CHAPTER XVI.

THE UCAYGA IN TROUBLE.

It was nearly noon when I reached the Institute grounds, and, as the forenoon session would soon be over, I waited for Waddie to come out. I could not help smiling, as I recalled the stiff look of the colonel when I met him. But I was pleased to see that he appeared better than usual. His face was not so red, and it was easy to believe that he had tippled in moderation, if at all, since our visit to Grass Springs. Waddie joined me when the bell rang, and put an end to my moral reflections. We walked together into the grove to get away from the rest of the students.

“What did your father say, Waddie?” I asked, opening the subject which was uppermost in my thought.

“He is rather non-committal,” replied my friend. “He says it is for you to do as you think proper.”

“Did he make no objection?”

“He said, if you could accept any position on the Lake Shore Line after what had passed between you, he should have nothing to say.”

By “what had passed between us” I judged that he meant the check for ten thousand dollars; but, if he had made the inquiry at the bank, he must have known that the check had not been presented for payment.

“Was that all?”

“Every word. He didn’t want to say anything; and I dragged this out of him.”

“That is not very satisfactory,” I replied.

“You are a queer fellow, Wolf!” laughed Waddie, stepping back a couple of paces. “After my father has discharged you, without any explanation, and told you to regard him as a stranger, you want to ask his permission to accept another situation.”

“I don’t ask his permission. I only want to know what he thinks of it. I don’t wish to stir up the old rivalry again. If I can quietly take the place offered me, I should like to do so.”

“Take it, Wolf, and ask no more questions,” said he, as we walked towards the town.

I was far from satisfied. I could not mention the check the colonel had given me, and which I had destroyed; but this was the key to the whole matter between the magnate and myself. It was necessary for him to know that I had destroyed the check, and the reasons why I had done so. If I wrote to him to this effect, I had no doubt that he would send me another check for the same sum; for nothing could be more offensive to him than for me to say he had drawn the check when he was not in condition to do business. If it had been for a hundred thousand dollars, he would have insisted on paying the money, rather than admit the mortifying truth. If he insisted on compensating me with this large sum for my discharge, why should I refuse to take it? I was poor and proud. The money looked like “hush-money,” and I was afraid it would burn my fingers.

I decided to write to the colonel a true statement in regard to the check, without alluding to any other subject. If he sent me another, I would return it, with the assurance that whatever had been confidential between us would remain so, but my silence could not be purchased. I was not the magnate of Centreport, or of Middleport; but, so far as anything which looked dishonorable or belittling was concerned, I was as proud as either of them. Having reached a conclusion which was quite satisfactory to me, I parted with Waddie, and walked towards the bank.

It is said that the evil one is always near when you speak of him; but it is more true that the angels are near when you think of them. As I walked along I met Captain Portman, of whom I had thought several times while at work in the garden, and whom I intended to visit if my involuntary vacation was prolonged. He invited me to dine with him at the hotel, and we were on our way thither, when Waddie Wimpleton, driving one of his father’s horses, drew up in the street beside us.

“I want you, Wolf,” said he, in excited tones.

“What’s the matter?” I inquired.

“Jump in, and I will tell you,” he replied, impatiently.

“I have just accepted an invitation to dine with Captain Portman,” I added.

“Perhaps he will be kind enough to excuse you to-day.”

“Certainly, if you desire,” said my friend, in a low tone.

“I will return, if possible,” I answered, as I jumped into the buggy with Waddie.

I was satisfied that something important had happened, and I was curious to know what it was.

“The Ucayga is aground in the Horse Shoe Channel!” said Waddie, as he started.

“Indeed! I am very sorry to hear it,” I replied; and my first thought was of Van Wolter, who had all my sympathy in his misfortune.

“It’s so. She went on this morning, at a little after nine, and they have been at work ever since, trying to get her off.”

“I am sorry for the captain.”

“He will kill the line in a month,” replied Waddie, fretfully, “He missed his connection yesterday, and now the boat is aground.”

“Van Wolter is a first-rate man.”

“He’s a first-rate man, but he isn’t fit for captain.”

“I don’t know about that. The Horse Shoe Channel is all that troubles him.”

“Well, he must go through there in order to be on time. He lost the trains yesterday by going round the South Shoe.”

“But where are you going?” I inquired, for Waddie had turned his horse, and was driving furiously towards the steamboat wharf.

“I want you to go up and get her off.”

“Me!” I exclaimed. “I don’t know that I can get her off.”

“I know you can,” added Waddie, confidently. “She will stay there till doomsday if you don’t get her off.”

“O, come, Waddie, you are rather extravagant in your ideas,” I protested. “If Captain Van Wolter cannot get her off, I shall not be likely to succeed any better.”

“You can get her off, if you will. Everybody says you can. The passengers are still on board, as mad as maniacs at the detention. They say they will never go in the Ucayga again till you are restored.”

“You are making it rather strong, Waddie.”

“I’m not! By the great horn spoon, I’m only telling you just what the messenger that came down for assistance says. They are firing up the old tow-boat, and you must go down with me in her.”

“I am willing to go, so far as I am concerned, though it is rather embarrassing to have so much expected of a fellow as you require of me. What does your father say?”

“I haven’t seen him. He has gone down to Gulfport, I believe. I was unanimously elected president of the Steamboat Company, and I am going to get her out of the scrape without waiting the return of my father,” continued Waddie, earnestly.

“I am not willing to go down without his knowledge and consent, especially if there is any dissatisfaction among the passengers. Your father might say I went down to make trouble. If he wishes me to go, I will.”

“But he is not here.”

“He will be back, perhaps, before the tow-boat is ready to start. She can’t get off under an hour.”

“Very well; I will see him.”

“In the mean time, I will go over to Middleport. I will return by half past two.”

Reluctantly he consented to my plan; and I borrowed the Raven of him, in which to cross the lake. I was willing to believe, with Waddie, that the steamboat line would be ruined in a short time if these accidents were repeated. I was sorry for poor Van Wolter, and I could not imagine how he had contrived to get aground. It did not seem to me I could have done so if I had tried. I was going over to Middleport for a purpose. The tow-boat on which they were getting up steam was a wheezy old thing, and I was confident she could do nothing to help the Ucayga out of her trouble, even if they had anybody on board who knew the channel well enough to get her through the passage to the place where the Ucayga lay.

The Horse Shoe Channel had never been used by steamers till I took the Ucayga through it. There was not a pilot on the lake who was familiar with its bearings except Van Wolter and myself. As the unfortunate boat had taken the ground in going down the lake, and at the point where the channel bends between the Horse Shoe and the North Shoe, it was necessary to approach her in the same way, for she could only be hauled off the shoal in the opposite direction from that she had gone upon it.

I crossed the lake, and hastened to the house of Major Toppleton. I saw Tommy first, and told him the news. A year before he would have rejoiced at it; now he was apparently sorry. I told him that the accident afforded a splendid opportunity for his father to do a magnanimous deed. He listened to me with deep interest, while I proposed that the Ruoara, the railroad boat which arrived from Hitaca at half past two, should go down to the assistance of the Ucayga. It would be returning “good for evil;” it would be an illustration of the divine precept, “Love your enemies.” Tommy was delighted with the suggestion, but he was doubtful whether his father would consent to it. We went together to see him. He laughed at us at first; but we argued the case very earnestly, and were assisted by Mrs. Toppleton and Grace. We carried the point at last, and he wrote an order placing the boat at my disposal for three hours, for she must return in season to take the passengers up the lake. It was nearly two when I embarked in the Raven to cross back to Centreport. Waddie was on the wharf, very nervous, when I arrived.

“I have seen my father,” said he, as soon as I came within hailing distance of him.

“What does he say?” I asked, as I came up to the wharf.

“He would not say anything about you, but he told me I might get the boat off the best way I could; and I am going to have you do it.”

“I am satisfied with this arrangement,” I answered, and proceeded to explain the provision I had made on the other side to meet the emergency.

The tow-boat was all ready, and Waddie was impatient to be off. I told him to send her along, and we should overtake her before she reached the channel. We crossed at once to Middleport in the Raven, for the Ruoara was coming, a little ahead of her time. The order was delivered to the captain, and in a short time the boat was headed down the lake. From the statement of Waddie I knew just where the Ucayga lay. Van Wolter had hugged the shore a little too closely in going round the bend of the channel, and had run his bow into the sand. I used all my time in studying the situation, and the means to be used for getting the boat off, and I was reasonably confident that I should be able to realize Waddie’s high hope of my ability.

[Illustration: THE UCAYGA IN TROUBLE.]

When we passed the tow-boat, I told Waddie to send her round the Horse Shoe, and let her come up the channel from the north, because her captain could not take her through the narrow passage. I took the wheel of the Ruoara, and backed her through the channel myself, stopping her wheels just astern of the grounded steamer. I then took a jolly-boat, with a couple of deck hands to row, and hastened to examine the position of the steamer. Waddie went with me, because he was too nervous to remain idle while anything was going on.

The position of the Ucayga had been correctly described to me. She had run her bow upon the sands which bordered the sides of the channel, and was listed over on the port side. As my boat pulled towards her bow, the crowd of passengers on board of her rushed forward to see what was to be done.

“Three cheers for Captain Wolf Penniman!” shouted some one on the deck; and the cheers were given with a will that confounded me; for, as I have said twenty times before, I am a modest man, and applause embarrasses me.

I continued my survey of the position of the Ucayga, as though I did not understand the cheers; but they were repeated, and I was obliged to take off my cap and acknowledge the salute, which seemed to satisfy my friends. I then went on board the steamer, to consult with Captain Van Wolter.