CHAPTER VIII.
Come o'er the sea, Maiden with me, Mine through sunshine, storm, and snows. Seasons may roll, But the true soul Burns the same wherever it goes.
Is not the sea Made for the free, Land for courts and chains alone? Here we are slaves; But on the waves Love and liberty's all our own.
MOORE'S _Melodies._
Mr. Maurice Rankin was enjoying his summer vacation. Although the courtswere closed he still could be seen carrying his blue bag through thestreet on his way to and from the police court and other places. It istrue that, for ordinary professional use, the bag might have beenabandoned, but how was he to know when a sprat might catch a whale?--tosay nothing of the bag's being so convenient for the secret andnon-committal transportation of those various and delectable viands thatfound their way to his aerial abode at No. 173 Tremaine Buildings. Hewas now provided by the law printers with pamphlet copies of thedecisions in different courts, and a few of these might always be foundin his bag. They served to fill out to the proper dimensions this badgeof a rank entitling him to the affix of esquire, and they had been welloiled by parcels of butter or chops which, on warm days, tried tolubricate this dry brain food as if for greater rapidity in the boltingof it.
In this way he was passing his summer vacation. Many a time he thoughtof his father's wealth before his failure and death. Where had thosethousands melted away to? Oh, for just one of the thousands to set himon his feet! This perpetual grind, this endless seeking for work, withno more hope in it than to be able to get even with his butcher's billat the end of the month! To see every person else go away for an outingsomewhere while he remained behind began to make him dispirited. Thebuoyancy of his nature, which at first could take all his trials as ajoke, was beginning to wear off. After yielding himself to theirpeculiar piquancy for six months, these jokes seemed to have lost theirfirst freshness, and he longed to get away somewhere for a littlechange. The return, then, he thought, would be with renewed spirit.
While thinking over these matters his step homeward was tired and slow.He was by no means robust, and his narrow face had grown more hatchetythan ever in the last few hot days. Hope deferred was beginning to tellupon him, but a surprise awaited him.
Jack Cresswell and Charley Dusenall were walking at this time on theother side of the street. They sighted Rankin going along gloomily,with his nose on the ground, well dressed and neat as usual, butweighted down, apparently with business, really with loneliness, lawreports, and lamb-chops.
They both pointed to him at once. Jack said, "The very man!" and Charliesaid, nodding assent, "Just as good as the next." Jack clapped Charleyon the back--"By Jove, I hope he will come! Do him all the good in theworld."
Charley was one of those happy-go-lucky, loose-living young men who havecompanions as long as their money lasts, and who seem made of sometransmutable material which, when all things are favorable, shows somesuggestion of solidity, but, when acted upon by the acid of poverty,degenerates into something like that parasitic substance remarkable forits receptibility of liquids, called a sponge. He liked Rankin, althoughhe thought him a queer fish, and he would laugh with the others whenRankin's quiet satire was pointed at himself, not knowing but that theremight be a joke somewhere, and not wishing to be out of it.
The two young men crossed the road and walked up to Rankin who was justabout to enter Tremaine Buildings. Charlie asked him to come on ayachting cruise around Lake Ontario--to be ready in two days--that Jackwould tell him all about it, as he was in a hurry. He then made off,without waiting for Maurice to reply.
Jack explained to Rankin that the yacht was to take out a party, withthe young ladies under the chaperonage of Mrs. Dusenall, that the twoMisses Dusenall, and Nina and Margaret were going, that he and GeoffreyHampstead and two or three of the yacht-club men would lend a hand towork the craft, and that Rankin would be required to take the helmduring the dead calms. As Rankin listened he brightened up and lookedalong the street in meditation.
"The business," he said thoughtfully, "will perish. Bean can't run mybusiness."
His large mouth spread over his face as he yielded himself to the warmthof the sunny vista before him. Already he felt himself dancing over thewaves. Suddenly, as they stood at the entrance to Tremaine Buildings, hecaught Jack by the arm and whispered--so that clients, thronging thestreets might not overhear:
"The business," he whispered. "What about it?" He drew off at arm'slength and transfixed Jack with his eagle eye. Then, as if to typify hissudden and reckless abandonment of all the great trusts reposed in him,he slung the blue bag as far as he could up the stairs while he criedthat the business might "go to the devil."
"Correct," said Jack. "It will be all safe with him. You know he is thefather of lawyers. But I say, old chap, I am awfully glad you are comingwith us. You see, the old lady has to get those girls married offsomehow, and several fellows will go with us who are especially pickedout for the business. Then, of course, the Dusenall girls want'backing,' and they thought Nina and I could certainly give them a lead.And Nina would not go without Margaret. I rather think, too, thatGeoffrey would not go without Margaret. Wheels within wheels, you see.Have you not got a lady-love, Morry, to bring along? No? Well, I tellyou, old man, I expect to enjoy myself. I've been round that lake a goodmany times, but never with Nina."
Jack blushed as he admitted so much to his old friend, and after a pausehe went on, with a young man's facile change of thought, to talk aboutthe yacht.
"And we will just make her dance, and don't you forget it."
"But, my dear fellow, won't she object?"
"Object? No--likes it. She is coming out in a brand-new suit. Wait tillyou see her. She'll be a dandy."
"I can quite believe that she will appear more beautiful than ever,"said Maurice, rather mystified.
"She is as clean as a knife, clean as a knife. I tell you, Morry, hershape just fills the eye. She--"
"Oh, yes, I understand. You are speaking of the yacht. I thought whenyou said you would make her dance that you referred to Miss Lindon.Excuse my ignorance of yachting terms. I know absolutely nothing aboutthem."
"Never mind, old man, you might easily make the mistake. Talking ofdancing now, I had a turn with her the other day and I will say thismuch--that she can waltz and no mistake. You could steer her with onefinger."
"And shall we rig this spinnaker boom on her?" asked Rankin, withinterest. "What is a spinnaker boom? I have always wanted to know."
"Spinnaker on who? or what?" cried Jack, looking vexed. "Don't be anass, Rankin."
"My dear fellow--a thousand pardons--I certainly presumed you stillspoke of the yacht. It is perfectly impossible to understand which yourefer to."
"Well, perhaps it is," replied Jack; "I mix the two up in my speech justas they are mixed up in my heart, and I love them both. So let us have aglass of sherry to them in my room."
"I think," said Rankin, smiling, with his head on one side, "that toprevent further confusion we ought to drink a glass to each loveseparately, in order to discriminate sufficiently between the differentinterests."
"Happy thought," said Jack. "And just like you robbers. Every interestmust be represented. Fees out of the estate, every time."
After gulping down the first glass of sherry in the American fashion,they sat sipping the second as the Scotch and English do. It struckRankin as peculiar that Mr. Lindon allowed Nina to go off on thisyachting cruise when he must know that Jack would be on board. He askedhim how he accounted for his luck in this respect.
Jack said: "I can not explain it altogether to myself. The old boy senther off to Europe to get her away from me, and that little manoeuvrewas not successful in making her forget me. I think that now he haswashed his hands of the matter, and lets her do entirely as shepleases--except as to matrimony. They don't converse together on thesubject of your humble servant. He is fond of Nina in his own way--w
henhis ambition is not at stake. One thing I feel sure of, that we mightwait till crack of doom before his consent to our marriage would beobtained. I never knew such a man for sticking to his own opinion."
"But you could marry now and keep a house, in a small way," said Rankin.
"Too small a way for Nina. She knows no more of economy than a babe. No;I may have been unwise, from a practical view, to fall in love with her,but the affair must go on now; we will get married some way or other.Perhaps the old boy will die. At any rate, although I have no doubt shewould go in for 'love in a cottage,' I don't think it would be right ofme to subject her to the loss of her carriage, servants, entertainments,and gay existence generally. Of course she would be brave over it, butthe effort would be very hard upon the dear little woman."
When Jack thought of Nina his heart was apt to lose some of itschronometer movement. He turned and began fumbling for his pipe.
Maurice wished to pull him together, as it were, and said, as he graspedthe decanter and filled the wine glasses again:
"Thank you; I don't mind if I do. Now I come to think of it, your firstproposed toast was the right one. For the next three weeks at least wedo not intend to separate the lady from the yacht. Why should we drinkthem separately? Ho, ho! we will drink to them collectively!" He wavedhis glass in the air. "Here's to The Lady and the Yacht considered asone indivisible duo. May they be forever as entwined in our hearts asthey are incomprehensibly mixed up in our language!"
"Hear, hear!" cried Jack, with renewed spirit. "Drink hearty!" And thenhe energetically poured out another, and said "Tiger!"--after which theylit cigars and went out, feeling happy and much refreshed, while Rankinquite forgot the blue bag and the contents thereof yielding rich juicesto the law-reports in the usual way.
About ten o'clock on the following Saturday morning valises were beingstowed away on board the yacht Ideal, and maidens fair and sailors freewere aglow with the excitement of departure. The yacht was swinging ather anchor while the new cruising mainsail caused her to careen gentlyas the wind alternately caught each side of the snowy canvas. A largeblue ensign at the peak was flapping in the breeze, impatient for thestart, while the main-sheet bound down and fettered the plunging andrestless sail. Lounging about the bows of the vessel were a number ofprofessional sailors with Ideal worked across the breasts of their stoutblue jerseys. The headsails were loosed and ready to go up, and thepatent windlass was cleared to wind up the anchor chain. Away aloft atthe topmast head the blue peter was promising more adventures and a newenterprise, while grouped about the cockpit were our friends in variedgarb, some of whom nervously regarded the plunging mainsail whichrefused to be quieted. Rankin was the last to come over the side, cladin a dark-blue serge suit, provided at short notice by thelong-suffering Score. His leather portmanteau, lent by Jack, hadscarcely reached the deck before the blocks were hooked on and the gigwas hoisted in to the davits. Margaret, sitting on the bulwarks, with anarm thrown round a backstay to steady her, was taking in all thepreparations with quiet ecstasy, her eyes following every movement aloftand her lips softly parted with sense of invading pleasure.
Mrs. Dusenall was down in the after-cabin making herself more busy thanuseful. Instead of leaving everything to the steward, the good woman wasunpacking several baskets which had found their way aft by mistake. In avery clean locker devoted solely to charts she stowed away five or sixpies, wedging them, thoughtfully, with a sweet melon to keep them quiet.Then she found that the seats at the side could be raised, and here sheplaced a number of articles where they stood a good chance of slippingunder the floor and never being seen again. Fortunately for the party,her pride in her work led her to point out what she had done to thesteward, who, speechless with dismay, hastily removed everything eatablefrom her reach.
As the anchor left its weedy bed, the brass carronade split the air insalute to the club and the blue ensign dipped also, while the headsailclanked and rattled up the stay. There was nobody at the club house, butthe ladies thought that the ceremony of departure was effective.
Jack was at the wheel as she paid off on the starboard tack toward theeastern channel, and Geoffrey and others were slacking off themain-sheet when Rankin heard himself called by Jack, who said hurriedly:
"Morry, will you let go that lee-backstay?"
Maurice and Margaret left it immediately and stood aside. Jack forgot,in the hurry of starting, that Rankin knew nothing of sailing, andcalled louder to him again, pointing to the particular rope: "Let gothat lee-backstay."
"Who's touching your lee-backstay?" cried Morry indignantly.
The boom was now pressing strongly on the stay, while Jack, seeing hismistake, leaned over and showed Rankin what to do. He at once cast offthe rope from the cleat, and, there being a great strain on it, the endof it when loosed flew through his fingers so fast that it felt as ifred hot.
"Holy Moses!" cried he, blowing on his fingers, "that rope must havebeen lying on the stove." He examined the rope again, and remarked thatit was quite cool now. The pretended innocence of the little man wasdeceiving. The Honorable Marcus Travers Head, one of the rich intendedvictims of the Dusenalls, leaned over to Jack and asked who and whatRankin was.
"He's an original--that's what he is," said Jack, with some pride in hisfriend, although Rankin's by-play was really very old.
"What! ain't he soft?" inquired the Hon. M. T., with surprise.
"About as soft as that brass cleat," said Jack shortly. "I say, oldEmptyhead, you just keep your eye open when he's around and you'll learnsomething."
There was a murmur of "Ba-a Jeuve!" and the honorable gentleman regardedRankin in a new light.
The Ideal was a sloop of more than ordinary size, drawing about eightfeet of water without the small center-board, which she hardly requiredfor ordinary sailing. Her accommodations were excellent, and herinternal fittings were elegant, without being so wildly expensive as insome of the American yachts. Her comparatively small draught of waterenabled her to enter the shallow ports on the lakes, and yet she wasmodeled somewhat like a deep-draught boat, having some of her ballastbolted to her keel, like the English yachts. Her cruising canvas wasbent on short spars, which relieved the crew in working her, but, evenwith this reduction, her spread of canvas was very large, so that herpassage across the bay toward the lake was one of short duration.
To Margaret and Maurice the spirited start which they made was one ofunalloyed delight. For two such fresh souls "delight" is quite theproper word. They crossed over to the weather side and sat on thebulwarks, where they could command a view of the whole boat. It was atreat for all hands to see their bright faces watching the man aloftcast loose the working gaff-topsail. When they heard his voice in thesky calling out "Hoist away," Morry waved his hand with _abandon_ andcalled out also "Hoist away," as if he would hoist away and overboardevery care he knew of, and when the booming voice aloft cried "Sheethome," it was as good as five dollars to see Margaret echo the word withcommanding gesture--only she called it "Sea foam," which made thesailors turn their quids and snicker quietly among themselves. But whenthe huge cream-colored jib-topsail went creaking musically up from thebowsprit-end, filling and bellying and thundering away to leeward, andgrowing larger and larger as it climbed to the topmast head, theiradmiration knew no bounds. As the sail was trimmed down, they felt thegood ship get her "second wind," as it were, for the rush out of thebay. It was as if sixteen galloping horses had been suddenly harnessedto the boat, and Margaret fairly clapped her hands. Maurice called toJack approvingly:
"You said you would make her dance."
"She's going like a scalded pup," cried Jack poetically in reply, and heheld her down to it with the wheel, tenderly but firmly, as he therebyfelt the boat's pulse. When they came to the eastern channel Jack easedher up so close to the end of the pier that Maurice involuntarilyretreated from the bulwarks for fear she would hit the corner. Thejib-topsail commenced to thunder as the yacht came nearer the wind, butthis was soon silenced, and half a dozen
men on the main-sheet flattenedin the after-canvas as she passed between the crib-work at the sides ofthe channel in a way that gave one a fair opportunity for judging herspeed.
A moment more and the Ideal was surging along the lake swells, as if sheintended to arrive "on time" at any place they pointed her for. Themain-sheet was paid out as Jack bore away to take the compass course forCobourg. This put the yacht nearly dead before the wind, and the paceseemed to moderate. Charlie Dusenall then came on deck, after settlinghis dunnage below and getting into his sailing clothes. Charlie had been"making a night of it" previous to starting, and felt this morningindisposed to exert himself. Jack and he had cruised together in allweathers, and they were both good enough sailors to dispense withpig-headed sailing-masters. Jack had sailed everything, from abirch-bark canoe to a schooner of two hundred tons, and had never losthis liking for a good deal of hard work on board a boat. As for hisgarb, an old flannel shirt and trousers that greased masts could notspoil were all that either he or Charlie ever wore. These, with theyachting shoes, broad Scotch bonnet, belt, and sheath-knife, were foundsufficient, without any finical white jackets and blue anchors, and, ifnot so fresh as they might have been, these garments certainly lookedlike business.
Before young Dusenall put his head up the companion-way he knew exactlywhere the boat was by noticing her motions while below. There wassomething of the "old salt" in the way he understood how the yacht wasrunning without coming on deck to find out. Generally he could wake upat night and tell you how the boat was sailing, and almost what canvasshe was carrying, without getting out of his berth. These things hadbecome a sort of second nature.
He was yawning as he hauled on a stout chain and dragged up from histrousers pocket a silver watch about the size of a mud-turtle. Then helooked at the wake through the long following waves and glanced rapidlyover the western horizon while he counted with his finger upon the faceof the enormous timepiece. "We will have to do better than this," hesaid, after making a calculation, "if we wish to dance at the Arlingtonto-night."
"They are just getting the spinnaker on deck," said Jack, nodding towardthe bows. "As you say, it won't do her any harm. This breeze willflatten out at sundown, and walloping about in a dead calm all night isno fun."
"What a time they take to get a sail set!" said Charlie impatiently, ashe looked at the sailors for a few moments. "I have a good mind to asksome of you fellows to go forward and show them how."
"Oh, never mind," said Jack, "We are not racing, and hurrying them onlymakes them sulky."
But Charlie's nerves were a little irritable to-day, and he swunghimself on deck and went forward. A long boom was lowered out over theside and properly guyed; then a long line of sail, tied in stops, wentup and up to the topmast-head; the foot of it was hauled out to the endof the boom; then there was a pull on a rope, and, as the wind brokeaway the stops, hundreds of yards of sail spread out as if by magic tothe breeze, filling away forward like a huge three-cornered balloon, thefoot of which almost swept the surface of the water.
"Look at that for a sail, Nina," said Jack. "Now you'll see her gitright up and git."
When Jack was talking about yachts or sailing it was next to impossiblefor him to speak in anything but a jargon of energetic slang andmetaphor picked up among the sailors, who, in their turn, picked up allthey could while ashore. He seemed to take a pleasure in throwing theEnglish grammar overboard. His heart warmed to sailors. He was fond oftheir oddities and forcible unpolished similes; and when he sometimessought their society for a while, he was well received. When a man ingood clothes begins to talk sailing grammatically to lake-sailors theyseem to feel that he is not, as far as they can see, in any way up tothe mark. His want of accuracy in sailing vernacular attaches to hiswhole character.
If Jack intended to say that the spinnaker would make the Ideal go fast,he was right. She was traveling down the lake almost as fast as shewould go in a race with the same breeze. A long thin line of fine whitebubbles extending back over the tops of several blue waves showed whereher keel had divided the water and rubbed it into white powder as shepassed. Jack had no time for continued conversation now. He had to watchhis compass and the sails, the wind, and the land. He did not wish thewake behind the vessel to look like a snake-fence from bad steering, andto get either of the sails aback, while under such a pressure, would bea pretty kettle of fish. He was enjoying himself. Some good Samaritanhanded him a pipe filled and lighted, and with his leg slung comfortablyover the shaft of the wheel, his pipe going, Nina in front of him, andall his friends around him, he felt that the moment could hardly beimproved.
Some time after the buildings of Toronto had dwindled away to nothing,and the thin spire of St. James's Cathedral had become a memory, thesteward announced that luncheon was ready. One of the hands relievedJack at the wheel, and all went below except Mrs. Dusenall, who was leftlying among cushions and pillows arranged comfortably on deck, where shepreferred to remain, as she was feeling the motion of the boat.
Luncheon was a movable feast on the Ideal--as liable to be shifted aboutas the hands of a wayward clock. The cabin was prettily decorated withflowers, and the table, weighted so as to remain always horizontal, wascovered with snowy linen and delicate glass, while a small conceit fullof cut flowers faced each of the guests. The steward and stewardessbuzzed about with bottles and plates, and any appetite that could nothave been tempted must have been in a bad way. The absence of thatapology for a chaperon, who was trying to enjoy the breezes overhead,gave the repast an informality which the primness of the Misses Dusenallsoon failed to check, although at first their precise intonations andcarefully copied English accent did something to restrain undue hilarityon the part of those who did not know them well.
The idea of being able to entertain in this style gave the MissesDusenall an inflation which at first showed itself in a conversation andmanner touchingly English. The average English maiden, though by naturesufficiently insular in manner and speech, is taught to be more so. Theresult is that among strangers she rarely seems quite certain ofherself, as if anxious lest she should wreck herself on a slip of thetongue or the sounding of a false note. Her prudish manners and herperfect knowledge of what not to say often suggest Swift's definition of"a nice man." One trembles to think what effect the emancipation ofmarriage will have upon some of these wildly innocent creatures. InCanada, and especially in the United States, we are thankful to takesome things for granted, without the advertisement of a manner whichseems to say: "I am so awfully pure and carefully brought up, don't youknow."
The Misses Dusenall on this occasion soon found themselves in a minority(not the minority of Matthew Arnold), and before leaving the table theyadopted some of that more genial manner and speech which, if slightlyfaulty, we are satisfied to consider as "good enough for the colonies."
Maurice seemed to expand as the English fog gradually lifted. The agedappearance that anxiety was giving him had disappeared. Amid the chattergoing on, in which it was difficult to get an innings, Jack Cresswellseized a bottle of claret and called out that he proposed a toast.
"What? toasts at such an informal luncheon as this, Jack?" exclaimedPropriety, with the accent somewhat worn off.
"What's the odds as long as you're happy and the 'rosy' is close athand?" said Jack. "Besides, this is a case of necessity--"
"I propose that we have a series of toasts," interrupted Charlie; whowas beginning to feel himself again. "With all their necessarysubdivisions," added Rankin, in his incisive little voice, which couldalways make itself heard.
"There you are again, Rankin," cried Jack. "I proposed a toast withRankin two days ago, ladies, and, as I live by bread, he subdivided itsixteen times."
Dusenall was calling for a bottle of Seltzer water.
"Never mind your soda," commanded Jack. "Soda can't do justice to thistoast. I propose this toast because I regard it as one of absolutenecessity--"
"They all are," called Maurice.
"Gentlemen, I must protest
against my learned friend's interrup--"
"Go on, Jack. Don't protest. Propose. I am getting thirsty," criedHampstead's voice among a number of others.
"Well, gentlemen, am I to proceed or not? Have I the floor, or not?"
"That's just what he said after those sixteen horns," said Rankin,addressing the party confidentially. "Only, then he did not 'have thefloor,' the floor had him."
His absurdity increased the hubbub, as Jack rapped on the table tocommand attention.
"The toast I am about to propose is one of absolute neces--"
"Oh, my!" groaned Rankin, "give me something in the mean time." Hegrasped a bottle, as if in desperation. "All right, now. Go on, Jack.Don't mind me."
The orator went on, smiling:
"It is, as I think I have said before, one of absolute--"
Here the disturbance threatened to put an end to the proposed toast.
"Take a new deal."
"Got any more toasts like this?"
"Oh, I would like a smoke soon. Hurry up, Jack."
"Well, ladies and gentlemen," said Jack, banging on the table to quellthe tumult; "I will skip over the objectionable words, and propose thatwe drink to the health of one who has been unable to be with us to-day,and who needs our assistance; who perhaps at this moment is sufferinguntold troubles far from our midst. Ladies and gentlemen, have youcharged your glasses?"
Answers of "Frequently."
"Well, then," said Jack, as he stood with a bottle in one hand and aglass in the other, "I ask you to drink with me to the health of 'TheChaperon,' who is nigh unto death."
All stood up, and were loudly echoing, "The Chaperon--nigh unto death!"when a long hand came down the skylight overhead and a voice was heardfrom on high, saying:
"Nothing of the kind. How dare you, you bad boy? Just put something intomy hand and I'll drink my own health. I don't need your assistance atall."
Cheers broke out from the noisy gathering, and they all rushed on deckto see Mrs. Dusenall drink her own health, which she bravelyaccomplished.
They were a riotous lot. All the boat wanted was a policeman to keepthem in something more like order, for a small joke received too muchcredit with them, and they laughed too easily.
Frenchman's Bay and Whitby were passed before they came up from lunch.Oshawa could be seen far away on the shore, as the yacht buzzed alongwith unabated speed. A speck on the horizon had risen up out of the seato be called Raby Head--the sand-bluff near Darlington. Small yellow andgreen squares on the far-off brown uplands that rolled back from theshores denoted that there were farms in that vicinity; dark-blue spots,like feathery tufts, appeared here and there where the timber forestshad been left untouched, and among them small marks or lines of whitewould occasionally appear where, on looking through the glasses, littlerailway trains seemed to be toiling like ants across the landscape.
There was no ceremony to be observed, nor could it be seen that anybodyendeavored to keep up conversations which required any effort. The men,lounging about on the white decks, seemed to smoke incessantly whilethey watched the water hissing along the sides of the vessel, or lay ontheir backs and watched the masthead racing with the white clouds downthe lake, and the girls, disposed on cushions, tried to read novels andfailed. The sudden change to the fresh breezes of the lake, and the longbut spirited rise and fall of the vessel made them soon doze away, orelse remain in that peaceful state of mind which does not require booksor masculine society or music, or anything else except a continuation ofthings just as they are. Granby and Newcastle were mentioned as theyacht passed by, but most of the party were drowsy, and few even raisedtheir heads to see what little could be seen. Port Hope created butfeeble interest, though the Gull Light, perched on the rocks far out inthe lake, appeared romantic and picturesque. It seemed like trueyachting to be approaching a strange lighthouse sitting like a whiteseabird on the dangerous-looking reefs, where the waves could be seendashing up white and frothy.
Somewhere off Port Hope, about three or four miles away from the "Gull,"one of the sailors had quietly remarked to the man at the wheel:
"We're a-goin' to run out of the wind."
Margaret was interested in this, wondering how the man knew. Far away infront and to the eastward could be seen a white haze that obliteratedthe horizon, and, as the yacht bore down to the Gull Light, one couldsee that beyond a certain defined line stretching across the lake thebright sparkle and blueness of the waves ceased, and, beyond, was awhite heaving surface of water, without a ripple on it to mark onedistance from another. It seemed strange that the wind blowing sofreshly directly toward this calm portion of the lake should not ruffleit. The yacht went straight on before the wind at the same pace till shecrossed the dividing line and passed with her own velocity into the deadair on the other side. The sails, out like wings, seemed at once to fillon the wrong side, as if the breeze had come ahead, and this stopped herheadway. She soon came to a standstill. Every person at onceawoke--feeling some of that numbness experienced in railway trains when,after running forty miles an hour for some time, the brakes are suddenlyput on.
For half an hour the yacht lay within pistol-shot of the dancing,sparkling waves, where the breeze blew straight toward them, as far asthe mysterious dividing line, and then disappeared. The spinnaker wastaken in, and the yacht, regardless of the helm, "walloped" about in alldirections, as the swells, swashing against the bow, or pounding underthe counter, turned her around. This was unpleasant, and might last allnight, if "the calm beat back the wind," as the sailors say, so Charleysent out the crew in the two boats, which were lowered from the davits,to tow the yacht into Cobourg, now about three miles away. Themain-sheet was hauled flat aft to keep the main-boom quiet, and soon shehad steerage way on.
To insure fine weather at home one must take out an umbrella and awater-proof. On the water, for a dead calm, sending the boats out to towthe yacht is as good as a patent medicine. Before very long the topsailseemed to have an inclination to fill on one side more than on theother, so one boat was ordered back and a club-gaff-topsail used inraces was sent aloft to catch the breath moving in the upper air. Thissail had huge spars on it that set a sail reaching a good twenty-fivefeet above the topmast head, and about the same distance out from theend of the gaff. It was no child's-play getting it up, and the sailors'chorus as they took each haul at the halyards attracted some attention.Perhaps no amateur can quite successfully give that break in the voicepeculiar to a professional sailor when hauling heavily on a rope. Andthen the interjections:
"O-ho! H'ister up."
"Oh-ho! Up she goes."
"O-ho! R-Raise the dead."
"Now-then-all-together-and-carry-away-the-mast, O-ho!" etc.
Some especial touches were put on to-day for the benefit of the ladies,and when the man aloft wished those on deck to "sheet home" the bigtopsail, the rascal looked down at Margaret and called "sea foam!" Inthe forecastle she was called "Sea Foam" during the whole trip, notbecause she wore a dress of cricketing flannel, but on account of herformer mistake in the words. To Rankin and some others who saw thelittle joke, the idea seemed poetical and appropriate.
Not more than a breath of wind moved aloft--none at all below--but itproved sufficient to send the yacht along, and about half-past six inthe evening they slipped in to an anchor at Cobourg, fired a gun, andhad dinner.