Four Afloat: Being the Adventures of the Big Four on the Water

On one side the quaint old town came tumbling down to the wharves and the dripping seawall, a delightful hodgepodge of weather-stained sheds and whitewashed houses. On the other, green lawns set with summer cottages and shaded by vividly green elms stretched from the distant causeway to where the shore broke into a rocky promontory, from which the stone and shingle house of the Corinthian Yacht Club arose as though a part of the natural scenery.

“By Jove!” said Nelson. “It doesn’t look as though there was room for us anywhere.”

And it didn’t, so closely were the boats packed together. Nelson stopped down the engine to half speed, and, with her bunting flapping in the breeze and her bright-work agleam, the Vagabond nosed her way through the throng until she was opposite the Boston Yacht Club House. Here a space large enough to swing around in was discovered, and as Bob skillfully turned her toward it Dan held the anchor ready. Then there was a splash, and an excited protest from the exhaust as the engine was reversed; then silence, and the Vagabond had come to anchor as neatly as you wish. After that the four gave themselves to a thorough enjoyment of the scene.

There was plenty to look at. Near by, at one of the boat yards, the contestants were being measured with steel tape and rule. Others were coming in from their full-speed trials outside the harbor. Gasoline was being taken on, tenders lashed into place, and final arrangements generally were being made. At half-past twelve Tom cooked luncheon, and it was eaten, for the most part, on deck, that nothing of the busy scene around them need be lost sight of. After luncheon the boys got into the tender and rowed to the yacht club landing, leaving the boat there and spending over an hour in exploring the town. After that they returned to the launch and cruised about the harbor, turning and twisting in and out between the anchored craft. There were big steam yachts there, gasoline cruisers galore, dozens of launches, big sloops and little ones, yawls, catboats, and one schooner yacht. And where there was nothing else, tenders and dories flitted about. Once Tom caught Nelson excitedly by the arm and pointed across the harbor.

“Lu-lu-look at that, Nel!” he stuttered. “Su-su-su-see that su-su-su-sloop coming in wi-wi-without any su-su-sails!”

“Yes; what about it?”

“Wh-wh-what about it? How the di-di-di-di-dickens does she du-du-do it?”

“Oh, there’s a fellow at the stern, pushing,” said Bob gravely.

“She’s an auxiliary, Tommy,” explained Nelson.

“Wh-what’s that?” asked Tom suspiciously.

“Why, she’s got a gasoline engine in her, just like we have, only hers is probably smaller.”

“Really?” Tom marveled. “I didn’t know you could du-du-do that.”

“Lots of them have auxiliaries nowadays. When the wind gives out, they just start their engines and – there you are.”

“Say, that’s swell!” murmured Tom.

“There goes the committee boat!” said Dan excitedly. “Let’s follow her.”

The committee boat was a handsome sailing packet, and as she moved out to where the start was to be made she presented a fine picture. The Vagabond, together with fully half the craft in the harbor, followed at her heels. She took up her position close to the black spar buoy at the harbor entrance, and one by one the contestants chugged up to her and clamored for their ratings. As there had been delay in figuring the handicaps and time allowances, it was announced that the start would be postponed until half-past six. But the time didn’t drag. The entries for the race were all together for the first time, and the audience afloat and ashore examined them with interest and compared them, and predicted victory for first one and then another. The twelve boats varied in length from forty feet, the measurement of the Sizz and the Gnome, down to thirty-one, which was the length of the Shoonah. But the greatest difference was in horse-power. The Gnome and the Amy were rated at thirty, while the little Sue had but nine. As a result, the Sue had a handicap allowance of about thirteen hours over the Gnome, which was scratch boat. One by one the boats got their directions, handicaps, and paid their measurement fees, and stood away to await the starting signal.

“Let’s follow them a bit,” suggested Tom. “It would be great sport, wouldn’t it?”

“Great!” cried Dan. “Let’s do it, Nel! What do you say?”

“I’m game if you are,” was the answer. “You want to remember, though, Tommy, that we’ll be late to dinner.”

“Oh, you run away and play! To hear you fellows talk, you’d think nobody ate anything but me. I’d just like to know who got away with the most of the lunch – and I’m not looking at Bob, either!”

“‘Not you, kittie, nor me, kittie, but one of us,’” murmured Nelson.

“What time will we get back?” asked Bob.

“Depends on how far we go,” said Nelson. “We’d ought to get back before dark, I suppose.”

“Oh, it doesn’t get dark until late,” said Dan cheerfully.

“I tell you what we’ll do,” cried Tom. “I’ll cook something and we’ll have dinner on board! What do you say?”

“Well, we’ve never eaten one of your dinners, Tommy,” answered Dan, “and so we may, I think, be excused if we say nothing; least said soonest mended, you know.”

“Have we got anything to cook, Tommy?” asked Nelson doubtfully.

“Eggs, bacon, beans, tomatoes, potatoes, jam, bread – ”

Boom!

“First gun!” cried Bob.

“There’s a quarter of an hour yet, then,” said Dan.

“Let’s get our lanterns lighted,” suggested Nelson. “We might as well do it now as later. The others are lighting theirs.”

So for the next few minutes they attended to the lights, saw to the lashings of the tender, filled oil cups, and prepared to join in the scramble across the starting line. At six-twenty a second gun was fired from the committee boat, and at six-twenty-five a third. By that time all the contestants were chugging and churning into positions from which they could make quick starts. Everyone had his eyes glued to watch or clock, and as the minutes passed the excitement grew intense. The crew of the Vagabond felt as though they, too, were off for a wild race to New York, and Dan was for rounding outside the committee boat so that they wouldn’t get left. But Nelson shook his head.

“We’ll stay here and get over the line after the last one. Then we’ll see if we can’t give some of them a tussle for a few miles.”

“Hey! Look at the Amy!” cried Bob.

All boats were in motion now, and were dashing toward the open water between the committee boat and the black spar. The Amy had started a bit too soon, and now, having almost reached the line, she turned and ran parallel with it until, when almost at the end of it and it seemed as though she must head back again, the last gun went off, and with a quick turn of her wheel she swung her nose to port and dashed across the line several lengths in the lead. Then the others went over, their propellers churning the water, flags flying, and exhausts throbbing loudly. Whistles blew and sirens shrieked, caps were waved and flags were dipped, and the twelve plucky little boats headed for the blue-gray rim of the horizon on their all-night voyage.

“All right!” sang Bob from the wheel, and Nelson, hand on the lever, shot it forward and the Vagabond started after the other craft with a rush that took her across the line the first of the noncontestants. In their endeavor to cut the corner as much as possible, several of the launches got too near the Point, and for a moment it looked as though the race was already over for some of them. But after a breathless minute all got safely away and passed out between the Point and Marblehead Rock. The sun was nearing the hills in the west and a crimson flush lay over the quiet sea and dyed the sails of the yachts. Back of them the whistles still tooted as the crew of the Vagabond stood in the cockpit and watched the contest with breathless interest.

The Point fell farther and farther away and grew indistinct in the sunlit haze. The racers had formed into two broken lines, the Amy still holding the lead, with the Scrapper and the Gnome striving to nose her out of it. Suddenly the sun went down, throwing a last intense ray across the water, and the blue twilight descended. The lantern at the top of the lighthouse on Baker’s Island bade good night to the speeding boats, and wished them safe voyage. The whistling had long since ceased, and nothing was to be heard now aboard the Vagabond but the chugging of the boats ahead and an occasional hail from some one of the following craft. The Vagabond was by no means the only boat in pursuit. Launches little and big were trying to keep up in order to get a last view of the contest. But one by one they dropped astern, turned and headed homeward. The twilight deepened, but the boys on the Vagabond paid little heed, for they had passed two of the racers, and were gaining on a third.

“Say, maybe we’re not going some!” cried Tom delightedly.

“Twelve miles and over,” answered Nelson with satisfaction.

“Bet you we’ll pass that one there inside of five minutes,” crowed Tom. “Gee! I wish we were in the race!”

“Looks as though we were,” said Bob with a smile. “There’s the Sue ahead there. She’s going along in great shape, isn’t she? If she wasn’t so small, I’d be willing to bet she’d win out.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” answered Nelson. “She’s got a whole lot of handicap allowance to help. And even if she is small, she’s certainly keeping her end up with some of the others. How about that dinner you were going to cook, Tommy?”

“Just wait till we pass the next one,” begged Tom excitedly. “I love to see the way the fellows look at us when we go by.”

“They’re probably wondering what we’re butting in for,” said Nelson laughingly. “I’d rather like to know myself!”

“Just to show them what a real boat looks like,” suggested Bob. “Could we keep up this pace all the way?”

Nelson shook his head.

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t like to try. We’d probably overheat something, and get in a fix. No; if we were going clear through with the bunch, I’d stop her down to about eight or nine miles and see what would happen.”

“Let’s do it!” cried Dan.

The others looked expectantly at Nelson. He shook his head again.

“It wouldn’t be safe, fellows,” he answered. “It’s all right now, but we might meet a whole lot of nasty water outside the Cape.”

“What Cape?” asked Tom.

“Cape Cod.”

“Oh! do we have to go by there?” he asked in surprise. Whereupon there was a laugh at Tom’s knowledge of geography.

They were pulling abreast of the next launch now, and her red side-light shone brightly through the gathering dusk.

“Now, Tommy, you can start your fire,” said Dan. “We’re up to them and passing. Hello! that chap’s going to hail us.”

“Hello, the launch!” came a voice through a megaphone.

Nelson picked up his own megaphone and answered the hail.

“Are you in this?” was the demand.

“No; we’re just following!”

“Oh! Are you going back to Marblehead tonight?”

“Don’t think so,” answered Nelson. “We’ll probably try for Boston.”

“I see! Much obliged! Goodnight!”

“Good night,” called Nelson, “and good luck!”

The other nodded and laid aside his megaphone. Then the Vagabond went ahead. It was too dark to read the name of the other boat, although Dan said he thought she was the Sizz.

“Did you mean that, about going to Boston?” asked Bob.

“Yes,” answered Nelson. “We might as well, because we’ll be nearer Boston than Marblehead by this time.”

“How far have we come?” asked Dan.

“About” – Nelson looked at his watch and whistled softly – “about fourteen miles, I think. And if we’re going back, we’d better be doing it. Our best port would be Hull, but I don’t like to look for it after dark. Come to think of it, I don’t know that I want to fuss around Boston Harbor at this time of night. Maybe, after all, we’d better put back to Marblehead or Lynn. Where’s that chart, Bob?”

It was found and spread out on the cabin roof. Tom held the lantern and Nelson and Bob studied it for a moment.

“I think the best thing to do,” said Bob finally, “is to keep on for Cohasset. It isn’t much farther, and looks like an easy harbor.”

“I guess you’re right,” Nelson replied. “Yes, that’s the best thing to do. Then we want to swing in now or we’ll never get there until about ten o’clock. There’s Minot’s Light over there. Make for that, Bob.”

“All right!” Bob turned the wheel and the Vagabond swung to starboard and crossed ahead of the launch which had hailed them. Beyond, in the darkness, the lights of the other racers gleamed and swung as the boats tossed slowly in the long seas. As they passed the Sizz– if it was the Sizz– a cheery “good night” reached them, and the four answered it. A few minutes later they were all alone, and the lights of the racers, headed for Highland Light, showed but dimly across the dark waters. Tom sighed.

“Seems kind of lonesome, doesn’t it?” he asked, with a glance at the surrounding gloom. He shivered as he looked.

“You go down and get that dinner you talked so much about,” said Bob. “I’m starving to death.”

“All right,” replied Tom uneasily. “But if anything happens – ”

“We’ll call on you for advice, Tommy,” finished Dan. “Get a move on, now; and when you make the coffee, don’t forget the coffee.”

So Tom descended, rather mournfully, lighted the lanterns in the engine room and cabin, and set about his task.

The Vagabond was a good twelve miles away from Cohasset, and that meant a full hour and a half’s run, for Nelson had slowed down the boat’s speed to eight miles. He began to wish that he hadn’t gone so far. To be sure, the Vagabond was the stanchest sort of a craft, and the weather was of the calmest; also there were no dangerous rocks nor bars between them and the harbor. But it was awfully dark and rather cold, and there was a whole lot of water around them. For a moment he wished that he had kept company with the racers until the Cape was reached; then he could have put in to Provincetown. But after a moment, when the odor of Tom’s coffee stole up on deck, the qualm of uneasiness passed. He took his place beside Bob, who, at the wheel, was staring intently ahead into the night.

“Can’t see much, can you?” asked Bob. “I suppose most of the sailing craft carry lights, don’t they?”

“All of them,” answered Nelson. “Keep on; you’re all right. There isn’t a rock between here and Minot’s Ledge. Let me take the wheel awhile; you go down and get something warmer on.”

“I guess I will; I hadn’t realized that it was so cold.”

Bob had just reached the lowest step, when he turned and thrust his head out again with a shout to Nelson. But Nelson had already called Dan to take the wheel, and was hurrying down. The engine had stopped!

CHAPTER VII – IN WHICH NELSON DISCOVERS A STOWAWAY

For a moment the silence was startling. For an hour and a half the hum and whir of the busy engine had filled the boat until it had long since grown unnoticeable. And now to have it suddenly cease without warning seemed a veritable catastrophe. The silence which ensued while Nelson went anxiously over the motor seemed unnatural and fraught with disaster. On the stove, Tom’s viands stood forgotten while the chef watched with worried countenance the captain’s efforts to locate the trouble. Bob stood silently by and Dan peered down from the hatch, for there was no use in holding the wheel. The Vagabond drifted silently, rolling a little from side to side as the swells took her.

Finally Nelson stood up and scowled impatiently.

“I can’t see where the trouble is. The spark’s all right, she doesn’t seem hot, and the gasoline cock is wide open. The only thing – ”

He seized a wrench and began to unfasten the vaporizer.

“This thing may possibly be stopped up,” he muttered.

He cleaned it out, turned the gasoline on again, and whistled.

“What is it?” asked Bob.

“She doesn’t get any gasoline,” said Nelson thoughtfully. “It surely hasn’t been shut off at the tank! No one has been trying any fool tricks like that, have they?”

There was a prompt and sober denial from each.

“Then,” said Nelson, “either the supply pipe is stopped up or the tank’s empty, and I don’t see how either is possible. Bring that light, Bob, will you? I’m going to measure.”

A moment later, when the measuring stick had been pulled out of the tank for the third time, perfectly dry, Nelson gave in.

“That’s it,” he said quietly. “The tank’s as dry as punk.”

“But I thought we had something like ninety gallons aboard,” said Bob.

“So did I. Either there’s a big leak in the tank or else they only gave us about ten gallons at the wharf. I wasn’t looking. Did anyone notice how much gasoline was put in?”

“Why, it couldn’t have been much,” answered Dan. “The young fellow that was doing it was only at it three or four minutes.”

“That’s it, then,” said Nelson. “It couldn’t be a leak. If it was, we’d smell it easily. Well, we can’t run the engine without gasoline. I ought to have seen to the filling of the tank, I suppose; but you’d think they could be trusted to do that, wouldn’t you? They’ll hear about it, all right!”

“Wh-wh-what are we gu-going to do?” asked Tom.

“Well, there are three things we can do,” was the answer. “We can get into the tender and tow the launch, for one thing. But we’re a good ten or eleven miles from the harbor, and that’s an all-night job. Or we can let her drift as long as she keeps near the shore. Or we can drop her anchor and ride here until morning.”

“Let’s do that,” said Dan. “It – it’s perfectly safe, isn’t it?”

“Yes, safe as you like while this sort of weather lasts. Only I don’t know for certain whether we’ve got cable enough to the anchor. It depends on how much water there is here.”

“Well, we can soon find out,” said Bob cheerfully. “Come on and let’s get it over.”

There was an anxious moment or two following the splash of the anchor, and while the cable paid out into the dark water.

“How’s she coming?” asked Nelson.

“Plenty left yet,” answered Dan.

“All right!” called Nelson. “Make her fast. It isn’t nearly as deep as I feared it would be.”

The Vagabond swung her nose seaward and tugged at the cable, but the anchor held fast. Nelson and Bob examined the lanterns carefully, took in the flags, which had been forgotten, and came back to the cockpit. Barry, who seemed to scent trouble, followed Dan’s heels at every step.

“If the weather stays like this,” observed Dan, “we’ll do pretty well.”

“Yes, and I don’t see any sign of a change,” answered Nelson. “Barometer’s behaving well and the wind’s clean from the west. All we’ve got to do now is to have our dinner, turn in, and sleep until morning. But we’ve got to keep watch on deck. I’ll take it for two hours and then you fellows can take it for two each. That’ll bring us to daylight. Then we’ll have to find some one to give us a tow. How about dinner, Tommy?”

“I’m afraid it’s all cooked away,” said Tommy sadly.

But it wasn’t, and Bob, Dan, and Tom sat down to the table and ate hungrily, while Nelson kept watch above, putting his head in the doorway now and then to beg some one to keep an eye on Tommy. The coffee was hot and Tom had not forgotten to “put the coffee in,” and before the repast was half finished everyone’s spirits had risen to normal once more. The catastrophe began to take on the guise of an interesting adventure, and the prospect of keeping watch on deck was quite exciting. Presently Dan relieved Nelson, and the latter took his place at table.

It was decided that the first watch should commence at nine o’clock, with Nelson on duty; that Tom should relieve him at eleven, and be followed by Bob and Dan in order. But when nine came, those who were off duty refused to go to bed in spite of Nelson’s protests. Instead, they wrapped themselves up and snuggled down in the cockpit out of the wind, which seemed to be freshening gradually and was quite chill, and talked and stared up at the stars or across the black void to where Minot’s flashed its signal. Once lights, a white and a green, passed them to the eastward, but there was no telling how far distant the craft was, and Nelson decided that it would be a waste of breath to try and make those on board of her hear. The novelty of the situation added its spice of enjoyment, and it was long after ten when Tom announced sleepily that he was going to turn in.

“What’s the use, Tommy?” asked Dan. “You’ll have to take the watch in a half hour.”

But Tom only muttered incoherently as he stumbled below. Dan and Bob followed soon after, and Nelson was left alone. He drew the hatch shut in order to cut off the light which came from below, and took his stand by the wheel. Presently Bob shouted good night, and he answered. Then everything was very silent out there. For awhile he kept his eyes busy on all sides, but such a sharp outlook was quite unnecessary, and so presently he leaned his elbows on the cabin roof and let his thoughts wander. He blamed himself for their predicament, and would be heartily glad when they were once more in port. Six bells sounded below, but he was not sleepy, and so he didn’t wake Tom until almost midnight. It was no easy matter even then, but at last Tom stumbled up on deck, promising sleepily to keep a sharp watch, and Nelson divested himself of his shoes and sweater and threw himself onto his bunk. Barry watched him from his nest at Dan’s feet and thumped his tail companionably. Sleep didn’t come readily, and so he lay for awhile with wide-opened eyes, staring at the dim light above Dan’s berth. Presently his thoughts worked around to Tom out there on deck. He recollected how sleepy that youth had been when he went out, and he became uneasy. Of course, with the lights in place, there was really no danger of anyone running them down, but at the same time there was always a possibility of accident, and Nelson felt himself liable for the safety of his companions. Presently he slipped off the berth and crossed the engine room quietly. All was still outside save for the rush of the wind and the slap of the water against the boat. He put his head out, expecting to see Tom huddled up asleep on the seat. Instead —

“Hello!” said Tom. “Is that you, Bob? You’re ahead of time.”

“N-no,” answered Nelson a bit sheepishly, “it’s me. I – I wasn’t sleepy, and I thought I’d see how you were getting along.”

Which wasn’t quite truthful, perhaps, but was possibly excusable, since Nelson didn’t want to hurt Tom’s feelings.

“Oh, I’m getting along all right,” was the cheerful reply. “It’s rather jolly out here. Do you know what time it is?”

“About half-past twelve.”

“All right. Haven’t seen a thing yet.”

“Well, I guess you won’t, Tommy, unless it’s a whale. Call Bob at one. Goodnight!”

“Good night, Captain!” answered Tom.

Relieved, Nelson went back to his berth and fell promptly to sleep. He had a hazy idea once that the watch was being changed, but he didn’t really wake up until Dan shook him at a little after five.

“Everything’s all right, I guess,” said Dan softly, “but it’s raining and blowing a good deal, and I thought maybe you’d want to know about it.”

Nelson put his feet to the floor and instantly realized that weather conditions had altered. The launch was pitching endwise and sidewise, and through one or two of the ports, which had been left open, the rain was blowing in.

“It’s after five,” said Dan, “but I thought you fellows might as well sleep awhile longer. We couldn’t see a boat anyhow, unless she bumped into us; it’s as thick as anything outside.”

Nelson drew on his oilskins, closed the ports on the weather side, and followed Dan to the cockpit. The wind had passed around to the southwest, the sea had risen a good deal, and all sight of land was shut off by the rain squalls. It was what the fisherman would have called a “smoky sou’wester.” Nelson went forward and saw that the cable was fast, although it was no easy task to stay on the launch’s plunging bow. The water swept over the forward end of the cabin in spray every moment.