman, step aboard the Zephyr," said Tony.
Then the next member in each boat was passed over to the other, and so on, till the whole starboard side of the Zephyr was manned by Butterflies, and the larboard side of the Butterfly by Zephyrs.
"Ready—up!" said the coxswains, as they proceeded to get under way again.
Thus, with the two clubs fraternally mingled, they slowly pulled towards the nearest shore, while the band played its sweetest strains. The spectators still lingered; and as the boats neared the land, they were greeted with repeated cheers. Then, side by side, they pulled slowly along the shore, within a few rods of the lake's bank, till they reach the Butterflies' house, where they all landed.
And thus ended the famous boat race, over which the boys had been thinking by day and dreaming by night for several weeks. The occasion had passed; and if it was productive of any evil effects in the minds of those who engaged in it, they were more than balanced by the excellent discipline it afforded. They had learned to look without envy upon those whom superior skill or good fortune had favored, and to feel kindly towards those over whom they had won a victory. It was a lesson which they would all need in the great world, where many a race is run, and where the conqueror is not always gentle towards the conquered—where defeat generates ill-will, envy, and hatred.
"A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another," said Jesus—not only love one another when the sky is clear, and the waters are smooth, but when the clouds threaten, and the stormy sea lashes with its fury; not only when the arm of friendship and kindness holds us up, but when all hearts seem cold, when all hands are closed, and all faces frown upon us. It was this divine command that the circumstances of the boat race tended to exemplify; and I am sure that both the conquerors and the conquered were better prepared for the duty of life than if they had had no such experience.
I do not mean to say that every boat race is a good thing, most especially when it is made to be a gambling speculation by staking money on the result—only that this one was, because those who conducted it made it subservient to the moral progress of the boys.
"Well, Frank, I am glad you won the race," said Tony, with a smile which testified to his sincerity. "Fortune favored us at the bridge, and gave us the opportunity of winning the honors."
"And the profits too, Tony. Fifty dollars is nothing to us now," added
Fred, with a laugh.
"Thank you, Tony," replied Frank. "You are so noble that you almost make me regret we won. But, my dear fellow, you have won a greater victory in your own heart. I can envy you the possession of such noble feelings."
"Pooh, Frank!"
"I am sure I don't value the victory, because it has been won over you."
"We trained ourselves to feel right about the matter whichever way the race went."
"Your heart is so near right that you don't need much training. But it is time for us to return home."
"How about that picnic on the first of May?"
"My father has consented to it."
"So have our folks; we will have a glorious time of it. On Saturday afternoon, if you say so we will visit Center Island, and set the May pole."
"Agreed."
"But, Frank, school keeps—don't it?"
"Whew! does it?"
"It did last year; but the committee have talked of giving us the day. I hope they will. Ask your father; he is one of them."
"I will. We can get the point settled before Saturday."
"I guess so."
"All aboard!"
The Zephyrs hastened on board, and in a few minutes were out of sight. The Butterfly was hauled into her berth, everything was made "snug" and tidy, and the boys hastened to their several homes. Of course it was not easy for them to drive out of their minds the exciting events of the day, and while all of them, except Tony, were sorry they had lost the race, they had much to console them. They had won a victory over themselves; and the consciousness of this triumph compensated for their disappointment. Each of them, adopting the sentiment of their heroic young leader, thought what a good fellow Frank Sedley was, and tried to feel glad that he had won.
There was one of them, however, who did not think much about it after he separated from his companions. Other considerations claimed his attention; and before he reached his humble home, the race was banished from his mind. He had a sick father, and the family had hard work to get along. This was Little Paul.
His mother insisted upon sending him to school while there was anything left to procure the necessaries of life; and as there was little for him to do at home, he was allowed to join the club, because his parents knew how much he loved the sports on the lake, and that nothing but good influences would be exerted upon him in the association.
Paul Munroe was a good boy, in every sense of the word; and though he had never been able to do much for his parents, they regarded him none the less as one of their choicest blessings. As Tony expressed it, Little Paul's heart was in the right place; and it was a big heart, full of warm blood.
His father sat in an easy-chair by the kitchen stove as he entered, and a smile played upon his pale blue lips as his eyes met the glance of his loving son.
"Well, Paul, did you win the race?" he asked, in feeble tones.
"No, father; the Zephyrs beat. Frank Sedley rather outgeneraled Tony, and his crew were more used to pulling than we. But Frank is a first-rate fellow."
"Isn't Tony?"
"That he is! They are both first-rate fellows; I don't know where there are two other such fellows in the world."
"You are right, Paul; they are good boys, and we shall be sorry to take you away from them."
Little Paul looked inquiringly at his father. He had more than once begged to be allowed to work in the Rippleton factories, that he might earn something towards supporting the family; but his parents would never consent to take him away from school and confine him in the noisy, dusty rooms of the mills. His father's words suggested the idea that they had consented to his request, and that he was to be allowed to work for a living.
"'Squire Chase has been here to-day," added Mr. Munroe, sadly.
"Has he? What did he say?" asked Paul, a shade of anxiety gathering upon his fine, manly face.
"We must leave our house, my son," replied the father, with a sigh.
"Won't he wait?"
"No."
"How did he act while he was here?"
"He was very harsh and unfeeling."
"The villain!" exclaimed Paul, with emphasis, as his check reddened with indignation.
"He is a hard man, Paul; but reproaches are of no use. The note is due on the first of May; I cannot pay it, so we must leave the house."
"Where are we to go, father?"
"Your grandfather, who has a large farm in Maine, has written for me to come there; and your mother and I have decided to go."
Paul looked sad at the thought of leaving the pleasant scenes of his early life, and bidding farewell to his cherished friends; but there was no help for it, and he cheerfully yielded to the necessity. It was of no use to think of moving the heart of 'Squire Chase—it was cold, hard, and impenetrable. He was a close-fisted lawyer, who had made a handsome fortune in the city by taking advantage of the distresses of others, and it was not likely that he, having thus conquered all the nobler impulses of his nature, would have any sympathy for Mr. Munroe in his unfortunate condition.
The poor man had bought the little place he occupied a few years before for seven hundred dollars—paying two hundred down, and giving his note, secured by a mortgage, for the rest. The person of whom he had purchased the place, whose lands joined it, had sold his estate to 'Squire Chase, to whom, also, he had transferred the mortgage. The retired lawyer was not content to remain quiet in his new home, and there repent of his many sins, but immediately got up an immense land speculation, by which he hoped to build a village on his grounds, and thus make another fortune.
Mr. Munroe's little place was in his way. He wanted to run a road over the spot where the house was located, and had proposed to buy it and the land upon which it stood. He offered seven hundred and fifty dollars for it; but it was now worth nine hundred, and Mr. Munroe refused the offer. The 'Squire was angry at the refusal, and from that time used all the means in his power to persecute his poor neighbor.
Then sickness paralyzed the arm of Mr. Munroe, and he could no longer work. The money he had saved to pay the note when it should become due was expended in supporting his family. With utter ruin staring him full in the face, he sent for 'Squire Chase, and consented to his offer; but the malicious wretch would not give even that now; and the land was so situated as to be of but little value except to the owner of the Chase estate. The 'Squire was a bad neighbor, and no one wanted to get near him; so that Mr. Munroe could not sell to any other person.
The crafty lawyer knew that the poor man was fully in his power, and he determined to punish him, even to his ruin. He hated him because he was an honest, good man; because his life, even in his humbler sphere, was a constant reproach to him. The note would be due on the first of May, and he had determined to take possession in virtue of the mortgage.
Poor Paul shed many bitter tears upon his pillow that night; and from the depths of his gentle heart he prayed that God would be very near to his father and mother in the trials and sorrows that were before them.
CHAPTER X.
A UNANIMOUS VOTE.
On the following day Little Paul was missed at school, and some anxiety was felt by his companions concerning him. It was feared that the exertion of the race had proved too great for him, and that he was too ill to come out. All the other boys appeared as usual, and none of them seemed to be the worse for the violent exercise they had taken.
Before night, however, they learned that Little Paul was quite well, and had been detained at home to assist his mother. This intelligence removed their anxiety, and their fears lest boat racing should be deemed an improper recreation, and dangerous to the health of the boys. Friday and Saturday passed, and he did not appear at school; but it was said that his mother was very busy, and nothing was thought of the circumstance.
On Saturday afternoon the Butterfly club had assembled in their hall, and were talking over the affairs of the association until the time appointed for the excursion to Center Island. Little Paul had not come yet, and the boys began to fear that they should be obliged to make the excursion with only five oars on one side.
"What do you suppose is the reason?" asked Dick Chester.
"I have no idea; I hope nothing has happened, for Little Paul has not been absent from school before this season," replied Tony.
"I hope not," added Henry Brown. "Suppose we send a committee to inquire after him."
This was deemed an excellent suggestion, and Henry and Dick were immediately appointed a committee of two, by the "chair," to attend to the matter. They departed upon their mission, and after the boys had wondered a while longer what kept Paul away, another topic was brought up—a matter which was of the deepest interest to the young boatmen, and which had claimed their attention during all their leisure moments for several days.
I say their leisure moments; for the affairs of the club were not permitted to interfere with any of the usual duties of the members. At home and at school, it was required that everything should be done well and done properly. As may be supposed, this was not an easy matter for boys whose heads were full of boats and boating; and about once a week the coxswains found it advisable to read a lecture on the necessity of banishing play during work hours. "Whatsoever thy hands find to do, do it with all thy might," was a text so often repeated that it had virtually become one of the articles of the constitution.
The boys felt the necessity of following this precept. They realized enough of the law of cause and effect to be aware that, if their home and school duties were neglected, or slovenly done, boating would soon obtain a bad reputation; so both parents and teacher found that the clubs were a great help rather than a hindrance in the performance of their several functions.
So strongly were the Zephyrs impressed with the necessity of not permitting the club to interfere with home and school duties, that, at the latter part of their first season, they had established a rule by which any member who wilfully neglected his duties should be, for a certain time, excluded from the club. And this rule was not a dead letter. One Wednesday forenoon Charles Hardy had wasted his time in school, and failed in his lessons. On his slate was found a drawing of a club boat, manned by certain ill-looking caricatures, which explained the cause of the defection. An excursion had been planned for that afternoon, and when Charles presented himself at the boat-house, he was politely informed that he could not go. In vain he pleaded; Fred Harper, who was coxswain at the time, was very civil and very gentle, but he was inflexible. And the culprit had the satisfaction of sitting upon a rock on shore, and seeing what a fine time the fellows were having.
The effect was decidedly salutary, and another case of such discipline did not again occur. The boys, zealous to keep their favorite sport in good repute, adopted the regulation for the present year, in both clubs. Without such precautions as these it was plain that boating would soon become a nuisance, which neither parents nor teachers would tolerate. Therefore the members of the clubs made it a point to keep their "voyages," their plans and schemes, out of their minds at times when their heads should be filled with, other matters. It was astonishing to what an extent they succeeded; and boys would often be surprised to see how well they can do, if they would only set about it earnestly and with a determination to succeed.
The notable scheme which just now engrossed the attention of the Butterflies was no less than the establishment of a "fleet of boats" upon the lake. The dream of half a dozen boats, under command of Commodore Frank Sedley, maneuvering on the water, performing beautiful evolutions, and doing a hundred things which they could not then define, was so pleasant, so fascinating, that they could not easily give it up.
There would be the commodore in his "flag boat," signalizing the fleet, now bidding them pull in "close order," now ordering a boat out on service, and now sending one to examine a bay or a harbor. And then, if they could only get leave to explore Rippleton River, how the commander of the squadron would send out a small craft to sound ahead of them, and to buoy off the rocks and shoals, and how the people on the banks of the stream would stare when they saw them moving in sections against the sluggish current! Ah, a fleet of boats was such a brilliant ideal, that I will venture to say more than one of the boys lay awake nights to think about it.
I will not attempt to tell my young friends all the queer fancies concerning the squadron in which they indulged. They were essentially air castles, very beautiful structures, it is true, but as yet they rested only on the clouds. But the means of realizing this magnificent ideal was within their grasp. They had the money to buy the boats, and the only question was, whether George Weston, the "director" of the club, would permit the purchase.
"What have you done about the fleet, Tony?" asked Joseph Hooper.
"I have spoken to my brother about it," replied Tony, with a smile.
"What did he say?"
"He had no objection."
"Hurrah! We shall have the fleet then! And Tony, we shall go in for having you commodore part of the time."
"That we will!" echoed half a dozen voices.
"You would make as good a commodore as Frank," added Joseph.
"I guess not," answered Tony, modestly. "Didn't you see how slick Frank beat us in the race? If I had followed his tactics, we might have stood some chance, at least."
"Some chance! Didn't we keep ahead of him till we had got almost home?"
"Yes; but that was a part of Frank's tactics. He let us get tired out, and then beat us. But we haven't got the fleet yet, fellows, and we are a pack of fools to count the chickens before they are hatched."
"You said George has no objections," replied Joseph, glancing anxiously at Tony.
"He has not, but he wants to consult Captain Sedley before he consents."
The boys looked a little disconcerted at this intelligence, and a momentary silence ensued.
"Do you think he will object, Tony?" asked one.
"I am pretty sure he will not."
"Have you said anything to Frank about it?"
"Yes; and he says the Zephyrs will put their money with ours, if we get the fleet."
"Hurrah! I know his father will consent!"
"I have even got a hint from him that he should not object," added Tony, very quietly.
"That is glorious! We shall certainly have the fleet then!" shouted
Joseph Hooper.
"I am pretty sure there will be no trouble about it. Almost everybody is willing to admit now that the clubs are a good thing; that they keep the fellows out of mischief, and stimulate them to do their duty at home and at school. So much for our strict regulations. If we can get more boats, and form more clubs, everybody concerned will be the better for it."
"That's the idea."
"We can get four small boats for our money—can't we?" asked one of the boys.
"Frank thought we had better get different sized boats," replied Tony.
"For different kinds of service," added Joseph, demurely.
"Say, one eight-oar boat, one six-oar, and two four-oar," said Tony.
"That would be first rate! Then we could take in twenty-two fellows."
"Twenty-three; the commodore would not be the coxswain of any boat, but command the whole."
The boys grew so nervous and excited during this fine discussion, that they could hardly keep their seats. In imagination the fleet was already afloat, and the broad pennant of Commodore Sedley was flying on board the Zephyr.
"How long before we can get the boats, Tony?" asked a little fellow, his eyes snapping with delight at the glorious anticipation.
"Perhaps they can be bought ready made. We need not wait for new ones. In a few weeks, at least before vacation—— Hallo, Paul! I am glad you have come."
Little Paul looked very sad as he entered Butterfly Hall. With a faint smile he received the greetings of his friends.
"All aboard!" shouted Tony, as he rose front his chair. "You haven't got your uniform on, Paul."
"I can't go with you, Tony," replied Little Paul, in a gloomy tone.
"Not go with us! Why not? What is the matter?"
"I must leave the club too," he added, in a husky voice.
"Leave the club!"
"We are going to move Down East."
"That's too bad!"
All the boys gathered round Little Paul, and there was a troubled look upon their countenances.
"We cannot stay here any longer," continued the poor boy, as he dashed a tear from his eye.
It was evident to all that some misfortune had overtaken the Munroe family, and Little Paul's sorrows excited the deepest interest and sympathy.