CHAPTER VI.

A DISCOMFITED ASPIRANT.

“What next?” asked Waddie Wimpleton, when the Belle was made fast to the wharf at Grass Springs.

“I will get a carriage to convey the ladies to the hotel,” proposed Tommy. “And, while they are drying their clothes, we will go back and pick up the Raven.”

“That will do it,” replied Waddie. “We can order dinner at the same time. The sun is coming out, and we shall all be dry enough by the time we return.”

Tommy soon procured a covered vehicle, and handed Miss Minnie to a seat within it. He appeared to be much interested in the young lady, and Mr. Nicholas Van Wolter watched him with a keen eye. It was natural enough that he should be so, and equally natural that the young lady should smile sweetly upon him, as she certainly did. According to Nick’s theory, the parties were already in love; and, in his own heart, he abused the stars that had deprived him of the glorious opportunity which he had supposed was within his grasp. He had “made the chance,” in the language of his ambitious mother, but another had gathered the fruit. He was sorely disappointed and disheartened at his ill luck. He had beaten the bush, but Tommy Toppleton had caught the game.

Nothing could rob him of the satisfaction of remembering that Minnie had smiled upon him, had spoken kindly to him, and had hinted at her admiration of him. Something might yet occur to turn the current in his favor, and all he could do at present was to watch his chances. He wished Tommy Toppleton was somewhere else, for it vexed him; and, in the language of the literature he patronized, “wrung the cords of his soul” to see his rival handing the fair one into the carriage, and to see her, dripping like a mermaid from the depths of the sea, smiling so significantly upon him.

It was agreed that Tommy should go up to the hotel with the ladies, and make the necessary arrangements for their accommodation, and for dinner for the whole party. It gave Nick an additional pang to see the hero of the day seat himself opposite the moist divinity, where he could gaze unrestrained into her face; and still another to observe that Miss Wimpleton seemed to be pleased with his company. It was a plain case, and the houses of Wimpleton and Toppleton were in imminent danger of being united by a marriage at no very distant day.

“Do you want to sell that boat of yours, Waddie?” said Tom Walton, as the carriage drove off; and the rest of the party seated themselves in the sun, which was now shining brightly, to dry their wet garments.

“What will you give for her?” replied Waddie, jocosely.

“Fifty cents.”

“Won’t you say seventy-five?”

“No; I wouldn’t give more than half a dollar.”

“The Raven is the fastest boat on the lake, since she has beaten the Belle handsomely.”

“She beats her tipping over,” laughed Tom.

“That wasn’t her fault,” replied Waddie, seriously. “The Belle would have gone over under the same circumstances.”

“I don’t know but she would with the mainsail up and the sheet fast,” answered Tom. “I suppose your lame arm prevented you from letting go the sheet.”

“I suppose it did; but I don’t usually fasten a sheet as that one was,” said Waddie, glancing at Nick.

“Wasn’t it fastened right?” asked Nick, rather diffidently.

“It was fastened to hold, but not to let go,” replied Waddie, more sharply than he was in the habit of speaking of late. “Boatmen don’t often put three or four hitches in a sheet, especially when there is a squall coming up. Did you intend to have the Raven upset?”

“Intend it?” stammered Nick.

“Yes, I asked you if you intended to upset the boat?”

“What makes you think I intended to upset her?” whined the culprit.

“Because, if you did, you went to work just right, and accomplished your purpose.”

“Come, come, that’s rather rough on a fellow,” interposed Tom Walton, with a deprecatory grin. “Of course no fellow would intend to upset a boat when there was a lady in it.”

“Do you put three or four half hitches on the cleat when you make fast your main sheet, Tom?” demanded Waddie, who was justly indignant at the discovery he had made just as the Raven upset--so indignant that he could not trust himself to speak of the matter in the presence of the ladies.

“Of course not. I never fasten the sheet at all when the wind is heavy or flawy. I always pass it over the cleat, and hold the end in my hand,” answered the skipper of the Belle.

“That’s the right way; and I have told Nick more than once, when he has been sailing with me, never to fasten the sheet, not even in a dead calm. When I went to cast off the sheet, I found three hitches at least, and I don’t know but four or five, hauled up so tight that I could not loose them.”

“But you don’t believe Nick intended to have the squall upset the boat when it came--do you?”

“Of course I don’t believe it.”

Nick breathed easier.

“Because he was in the boat himself. It stands to reason a fellow don’t want to upset the boat in which he is himself a passenger,” argued Tom.

“Well, I only said if he had intended to upset her, he could not have done anything different from what he did. I don’t mean to accuse him of anything out of the way,” explained Waddie.

“I always like to do a thing well; and I suppose I overdid it this time,” muttered Nick.

“I don’t think, if I had had two hands to work with, I could have cast off the sheet in season to save the boat,” continued Waddie.

“I can’t imagine what you were thinking about when you fastened that sheet, Nick.”

“I really don’t know, myself,” pleaded the culprit.

“Neither can I understand why you didn’t let go the halyards when I told you to do so.”

“I couldn’t unfasten them. The ropes were new, and full of kinks,” replied he.

“You hoisted the sail and secured the halyards yourself.”

“I know I did; I don’t pretend to be much of a sailor.”

“But you have been in a boat enough to know how to handle one; and a fellow ought to be able to untie his own knots,” continued Waddie.

“Well, what’s done can’t be helped,” said the good-natured Tom Walton. “It’s no use to cry for spilled milk.”

“But it’s better to understand the matter, so as not to spill any more.”

Waddie had no idea that his assistant had intended to upset the boat, though he rubbed very closely in his remarks upon the subject. The conduct of Nick seemed to be either criminal or inexcusably stupid. The Raven was disparaged, and he defended her when he exposed the bungling work of his companion. Indeed, when any one is careless with a boat, he ought to be severely censured; and Waddie, without malice, and only with a reasonable indignation, felt it to be his duty to express himself very plainly. The return of Tommy from the hotel put an end to the discussion, and the party embarked in the Belle to recover the wreck of the Raven.

They found her near the South Shoe, towards which she had drifted till her masts struck the sands of the shoal water. She did not carry ballast enough to sink her when she filled, and her cuddy had been closed when the accident happened, so that a portion of air remained to assist in buoying her up. She had turned into a nearly inverted position; but when the mast struck the bottom of the lake, the boat had continued to drift, till she was thrown up nearly on her beam ends. With the aid of a boat-hook, a rope was passed under the topmast, and the end carried in the Belle to the other side of the hull, which lay parallel with the line of shore. The Belle was then anchored, and all hands heaved on the rope till the Raven was brought to an upright position.

Both boats were supplied with buckets and bailing dippers, and, after an hour’s hard work, she was relieved of the load of water she contained, sponged out, and the sun soon dried her seats, so that she was in as good order as when she left Centreport in the morning. As soon as the party went on board of her, Waddie called the attention of the others to the manner in which the sheet was secured. There were four half hitches on the cleat, and even Tom Walton was forced to admit that Nick was crazy, or had intended to upset the boat. It was charitable to believe that he had lost his wits.

“I should not care a straw about it if Minnie had not been frightened out of a year’s growth,” said Waddie.

“It is lucky she is pretty tall now,” added Tom.

“She will never dare to sail in this boat again.”

“We will explain it to her,” suggested Tom.

“And let her understand that it was all Nick’s fault,” continued Waddie, roguishly; for, without comprehending the magnitude of the aspiring young gentleman’s intentions, he knew that he had manifested a strong admiration for his sister.

Poor Nick could not say a word. His precious scheme for winning the favor of Minnie had resulted in covering him with odium and disgrace in her eyes. The day seemed to be absolutely lost, though he was brave enough to hope that the future would redeem his chances. Tommy Toppleton had won the day without any hard thought, without any difficult scheming. He was the glorious hero in Miss Wimpleton’s estimation. She had bestowed sweet smiles on the fortunate fellow. Now, Waddie was going over to tell her that the unhappy Mr. Van Wolter had been the sole cause of all the mischief. The owner of the Raven would win back her reputation as a safe boat at his expense. He could not afford to quarrel with the little magnate; so he was obliged to be meek and submissive; but he did not wish to appear again that day in the presence of the injured divinity.

“I suppose I shall not be wanted any more to-day,” said he, humbly.

“I think not; but you shall dine with us at the hotel,” replied Waddie.

“I thank you; I don’t want any dinner. I think I have taken cold. I don’t feel very well. My digestion is out of order,” stammered Nick. “If it is all the same to you, I would rather go home. I will take the next train at the Springs for Middleport.”

“I don’t want you to go back without your dinner, Nick,” added Waddie, more gently; and his assistant was so humble that he began to think he had been too severe.

“I really don’t want any dinner. I hope you will excuse me. I made a very bad blunder in the boat, and I know you all despise me, and that the ladies will despise me too,” pleaded Nick.

“I won’t say anything about the boat to them,” added Waddie. “I was only joking when I spoke of telling Minnie it was your fault. I will forgive you if you will promise never to put even a single hitch in a sheet again.”

“I never will. On my honor, I never will. It was a bad mistake; but it shall never be repeated. Really I would rather go home.”

“Why don’t you let him take your boat up, and you return with us?” suggested Tommy.

“Can you take the Raven up to Centreport without upsetting her, Nick?” asked Waddie.

“Certainly I can.”

“Then you may take her.”

“Thank you,” replied Nick, as he hastened to set the mainsail.

Pushing off from the Belle, the discomfited Nick headed his craft up the lake.

“I’ll bet there will be music in Grass Springs this afternoon,” muttered he, shaking his head, as he saw the other boat fill away on her course.