Chapter 16

WITNESSES A DEFEAT FOR THE VAGABOND

Breakfast was over and the crew of the Vagabond were gathered around the chart which lay spread open on the cabin roof. It was foggy again this morning, but the sunlight filtered through the gray mist, lending warmth and color and promise of better things.

“She’ll clear up before noon,” Nelson had oracularly declared a moment before. “We’ll clean up the launch this morning and go on to Newport after luncheon.”

“There seems to be two ways of going,” said Bob. “We can go through between the mainland and Nonamesset Island or we can run down and around the end of Cuttihunk. It looks like an even thing as far as distance is concerned.”

“Well, if it clears up nicely,” answered Nelson, “suppose we take the outside route. We don’t have to go around Cuttihunk, though, Bob; if you’ll look at the chart you’ll find there’s a fair passage for small boats between Naushon and Pasque, and between Pasque and Nashawena there’s a good mile of clear water called Quicks Hole.”

“Yes, I see,” said Bob. “Let’s go through Quicks Hole.”

“Nonsense,” exclaimed Dan, pushing Bob aside. “What we want to do is to make for Nonamesset, leaving Uncatena on the starboard bow, head so’so’west for Penikese, keeping Woepecket on the weather rail, whatever that is, bear south off the no’east corner of Nashawena, give Cuttihunk the cold shoulder, dip our colors to Naushon, run through Canapitset Cut and drop anchor in Quamquisset for five o’clock tea!”

“Help!” yelled Nelson.

“Great Scott, what names!” laughed Bob.

“Well, now you know your route,” said Dan gravely. “I guess you fellows are pretty glad you’ve got me with you to show you the way. Talk about your Navigating Officers!”

“Tommy, do you think you could find the wharf?” asked Bob.

“Huh, I can see it,” said Tom.

“Then suppose you drop lightly into the tender and row ashore and buy us some provisions. Dan’s finished the butter, and we need some fresh meat and bread, don’t we?”

“Yep, and eggs. You fellows needn’t wait for me to get back before you start on the brass. Go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

“That’s all right, Tommy,” Dan answered. “We’ll save your share for you.”

“Well, let’s get at it,” said Nelson. “We want the launch looking her best when we reach Newport. It won’t do to put into a swell place like that with dirty paint.”

“No,” said Dan. “I think we might even insist on Tommy’s washing his face.”

“It’s as clean as yours,” retorted Tom from the tender.

“Of course, we don’t want to be fussy, Tommy, and if it was any place but Newport we wouldn’t say a word. But as the Four Hundred will probably be down at the wharf to welcome us——”

Dan’s further remarks were interrupted by a shower of water impelled toward him by an oar blade. When he had regained his eyesight Tommy was too far distant to allow of reprisals and Dan contented himself with threats of future revenge.

Then house cleaning began in earnest, and it was no small task that confronted them. The decks were to scrub, the hull to wash, the port lights to be cleaned and the brasswork to be shined. And the brass was the biggest part of the undertaking. There was, as Dan complained later, altogether too much of it; stern cleat and chocks, bow cleat and chocks, gasoline and water-tank caps, wheel, deck rail, whistle, search light, lanterns, flag-pole sockets, and numerous bits of hardware such as hatch fastening, door knobs, and locker buttons. Oh, yes, there was plenty of work, and Dan, assisted later by all the others, rubbed and rubbed until long past the usual luncheon hour. But when it was all done they had the satisfaction of knowing that no cleaner, brighter, smarter craft was afloat.

They ate luncheon at a quarter past one, by which time the sun was out in full strength and what little breeze came in through the open ports felt very grateful to four very warm mariners.

At two o’clock to the minute the Vagabond’s anchor came up over the bow, and very dirty it was, to Dan’s disgust, and the propeller began to revolve. Out around West Chop Lighthouse and the stone jetty went the Vagabond, white paint glistening in the sunlight and bright-work sparkling gayly, while from the flag poles the launch’s bunting fluttered in the little westerly breeze. Then Dan, at the wheel, turned the boat’s head southwest and they met the waters of the Sound on the quarter as they sped for Quicks Hole. It was a glorious afternoon and the Four, protected from the sun by the awning, found life very enjoyable. The engine was doing her very best, taking kindly to the last lot of gasoline. They had about forty miles ahead of them and meant to cover it by half-past five. At a little after three they were in Quicks Hole, bobbing about gayly in the wake of a steamer.

“Wonder why they called these the Elizabeth Islands?” said Tom.

“After Queen Elizabeth, maybe,” hazarded Bob.

“And do you suppose Nonamesset, Uncatena, Naushon, and the rest of them were her children?” asked Tom.

“Well,” laughed Bob, “I never heard that she had any children.”

“Oh, that’s so,” murmured Tom sheepishly, “I forgot.”

“I hope,” remarked Nelson solicitously, “that English History wasn’t among the subjects in which you were examined for admission to Erskine, Tommy.”

“Say!” cried Tom. “I’d ought to hear pretty soon about that exam. Maybe the letter will be at Newport!”

“Want to turn back?” asked Bob.

“I—I’d almost like to,” admitted Tom.

“Oh, you’ve made it all right, Tommy,” Dan consoled. “The cheek of trying to get from third year at Hillton to Erskine so flabbergasted them that they passed you before they recovered.”

“I hope so,” said Tom anxiously. “If I’ve missed it I’ll——”

But they were alongside the steamer by that time and Tom forgot the subject of admission to Erskine College in the excitement of passing the big boat. There were not many persons aboard her, but what there were flocked to the rail and waved their handkerchiefs or caps. Bob gave a blast on the whistle and Dan peered out from the edge of the awning and blew a kiss. Ten minutes later the steamer was far behind and the Vagabond was churning her way across the waters of Buzzard’s Bay, with Sakonnet Point beckoning them ahead. Before five they were in Narragansett Bay and at twenty-two minutes past were tied up at the landing of the New York Yacht Club House.

They made hurriedly for the post office and were rewarded with a whole bundle of mail.

“Bear up bravely, Tommy,” said Nelson, who was sorting it over. “Here’s an epistle postmarked ‘Centerport.’”

“Oh, gosh!” muttered Tom as he took it.

The others were too much interested in receiving and outwardly examining their own letters to think further of Tom for several minutes. Then, as they turned to leave the office, Dan remembered.

“What’s the verdict, Tommy?” he asked.

Tommy shook his head silently.

“What? Missed it? Turned down?” cried Dan.

“I—I don’t know,” stammered Tom. “You—you read it.”

He held out the letter to Dan.

“Why, you haven’t opened it!” exclaimed the other. “What do you think of that, fellows? Tommy hasn’t the nerve to read it!”

“Oh ... well....” murmured Tom, tearing the envelope. “I didn’t expect to get through, anyway.” The others watched anxiously as he unfolded the single sheet which the envelope contained. Tom’s face flushed suddenly as he read. Then a wonderful, all-encompassing smile started at the corners of his mouth and grew and grew until it became an expansive grin. The others howled as they looked. There was no need to ask the verdict.

“Pu-pu-pu-pu-pu—” stuttered Tom.

“Good for you, Tommy!” cried Dan, whacking him on the back.

“——Pu-pu-passed!”

“Hurrah for Thomas Ferris, 1910!” cried Nelson.

“How many conditions, Tommy?” asked Bob. Tom chuckled.

“Only three,” he answered. “How do you suppose I ever did it?”

“Can’t imagine,” laughed Bob, “unless you hypnotized ’em.”

“I’m jealous,” said Dan. “You’ve got one more condition than I have. I shall appeal to the Faculty.”

“Oh, th-th-th-that’s all right,” said Tom eagerly, “you can have one of mine!”

They returned to the launch very joyfully.

There were many letters to be read and each fellow found a corner for himself and soon became immersed in his mail. Now and then one or another would break out with an ejaculatory announcement of news, as when Nelson exclaimed: “Of course! I never thought of it! Say, fellows, dad says if we’d strained that gasoline through chamois skin there wouldn’t have been any water in it!” Or when Dan remarked: “The governor got a letter from Jerry Hinckley the other day, and Mr. Cozzens is going to coach him this summer himself and let him try for Hillton in the Fall!” Or when Tom announced impressively: “Ben Hur’s got four kittens and they’re all white.”

Not very important news to us, of course, but of vital interest to them.

They went ashore at half-past six and had what Tom called “swell grub.” Afterwards they explored the town and stayed up very late on deck, watching the lights and listening to the music of a far-off orchestra. There was a good moon and Dan wanted to weigh anchor and go on along the shore to the next harbor. But Nelson and Bob, mindful of Mr. Tilford’s instructions, vetoed the plan. Just as they were preparing to turn in, the Fall River Line steamer came into sight down the harbor, a huge black hulk pricked out with thousands of lights, and they had to return to the deck to watch her float past on her way to the pier.

The next day dawned almost cloudless and very warm. The Four were out of their bunks early and into their bathing suits. Then followed a glorious plunge from the deck into the gleaming blue water of the harbor, a brisk rub-down in the engine room and some of Tom’s good coffee and eggs and crisp bacon. By the time breakfast was over the heat had become intense and the awning, put away overnight, was rigged up again. Tom, who exhibited symptoms of an inclination to go to sleep in one of the chairs in the cockpit, was routed out and compelled to give assistance.

They had the water tank filled and then pulled up anchor and turned the Vagabond toward the Sound, where white sails moved slowly along and gave promise of a cooling breeze. Tom was allowed to take the wheel, but Bob kept beside him in case, as the latter explained, Tom should fall asleep. But in justice to Tom it should be said that he really didn’t show any tendency toward sleepiness. On the contrary he stuck out his chest pompously, twirled the wheel in an important way and did his best to look like a master mariner. Halfway down the harbor they overtook a strange looking craft containing a single occupant, a young chap who was squatted uncomfortably in a diminutive cockpit surrounded by a veritable tangle of pipes and wires. The boat, a gasoline launch, was about eighteen feet long, very slender and was painted a vivid crimson. On the bow they read, as they drew abreast, the inscription So Long. The forward two thirds of the launch was covered by a crown cabin. Between that and the after deck was a four-foot space in which were crowded the engine and the crew. The crew was in his shirt sleeves and was smoking a pipe. The launch was ambling along at about six miles an hour and making a frightful noise about it; the reports from her exhaust pipe were deafening.

“Some one ought to make him a present of a muffler,” said Nelson as they drew alongside.

The occupant of the So Long glanced up as they approached and studied the Vagabond idly and, as it seemed to Tom, somewhat superciliously. Tom leaned over the corner of the cabin roof.

“Hello!” he shouted. “Want to race?”

The crew of the little launch puffed at his pipe and looked calmly away, but made no answer. Bob laughed.

“He doesn’t know you, Tommy,” he said. “Never’s been introduced.”

“Conceited ass!” growled Tom. Then, “Hey there, you in the red tub!” he called. “Do you want a race?”

The crew of the So Long turned and viewed Tom silently. And quite as silently, and without a change of expression, he nodded his head indifferently.

“Come on then!” cried Tom.

The man in the “red tub” removed the pipe from his mouth, knocked the ashes out on the edge of the washboard, dropped it into his pocket, and began leisurely to busy himself with valves and switches.

“Turn her on, Nel,” said Tom. “Give her full speed.”

“All right,” laughed Nelson, “but I don’t believe we’ll need quite full speed to walk away from that boat.” He disappeared into the cabin.

“He’s a sport, anyhow,” declared Dan. “I like a chap that’s not afraid of being beaten.”

The Vagabond began to move through the water at a faster pace and Tom allowed himself a final gibe at the rival boat.

“So long!” he shouted.

The smaller boat was already several lengths behind and her crew was still bending over the engine.

“It takes him long enough to get her started,” said Bob. “I wonder——”

But what Bob wondered was never disclosed. For at that moment there came a series of pistol-like reports from the So Long’s exhaust and the “red tub” suddenly dug her straight, sharp nose into the water, threw it away from her on each side in two long green waves and came alongside.

“Gosh!” exclaimed Bob.

They had a fleeting view of the placid countenance of the youth in shirt sleeves, a momentary impression of a brilliant crimson streak along the water and then they were gazing bewilderedly at each other. The So Long was lengths and lengths away and getting smaller every instant.

Nelson put his head out of the door, glanced toward where the other boat had been a minute before, looked puzzled, came out on deck and searched the neighborhood.

“Where is she?” he asked. “Sunk?”

For answer three hands pointed ahead. Nelson gazed a moment. Then he went silently below and slowed down the engine.

“How fu-fu-fast do you su-su-su-suppose she wu-wu-went?” asked Tom.

“About a mile a minute,” answered Bob gravely.

“I don’t believe she’s a launch at all,” said Dan. “I’ll bet she’s a blamed old automobile.”

“What was that remark you addressed to him just before she walked away, Tommy?” asked Bob.

“Shut up,” answered Tom sheepishly. “How did I know he had a streak of red lu-lu-lu-lightning? Where is she now?”

“Oh, about a mile ahead,” answered Nelson sadly. “Next time let’s pick out a chap our own size.”

“Well, she’s certainly a dandy!” said Bob. “She must do about thirty miles.”

“Maybe twenty-five,” said Nelson. “But that’ll hold us for awhile. Isn’t that her coming back?”

It was. They looked at each other inquiringly. Dan began to whistle. Tom glanced at Bob.

“You take the wheel,” he said finally. “I—I want to get something out of my locker.”

A shout of laughter went up.

“No, you’ll stay right where you are, Tommy,” said Bob, “and take your medicine. You’re to blame for it, anyhow.”

The So Long approached at full speed, cutting the water like a knife. The Four watched silently. When a little distance away the chap in shirt sleeves bent forward out of sight behind the arch of the cabin and the So Long’s speed decreased. But even so when the two boats met it was like an express train passing a freight on a siding. The chap in shirt sleeves looked across the twenty feet of water that separated the two boats and viewed the Four as calmly as ever, but there was a twinkle in his eye. As the “red tub” dashed by he waved his hand.

“So long!” he called politely.

“Hope you ch-ch-ch-choke!” sputtered Tom.

The others laughed at Tom’s discomfiture.

“Stung!” murmured Dan.

“He had you there, Tommy,” said Bob.

“I’ll bet Tommy won’t challenge any one else in a hurry,” Nelson laughed.

“Oh, well, what’s the good of having a boat like that, anyway?” asked Tom disgustedly. “Even if it does go fast there isn’t room to sit down in it comfortably. It’s a fool thing!”

Shortly afterwards they were off Point Judith, and in spite of the fact that the weather was calm and the ocean smiling there was a sea there that made the Vagabond cut all sorts of capers. Barry, who had been asleep on the cabin roof since breakfast, now descended to more comfortable quarters. But even in Bob’s lap he didn’t seem wholly happy and after a while he jumped down and disappeared into the cabin. Ten minutes later Nelson, who had been below to look at the engine, came back smiling broadly.

“Have we any lemons, Tommy?” he asked.

“Yes,” was the reply. “In the cupboard. Want one?”

“Not for myself, but Barry needs one.”

“Barry!” exclaimed Bob. “What’s the matter with him?”

“Well, you might just go down and see for yourself,” chuckled Nelson.

“Oh, get out! You can’t make me believe that Barry’s seasick! Who ever heard of a dog being seasick?”

“Well, you can’t get up an argument with me,” laughed Nelson. “But just the same, I’m glad it’s not my berth!”

Then Bob hurried below.

Ten minutes later Bob’s blanket was fluttering from the awning rod and Barry, curled up in a patch of sunlight and looking somewhat woe-begone, was striving to forget his recent discomfiture. They were past the point now and Block Island, which was their destination, was looming up clearly across the water some ten miles distant. They reached it at a little after eleven, found anchorage off the village and went ashore for what Bob called “an old-fashioned fish dinner.” Tom said he guessed they’d got it all right, because his fish was just about as old-fashioned as he’d ever found. But the others declared that it was all right and so Tom, declaring feelingly that he didn’t want to live without the others, ate his too. Later on Tom declared that he felt very uncomfortable and that he was certain he had ptomaine poisoning. But the others laughed at him and told him that any fellow who had eaten as much as he had ought to expect to feel uncomfortable. At two o’clock they were on their way again and making for New London, a matter of thirty-five miles distant.