CHAPTER I. DOWN THE RIVER
It was a pleasant afternoon in the early part of the month of June. TheSamoset River, winding down prettily through hills and sloping farm landsto the bay of the same name, gleamed in the sunlight, now with a polishedsurface like ebony in some sheltered inlet, or again sparkling withinnumerable points of light where its surface was whipped up into tinywaves by a brisk moving wind.
There had been rain for a few days before, and the weather was nowclearing, with a smart westerly breeze that had come up in the morning,but was swinging in slightly to the southward. The great whitecloud-banks had mostly passed on, and these were succeeded at present byswiftly moving clumps of smaller and lighter clouds, that drifted easilyacross the sky, like the sails below them over the surface of the water.
There were not a few of these sails upon the river, some set to thebreeze and some furled; some of the craft going up with the tide towardthe distant city of Benton, the head of vessel navigation; some breastingthe tide and working their way down toward Samoset Bay; other and largercraft, with sails snugly furled, tagging along sluggishly at the heels ofblustering little tugs,--each evidently much impressed with theimportance of its mission,--and so going on and out to the open sea,where they would sail down the coast with their own great wings spread.
The river was, indeed, a picture of life and animation. It was a riverwith work to do, but it did it cheerfully and with a good spirit. Far upabove the city of Benton, it had brought the great log rafts down throughmiles of forest and farm land. Above and below the city, for miles, ithad run bravely through sluice and mill-race, and turned the great wheelsfor the mills that sawed the forest stuff into lumber. And now, freedfrom all bounds and the restraint of dams and sluiceways, and no longerchoked with its burden of logs, it was pleased to float the ships, loadeddeep with the sawed lumber, down and away to other cities.
There was many a craft going down the river that afternoon. Here andthere along the way was a big three or four masted schooner, loaded withice or lumber, and bound for Baltimore or Savannah. Or, it might be, onewould take notice of a trim Italian bark, carrying box-shooks, to beconverted later into boxes for lemons and oranges. Then, farthersouthward, a schooner that had brought its catch to the Benton market,and was now working out again to the fishing-grounds among the islands ofthe bay.
Less frequently plied the river steamers that ran to and from the summerresorts in Samoset Bay; or, once a day, coming or going, the largersteamers that ran between Benton and Boston.
Amid all these, at a point some twenty miles down the river from Benton,there sailed a craft that was, clearly, not of this busy, hard-workingfraternity of ships. It was a handsome little vessel, of nearly fortyfeet length, very shapely of hull and shining of spars; with a glint ofbrass-work here and there; its clean, white sides presenting a polishedsurface to the sunbeams; its rigging new and well set up, and a handsomenew pennant flung to the breeze from its topmast.
The captain of many a coaster eyed her sharply as she passed; and, nowand then, one would let his own vessel veer half a point off its course,while he took his pipe from his mouth and remarked, "There's a cleancraft. Looks like she might go some." And then, probably, as he broughthis own vessel back to its course, concluded with the usual salt-waterman's comment, "Amateur sailors, I reckon. Humph!"
That remark, if made on this particular occasion, would have beenapparently justifiable. If one might judge by their age, the skippers ofthis trim yacht should certainly have been classed as amateurs. Therewere two of them. The larger, a youth of about sixteen or seventeen yearsof age, held the wheel and tended the main-sheet. The other, evidently ayear or two younger, sat ready to tend the jib-sheets on either side asthey tacked, shifting his seat accordingly. The yacht was beating downthe river against the last of a flood-tide.
"We're doing finely, Henry," said the elder boy, as he glanced admiringlyat the set of the mainsail, and then made a general proud survey of thecraft from stem to stern and from cabin to topmast. "She does walk alonglike a lady and no mistake. She beats the _Surprise_--poor old boat! My,but I often think of that good little yacht I owned, sunk down there inthe thoroughfare. We had lots of fun in her. But this one certainly morethan takes her place."
"Who would ever have thought," he continued, "when we saw the strange mensail into the harbour last year, with this yacht, that she would turn outto be a stolen craft, and that she would one day be put up for sale, andthat old Mrs. Newcome would buy her for us? It's like a story in a book."
"It's better than any story I ever read, Jack," responded the other boy."It's a story with a stroke of luck at the end of it--and that's betterthan some of them turn out. But say, don't you think you better let metake my trick at the wheel? You know you are going to teach me how tosail her. I don't expect to make much of a fist of it, at the start; butI've picked up quite a little bit of yacht seamanship from my sailingwith the Warren boys."
"That's so," conceded the other. "You must have got a pretty good notionof how to sail a boat, by watching them. Here, take the wheel. But you'llfind that practice in real sailing, and just having it in your head fromwatching others, are two different things. However, you'll learn fast. Inever knew any one who had any sort of courage, and any natural likingtoward boat-sailing, but what he could pick it up fast, if he kept hiseyes open.
"The first thing to do, to learn to sail a boat, is to take hold inmoderate weather and work her yourself. And the next thing, is to talk tothe fishermen and the yachtsmen, and listen when they get to spinningyarns and arguing. You can get a lot of information in that way that youcan use, yourself, later on."
The younger boy took the wheel, while the other sat up alongside,directing his movements. But first he took the main-sheet and threw offseveral turns, where he had had it belayed on the cleat back of thewheel, and fastened it merely with a slip-knot, that could be loosed witha single smart pull on the free end.
"We won't sail with the sheet fast until you have had a few weeks at it,Henry," he said. "There are more boats upset from sheets fast at thewrong time, or from main-sheets with kinks in them, that won't run freewhen a squall hits, than from almost any other cause. And the river is alot worse in that way than the open bay, for the flaws come quicker andsharper off these high banks."
Henry Bums, with the wheel in hand and an eye to the luff of the sail, asof one not wholly inexperienced, made no reply to the other's somewhatpatronizing manner; but a quiet smile played about the corners of hismouth. If he had any notion that the other's extreme care was notaltogether needed, he betrayed no sign of impatience, but took it in goodpart. Perhaps he realized that common failing of every yachtsman, tothink that there is nobody else in all the world that can sail a boatquite as well as himself.
He knew, too, that Jack Harvey had, indeed, had by far a largerexperience in sailing than he, though he had spent much of his time uponthe water.
In any event, his handling of the boat now evidently satisfied thecritical watchfulness of Jack Harvey; for that youth presently exclaimed,"That's it. Oh, you are going to make a skipper, all right. You take holdwith confidence, too, and that's a good part of the trick."
At this point in their sailing, however, the yacht _Viking_ seemed tohave attracted somewhat more than the casual attention of an observerfrom shore. A little less than a quarter of a mile down the river, on awharf that jutted some distance out from the bank, so that the river asit ran swerved swiftly by its spiling, a man stood waving to them.
"Hello," said Henry Burns, espying the figure on the wharf, "there's atribute to the beauty of the _Viking_. Somebody probably thinks this isthe president's yacht and is saluting us."
"Well, he means us, sure enough," replied Jack Harvey, "and no joke,either. He's really waving. He wants to hail us."
The man had his hat in hand and was, indeed, waving it to themvigorously.
They had been standing across the river in an opposite directi
on to thewharf; but now, as Jack Harvey cast off the leeward jib-sheets, HenryBurns put the helm over, and the yacht swung gracefully and swiftly upinto the wind and headed off on the tack inshore. Jack Harvey let thejibs flutter for a moment, until the yacht had come about, and HenryBurns had begun to check her from falling off the wind, by reversing thewheel. Then he quickly trimmed in on the sheets, and the jibs began todraw.
"Most beginners," he said, "trim the jib in flat on the other side theminute they cast off the leeward sheet. But that delays her in comingabout."
Again the quiet smile on the face of Henry Burns, but he merely answered,"That's so."
They stood down abreast the wharf and brought her up, with sailsfluttering. Jack Harvey, looking up from the side to the figure above onthe wharf, called out, "Hello, were you waving to us?"
"Why, yes," responded the man, "I was. Are you going down the river far?"
"Bound down to Southport," said Harvey.
"Good!" exclaimed the stranger, and added, confidently, "I'll go alongwith you part way, if you don't mind. I'm on my way to Burton's Landing,five miles below, and the steamboat doesn't come along for three hoursyet. I cannot get a carriage and I don't want to walk. You don't mindgiving me a lift, do you? That's a beautiful boat of yours, by the way."
The man had an air of easy assurance; and, besides, the request was onethat any yachtsman would willingly grant.
"Why, certainly," replied Harvey, "we'll take you, eh, Henry?"
"Pleased to do it," responded Henry Burns.
They worked the yacht up alongside the wharf, and the stranger, graspinga stay, swung himself off and leaped down on to the deck. Then he pushedthe boat's head off with a vigorous shove and advanced, smilingly, withhand extended, to greet the boys. The _Viking_ gathered headway and wasonce more going down-stream.
The stranger was a rather tall, well-built man, light on his feet, andhandled himself as though he were no novice aboard a boat. He descendedinto the cockpit and shook hands with Jack Harvey and Henry Burns.
His voice, as he bade them good afternoon, was singularly full and deep,and seemed to issue almost oddly from behind a heavy, blond moustache. AsHenry Burns expressed it afterward, it reminded him of a ventriloquist hehad seen once with a travelling show, because the man's lips seemedhardly to move, and the muscles of his face scarcely changed as he spoke.His eyes, of a clear but cold blue, lighted up, however, in a pleasantway, as he thanked them.
He wore a suit of navy blue, and a yachting-cap on his head.
"This is the greatest luck in the world for me," he said. "You see, Iwant to catch the train that will take me down to Bellport, and I can getit at the Landing below. This fine craft of yours will take me--"
He stopped with strange abruptness. If the attention of Jack Harvey andHenry Burns had, by chance, been directed more closely to him, and lessupon the handling of their yacht, they might have observed a surprisedand puzzled look come over his face. They might have observed himhalf-start up from his seat, like a man that had suddenly come, allunwittingly, upon a thing he had not expected to see.
But the two boys, intent upon their sailing, noticed only that the manhad left a sentence half-finished. They turned upon him inquiringly.
"What were you going to say?" asked Henry Burns.
The man settled back in his seat, reached a hand calmly into an innercoat-pocket, and drew forth a cigar-case.
"I dare say you don't smoke," he said, offering it to them. "No, well, Ididn't think so. You're a little bit young for that. Let me see, what wasI saying?--oh, yes, I was about to remark that this boat would take medown to the Landing on time. She does walk along prettily, and nomistake."
With which, he lighted the cigar and began puffing enjoyably. But hiseyes darted here and there, quickly, sharply, over the boat. Through acloud of cigar smoke, he was scrutinizing it from one end to the other.
"You handle her well," he said. "Had her long?"
"Why, no," replied Harvey. "The fact is, though we have had otherboats--that is, I have--and we have handled others, this is our firstsail in this one. You see, we got her in an odd way, last season--just atthe close of the season, in fact; and she was not in shape for sailingthen. So we had to lay her up for the winter. This is really the firsttrying out we have given her."
"Indeed, most interesting," replied the stranger, arising from his seatand advancing toward the cabin bulkhead, where he stood, apparentlygazing off across the river. Then, as he returned to his seat again, headded, "That's rather an elaborate ornamenting of brass around thecompanionway."
"Isn't it, though!" exclaimed Harvey, proudly. "You don't see them muchhandsomer than that often, eh?"
"Why, no, now you speak of it," replied the man. "You don't, and that's afact.
"In fact," he added, stealing a sidelong glance at the two boys, "it'sthe only one just like it that I ever saw.
"Pretty shore along here, isn't it?" he remarked a few moments later, asthey stood in near to where the spruces came down close to the water'sedge, with the ledges showing below. "What's that you were saying aboutcoming by the boat oddly? She looks to me as though your folks must havepaid a good price for her."
"Why, that's the odd part of it," answered Harvey. "The fact is, ourfolks didn't pay for her at all. An old lady bought her for us. Made us apresent of her. Perhaps you'd like to hear about it."
"Indeed I should," replied the stranger. "It will while away the time tothe Landing."
"You tell it, Henry," said Harvey.
So Henry Burns began, while the stranger stretched his legs outcomfortably and listened.
"Well," said Henry Burns, "this yacht, the _Viking_, was named the_Eagle_ when we first saw her."
The stranger's cigar was almost blazing with the vigour of his smoking.
"She came into the harbour of Southport--that's on Grand Island, belowhere, where we are bound--one day last summer, to pick up a guest at thehotel. There were two men aboard her, and it turned out that these twomen, and the man they were after at the hotel, had committed a robbery atBenton. That's way up the river.
"Well, it's a long story how they were discovered; but they were, andsome jewels they had hidden were recovered. I said they werecaptured--but one, a man named Chambers, got away in this very yacht. Buthe came back, later, and set fire to the hotel for revenge.
"That was along toward the end of the summer. Then it happened that Jack,here,--Jack Harvey,--captured the man, Chambers, in this yacht, down in athoroughfare below Grand Island. Jack's boat, the _Surprise_, was sunkthere, when the two yachts crashed together, bow on."
"Poor old _Surprise_!" interrupted Jack Harvey.
"Well, then," continued Henry Burns, "there is a man over at Southport,Squire Brackett, that hates all us boys, just because he is mean. He toldWitham, the hotel proprietor, that he had seen us boys in the hotelbasement, shortly before the fire; and he and Witham had us accused ofsetting it, although everybody in Southport was indignant about it. Andall this time, Jack was on the right track, because he had seen the manrunning from the fire and had followed him over to the other shore of theisland, and recognized the boat he sailed away in.
"So Jack sailed down the other side of the island, and captured the man,Chambers, in the thoroughfare; that is, Jack and his crew did. And theybrought Chambers back just at the right time--and Squire Brackett andWitham were so ashamed they wanted to go and hide away somewhere."
The man they had taken aboard looked smilingly at Henry Burns.
"That is certainly a remarkable story," he said, knocking the ashescarelessly from the end of his cigar.
"Yes, but the rest of it is the oddest part of it," responded HenryBurns. "There was an old lady named Mrs. Newcome, whose life we saved atthe fire. She was furious at the squire and Witham for blaming us, andthankful enough when Jack got us out of it.
"Now, when Chambers was tried, he was so bitter against the other two whohad got him into trouble, he confessed the yacht did not belong to anyone of th
em. So the yacht was taken over by the sheriff, andadvertisements were sent out all around to try to find the rightfulowner. But they never did find him, and finally the yacht was condemnedand put up for sale. There is where old Mrs. Newcome came in. She has noend of money, and no one to spend it on except herself and a cat. Theyacht went cheap, and what did she do but buy it in and give it to us."
Henry Burns paused, and there was silence for a few moments aboard the_Viking_. The stranger smoked without speaking, apparently lost in hisown thoughts.
"That's all of the yarn," said Henry Burns, at length.
The man started to his feet, tossed his cigar away, and walked forward,with his hands in his pockets.
"That's one of the oddest stories I ever heard," he said. "You're luckychaps, aren't you? Sounds like some novels I've read. By the way, isn'tthat Burton's Landing just ahead there?"
He seemed eager to get ashore.
"Yes, that is the Landing," answered Harvey.
A few moments more and they were up to it, and the stranger was steppingashore upon the pier.
"Well," he said, shaking hands with them again, "I'm much obliged to bothof you--really more than I can begin to tell you. Perhaps I can returnthe favour some day. My name is Charles Carleton. Live around at hotelspretty much, but spend most of my time in Boston. Hope I meet you againsome day. Perhaps I may be down this way later, down the bay somewhere,if I like the looks of it, and the hotels. Good day."
"Good day; you're very welcome," called out Henry Burns and Jack Harvey.
Again the yacht swung out into the river, gathering headway quickly andskimming along, heeling very gently.
The strange man stood watching her from the pier.
"No," he said, softly, to himself, "I never saw but one boat just likeher before. But who would have thought I should run across them the firstthing? That was a stroke of luck."