CHAPTER VII
MEMBERS OF THE LOCAL COUNCIL
And thus the new patrol was started.
Three weeks after the September morning when an anxious search-party ledby Asa Chase, Leon's father, and by that clever woodsman Toiney Leduc,had started out at dawn to search the dense woods for four missing boys,and found a grotesque-looking quartette with faces piebald from thehalf-effaced smears of Varney's Paintpot, breakfasting on blueberriesand water by a still ruddy camp-fire,--three weeks after those morningwoods had rung with Toiney's shrill "Hola!" the first meeting for theformation of the Owl Patrol was held.
In virtue of his being already a boy scout with a year's training behindhim, Nixon Warren was elected patrol leader; and Leon Starr Chase whostill limped as a result of his reckless descent of that freakpine-tree, was made second in rank with the title of corporal--orassistant patrol leader.
Among the half-dozen spectators, leading men of the small town, who hadassembled to witness the inaugural doings at this first meeting and tolend their approval to the new movement for the boys, there appeared onewho was lamer than Leon, his halting step being due to a year-old injurywhich condemned him to limp somewhat for the remainder of his life.
This was Captain Andrew Davis, popularly known as Captain Andy, who hadbeen for thirty years a Gloucester fishing-skipper, one of thepresent-day Vikings who sail forth from the Queen Fishing City at thehead of its blue harbor.
He had commanded one fine fishing-vessel after another, was known alongthe water-front and among the fishing-fleet as a "crackerjack" and"driver," with other more complimentary titles. He had got the better ofthe sea in a hundred raging battles on behalf of himself and others. Butit partially worsted him at last by wrecking his vessel in what hemildly termed a "November breeze"--in reality a howling hurricane--andby laming him for life when at the height of the storm the schooner'smain-boom fell on him.
He was dragged forth from under it, half-dead, but, "game to the last,"refused to be carried below. Lashed to the weather main-bitt--one ofthe sawed-off posts rising from the vessel's deck to which themain-sheet was made fast--in order to prevent his being swept overboardby the great seas washing over that deck, he had kept barking out ordersand fighting for the lives of his crew so long as he could command abreath.
"And I didn't lose a man, Doc!" he said long afterwards to his friendand admirer, the Exmouth doctor, the hard-working physician with whoselong-suffering bell Leon had mischievously tampered. "I didn't lose aman--only the vessel. When the gale blew down we had to take to thedories, for she was just washing to pieces under us. Too bad: she was anable vessel too! But I guess I'll have to 'take my medicine' for therest of my life--an' take it limping!"--with a rueful smile.
But the many waters through which he had passed had not quenched inCaptain Andy the chivalrous love for his human brothers. Rather did theybaptize and freshen it until it sprouted anew, after he took up hisresidence ashore, in a paternal love for boys which kept his great heartyouthful in his massive, sixty-year-old body; and which kept himhopefully dreaming, too, of deeds that shall be done by the sons nowbeing reared for Uncle Sam, that shall rival or outshine the knightlyfeats of their fathers both on land and sea.
So he smiled happily, this grand old sea-scout, as, on the occasion ofthe first meeting for the inauguration of the Boy Scout Movement, heheaved his powerful frame into a seat beside his friend the doctor whowas equally interested in the new doings.
"Hi there, Doc!" said Captain Andy joyously, laying his hand, big andwarm as a tea-kettle, on the doctor's arm, "we're launching a new boatfor the boys to-night, eh? Seems to me that it's an able craft too--thisnew movement--intended to keep the lads goin' ahead under all the sailthey can carry, and on a course where they'll get the benefit of thebest breezes, too."
"That's how it strikes me," returned the doctor. "If it will only keepStarrie Chase, as they call him, sailing in an opposite direction to mydoorbell, I'm sure I shall bless it! D'you know, Andy," the gray-beardedphysician addressed the weatherbeaten sea-fighter beside him as he haddone when they were schoolboys together, "when I heard how that boy Leonhad sprained his ankle badly in the woods and that the family had sentfor me, I said: 'Serve him right! _Let_ him be tied by the leg for awhile and meditate on the mischief of his ways; I'm not going to seehim!' Of course, before the words were well out, I had picked up my bagand was on my way to the Chase homestead!"
"Of course you were!" Captain Andy beamed upon his friend until hislarge face with its coating of ruddy tan flamed like an aurora borealisunder the electric lights of the little town hall in which the first boyscout meeting was held. "Trust you, Doc!"
The ex-skipper knew that no man of his acquaintance lived up to thetwelve points of the scout law in more thorough fashion than did thiscountry doctor, who never by day or night closed his ears against thecall of distress.
"I'll say this much for the young rascal, he was ashamed to see me bringout my bandages"; the doctor now nodded humorously in the direction ofLeon Chase, who made one of a semicircle composed of Nixon, himself andsix other boys, at present seated round the young scoutmaster whom theyhad chosen to be leader of the new movement in their town.
"But by and by his tongue loosened somewhat," went on the grizzledmedical man, "and he began to take me into his confidence about theformation of this boy scout patrol; he seemed more taken up with thatthan with what he called 'the thunderstorm in his ankle.' Leon isn't oneto knuckle under much to pain, anyhow! Somehow, as he talked, I began tofeel as if we hadn't been properly facing the problem of our boys in andabout this town, Andy."
"I see what you mean!" Captain Andrew nodded. "Leon is as full of tricksas a tide rip in a gale o' wind. An' that's the most mischievous thing Iknow!" with a reminiscent chuckle. "But what can you do? If a boy ischockfull o' bubbling energy that's going round an' round in a whirlinside him, like the rip, it's bound to boil over in mischief, if thereain't a deep channel to draw it off."
"That's just it! Ours is a slow little town--not much doing for theboys! Not even a male teacher in our graded schools to organize hikesand athletics for them! I am afraid that more than one lad with nonatural criminal tendency, has got into trouble, been ultimately sent toa reformatory, owing to a lack in the beginning of some outlet safe andexciting for that surplus energy of which you speak. Take the case ofDave Baldwin, for instance, son of that old Ma'am Baldwin who lives overon the salt-marshes!" The doctor's face took on a sorry expression."There was nothing really bad in him, I think! Just too much tide rip!He was the counterpart of this boy Leon, with a craving for excitement,a wild energy in him that boiled over at times in irregular pranks--likethe rip--as you say."
"And you know what makes _that_ so dangerous?" Captain Andy's sigh washeaved from the depths of past experience. "Well! with certain shoalsan' ledges in the ocean there's too much water crowded onto 'em at lowtide, so it just boils chock up from the bottom like a pot, goes roundand round in a whirl, strings out, foamy an' irregular, for miles. It's'day, day!' to the vessel that once gets well into it, for you neverknow where 'twill strike you.
"And it's pretty much the same with a lively boy, Doc: at low tide, whenthere's nothing doing, too much o' something is crowded onto the ledgesin him, an' when it froths over, it gets himself and others intotrouble. Keep him interested--swinging ahead on a high tide of activityunder all the sail he can carry, and there's no danger of the ripforming. That's what this Boy Scout Movement aims at, I guess! It looksto me--my word! it _does_ look to me--as if Leon was already 'deepeningthe water some,' to-night," wound up Captain Andy with a gratifiedsmile, scrutinizing the face of Starrie Chase, which was at this momentmarked by a new and purposeful eagerness as he discussed the variousrequirements of the tenderfoot test, the elementary knowledge to bemastered before the next meeting, ere he could take the scout oath, beinvested with the tenderfoot scout badge and be enrolled among the BoyScouts of America.
"A movement such as this might have been the saving of Dave
Baldwin,"sighed the Doctor. "He was always playing such wild tricks. People keptwarning him to 'cut it out' or he would surely get into trouble. But the'tide rip' within seemed too much for him. No foghorn warnings made anyimpression. I've been thinking lately of the saying of one wise man:'Hitherto there has been too much foghorn and too little bugle in ourtreatment of the boys!' Too much croaking at them: too little challengeto advance! So I said to the new scoutmaster, Harry Estey, Colin'sbrother," nodding toward a tall young man who was the centre of theeager ring of boys, "I said, 'give Leon the _bugle_: give it to himliterally and figuratively: you'll need a bugler in your boy scout campand I'll pay for the lessons; it will be a better pastime for him thanfixing my doorbell.'"
"I hope 'twill keep him from tormenting that lonely old woman over onthe marshes; the boys of this town have made her life a burden to her,"said Captain Andy, thinking of that female recluse "Ma'am Baldwin," towhom allusion had been made by Colin and Coombsie on the memorable daywhich witnessed their headstrong expedition into the woods. "She hasbeen regarded as fair game by them because she's a grain cranky an'peculiar, owing to the trouble she's had about her son. He was theyoungest, born when she was middle-aged--perhaps she spoiled him alittle. Come to think of it, Doc, I saw the young scape-grace a few daysago when I was down the river in my power-boat! He was skulking like afox round those Sugar-loaf Sand-Dunes near the bay."
"How did he look?"
"Oh, shrunken an' dirty, like a winter's day!" Captain Andy wasaccustomed to the rough murkiness of a winter day on mid-oceanfishing-grounds. "He made off when he saw me heading for him. He'snothing but an idle vagrant now, who spends his time loafing betweenthose white dunes and the woods on t' other side o' the river. He gotwork on a farm after he was discharged from the reformatory, but didn'tstick to it. Other fellows shunned him, I guess! Folks say that he'sbeen mixed up in some petty thefts of lumber from the shipyards lately,others that he keeps a row-boat stowed away in the pocket of a littlecreek near the dunes, and occasionally does smuggling in a small wayfrom a vessel lying out in the bay. But that's only a yarn! He couldn'tdodge the revenue officers. Anyhow, it's too bad that Dave should havegone the way he has! He's only 'a boy of a man' yet, not more'ntwenty-three. When I was about that age I shipped on the same vesselwith Dave's father--she was a trawler bound for Gran' Banks--we mademore than one trip together on her. He was a white man; and--"
"_Captain Andy!_" A voice ringing and eager, the voice of thescoutmaster of the new patrol who had just received his certificate fromheadquarters, interrupted the captain's recollections of Dave Baldwin'sfather. "Captain Andy, will you undertake to instruct these boys inknot-tying, before our next meeting, so that they may be able to tie thefour knots which form part of the tenderfoot test, and be enrolled asscouts two weeks from now?"
"Sakes! yes; I'll teach 'em. And if any one of 'em is such a lubber thathe won't set himself to learn, why, I'll spank him with a dried codfishas if I had him aboard a fishing-vessel. Belay that!"
And the ex-skipper's eye roved challengingly toward the scout recruitsfrom under the heavy lid and short bristling eyelashes which overhungits blue like a fringed cloud-bank.
The threat was welcomed with an outburst of laughter.
"And, Doctor, will you give us some talks on first-aid to the injured,after we get the new patrol fairly started?" Scoutmaster Estey, Colin'selder brother, looked now at the busy physician, who, with Captain Andyand other prominent townsmen, including the clergymen of diverse creeds,was a member of the local council of the Boy Scouts of America which hadbeen recently formed in the little town.
"Yes; you may rely on me for that. But"--here the doctor turnedquestioningly toward the weather beaten sea-captain, his neighbor--"Ithought the new patrol, the Owl Patrol as they have named it, was toconsist of eight boys, and I see only seven present to-night. There'sthat tall boy, Nixon Warren, who's visiting here, and Mark Coombs, hiscousin; then there's Leon Chase, Colin Estey, Kenjo Red, otherwiseKenneth Jordan," the doctor smiled at the red head of a sturdy-lookinglad of fourteen, "Joe Sweet, commonly called Sweetsie, and Evan Macduff.But where's the eighth Owl, Andy? Isn't he fledged yet?"
"I guess not! I think they'll have to tackle him in private before theycan enlist him." The narrow rift of blue which represented CaptainAndy's eye under the cloud-bank glistened. "You'll never guess who theyhave fixed upon for the eighth Owl, Doc. Why! that frightened boy, BenGreer's son, who lives on the little farm-clearing in the woods with hisgran'father and a Canadian farmhand whom Old Man Greer hires for thesummer an' fall."
"Not Harold Greer? You don't mean that abnormally shy an' timid boy whomthe children nickname the 'Hare'? Why! I had to supply a certificate forhim so that he could be kept out of school. It made him worse to go,because the other boys teased him so cruelly."
"Jus' so! But that brand o' teasing is ruled out under the scout law. Ascout is a brother to every other scout. I guess the idea of trying toget Harold enlisted in the Boy Scouts and thereby waking him up alittle an' gradually showing him what 'bugaboos' his fears are,originated with that lad from Philadelphia, Nix Warren, who, as Iunderstand, showed himself to be quite a fellow in the woods, starting afriction fire with rubbing-sticks an' doing other stunts which causedhis companions to become head over heels interested in this newmovement."
"But how did _he_ get interested in Harold Greer?" inquired the doctor.
"Well, as they trudged through the woods on that day when they madecircus guys of themselves at Varney's Paintpot, and subsequently gotlost, they passed the Greer farm and saw Harold who hid behind thatFrench-Canadian, Toiney, when he saw them coming. Apparently it struckNix, seeing him for the first time, what a miserable thing it must befor the boy himself to be afraid of everything an' nothing. So he sethis heart on enlisting Harold in the new patrol. He, Nix, wants to passthe test for becoming a first-class scout: to do this he must enlist arecruit trained by himself in the requirements of a tenderfoot; and heis going to try an' get near to Harold an' train him--Nixon's cousin,Mark Coombs, Marcoo, as they call him, told me all about it."
"Well, I like that!" The doctor's face glowed. "Though I'm afraidthey'll have difficulty in getting the eighth Owl sufficiently fledgedto show any plumage but the white feather!" with a sorry smile. "I pitythat boy Harold," went on the medical man, "because he has been hamperedby heredity and in a way by environment too. His mother was a verydelicate, nervous creature, Andy. She was a prey to certain fears, theworst of which was one which we doctors call 'cloister fobia,' whichmeans that she had a strange dread of a crowd, or even of mingling witha small group of individuals. As you know, her husband, like DaveBaldwin's father, was a Gloucester fisherman, whose home was in theseparts. During his long absences at sea, she lived alone with herfather-in-law, her little boy Harold and one old woman in that littlefarmhouse on the clearing. And I suppose every time that the wind howledthrough the woods she had a fresh fit of the quakes, thinking of herhusband away on the foggy fishing-grounds."
"Yes! I guess at such times the women suffer more than we do," mutteredCaptain Andy, thinking of his dead wife.
"Well!" the doctor cleared his throat, "after Harold's mother receivedthe news that her husband's vessel was lost with all hands, on QueroBank, when her little boy was about five years old, she became moreunbalanced; she wouldn't see any of her relatives even, if she couldavoid it, save those who lived in the house with her. I attended herwhen she was ill and begged her to try and get the better of herfoolishness for her boy's sake--or to let me send him away to a schoolof some kind. Both Harold's grandfather and she opposed the latter idea.She lived until her son was nine years old; by that time she hadcommunicated all her queer dread of people--and a hundred other scaresas well--to him. But in my opinion there's nothing to prevent hisbecoming in time a normal boy under favorable conditions where hiscompanions would help him to fight his fears, instead of fastening themon him--conditions under which what we call his 'inhibitory power ofself-control' would be strengthened, so th
at he could command histerrified impulses. And if the Boy Scout Movement can, under God, dothis, Andy, why then I'll say--I'll say that knighthood has surely inour day come again--that Scout Nixon Warren has sallied forth into thewoods and slain a dragon more truly, perhaps, than ever did Knight ofthe Round Table by whose rules the boy scouts of to-day are governed!"
The doctor's last words were more to himself than to his companion, andfull of the ardor of one who was a dragon-fighter "from way back": dayby day, for years, he had grappled with the many-clawed dragons of painand disease, often taking no reward for his labors.
As his glance studied one and another of the seven boyish faces nowforming an eager ring round the tall scoutmaster, while the date of thenext meeting--the great meeting at which eight new recruits were to takethe scout oath--was being discussed, he was beset by the same feelingwhich had possessed Colin Estey on that September morning in the Bear'sDen. Namely, that the Owl Patrol would have a big contract on hand if itwas to get the better of that mischievous "tide rip" in Leon and proveto the handicapped "Hare" what imaginary bugaboos were his fears!
But Leon's face in its purposeful interest plainly showed that,according to Captain Andy's breezy metaphor, to-night he was reallydeepening the water in which his boyish bark floated, drawing out fromthe shoals among which he had drifted after a manner too trifling forhis age and endowment.
And so the doctor felt that there _might_ be hope for the eighth Owlchosen, and not present, being still a scared fledgling on that littlefarm-clearing in the woods, having never yet shaken a free wing, butonly the craven white feather.