CHAPTER VI. OUT TO THE FISHING-GROUNDS
While the boys were thus concerned down in the Thoroughfare, at the footof Grand Island, certain events were happening away over across theWestern Bay that might perhaps affect them later.
If a direct line were drawn across the middle of Grand Island, andextended straight across the Western Bay to the neighbouring mainland, itwould touch that shore in about the locality of the town of Bellport.This was a little community, dull in winter, and flourishing in summerwith the advent of cottagers and visitors from the little city ofMayville, some miles up along the shore of the bay, and from the townsfarther north up the river. It was a favourite resort of yachtsmen in amodest way.
On the afternoon that young Harry Brackett had quietly withdrawn from thecrowd of villagers in the store at Southport, coincident with thedisclosures of Captain Sam regarding his adventure in the squire'ssailboat, he had not seen fit to return to the shelter of his father'sroof. Instead, he had taken the night boat over to Mayville, and thence,the following morning, made his way to Bellport, where he had some bosomfriends after his own heart.
What this meant was that, instead of entering into the healthful sportsthat made the place of especial attraction, he and they were more oftento be found loitering about the office of the principal hotel, theBellport House, or playing at billiards in a room off the office, oroccupying the veranda chairs, with their feet upon the railing.
Young Brackett had been engaged one afternoon, soon following hisarrival, in a game of billiards with a companion, when he was accosted byanother acquaintance.
"Hello, Brackett," said the newcomer. "You're quite a stranger. How arethings over at Southport? Going to stay at home now for awhile?"
This salutation, commonplace as it was, had, it seemed, an effect upon atall, light-complexioned man, who was seated in a corner of the room,where he had been enjoying his cigar and idly watching the game. For helooked up quickly toward the boy addressed, and, during the continuationof the game, certainly paid more attention to Harry Brackett than to theplay itself.
At the conclusion of the game, young Brackett's companions bade him goodday and departed. Thereupon the stranger arose and advanced toward HarryBrackett, smiling pleasantly. Stroking a heavy blond moustache with thefingers of his left hand and picking up one of the cues with the other,he said:
"You play a good game, don't you? Shall we have another? I'll be pleasedto pay for it, you know. Glad to have some one that plays as well as youdo for an opponent."
It being inbred in young Brackett's nature never to decline to enjoyhimself at another's expense, he accepted the invitation at once.Moreover, he was pleased at the compliment--which was, perhaps, more inthe nature of flattery, as he was but indifferently skilful at best.
"Do you come from around this way?" asked the stranger, as they proceededto play.
"Yes," answered young Brackett. "My home is at Southport. Harry Brackettis my name. I'm Squire Brackett's son."
"Indeed!" said the stranger, as though the answer was a matter ofinformation, whereas he had distinctly heard the boy's companion refer tohim as coming from Southport. "But you are not an islander. You've beenabout some, I can see."
Most persons would have said that it would have been better for the boyif he had had more of the sturdy qualities of the islanders and less ofthose manners to which the stranger referred. But young Brackett took theremark as a compliment, as it was intended, and answered, "Oh, yes, I'vebeen about a good deal--up Boston way and that sort of thing--Benton anddifferent cities. But I live at Southport. My father owns a good deal ofthe place, you see."
"Well, I'm glad to know you, Mr. Brackett," said the stranger, with arenewed show of cordiality. "My name is Carleton. I come from Boston,too. I am just living around at any place I take a fancy to for thesummer. Oh, by the way, I came here to look at some boats. Do you know ofa good one over your way that a man might buy?"
"Why, no, I don't know as I do," replied young Brackett. "That is, notwhat you would want. There's only one elegant boat, and I guess she isnot for sale. She belongs to some boys. They'd better sell her, though,if they get the chance. They think they are smart, but they can't sailher a little bit."
"Hm!" ejaculated Mr. Carleton, and made a mental note of the other'sevident antipathy to the boys he referred to.
"You don't mean the _Viking_?" he inquired. "Somebody in the town herewas speaking about her the other day."
"Yes, that's the one," replied young Brackett. "But I don't think you canbuy her."
"Oh, most any one will sell a thing, if you only offer him enough," saidMr. Carleton, carelessly. "Somehow I think she is about the boat I want.I had a talk with a captain here the other day, and he said she was thebest sailer about here.
"Oh, by the way," he added, apparently intent upon his game and studyinga shot with great care, "did you ever hear of anything queer about thatyacht--anything queer discovered about her?"
"Why, no!" cried young Brackett, in a tone of surprise. "Is thereanything queer about her? Do you know about her? That is a funnyquestion."
If Mr. Carleton, making his shot unmoved, had got exactly the informationhe was after, he did not betray the least sign of it. Instead, he laughedand said:
"No, no. You don't understand. I mean any 'out' about the boat. Has sheany faults, I mean. Does she sail under? Run her counters under? Knockdown in a wind and heavy sea? Carry a bad weather helm--or still worse, alee helm? You know what I mean. When a man is buying a boat he wants toknow if she is all right."
He said it easily, in his deep, full voice, that seemed to emerge frombehind his heavy moustache, without his lips moving.
"Oh, I understand," said young Brackett. Then he added, mindful of hisanger at the owners of the _Viking_, "I guess the boat is goodenough--better than the crowd that owns her."
"Well, I want you to do something for me," continued Mr. Carleton. "Ithink I want her. When you return to Southport, I wish you would makethem an offer for me. Do you know what they paid for her?"
"Why, I think she brought only about eight hundred dollars," said youngBrackett. "She's worth twice that, I guess. But there wasn't anybody tobuy her. She went cheap."
"Tell them you know of a party that will give them fifteen hundreddollars for the boat," said Mr. Carleton. "And if you buy her for me forthat price I will give you two hundred dollars. The boat is worth all ofthat from what I hear."
Young Brackett's eyes opened wide in surprise.
"Oh, I am in earnest," said the man. "I can afford it. I'm out for a goodtime this summer. I'll be much obliged if you will do the business forme. Business is business, and I don't ask you to go to the trouble fornothing. Here's something on account."
He handed young Brackett a ten-dollar bill, which the boy pocketedpromptly. It seemed a queer transaction, but he was satisfied.
"And, say, don't mention my name," said Mr. Carleton, carelessly. "Yousee, if a man that has any money is known to be looking for a particularboat, they always put the price up."
"All right, I won't," replied Harry Brackett.
"I hate to tackle that fellow, Harvey," he thought, as he turned thematter over in his mind. "But it's worth trying for two hundred dollars."
Then, in great elation, he proceeded to beat Mr. Carleton at the game;though that person's intimate friends, wherever they might be, would havelaughed at his attempts to make poor shots instead of good ones. It paysto be a loser sometimes, was his way of looking at it. At least, he andHarry Brackett parted excellent friends.
The day came in warm and pleasant down in the Thoroughfare, and the boyswere early astir.
"Any more swimming to do to-day, Henry?" inquired George Warren, as thefires were building in the cabin stoves, preparatory for breakfast.
"Only a plunge for one of us," answered Henry. "I'll do that. And thatreminds me; I'd better do it before breakfast, for one doesn't want toswim right after eating. Just throw us a
line and trip your anchor, andwe will draw you up close astern of the _Surprise_, opposite us."
The Warren boys did as he requested, and the two boats were soon almostside by side, astern of the sunken yacht. Then Henry Burns, gettingGeorge Warren to unhook the tackle from the throat of the mainsail of the_Spray_, did likewise aboard the _Viking_. Taking the two pieces oftackle in hand, while the boys let the halyards run free, he ducked downat the stern of the sunken yacht and hooked in the tackle to one of thestout ropes that had been passed under the boat's keel.
"That will do till after breakfast," he said, coming to the surface andclambering out aboard the _Viking_.
"No, let's have a pull on the thing now," exclaimed Harvey. "I'm eager tosee the old _Surprise_ above water--that is, if she is going to float."
"All right," said Henry Burns. "Come on, fellows."
The boys on each yacht caught hold of the halyards with a will, andhoisted as they would have done to raise the throat of the mainsail. Thetackle, hooked on to the stern of the sunken yacht, was at first as somuch dead weight on their hands. Then, of a sudden, it began to yieldever so little, and the halyards began to come home.
"She's coming up, boys!" cried Harvey, gleefully. "Pull now, good andhard."
But the next moment something seemed to have given way. The ropes ranloose in their hands, and the boys that held the ends sprawled over onthe decks.
"Oh, confound it! The rope must have slipped off the stern," exclaimedHarvey.
"No, it hasn't," cried Henry Burns, joyfully. "There she comes to thesurface. Look! Look! Quick, get in the slack of the ropes and make themfast."
The yacht buoyed by the numerous casks and lifted by the tackle, had,indeed, hung on bottom only for a moment. Then, released by the strainfrom the ledge and the seaweeds and slime that had gathered about it, ithad come to the surface with a rush. Loaded with ballast as it was,however, and with the weight of water still within it, it could not riseabove the surface. Its rail showed just at the top of water, and thecabin deck slightly above.
"Hooray! that's great!" cried Harvey, slapping Henry Burns on theshoulder. "That will do now. Let's have some breakfast."
"It's about time," said young Joe.
They spent little time at breakfast, however, for they were eager toresume. With each yacht alongside the _Surprise_, they began bailing thatyacht out with pails tied to ropes, which they slung aboard. When theyhad lightened her sufficiently, two of them sprang over into the cockpitand bailed to better advantage there.
Then, while they took turns at the pump, the others got up a part of thefloors, and began lifting out the pieces of pig-iron ballast, passingthem aboard the other two yachts. Finally they rigged the tackle on tothe mast of the _Surprise_ and, with great care so as not to wrench theboat, lifted it clear and lowered it into the water alongside.
Now it would be safe to beach the yacht; and this they did at high tidethat afternoon, towing it in on to a beach that made down in a thin stripbetween the ledges, and drawing it up as far as it would float, wherethey made it fast with a line passed ashore to a small spruce-tree.
It had been a good job, and Henry Burns surveyed it proudly. But hemerely remarked to young Joe, "Well, she's up, isn't she?"
The yacht _Surprise_ was at present a sorry-looking sight. The bottom wasvery foul, covered with long streamers of slimy grass and encrusted withbarnacles. These had fastened, too, upon the mast and spars; and insidethe yacht was in the same condition. The sails were slime-covered androtten. Everything was snarled and tangled, twisted and broken about therigging. The bowsprit had been broken off short in the collision of thefall before. This, with the carrying away of the bobstay, necessitatedthe taking out of the mast now. Rust from the iron ballast had stainedmuch of the woodwork.
"There's a job," said Harvey, eying the wreck. "There's a good week'swork, and more, in scraping and cleaning her, and cleaning that ballast.We wanted to get to fishing, too."
"Well, you go ahead and leave us to begin the work," said Joe Hinman,speaking for himself and the crew. "It's no more than fair that we shoulddo it, seeing as we are to have the use of the yacht this summer. Justleave us a little coffee and some cornmeal and some bread and a piece ofpork and one of the frying-pans. We'll catch fish, and live down here fora week, till you come for us."
"Where will you stay?" inquired Harvey. "The other yacht is going back toSouthport, you know."
"Up in the old shack there," replied Joe, pointing back to where therestood a tumble-down shelter that had been used at some time to store ascant crop of hay that the island produced. "Give us a blanket apiece andwe'll get along. You've got to go back to the harbour before you gofishing, and you can get ours down at the camp."
"All right," said Harvey, "I guess we'll do it. You can run things, Joe,and there won't anybody trouble you."
So with this prophecy--which might or might not hold good--Harveyproceeded to install his crew in temporary possession of the yacht_Surprise_, and of the little island where they had dragged it ashore,which was one of the chain of narrow islands that lay off Grand Island.
Late that afternoon the two yachts sailed out of the Thoroughfare andwent on to Southport, leaving the crew masters of their island domain andof the wreck.
The next morning Henry Burns and Jack Harvey were up before the sun, forHarvey had waked and found a light west wind blowing, and this was a fairone for the trip down the bay. They roused the campers in the tent on thepoint, and soon Tom and Bob, their canoe loaded with blankets andprovisions, were paddling out to the _Viking_. They made two trips, andthen, leaving the canoe up on shore alongside the tent, fastened thatgood and snug. Henry Burns took them aboard the _Viking_ in the tender.
The mooring which they had put down for the season was slipped, the sailhoisted, a parting toot-toot sounded on the great horn in the directionof the Warren cottage, and the _Viking's_ voyage in search of work hadbegun.
The course the _Viking_ was now shaping was about due south from theharbour they had just left. Far away to the southward, some twenty-twomiles distant, lay the islands they were seeking, at the seaward entranceto East Samoset Bay. Some six miles ahead on the course lay a group ofsmall islands, on one of which was erected a lighthouse. Beyond these, tothe southwest, a few miles away, lay two great islands, North Haven andSouth Haven. Off to the eastward from the foot of these, across a bay ofsome six miles' width, lay Loon Island, with little Duck Island closeadjacent.
As the day advanced, the promise of wind did not, however, havefulfilment. It died away with the burning of the sun, and when they hadcome to within about a mile of the first group of islands, it threatenedto die away altogether. It sufficed, however, to waft them into a littlecove making into one of these islands at about two hours before noon.
"Well, we've got to Clam Island, anyway," said Harvey. "We'll load up ourbaskets, and be in time to catch the afternoon's southerly."
Clam Island well merited its name. Its shores were long stretches ofmud-flats, corrugated everywhere with thousands of clam-holes. It wouldnot be high tide until three in the afternoon, and the flats were nowlying bare.
Equipped with baskets and hoes, the boys set to work, with jackets offand trousers rolled up. In two hours' time, each one of them had filled abushel basket to the brim, for the clams were thrown out by dozens atevery turn of a hoe.
"That's enough bait for a start," said Harvey, wiping his forehead. "Wecan buy more of the fishermen if we run short."
"My!" exclaimed Henry Burns, straightening himself up with an effort. "Myback feels as though it had nails driven into it. I don't wonder so manyof these old fishermen stoop."
The day was very hot, and the boys went in for a swim. Then, when theyhad eaten, they stood out of the little harbour; but the wind had droppedalmost entirely away, and, with the tide against them, they scarce madeheadway.
"I'm afraid we won't make Loon Island to-day," said Tom.
"Oh, perhaps so," said Harvey. "See, there's a line of breeze way
downbelow."
A darkening of the water some miles distant showed that a southerlybreeze was coming in. They got the first puffs of it presently, andtrimmed their sails for a long beat down the bay.
The _Viking_ was a good boat on the wind, the seas did not roll up to anygreat size, as the wind had come up so late in the day, and it was easy,pleasant sailing in the bright summer afternoon. Still, the breeze wastoo light for any good progress, and they had only reached Hawk Island,on which the lighthouse stood, and which was fifteen miles from LoonIsland, by two o'clock.
They were going down a long reach of the bay now that rolled some sixmiles wide, between North and South Haven on the one hand, to starboard,and a great island on the other. Back and forth they tacked all theafternoon, with the tide, turning to ebb just after three o'clock, tohelp them.
By six o'clock they were two miles off the southeastern shore of SouthHaven, with great Loon Island, its high hills looming up against the sky,four miles across the bay.
"Well, shall we try for it?" asked Harvey, eagerly scanning the sky.
It looked tempting, for there had come one of those little, deceptivestirrings of the air that happen at times before sundown when the windmakes a last dying flurry before quieting for the night. The sun, justtipping the crests of the far-off western mountains across the bay, hadturned the western sky into flame. Loon Island looked close aboard. Sothey kept on.
Then by another hour the glow had faded from the sky and the watersblackened and the shadows began to die away on the hills of Loon Island,and all the landscape grew gray and indistinct. They were two miles abovethe harbour, when the bluffs that marked it blended into the dark mass ofits surroundings and there was no guide left for them to follow. The windhad fallen almost to nothing.
"We can't miss it," said Harvey, stoutly. "I've been in there oncebefore."
"No, we're all right," said Henry Burns. He went forward and stoodlooking off eagerly for some sign of light on shore. The island grewblack in the twilight, and then was only a vague, indefinite object.
They were in great spirits, though,--so they made out,--but it was just abit dreary for all that, almost drifting down with the tide, and only afew puffs of wind now and then, with not even a light in a fisherman'scabin showing on that shore.
Then, too, the very calmness of the night made sounds more distinct. Andjust a little to seaward, a mile or two below where the harbour shouldbe, there sounded the heaving of the ground-swell against the reefs thatlay about Loon Island so thickly. And the sound of the shattering of awave as it drops down upon a reef in the night, amid strange waters, isnot a cheerful thing to hear.
Perhaps it was this doleful, ominous sound more than anything else thatsomehow took the enthusiasm out of them. It was such an uncertain sound,that subdued crashing upon the reefs. Was it a half-mile away? Was it amile? Was it near? It was hard to tell.
Just how uncertain they did feel, and just how anxious they had grown inthe last half-hour of darkness, was best revealed by Henry Burns when,from his watch forward, he said suddenly, but very quietly, "There arethe lights, Jack. We're close in."
It was his manner of expression when he was most deeply affected--a calm,modulated tone that had a world of meaning in it.
"A-h-h!" exclaimed Harvey. There was no mistaking the relief in hisexpression. "I knew they ought to be here, but they were a long timeshowing."
"Well, I don't mind saying they could have showed before and suited mebetter," said Bob. "Say, those reefs have a creepy, shivery sound in thenight, don't they? I'd rather be in the harbour."
There was a twinkling of lights to guide them now, for a little flotillaof fishing-boats lay snug within, each with its harbour light set; andthe lamps in the fishermen's houses that were here and there stragglingalong the shores of the large and small island facing the harbour gleamedout from many a kitchen window.
They drifted slowly in under the shadow of the hills of Loon Island andentered the little thoroughfare that ran between the two islands, at aquarter to nine o'clock.
"We are in luck at the finish, at any rate," said Henry Burns, presently,picking up the boat-hook. "Jack, there's a vacant buoy to make fast to."
The buoy, a circular object painted white, showed a little way off thewindward bow, and Jack Harvey luffed up to it. Henry Burns caught themooring; Tom and Bob had the mainsail on the run in a twinkling; and amoment more they were lying safe and snug at their voyage's end.
Fifteen minutes later, the sound of heavy sweeps, labouring and grindingin rowlocks, told them that another boat was coming into the harbour fromoutside with the aid of an "ash breeze," the wind having died whollyaway. The boat came in close to where they were lying. From their cabin,as they sat eating supper, they could hear a man's voice, rough andheavy, complaining apparently of the bad luck he had had in gettingcaught outside, deserted by the breeze.
The next moment the young yachtsmen got a rude surprise. The dishes theyhad set out on the upturned leaves of the centreboard table rattled, andthe yacht shook with the shock caused by the other boat clumsily bumpinginto them astern. Then the rough voice sounded in their ears:
"Git away from that mooring! Don't yer know I have the right ter that?What are yer lyin' here for?"
The yachtsmen rushed out on deck. The boat they saw just astern was adingy, odd-shaped little sailboat, about twenty-five feet long, sharp atboth ends, with the stern queerly perked up into a point like the tail ofa duck. A thickly bearded, swarthy man stood at her tiller, where he hadbeen directing, roughly, the efforts of two youths, who had worked theboat in with the sweeps.
"What's the matter with you?" cried Harvey, angrily. "What do you mean bybumping into us? We've got our lights up."
"You git off from that mooring, I tell you!" cried the man, fiercely."Ain't I had it all summer? What right have you got interfering?"
The man's manner was so threatening and his voice so full of the furythat told of a temper easily aroused, that a less aggressive youth thanHarvey might have been daunted. But Harvey had got his bearings and knewwhere he was.
"No, you don't!" he replied, sharply. "You can't bully us, so it won't doyou any good to try. This is a government buoy, and the first boat up toit has the right to use it unless the revenue men complain. You can pushyour old tub out of the way."
"Better tell him we will give him a line astern if he wants it,"suggested Henry Burns. "That won't do any harm."
"I won't," exclaimed Harvey. "He's taken enough paint off the _Viking_already, I dare say. But"--he added--"you can if you want to. I don'tcare."
So Henry Burns made the offer.
The answer the man made was to order the two youths to work the "pinkey,"as the fishermen call his style of craft, up to the buoy, where he couldcut the yachtsmen adrift.
Harvey sprang to the bow of the _Viking_, drew her up close to the buoyby taking in on the slack of the rope, and held her there by a few turns.Then he snatched up the boat hook. Henry Burns and Tom and Bob likewisearmed themselves with the sweeps of the _Viking_ and a piece of spar.They stood ready to repel an attack.
It looked serious. But at this point the two youths aboard the strangeboat failed to obey orders. There arose, thereupon, a furious disputeaboard the other craft, the youths remonstrating in what seemed to be abroken English, and the man railing at them fiercely in English that wasplain, but still had not just the Yankee accent; in the course of whichthe man at the tiller rushed upon one of them, and would have struck himhad not the other youth interfered.
It ended in the wrathful stranger taking his craft ahead, quite adistance up the harbour, ignoring Henry Burns's offer to moor astern ofthe _Viking_.
"Just as well he didn't stay," commented Henry Burns. "I don't think hewould improve on longer acquaintance, do you, Jack?"
"Well, hardly," said Harvey. "I guess he must be one of those chapsCaptain Sam spoke of."
"I wonder if he will make us any more trouble to-night," remarked Bob.
"No, he'll hav
e to fight it out with his own crew first," said Harvey."But I'll just keep an eye out for a little while. You fellows can turnin."
And Harvey kept vigil till eleven o'clock, muffled in a greatcoat,outside, until he nearly fell over asleep in the cockpit. Then he rolledin below, and was sound asleep before he could get his boots off.
The _Viking_ was not molested through the night, though so wearied werethe yachtsmen with their day's sailing that a man might have come aboardblowing a fog-horn and not have aroused them from their deep slumber.