"The keel corresponds with the backbone of your bodies. At the forward end of it is the stem, shaped as you see in the sheer plan. At the after end is the stern-post; and these three parts form the profile of the vessel. Between them are the timbers, or ribs, curved as required by the shape of the hull. To the timbers, the stem and stern-post, the planking, or outer skin of the ship, is fastened. If you were to build a canvas canoe, you would make a frame such as I have described. The cloth part would correspond to the planking.
"But, besides the principal parts I have mentioned, of course there is a vast number of other parts, whose names you could not remember if I gave them to you. I shall add only a few of the principal ones. The timbers—I use the word in its technical sense—are set up about three feet apart, sometimes a little more, and sometimes a little less. The lower end of each is fastened to the keel, and of course each timber has to be shored up, and carefully secured in its proper position.
"The timbers are at right angles with the keel, and in large vessels are formed of several pieces. Across the keel is laid the floor timber, which is the connecting link between the pair of ribs. In the middle of the ship, the floor is nearly flat; but near the stern-post the timbers strike the keel at an acute angle, and in the same manner at a less angle at the bows.
"Above the floor timbers is laid the keelson, which is a large and strong timber a foot square or more in large vessels. These pieces are fitted together, and bolted to the keel through the timbers. The sharp angle at the stern is filled with solid wood. As you have seen, the floor timbers are parts of the ribs," continued the principal, pointing to a diagram of a full rib. "The next two sticks, forming the sharpest bend in the timber, are the futtocks, above which are the top timbers and the lengthening pieces. The plankshear is placed on the top of the timbers, extending from bow to stern, even with the upper deck, if there is more than one.
"Large ships have two, three, and even four decks. Fastened to the timbers are pieces called shelves, upon which rest the beams or timbers extending across the ship, upon which the decks are laid. In the corners, where the beams join the ribs, are placed the knees (timbers like brackets) in which the angle is formed by the natural growth of the wood. Of course all these pieces are bolted together in the strongest manner.
"The timbers next to the stem are the knight-heads. They extend upwards higher than the tops of the other ribs, and assist in the support of the bowsprit. In the keel, stem, and stern-post, a rabbet, or triangular groove, is cut out, into which the planks are extended. The first course of the planking, next to the keel, whether composed of one or many pieces, is called the garboard streak. This word is often written strake. The other word is more commonly used in this country.
"The next coarse above the garboard streak is the bilge streak, which may consist of several widths of plank. Above there are the wales, and still higher the shear streaks. Some of these terms are applied to the parts of the ship as localities. The bilge is where the sharpest bend comes in the hull; the wales are the sides near the load line.
"I have tried to give you a general view of ship-building, with a few of the more important technical terms, some of which most of you have learned before. As I have said, we shall not use all these pieces in building the boat. For example, a false keel is put under the true keel of a ship. It is a timber of the toughest wood, from four to six inches thick, which is bolted to the keel after the keelson is secured. It is but lightly fastened, for it is intended to come off, if the vessel strikes a shoal, and thus allow the true keel to slide off. We shall not need this addition, unless we require it to increase the depth of the keel. In that case, it would be better to have the part corresponding to the false keel made of lead or iron, and then it will serve as so much ballast.
"On the table you see a wooden model of the boat we are to build. Its form and size are exactly indicated by the three plans I have explained. We are not ship-builders, only amateurs; and, while I shall take pains to have you understand the theory and practice of the art, I do not feel obliged to follow all the methods in use. So far as I know, no such model as the one on the table was ever made before. As I shall direct the construction of the boat, I shall do it in my own way, though it may not be according to the accepted rules.
"I have kept you now longer than I intended, for, after the hard work you did last night, and the very quiet and business-like way in which you did it, I shall make the rest of the day a holiday. The Beech Hill fleet is at your service, and you may spend the day in any proper manner that you please. To-morrow afternoon we will dissect this model, and give out the work of building the boat. In the meantime I shall be glad to receive suggestions as to her name; but no student must send in more than one name, for I wish you to have decided opinions."
The wind was very fresh from the northwest on the lake, and its surface was covered with white-caps. Above Split Rock Point the lake looked like a sea of foam, and heavy waves rolled in upon the beach in Porter's Bay. Even Beechwater was considerably agitated. Prudent mothers would have thought it dangerous to go out upon the lake at such a time.
Apparently for the reason that the water was rough on Lake Champlain, the students elected to have an excursion in the barges. The principal did not object, for the boys had been trained to rough weather, and they knew how to handle the boats in any sea that ever was stirred up on fresh water, albeit the waves are often more perilous on large lakes than on the ocean.
Oscar Chester was the coxswain of the Gildrock, and Thad Glovering of the Winooski. The former was still used by the first class, and the latter by the second. But the classes had been considerably changed, and vacancies in the first had been filled from the second and from the most advanced of the new pupils. The third class consisted mainly of new scholars.
The twelve-oar barges each had a crew of thirteen, including the coxswains. Nine of the third class were detailed for service in the new eight-oar barge, and there was one who had no station in any boat. One of the thirty-six students to which the school was now limited had been taken sick, and returned to his home in the winter. He was from the far South, and the climate was too severe for him. His place had not been filled before the coming of Paul Bristol. He was to be a spare hand for the present, and was to take the place of any one who was absent.
The eight-oar barge was the Marian, in honor of Dory's sister, and the name had been given by the students. Paul had spoken to Dory about the tin box in the hollow of the tree, and it had been arranged to visit Sandy Point in the Goldwing: but when the students decided to go out in the barges, the plan had been changed. Dick Short, though a first-rate mechanic, and one of the best boatmen in the fleet, had been transferred to the third class because he was deficient in some of his book studies, and could not keep up with his class-mates.
Dick had been elected coxswain in the Marian. Dory had trained the new crew, but he declined to be the chief in the boat. He pulled the stroke oar, though he exchanged places with the coxswain when the boys were in training. The crew of the Marian generally manned the Goldwing, though the schooner was often used by other parties.
A lunch had been put up for each of the crews of the barges, and they were expected to be absent all the rest of the day. Sometimes Captain Gildrock was called by business or pleasure to visit Burlington, Plattsburgh, or other places on the lake, when the students were at their studies, or off in the barges. At such times he was his own pilot, Mr. Jepson was the engineer when not instructing in the shop or drawing-room, Bates was deck-hand, and Collins, the gardener, was the fireman.
Before the students were dismissed from the school-room, steam was up on the Sylph, and the barges had hardly departed before she left the wharf. If she had any particular destination, it was unknown to most of the students; and possibly the principal desired to take a view of Sandy Point after the event of the preceding night.
It was half-past eleven when the barges backed out of the boat-house. Paul was seated in the stern-sheets of the Marian. He had not yet been trained to pull with the crew, though he would have gladly taken an oar. On the present occasion his mission related to business. While they were at breakfast, Lily had spoken to him about a valise she had been obliged to leave at the house of her former employer in Westport. Paul had promised to get it when he could.
The Marian led the way down the creek into the river, and then out into the lake. The other barges followed at a respectful distance, and their crews did not seem to be inclined to engage in any scrub races. The speed of the eight-oar boat had not yet been tested, and it had always been taken for granted that either of the other barges could beat her without half trying. But it was no time to indulge in a race when the water was so rough.
The waves were dashing smartly over the point at the mouth of Beaver River, and the bow of the Marian was lifted up in the air as she plunged in among the white-caps. Dick Short got the hang of the waves as soon as they struck the boat. Paul thought it was about as rough a time as he had ever seen on the lake during the season of navigation; but he had never been in the barge before, and everything was new to him.
"By the big wooden spoon!" exclaimed the passenger, when the Marian was in the thickest of the miniature billows, and the water was occasionally slopping in over the bow. "Don't you expect you will all get drowned?"
"You can't tell about that," replied the coxswain, who felt as much at home in the boat as he would in the school-room. "We are not prophets, and we can't tell what is going to happen."
"Don't you think it is dangerous to come out here when the lake is boiling after this sort?" asked Paul, as he looked at the angry waves around him.
"I suppose it is. There is always water enough in the lake to drown the whole of us," answered Dick Short, who was rather inclined to work upon the fears of a timid voyager.
"Then what do you come out here for?"
"For fun."
"Is there any fun in being drowned, Dick Short?" asked Paul seriously, as he glanced at Dory, whose face was as calm as the minister's on Sunday.
"Any fun in being drowned? How should I know? I never tried it," returned the coxswain.
"But don't you think it is dangerous to be out here in such a blow?" Paul insisted; and he really believed he was in peril.
"Of course it is."
"Then don't you think you had better put back into the river?"
"But it is dangerous in there," added Dick. "Suppose a tree should blow down and kill every fellow in the boat? Suppose the sea-serpent should be having a vacation up Beaver River, and take it into his head to swallow us all, one at a time? Suppose the river should catch fire and burn us all up? Suppose the sky should fall, as Chicken Little said it would, and smash us all to jelly?"
"You are making fun of me, Dick," said Paul, laughing.
"The principal says it is useless to worry about anything. We do the best we can with the boat; and if she spills us into the fluid, all we have to do is to get out if we can."
"I think I can stand it as well as any of the rest of the fellows can, and I don't mean to worry," returned Paul. "I never was out on the lake when it was anything near as rough as it is to-day, and it looks dangerous to me."
"If you don't feel right about it, we will put you ashore," added the coxswain.
"I am not scared; I can stand it as well as the rest of you. I was only asking about it for information," continued Paul.
"I don't believe you are scared; if you had pluck enough to stand up against Walk Billcord and his father, I don't believe you will mind a little ripple on the lake like this," replied Dick, laughing.
"You said it was dangerous."
"Well, an ox-team is dangerous if you let the beasts run off a precipice. It is dangerous to go to bed, for the house may burn up before morning."
"We don't think we are in any more danger here, Paul, than we are every hour of the day on shore," added Dory. "Dick could upset the boat, and spill us all into the drink, if he did not understand his business and attend to it."
"All right; I am satisfied," replied the son of toil. "But I thought you were going up to Sandy Point."
"So we are; but the direct course would be about southwest, and that would put us into the trough of the sea and keep us rolling the gunwale under all the time," replied Dick. "The principal don't allow the fellows to be reckless. There comes the Sylph out of the river, and Captain Gildrock is on board of her. If he should see me letting the barge wallow about in the trough of the sea, when there is no need of it, he would give me fits."
"We could go direct to Sandy Point, though at a little risk. We should take in a good deal of water, and it would be uncomfortable," said Dory. "In a small boat in a blow, or in a squall, the safe way is to keep her head up to the sea."
"The other boats are following us."
"The coxswain of each can do as he pleases; but the fellows all know there is no fun in being knocked about in the trough of a smart sea," added the coxswain. "Do you expect to find any one at the point when we get there, Paul?"
"No; it isn't twelve o'clock yet. The Chesterfields are in school from eight to one, and then go to dinner. They won't get away from the house before two," replied Paul. "I don't believe any one at the school has any idea of what was done at the point last night."
"I should like to be where I could see them when they get to the point, and find that the cottage is missing," added Dick, chuckling. "Major Billcord will be the maddest man in the State of New York when he finds it is gone."
"Of course he will be. He don't care anything about the land over there, and all he wanted was to punish us for resisting his saintly son."
"I don't believe it will be safe for you to show your head in Westport again, Paul, or let any of the Chesterfields see you."
"Land me in Westport and see," laughed Paul.
Dick agreed to do so.
When the Marian was half-way across the lake, the waves began to diminish in force; and within an eighth of a mile of the high shore the water was comparatively smooth. The barge was then headed to the southwest, and had a quiet time of it till she reached Sandy Point. The Gildrock and the Winooski had followed her, and were now about an eighth of a mile astern of her.
Dory Dornwood was very popular with all the students, not because he was the nephew of the principal, but on account of his fairness, his pluck, and his good judgment. Though Captain Gildrock believed and trusted in him, no one could accuse him of partiality. Perhaps the coxswains of the two twelve-oar barges, who knew that Dory was on board of the Marian, considered it wise and prudent to follow the lead of the eight-oar barge for this reason.
On shore everything was as silent as the tomb. At Sandy Point, Paul looked with deep interest for the appearance of any person in the vicinity of the site where the cottage had stood. It was possible that Major Billcord had sent one of his men from Westport to ascertain what the Bristol family intended to do about the removal of the cottage or the furniture which it contained; but Paul could see no one.
"It looks as though the coast was clear," said he, when he had completed his survey of the point and the woods in the rear. "I don't believe any one has been here since we left last night."
"Major Billcord must have regarded it as utterly impossible for your mother or you to do anything more than remove some of your furniture," added Dory. "I am sure he did not think of such a thing as your taking the cottage away; and I don't believe he would have considered it possible for the Beech Hillers to do such a job. Probably he did not count us in, or think of us at all."
"It was lucky for my mother that you came along in the Goldwing as you did, for you have saved her all she had in the world," said Paul, with enthusiasm.
"Now, where is the tin box in the hollow of a tree?" asked Dick Short, as the barge approached the entrance to Sandy Bay.
"The tree is near the neck, and I had to climb up about ten feet to reach the hollow in which the tin box was put," replied Paul. "As the Chesterfields are expecting to have a big time in dumping the cottage into the lake, this afternoon, they may come up early. I have no doubt they will pull around here in their boats."
"Then I think we had better get away from the point as soon as possible," replied the coxswain. "We don't want to get into any row with them."
"I suppose you are not afraid of them," added Paul, laughing.
"I don't think we are, and most of the fellows wouldn't enjoy anything better than a skirmish with them," replied Dick Short. "But the student that does anything to bring on a row with them would be out of favor with the principal, and might have to spend a few days in the brig for it."
Paul had never heard of the brig, and Dick described the strong-room, or black hole, to him. The brig is the place of confinement, or prison, on board ships of war, and the principal had such an apartment in the dormitory. But there had been very little use for it since the earlier days of the school, and not half a dozen of the students had ever seen the inside of it.
"I don't see any of the Chesterfield boats," added Paul, as he looked along the shore. "By the big wooden spoon! Isn't the lake stirred up ahead of us!"
"The wind has full sweep across North West Bay, where the lake is four miles wide. It looks decidedly foamy over in Button Bay," replied Dick Short.
"By the big wooden spoon!" repeated Paul, as he rose in his seat in the stern-sheets.
"Sit down, Paul," said the coxswain, rather sharply. "We don't allow any fellow to stand up in this boat when he gets excited. What is the matter now?"
"There is a sailboat over there, and she looks as though she was tipping over!" exclaimed Paul, dropping into his seat.
"She is over, as true as you live," added Dick, rather louder than he usually spoke, but with hardly more excitement, so thoroughly had the students been trained to keep cool in emergencies.
At the same time he glanced at his crew; but not one of them had turned around to obtain a view of the event described by Paul and the coxswain, for they had been schooled to keep their eyes on the officer of the boat. The crew took more pride in observing this general order than almost any other.
Dick Short gazed with all his might at the struggling sailboat, for a moment, but he seemed to be in doubt, for the craft was at least a mile distant. Besides himself, no one but Paul, whose judgment in regard to the management of a sailboat was not to be relied upon, had even glanced in the direction indicated.
"Stand by to toss!" called Dick. "Toss!"
At the last word the crew brought their oars to a perpendicular.
"Now you can look, and I wish you would do so," continued the coxswain, as he fixed his own gaze upon the sail, which was dead to leeward, and some distance south of Button Island.
The students were glad enough of the permission, for they had as much curiosity, and were as much disposed to get excited, as the average of boys. They gazed with all their eyes at the sail in the distance.
"What do you think of it, Dory?" asked Dick Short.
"I should say that sailboat is half full of water, and that the skipper has lost his head," replied Dory, after he had taken in the situation. "She is rolling in the trough of the sea, and they seem to be trying to take in sail."
All the crew gazed in silence at the sailboat; but no one of them ventured to give an opinion, if he had any, in relation to the disaster. Dory had more experience in sailing a boat than any other student, and perhaps they were not inclined to speak in the presence of an expert. But Dick Short was an excellent boatman, and he deferred only to the skipper of the Goldwing.
"She must be rolling the water into her all the time, and she may go to the bottom at any moment," added the coxswain, whose opinion coincided with that of Dory. "We must go to their assistance at once."
Dory indicated his assent to this proposition only by a nod of his head, for he did not like to appear before the crew to be even an adviser of the coxswain.
"Ready!" called Dick; at which every member of the crew at the oars fixed his eyes upon the officer.
"Let fall!" and all the blades dropped into the water. "Give way!" and the rowers bent to their oars.
The Marian was headed towards the disabled sailboat, and in a few moments she was going at full speed. The coxswain did not hurry the oarsmen, for he knew better than to exhaust them before the hard work came on. The lake was comparatively smooth under the lee of the land, but in a few minutes they would be in the boiling waves of the broad bay.
"Have you seen anything of the Sylph?" asked Dory of the coxswain.
"She went up the lake when we crossed to the west shore," replied Dick. "The last I saw of her she was off Scotch Bonnet. I think the principal has gone up to Port Henry to order a barge-load of coal, for I heard him tell Mr. Jepson he should do so soon."
"Then by this time he is too far off to see that sailboat," added Dory.
"He couldn't do much if he did see it, for he has not hands enough to handle the steamer and man a boat," said Dick.
"He would manage to render all the assistance needed if he saw the boat," replied Dory, with a smile; for he could not conceive of such a thing as his uncle failing in any duty in an emergency. "He could put the sailboat under the lee of the Sylph, and take every person out of her."
"Of course he would do all he could, and he would save the people at all hazards," continued Dick, still straining his vision to get a better idea of the situation of the sailboat. "But how about the tin box in the hollow of the tree, Paul?"
"I shall have time enough to get that before the fellows go to the point to tip the cottage over into the lake," replied Paul. "This boat begins to leap like a greyhound chasing a rabbit."
"The boat will do very well as long as we can keep her end-on to the sea," added Dory, who thought the new pupil might be alarmed when the barge got into the worst of it. "But remember that you are to do nothing without orders from the coxswain. Simply keep your seat and look out for yourself."
"I think I can stand it as long as the rest of you," replied Paul, with a cheerful smile. "I won't meddle with anything till I am told to do so."
"The Gildrock and the Winooski are following us, and the fellows are putting in the heavy strokes," said Dory.
"Are they gaining on us?" asked Dick.
"I think not."
The sea was very heavy ahead of the Marian, but the waves were not like those of the ocean. They were shorter and more "choppy." But the boats made tolerably good weather among them. In a smart sea, speed is desirable; and it is the element in the progress of the boat which insures safety. At such a time there are two forces acting, the propelling power of the boat and the action of the waves. In heavy weather there is a struggle between the two forces. In the case of the sailing craft, the waves had got the better of the boat.
With the three barges, the advantage was on the side of the boats. They went ahead fast enough to keep the upper hand of the waves.
The stout students at the oars of the Marian drove the barge ahead, helped somewhat by the wind, so that the great billows seemed to have no effect upon her. In a few minutes she was in the midst of the heaviest of the waves. Sometimes she trembled and shook, but she did not yield sensibly to the power which was opposed to her.
"I think that is Tom Bissell's boat," said Paul Bristol, who was watching the craft in trouble very attentively. "When I went to see my sister in Westport, about a month ago, she was sewing a full moon into a blue flag."
"A full moon?" queried Dick.
"It was a round piece of white stuff, and it looked like a full moon."
"She has a burgee with a white circle on a blue ground," added Dick. "Then that must be Tom Bissell's boat?"
"She is a sloop as big as the Goldwing," continued Paul.
"Who is Tom Bissell?" asked the coxswain.
"He runs a store in Westport, and his wife keeps a millinery shop in the same building. My sister worked for them," replied Paul.
"Does he know how to handle a sailboat?"
"He thinks he does, and most people believe he does."
"Perhaps he does, and has met with some accident to his sail or rigging," added Dick. "I believe there are some ladies in the boat."
"I shouldn't wonder, for his wife is as fond of sailing as he is; and sometimes he takes out the girls that work for them," said Paul.
"The sloop is in the trough of the sea, rolling very badly. She is having a rough time of it," continued Dick, as the Marian came near enough for him to see the position of the craft.
"I am very sure that is the Silver Moon," added Paul.
"If it is, it looks like a wet moon, as Bates calls it, when he looks to the silvery orb for the state of the weather," said Dick.
The waves were certainly having it all their own way so far as the Silver Moon was concerned. The peak of the mainsail had been dropped, and the main sheet had run out so that the boom stood at right angles with the keel. Either the halyards were foul, or the rudder had given out, or she was suffering from both of these mishaps. As the sloop rolled with a heavy jerk in the violent seas, the ladies screamed as though they expected each movement would send them to the bottom.
The craft contained six ladies and one man. The latter was baling out the boat with a bucket, and was working with all his might. He had pluck enough; but the sloop seemed to be dipping up more water than he could possibly throw out, though he had doubtless delayed a little the catastrophe which awaited him.
"The craft contained six ladies and one man."—Page 137.
Dick looked back at the other barges, and he was confident that they had not gained even a length upon the Marian since they all started for the craft in peril. He had not driven his crew, though he had kept them at work briskly. In the barge fleet, Oscar Chester, as coxswain of the senior boat, as the Gildrock was ranked, was the acting commodore. When the barges were within hail of each other, he was in command of the fleet. If the Winooski and Marian were within hail, the command devolved upon Thad Glovering.
As long as the other barges were as far off as at present, Dick Short was in full command. He could use such measures as he thought best, but the coxswain of either of the other boats could take the management of the affair into his own hands, if he chose to do so. As the Marian approached the sloop, Dick quickened the movements of his crew, for he desired to take some action before he was superseded in the command.
The Silver Moon was headed to the northeast, and lay in the trough of the sea. She was rolling like a round log in the heavy waves. She had settled down deep in the water, and behaved like a stick of wood. The skipper was doing nothing at all to combat with the waves. As there was no power exerted to force the boat ahead, she had no steerage way, and the rudder was as useless as the spare tiller.
The Marian went as closely astern of the Silver Moon as she could without fouling the port oars. The moment they were clear of the hull of the sloop it was time to execute the difficult manœuvre of the occasion. In coming entirely about it was necessary to put the barge in the trough of the sea for an instant, and this was the dangerous point.
But Dick Short had decided to pass this point of danger as nearly under the lee of the Silver Moon as he could. The water on the starboard of the sloop was a trifle smoother for a couple of fathoms. It required a nice measurement of distances with the eye to handle the boat, and a prompt obedience of orders on the part of the crew.
"Port side! Stand by to lay on your oars!" called the coxswain, when the Marian was astern of the sloop. "Oars!" he added, as soon as the last blade on the port was clear of the hull. "On the starboard, give way lively!"
The effect of the first stroke of the starboard oars, after the order was given, was to throw the head of the barge to port. A few more pulls brought the boat into the trough of the sea; but it remained in that position only an instant.
"Port oars!" continued Dick. "Hold water! Stern all!"
The port oarsmen backed water as the starboard rowers gathered up their blades, so that no confusion occurred, and in less than half a minute the Marian was headed up to the sea, with her stem within a few feet of the sloop.
"On the port, oars!" At this command, the oarsmen indicated lay upon their oars again, and seemed as unmoved as though they had been in the school-room, and not one of them looked behind him.
All the crew had obtained a single glance at the interior of the Silver Moon the moment before the barge began to swing around; but this was all they knew about the sloop, except what they had heard the coxswain say.
"Stand by, all, to lay on your oars!" called Dick, as coolly as though nothing was the matter with the Silver Moon, and her passengers were in a frolic rather than in mortal peril. "Oars!" And every blade was poised and feathered on a level above the water.
"Bowman, stand by with the boat-hook!" continued Dick. "One stroke! Give way!"
This single stroke brought the bow up near enough to the sloop to enable the bowman to fasten the boat-hook to the gunwale of the helpless craft. The crew lay upon their oars, ready to obey the next order, but not one of them manifested the slightest interest in the Silver Moon, so far as any look or movement was concerned. Paul Bristol was excited and uneasy, and once he was on the point of standing up to get a better view of the interior of the sloop. But he remembered the order of the coxswain in season to restrain himself.
"On board the Silver Moon!" shouted the coxswain, but not louder than was necessary to make the skipper hear him above the noise of the wind and the water. "What is the matter?"
"I miss-stayed in going about, and shipped a sea. The boat is half full of water, and I can't do anything with her," replied Bissell, in tones which indicated that he was in utter despair. "The girls are frightened out of their wits, and the water comes in faster than I can get it out."
"Do you want assistance?" asked the coxswain.
"Of course I do!" exclaimed the skipper. "We shall all go to the bottom in a few minutes, for there is a good deal of ballast in the boat."
"All right! We will stand by you," replied Dick.
"Can't you do something more than that?" demanded Bissell, in shaky tones.
"I will send two hands on board to assist you," added Dick. "Dory, you will go on board of the Silver Moon. Take any one you please with you, and report what you think should be done."
"As Paul Bristol is of the least use in the barge, I will take him," replied Dory, as he unshipped his oar.
"He is not the best boatman on board," added the coxswain.
"If he will only obey orders, that is all I want of him," answered Dory, as he made his way to the bow of the barge.
A standing order to all hands was never to stand up in a boat when it could possibly be avoided, and Dory crawled on all fours, from thwart to thwart, between the oarsmen. He was followed by Paul, in the same safe though undignified manner, for he thought it was not derogatory to follow the example of the skipper of the Goldwing. The bowman hauled the boat up so that the two hands could get on board of her.
Just at that moment all the girls screamed, or, as Paul expressed it, "squealed," and the lee side of the Silver Moon rolled under, taking in a barrel or two of water.
"We shall all be drowned!" shrieked one of the ladies, as they all sprang out of their seats and rushed over to the weather side, throwing the boat out of trim so that she took in another barrel of water over the port side.
"She won't sink yet, ladies, unless you sink her," said Dory, rather sharply. "Three of you on each side, and don't move for your lives. You will certainly swamp the boat if you don't keep still. Don't one of you move again without orders."
"That's what's the matter," said the skipper. "I can't keep them still."
"They must keep still," added Dory with emphasis.
Just at that moment came another roll, and Dory told Paul to stand in the middle of the boat, and allow none of the passengers to move. He took position near him, and together they kept the ladies quiet, and very little water was taken aboard.
"I am about used up," said Bissell, who was still baling with all his might, though he was nearly exhausted. "I have been throwing out the water for more than an hour."
"You might as well try to bail out Lake Champlain as this boat, while she lies in her present position. The water comes in faster than you can throw it out," said Dory. "Here come our other barges. Don't be alarmed, ladies. Even if the boat sinks, we can save every one of you. Do as you are told, and you shall be made comfortable in a few minutes."
Oscar Chester put the Gildrock about with consummate skill, though the barge shipped some water during the manœuvre. Thad Glovering did quite as well in the Winooski. In a few moments, the three barges had brought their bows up to the water-logged sloop. The oars were trailed, and bunters put over the sides to prevent the boats from grinding against each other. The Silver Moon smoothed the water for them a little, and they rode very easily on the swell.
Dick Short reported to the acting commodore what he had done, and Oscar said he should not interfere. At this time, Dory reported the condition of the sloop, and advised that two of the six ladies be taken into each barge. With great difficulty, on account of the uneasy motion of the boats, the passengers were transferred to the stern-sheets of the barges. They were all wet through, but the commodore would not allow the boats to leave the scene of the disaster until the safety of the Silver Moon was assured.
The removal of the six ladies made the Silver Moon a little more buoyant; but she was in hardly less peril than before, for she rolled even worse than when her passengers were on board. Dory formed a very unfavorable opinion of the seamanship of Bissell almost as soon as he had put his foot over the gunwale of the sloop. Nothing at all was the matter with the Silver Moon. Her rudder was not disabled, and the halyards on the mainsail were in working condition. The craft had lost nothing, but the skipper had lost his head.
But the Beech Hiller did not utter a word of rebuke, or even a critical comment on the management of the sloop. He saw how it was, and understood the situation perfectly, but he did not feel called upon to censure the action which had been taken, or the steps which had been neglected. The craft was in the trough of the sea, and half full of water. He looked about him, and discovered a pair of oars stowed away under the seats in the large room.
"As you are tired out, Mr. Bissell, Paul will bale for a while till you get rested," said Dory, as soon as the passengers had been transferred to the barges, and without any of the delay indicated by the printed page.
"I can do that first-rate," replied Paul, who had wondered what he could do in a sailboat, in the management of which he was comparatively ignorant.
Paul took the bucket; and it is safe to say that he threw out more water than the skipper could have done in his exhausted condition. But the baling appeared to have little or no effect on the large quantity of water in the standing room.
"I am about tuckered out, but what do you think I had better do?" asked the skipper, as he gave up the bucket to the fresh hand.
"I think you had better rest yourself," replied Dory, as he drew out the oars from under the seats. "I will look out for the boat, and I think she will come out of the scrape all right."
"What are you going to do? Do you mean to row her over to Westport?" asked Bissell, panting with his last exertions.
"No; I don't think we should make much trying to row this boat nearly four miles against a head sea," answered Dory.
"But you can't land over on this side of the lake. Just see the waves breaking on the shore in Button Bay. The Silver Moon would be smashed into a thousand pieces," protested the skipper.
"Of course we can't make a landing on a lee shore in this weather," answered Dory, as he went forward.
Bissell could not make anything of Dory, and he looked at him only to wonder what he was going to do. The skipper had always believed that he knew all about sailing a boat; and in a moderate, or even a fresh breeze, he could do very well when everything went along smoothly. But he had never been trained, as the students at Beech Hill had, for seasons of emergency.
The Silver Moon miss-stayed probably because she had not a "good full," had fallen off into the trough of the sea, and rolled herself half full of water before the skipper thought of doing anything to overcome the difficulty. Under these trying circumstances, he was not instructed either by precept or actual trial what to do.
The throat halyard of the sail, Dory found when he went forward, had not been cast off. He got hold of the peak halyard and hauled on it till he got a good set on the mainsail.
"What are you about?" cried Bissell. "You will upset her as sure as you live! I let that part of the sail down because it blowed so hard. I was going to lower the whole sail, but I hadn't time. I was afraid the boat would sink if I didn't bale with all my might."
Dory secured the peak halyard without paying any attention to the shout of the skipper. When he had put on the half hitch, he went aft again.
"Let the sail down just as quick as you can!" yelled Bissell.
"I think not," replied Dory quietly.
"If you don't, I shall lower it myself. I can't stand this!" added the frightened skipper.
"This boat belongs to you, Mr. Bissell, and you can do what you please with her, and I shall not quarrel with you about it. If you don't want any assistance, Paul and I will return to the barge."
"But I don't want anybody to sink her," protested the skipper.
"I shall not sink her; but it is all nonsense to think of baling her out while she is in the trough of the sea, shipping water as fast or faster than you can throw it out. I am not willing that Paul should wear himself out for nothing."
"That's the only way to keep her from sinking."
"You have a perfect right to your own opinion, as I have to mine. I am confident that I can get the sloop out of this scrape, if you will allow me to do it; if not, Paul and I will return to the barges."
"But I want you to help bale out the boat. She will sink if the water rises any higher in her," the skipper insisted.
At that moment, a heavier wave than usual struck her, and rolled the boat over till she took in at least a barrel of water. Bissell sprang from his seat as though he expected the Silver Moon to go to the bottom at that instant. But she did not sink, though her floating power seemed to be very nearly exhausted.
"Do you see that?" demanded the skipper, as though he regarded the water just shipped as a triumphant vindication of his opinion.
"I see it; and I should say she will go down after she has done that thing once or twice more," replied Dory calmly. "Say quick whether I am to get the sloop under way, or whether I am to leave her! Do as you please about it. The barges will save you when she sinks."
"I will see what you are going to do," replied Bissell doggedly; and he was by no means convinced, though he was satisfied that he could do nothing alone to save the craft.
Dory made no reply, for he was rather disgusted with the obstinacy and nautical ignorance of the skipper. Taking one of the oars in his hand, he went to the side of the boat and hailed the commodore of the barge-fleet.
"I am going to get under way now, for there is nothing the matter with the boat," said Dory.
"All right, Dory," replied Oscar, as he looked about him to determine the best way to separate the barges, and get them clear of the Silver Moon.
They were all lying close together, the Gildrock being nearest to the bow of the sloop. The commodore ordered the Winooski to cast off first. With her port oars she kept her head up to the sea till those on the other side of the boat were clear of the Marian, which was next to her. When her twelve oars were in the water, the boys backed her clear of the other boats, and then the crew were ordered to lay on their oars. In the same manner the other two boats backed into safe positions. The barges pitched tremendously, and the ladies were inclined to "squeal." When any of them attempted to stand up, the gallant coxswains pulled them back into their seats.
"Are they going to quit us?" asked Bissell, as he looked with something like dismay upon the movements of the barges.
"We could not get the sloop under way with all those boats hanging to her," replied Dory. "They will be here quick enough if they are wanted. But we are not going to ship any more water; we shall leave the rest of it in the lake."
"I don't see how you are going to help taking in all the water that rolls in," growled the skipper.
"If you keep your eyes wide open tight for one minute more, I will show you that the Silver Moon is the mistress of the situation, and Lake Champlain will have to stay out in the cold," replied Dory, as he shipped his oar between a couple of thole-pins on the quarter.
"There is another oar under the seats," added Bissell.
"One is enough to do the business," said Dory, as he began to pull with all his might.
The water-logged craft moved as though it had been fastened to the bottom. The boom was still hanging out at right angles with the keel, and the main sheet was flopping about in the water.
"Can't I help you?" asked Bissell.
"You may take the other oar, if you please."
The skipper pulled out the oars, and was about to ship it on the weather side when Dory interposed, and, shifting his own blade to the fore rigging, directed his companion to ship his between the thole-pins he had left.
"On this side? Who ever heard of rowing in that way?" blustered Bissell. "Both oars on the same side!"
"We have no time to argue the question now, if you want to keep your boat on the top of the water instead of the bottom," said Dory sharply.
Bissell did as he was told, though he had no faith in rowing with two oars on one side of the boat. The united strength of the two was immediately seen in the motion of the boat. Her bow was soon thrown up to the wind, and then the boom swung in over the standing room. This was the acting skipper's object, and as soon as he could reach the main sheet, he dropped his oar. Grasping the rope, he carried it aft, and got a turn with it over the cleat above the rudder head.
The sail filled as soon as he hauled in the sheet, and Dory got hold of the tiller. The sloop heeled over till Bissell declared that the new skipper would upset her. Paul continued to bale with all his might. Dory trimmed the sail down as flat as he could, and soon had perfect control of the craft, heavy as her movements were in her water-logged condition. He was obliged to touch her up in the fierce blasts which struck her, but he had her well balanced, and she did not realize any of the evil predictions of her incompetent skipper. On the other hand, she did not dip up any more water over her gunwale, and all that came into her was in the form of spray.
At Dory's suggestion, Bissell got out a firkin in which the lunch for the party had been brought on board, and assisted Paul in the work of baling. But there were hogsheads of water in her, and the process of relieving her was very slow. The three barges were still laying on their oars, watching the movements of the Silver Moon. Dory ran for Button Island, which was separated from the main land only by a narrow channel. Slacking off the sheet, he ran her aground in the sand behind the point, where the water was as smooth as the lake in a calm.
"She is aground!" exclaimed Bissell, as the keel grated on the bottom.
"I know it; and that is where I intended to have her," replied Dory, as he left the tiller.
Bissell began to protest that he would not have the boat aground; but the new skipper paid no attention to him. Taking the bucket from Paul, he told him to rest. Dory worked hard at baling for half an hour, and Bissell did his part as soon as he found that his protest was not heeded. By this time the water had dropped so it had to be dipped out of the well. It was all out at last, and the well sponged dry. To the stupid astonishment of Bissell, the Silver Moon was again afloat.
For about three-quarters of an hour the three barges had waited, pulling just enough to keep their heads up to the sea. By this time, the ladies had become accustomed to the motion of the boats; and, in spite of their wet and bedraggled condition, they began to be very jolly. The long boats rose and fell with the waves, and occasionally the spray was dashed over the bows, and carried the whole length of the craft. At last, they began to sing, and the students joined them. It was getting to be a very merry time on the rough waters, but the confidence of the crews inspired the ladies with courage.
As soon as the Silver Moon was free from her burden of water, Dory examined the sail, and, finding it all right, he shoved off. As Paul Bristol had said, the Silver Moon was about the size of the Goldwing, and was a very good boat.
"I have not the least idea that you can sail this boat over to Westport in this blow," said Bissell, as Dory shoved the sloop out of the shoal water.
"What's to prevent?" asked the new skipper coldly.
"It blows too hard, and the sea is too heavy for any boat, I don't care how good she is," answered the owner of the Silver Moon. "I think this boat is as good as any of them, but I had rather walk twenty miles than cross Lake Champlain in her in this blow."
"The sloop belongs to you, sir, and you can do as you please about crossing," answered Dory. "You can anchor and stay here till to-morrow if you like."
"Do you think it is safe to cross the lake in a sailboat when the wind blows as it does now, and has since ten o'clock?" asked Bissell.
"I have been off Burlington, where the lake is twelve miles wide, when the sea was a good deal worse than it is here, and I did not think I was in any greater danger than if I had been on shore."
"If you are not afraid, I ought not to be," added the owner of the craft, evidently laboring to stimulate his courage. "I guess I will risk it, as those barges will be near enough to pick us up if anything happens."
"All right," answered Dory, as he hauled down the sheet, and let the boat go ahead. "Why did you come out in such a blow, if you don't think it is safe?"
"The girls hadn't anything to do to-day, and wanted to go down to Port Henry. We started at six o'clock this morning, and got there at eight. It began to blow pretty hard by nine, and we started back, though we intended to stay at the Port all day. I got along very well, though the girls were scared, till we got down to Barber's Point; and after that it blew like tophet."
"You had the full rake of the wind across North West Bay then," added Dory.
"Yes; and I had to beat all the way home right against it," continued the skipper. "I thought we should tip over every minute. If I let her off enough to make her go ahead, she tipped so that the girls all screamed. When I was half way over to Button Island I tacked, but the boat would not come about. She lay there with her sail banging. Then the wind caught the sail again, and tipped her so she took in some hogsheads of water. She got in between the waves, and began to roll like a chip. I thought it was time to haul down the sail, and I went forward to do so. Then the main sheet run out, and I couldn't get it again."
"It was a bad situation," added Dory, as Bissell paused and looked at him, apparently as if to ascertain what he thought of the skipper's management; but Dory expressed no opinion.
"I let go the peak halyard, and did the best I could to get the boom in, but I couldn't do a thing with it. The boat kept rolling in the water all the time, and I had to take the bucket and bale with all my might. I was afraid to haul the sail down then, for it would have gone into the water, and helped drag her over on one side."
Dory, as an expert, had a very decided opinion in regard to the skipper's management; but he did not feel called upon to express it, for Bissell was an obstinate man, and he did not care to dispute with him. The Silver Moon was running out close-hauled from the lee of Button Island, which carried her to windward of the fleet of barges. Dory had taken the helm when she got under way; and as long as the skipper did not object, he retained it.
"The boat don't work very well without the jib, and that was what made all the trouble," continued the skipper. "But it blowed so like all possessed, that I couldn't carry it."
Dory doubted whether this was all, or even the principal trouble, but he made no remark. He was not satisfied with the working of the boat, and without saying anything to the skipper, he put her about, and ran back to the lee of the island. Getting her forefoot on the sand far enough to hold her, he let go the halyards, and lowered the mainsail a few feet.
"What are you going to do now?" asked Bissell, who had watched the movements of the acting skipper with interest and anxiety.
"I am going to put a single reef in the mainsail. Where do you keep the reef pendant?" replied Dory.
The skipper had no reef pendant, and probably did not know what it was. But Dory found a couple of ropes which answered his purpose. Having lashed down the clew and tack, with the assistance of Paul, he tied the reef-points. Hoisting the sail up to a good set, he shoved off with the boat-hook, and was soon standing out from the shore again. Keeping his place at the helm, Dory stood out to the fleet of barges. The wind had not abated a particle of its force, and even with the reef in the mainsail, she was inclined to bury herself in the waves. Dory was not yet satisfied, and under his direction Paul pulled up a couple of loose boards in the floor of the standing-room, and lifted out a couple of cast-iron blocks of ballast. These were placed in the stern, and the bow was lifted a little more out of the water.
"What's all that for?" asked Bissell.
"To change her trim a little," replied Dory. "She was ballasted too much by the head. She works better now."
The sloop was less inclined than before to bury her bow in the waves, and was more buoyant forward. She dashed ahead at a gallant speed, and in a few minutes she was approaching the barges. The passengers in the stern sheets of the boats were very merry by this time, and seemed to be actually enjoying the motion of the boats. As the sloop came within hail of the barges, the ladies struck up "Roll on, silver moon," in which all the students who could sing joined, and it made a very effective chorus.
"Very appropriate," said Dory, laughing; "but she don't do that now. She has done rolling for the present."
"The girls are jolly enough now; and they don't seem to be a bit scared," added Bissell.
"Will you take them on board again?" asked the acting skipper.
"I don't know; what do you think?"
"If you don't know, you had better leave it to them," replied Dory. "Hail them, and ask them what they will do."
"I say, girls, are you ready to come on board of the Silver Moon?" called Bissell, in a loud voice, as the sloop passed astern of them.
"No!" screamed the whole of them, almost with one voice. "We are going back to Westport in the barges," added one of them.
"Just as you like," returned Bissell.
"Roll on, silver moon," the girls struck up again, and the boys took up the chorus with enthusiasm.
"That settles it," added Bissell.
"Then we may as well return to the Marian, Paul," said Dory.
"I am ready to do just as you say," replied the spare hand.
"You don't mean to leave me, do you?" demanded Bissell, aghast at the proposition. "I don't want you to go."
"I thought you might prefer to handle your own boat," suggested Dory.
"I guess I'd rather have you take her over to Westport, if you will," replied the skipper, anxiously.
"Even if we remain on board of the sloop, you had better take the helm," added Dory, who had some curiosity to see how Bissell worked the boat.
"I'd rather have you steer her. I don't know but you can manage her better than I can."
"You ought to be able to handle your own boat better than any one else can. You have sailed her more than any other person, and a boat is something like a horse, and does better in the hands of one who is used to her."
"I bought the Silver Moon last year, and got a man to show me how to manage her. I was out in her every day last summer, but I never went out when it blew very hard. Folks say it is dangerous sailing on Lake Champlain, there are so many currents and flaws from the hills."
"There is no doubt about the flaws and currents, but I look upon them as bugbears. A skipper must keep his craft in hand all the time, and then he is ready for flaws and squalls."
"One of the girls has taken your place at the stroke oar, Dory," said Paul, who was watching the barges as they began to move over the savage waves.
"So I see," replied Dory. "Dick is coaching her, and I have no doubt she will make good my absence."
"It is Susy Wellington; and she knows how to row better than most of the men," added Paul.
At this moment, the acting skipper went in stays, and though he had given her a good full, he had some doubts about her; but she came up to the wind handsomely, and went on the port tack as promptly as the Goldwing could have done it. As she filled away, she heeled over till her washboard was almost buried; but she righted a little in a moment, and dashed off on her course like a racehorse. She rose and fell on the waves, with her gunwale under all the time, but with eight inches of washboard above the water.
The wind was rather flawy, and, of course, the boat heeled over more when the puffs struck her, so that most of the washboard was sometimes under water. But the sloop, in her altered trim, was as steady as an old horse on a smooth road. As the Silver Moon was close-hauled, she struck the seas constantly; and the waves broke with no little noise against her bows, tossing the spray from stem to stern.
Bissell watched the lee washboard all the time, and seemed to be very nervous. He did not heed the singing in the barges, which greatly interested the acting skipper. The owner evidently expected the sloop would ship a sea every moment, which would fill her half full of water as she had been before. But she tore along on her course without taking in a drop of water over her lee side, unless when a wave broke there, and spit the spray over the washboard.
"You will put the Silver Moon on the bottom before you get her over to Westport," said Bissell, when he could hold in no longer, and his mental excitement had become intense.
"I certainly shall not do it after we get to Westport," replied Dory, with a smile. "But if you wish to take the helm, of course you can do so. I suppose you can swim, Paul?"
"I could swim in Sandy Bay, but I don't think I could in these waves," answered Paul.
"I don't think it is safe to sail along in this way with the gunwale under water all the time," said Bissell, as the water rose nearly to the top of the washboard.
"Then you take the tiller, Mr. Bissell," replied Dory, rising and offering his place on the weather-side to the skipper.
Bissell was clearly full of doubts, but he took the tiller. His first movement was to put the helm down a little, so that the reefed mainsail began to shake slightly, and of course the gunwale was lifted out of the water. He kept the tiller shaking all the time, as the boat was in danger of broaching to.
When he had steered about a quarter of an hour, it was seen that the barges were rapidly overhauling the Silver Moon, though she gained on them while Dory had the tiller. But it was necessary to tack, and the skipper put the helm hard down. The sail shook, and the boat did precisely what Dory knew she would do—she miss-stayed, and then began to roll in the trough of the sea. She had little headway when the helm was put down, and her momentum was not sufficient to carry her around against the head sea.
The water began to roll into her on the sides; but Dory seized one of the oars, and with a few smart pulls, threw her head up into the wind. The instant the sail began to fill, which it did with a rush, Bissell put his helm hard down. Dory plied the oar once more.
"I wish you would take the helm again," said Bissell.
"I will, if you say so," replied Dory, who had entirely satisfied his curiosity in regard to the seamanship of the skipper.