Miss Nellie Patterdale and Don John. Frontispiece.

[1]

THE YACHT CLUB SERIES.

THE YACHT CLUB;

OR,

THE YOUNG BOAT-BUILDER.

BY

OLIVER OPTIC,

[2]

[3]

[4]

The Yacht Club Series.

[5]

PREFACE.

"The Yacht Club" is the second volume of the Yacht Club
Series, to which it gives a name; and like its predecessor, is an
independent story. The hero has not before appeared, though
some of the characters of "Little Bobtail" take part in the
incidents: but each volume may be read understandingly without
any knowledge of the contents of the other. In this story,
the interest centres in Don John, the Boat-builder, who is certainly
a very enterprising young man, though his achievements
have been more than paralleled in the domain of actual life.

Like the first volume of the series, the incidents of the story
transpire on the waters of the beautiful Penobscot Bay, and on
its shores. They include several yacht races, which must be
more interesting to those who are engaged in the exciting sport
of yachting, than to others. But the principal incidents are distinct
from the aquatic narrative; and those who are not interested
in boats and boating will find that Don John and Nellie
Patterdale do not spend all their time on the water.[6]

The hero is a young man of high aims and noble purposes:
and the writer believes that it is unpardonable to awaken the
interest and sympathy of his readers for any other than high-minded
and well-meaning characters. But he is not faultless;
he makes some grave mistakes, even while he has high aims.
The most important lesson in morals to be derived from his
experience is that it is unwise and dangerous for young people
to conceal their actions from their parents and friends; and that
men and women who seek concealment "choose darkness because
their deeds are evil."

Harrison Square, Boston,

May 22, 1873.

[7]

CONTENTS.

[10]

[11]

THE YACHT CLUB;

OR,

THE YOUNG BOAT-BUILDER.

CHAPTER I.

DON JOHN OF BELFAST, AND FRIENDS.

"Why, Don John, how you frightened
me!" exclaimed Miss Nellie Patterdale,
as she sprang up from her reclining position
in a lolling-chair.

It was an intensely warm day near the close
of June, and the young lady had chosen the
coolest and shadiest place she could find on the
piazza of her father's elegant mansion in Belfast.
She was as pretty as she was bright and vivacious,
and was a general favorite among the
pupils of the High School, which she attended.
She was deeply absorbed in the reading of a
story in one of the July magazines, which had[12]
just come from the post-office, when she heard
a step near her. The sound startled her, it
was so near; and, looking up, she discovered
the young man whom she had spoken to close
beside her. He was not Don John of Austria,
but Donald John Ramsay of Belfast, who had
been addressed by his companions simply as
Don, a natural abbreviation of his first name,
until he of Austria happened to be mentioned
in the history recitation in school, when the
whole class looked at Don, and smiled; some of
the girls even giggled, and got a check for it;
but the republican young gentleman became a
titular Spanish hidalgo from that moment.
Though he was the son of a boat-builder, by
trade a ship carpenter, he was a good-looking,
and gentlemanly fellow, and was treated with
kindness and consideration by most of the sons
and daughters of the wealthy men of Belfast,
who attended the High School. It was hardly
a secret that Don John regarded Miss Nellie
with especial admiration, or that, while he was
polite to all the young ladies, he was particularly
so to her. It is a fact, too, that he blushed when
she turned her startled gaze upon him on the[13]
piazza; and it is just as true that Miss Nellie
colored deeply, though it may have been only
the natural consequence of her surprise.

"I beg your pardon, Nellie; I did not mean
to frighten you," replied Donald.

"I don't suppose you did, Don John; but you
startled me just as much as though you had
meant it," added she, with a pleasant smile, so
forgiving that the young man had no fear of the
consequences. "How terribly hot it is! I am
almost melted."

"It is very warm," answered Donald, who,
somehow or other, found it very difficult to carry
on a conversation with Nellie; and his eyes seemed
to him to be twice as serviceable as his tongue.

"It is dreadful warm."

And so they went on repeating the same thing
over and over again, till there was no other known
form of expression for warm weather.

"How in the world did you get to the side of
my chair without my hearing you?" demanded
Nellie, when it was evidently impossible to say
anything more about the heat.

"I came up the front steps, and was walking
around on the piazza to your father's library. I[14]
didn't see you till you spoke," replied Donald,
reminded by this explanation that he had come
to Captain Patterdale's house for a purpose. "Is
Ned at home?"

"No; he has gone up to Searsport to stay
over Sunday with uncle Henry."

"Has he? I'm sorry. Is your father at home?"

"He is in his library, and there is some one
with him. Won't you sit down, Don John?"

"Thank you," added Donald, seating himself
in a rustic chair. "It is very warm this afternoon."

Nellie actually laughed, for she was conscious
of the difficulties of the situation—more so than
her visitor. But we must do our hero—for such
he is—the justice to say, that he did not refer to
the exhausted topic with the intention of confining
the conversation to it, but to introduce the
business which had called him to the house.

"It is intensely hot, Don John," laughed
Nellie.

"But I was going to ask you if you would
not like to take a sail," said Donald, with a
blush. "With your father, I mean," added he,
with a deeper blush, as he realized that he had[15]
actually asked a girl to go out in a boat with
him.

"I should be delighted to go, but I can't.
Mother won't let me go on the water when the sun
is out, it hurts my eyes so," answered Nellie;
and the young man was sure she was very sorry
she could not go.

"Perhaps we can go after sunset, then," suggested
Donald. "I am sorry Ned is not at home;
for his yacht is finished, and father says the paint
is dry enough to use her. We are going to have
a little trial trip in her over to Turtle Head,
and, perhaps, round by Searsport."

"Is the Sea Foam really done?" asked Nellie,
her eyes sparkling with delight.

"Yes, she is all ready, and father will deliver
her to Ned on Monday, if everything works right
about her. I thought some of your folks, especially
Ned, would like to be in her on the first
trip."

"I should, for one; but I suppose it is no use
for me to think of it. My eyes are ever so much
better, and I hope I shall be able to sail in the
Sea Foam soon."

"I hope so, too. We expect she will beat the
Skylark; father thinks she will."[16]

"I don't care whether she does or not," laughed
Nellie.

"Do you think I could see your father just a
moment?" asked Donald. "I only want to know
whether or not he will go with us."

"I think so; I will go and speak to him. Come
in, Don John," replied Nellie, rising from her
lolling-chair, and walking around the corner of
the house to the front door.

Donald followed her. The elegant mansion was
located on a corner lot, with a broad hall through
the centre of it, on one side of which was the
large drawing-room, and on the other the sitting
and dining-rooms. At the end of the great hall
was a door opening into the library, a large apartment,
which occupied the whole of a one-story
addition to the original structure. It had also an
independent outside door, which opened upon the
piazza; and opposite to it was a flight of steps,
down to the gravel walk terminating at a gate
on the cross street. People who came to see
Captain Patterdale on business could enter at this
gate, and go to the library without passing
through the house. On the present occasion,
a horse and wagon stood at the gate, which indi[17]cated
to Miss Nellie that her father was engaged.
This team had stood there for an hour, and
Donald had watched it for half that time, waiting
for the owner to leave, though he was not at all
anxious to terminate the interview with his fair
schoolmate.

Nellie knocked at the library door, and her father
told her to come in. She passed in, while Donald
waited the pleasure of the rich man in the hall.

He was invited to enter. Captain Patterdale
was evidently bored by his visitor, and gave the
young man a cordial greeting. Donald stated his
business very briefly; but the captain did not say
whether he would or would not go upon the trial
trip of the Sea Foam. He asked a hundred questions
about the new yacht, and it was plain that
he did not care to resume the conversation with
his visitor, who walked nervously about the room,
apparently vexed at the interruption, and dissatisfied
thus far with the result of his interview
with the captain.

What would have appeared to be true to an observer
was actually so. The visitor was one Jacob
Hasbrook, from a neighboring town, and his reputation
for honesty and fair dealings was not the[18]
best in the world. Captain Patterdale held his
note, without security, for thirteen hundred and
fifty dollars. Hasbrook had property, but his
creditors were never sure of him till they were
paid. At the present interview he had astonished
Captain Patterdale by paying the note in full,
with interest, on the day it became due. But it
was soon clear enough to the rich man that the
payment was only a "blind" to induce him to
embark in a doubtful speculation with Hasbrook.
The nature and immense profits of the enterprise
had been eloquently set forth by the
visitor, and his own capacity to manage it enlarged
upon; but the nabob, who had made his
fortune by hard work, was utterly wanting in enthusiasm.
He had received the money in payment
of his note, which he had expected to lose,
or to obtain only after resorting to legal measures,
and he was fully determined to have nothing more
to do with the man. He had said all this as
mildly as he could; but Hasbrook was persistent,
and probably felt that in paying an honest
debt he had thrown away thirteen hundred and
fifty dollars.

He would not go, though Captain Patterdale[19]
gave him sufficient excuse for doing so, or even
for cutting his acquaintance. The rich man continued
to talk with Don John, to the intense disgust
of the speculator, who stood looking at a tin
box, painted green, which lay on a chair. Perhaps
he looked upon this box as the grave of his hopes;
for it contained the money he had just paid to the
captain—the wasted money, because the rich man
would not embark with him in his brilliant enterprise,
though he had taken so much pains, and
parted with so much money, to prove that he was
an honest man. He appeared to be interested in
the box, and he looked at it all the time, with
only an impatient glance occasionally at the nabob,
who appeared to be trifling with his bright hopes.
The tin chest was about nine inches each way,
and contained the private papers and other valuables
of the rich man, including, now, the thirteen
hundred and fifty dollars just received.

Captain Patterdale was president of the Twenty-first
National Bank of Belfast, which was located
a short distance from his house. The tin box was
kept in the vaults of the bank; but the owner
had taken it home to examine some documents
at his leisure, intending to return it to the bank[20]
before night. As it was in the library when Mr.
Hasbrook called, the money was deposited in it
for safe keeping over night.

"I'm afraid I can't go with you, Donald," said
Captain Patterdale, after he had asked him all the
questions he could think of about the Sea Foam.

"I am sorry, sir; for Miss Nellie wanted to go,
and I was going to ask father to wait till after
sunset on her account," added the young man.

Mr. Hasbrook began to look hopeful; for the
last remark of the nabob indicated a possible termination
of the conversation. Donald began his
retreat toward the hall of the mansion, for he
wanted to see the fair daughter again; but he had
not reached the door before the captain called him
back.

"I suppose your father wants some more money
to-night," said he, feeling in his pocket for the
key to open the tin box.

"He didn't say anything to me about it, sir,"
replied Donald; "I don't think he does."

Hasbrook looked hopeless again; for Captain
Patterdale began to calculate how much he had
paid, and how much more he was to pay, for the
yacht. While he was doing so, there was a[21]
knock at the street door, and, upon being invited
to do so, Mr. Laud Cavendish entered the library
with a bill in his hand.

Mr. Laud Cavendish was a great man in his own
estimation, and a great swell in the estimation
of everybody else. He was a clerk or salesman
in a store; but he was dressed very elegantly for
a provincial city like Belfast, and for a "counter-jumper"
on six or eight dollars a week. He was
about eighteen years old, tall, and rather slender.
His upper lip was adorned with an incipient mustache,
which had been tenderly coaxed and colored
for two years, without producing any prodigious
result, though it was the pride and glory of
the owner. Mr. Cavendish was a dreamy young
gentleman, who believed that the Fates had made
a bad mistake in his case, inasmuch as he was
the son of an honest and industrious carpenter,
instead of the son and heir of one of the nabobs
of Belfast. He believed that he was fitted to
adorn the highest circle in society, to shine
among the aristocracy of the city, and it was a
cruel shame that he should be compelled to work
in a store, weigh out tea and sugar, carry goods
to the elegant mansions where he ought to be ad[22]mitted
at the front, instead of the back, door,
collect bills, and perform whatever other service
might be required of him. The Fates had blundered
and conspired against him; but he was not
without hope that the daughter of some rich
man, who might fall in love with him and his
mustache, would redeem him from his slavery
to an occupation he hated, and lift him up to
the sphere where he belonged. Laud was "soaring
after the infinite," and so he rather neglected
the mundane and practical, and his employer did
not consider him a very desirable clerk.

Mr. Laud Cavendish came with a bill in his
hand, the footing of which was the sum due his
employer for certain necessary articles just
delivered at the kitchen door of the elegant
mansion. Captain Patterdale opened the tin box,
and took therefrom some twenty dollars to pay
the bill, which Laud receipted. Mr. Hasbrook
hoped he would go, and that Don John would go;
and perhaps they would have gone if a rather exciting
event had not occurred to detain them.

"Father! father!" exclaimed Miss Nellie, rushing
into the library.

"What's the matter, Nellie?" demanded her[23]
father, calmly; for he had long been a sea captain,
and was used to emergencies.

"Michael has just dropped down in a fit!"
gasped Nellie.

"Where is he?"

"In the yard."

Captain Patterdale, followed by his three visitors,
rushed through the hall, out at the front
door, near which the unfortunate man had fallen,
and, with the assistance of his companions, lifted
him from the ground. Michael was the hired
man who took care of the horses, and kept the
grounds around the elegant mansion in order.
He was raking the gravel walk near the piazza
where Nellie was laboring to keep cool. As we
have hinted before, and as Nellie and Don John
had several times repeated, the day was intensely
hot. The sun where the man worked was absolutely
scorching, and the hired man had experienced
a sun-stroke. Captain Patterdale and his
visitors bore him to his room in the L, and Don
John ran for the doctor, who appeared in less than
ten minutes. The visitors all did what they
could, Mr. Laud Cavendish behaving very well.
Michael's wife and other friends soon arrived,[24]
and there was nothing more for Laud to do. He
went down stairs, and, finding Nellie in the hall,
he tried to comfort her; for she was very much
concerned for poor Michael.

"Do you think he will die, Mr. Cavendish?"
asked she, almost as much moved as though the
poor man had been her father.

"O, no! I think he will recover. These Irishmen
have thick heads, and they don't die so
easily of sun-stroke; for that's what the doctor
says it is," replied Laud, knowingly.

Nellie thought, if this was a true view of coup de
soleil, Laud would never die of it. She thought
this; but she was not so impolite as to say it. She
asked him no more questions; for she saw Don
John approaching through the dining-room.

"Good afternoon, Miss Patterdale," said Laud,
with a bow and a flourish, as he retired towards
the library, where he had left his hat.

In a few moments more, the rattle of the
wagon, with which he delivered goods to the
customers, was heard as he drove off. Don John
came into the hall, and Nellie asked him ever so
many questions about the condition of Michael,
and what the doctor said about him; all of[25]
which the young man answered to the best of his
ability.

"Do you think he will die, Don John?" she
asked.

"I am sure I can't tell," replied Donald; "I
hope not."

"Michael is real good, and I am so sorry for
him!" added Nellie.

But Michael is hardly a personage in our story,
and we do not purpose to enter into the diagnosis
of his case. He has our sympathies on the merit
of his sufferings alone, and quite as much for Nellie's
sake; for it was tender, and gentle, and kind
in her to feel so much for a poor Irish laborer.
While she and Donald were talking about the
case, Mr. Hasbrook came down stairs, and passed
through the hall into the library, where he, also,
had left his hat. In a few moments more the rattle
of his wagon was heard, as he drove off, indignant
and disgusted at the indifference of the nabob
in refusing to take an interest in his brilliant enterprise.
He was angry with himself for having
paid his note before he had enlisted the payee in
his cause.

"How is he, father?" asked Nellie, as Captain
Patterdale entered the hall.[26]

"The doctor thinks he sees some favorable
symptoms."

"Will he die?"

"The doctor thinks he will get over it. But
he wants some ice, and I must get it for him."

"I suppose you will not go in the Sea Foam
now?" asked Donald.

"No; it is impossible," replied the captain,
as he passed into the dining-room to the refrigerator.

The father was like the daughter; and though
he was a millionnaire, or a demi-millionnaire—we
don't know which, for we were never allowed
to look over his taxable valuation—though he was
a nabob, he took right hold, and worked with
his own hands for the comfort and the recovery
of the sufferer. It was creditable to his heart that
he did so, and we never grudge such a man his
"pile," especially when he has earned it by his
own labor, or made it in honorable, legitimate
business. The captain went up stairs again with
a large dish of ice, to assist the doctor in the
treatment of his patient.

Donald staid in the hall, talking with Miss Nellie,
as long as he thought it proper to do so, though[27]
not as long as he desired, and then entered the
library where he, also, had left his hat. Perhaps
it was a singular coincidence that all three of the
visitors had left their hats in that room; but then
it was not proper for them to sit with their hats
on in the presence of such a magnate as Captain
Patterdale, and no decent man would stop for a
hat when a person had fallen in a fit.

Captain Patterdale's hat was still there; and,
unluckily, there was something else belonging to
him which was not there.[28]

CHAPTER II.

ABOUT THE TIN BOX.

Captain Patterdale worked with the
doctor for a full hour upon poor Michael,
who at the end of that time opened his eyes, and
soon declared that he was "betther entirely."
He insisted upon getting up, for it was not "the
likes of himself that was to lay there and have
his honor workin' over him." But the doctor
and the nabob pacified him, and left him, much
improved, in the care of his wife.

"How is he, Dr. Wadman?" asked the sympathizing
Nellie, as they came down stairs together.

"He is decidedly better," replied the physician.

"Will he die?"

"O, no; I think not. His case looks very
hopeful now."[29]

"I thought folks always died with sun-stroke,"
said Nellie, more cheerfully.

"No; not unless their heads are very soft,"
laughed the doctor.

"Well, I shouldn't think Laud Cavendish would
dare to go out when the sun shines," added the
fair girl, with a snap of her bright eyes.

"It isn't quite safe for him to do so. Unfortunately,
such people don't know their own heads.
I will come in again after tea," said the doctor,
as he went out of the house, at the front door;
for he had not left his hat in the library.

"I am so glad Michael is better!" continued
Nellie. "When I saw him drop, I felt as cold
as ice, and I was afraid I should drop too before
I could get to the library."

"Did you see him fall, Nellie?" asked her
father.

"Yes; he gave a kind of groan, and then fell;
he was—"

"Gracious!" exclaimed Captain Patterdale, interrupting
her all of a sudden.

He turned on his heel, and walked rapidly into
the library. Nellie was startled, and was troubled
with a suspicion that her father had a coup[30]
de soleil, or coup de something-else; for he did not
often do anything by fits and starts. She followed
him into the library. It was a fact that
the captain had left his hat there; but it was not
for this article, so necessary in a hot day, that
he hastened thus abruptly into the room. Nellie
found him flying around the apartment in a high
state of excitement for him. He was looking
anxiously about, and seemed to be very much
disturbed.

"What in the world is the matter, father?"
asked Nellie.

"Where is your mother?"

"She has gone over to Mrs. Rodman's."

"Hasn't she been back?"

"No, certainly not; I was just going over to
tell her what had happened to Michael, when you
came down."

"Who has been in here, Nellie?"

"I don't know that anybody has. I haven't
seen any one. What's the matter, father? what
in the world has happened?"

"I left my tin box here when I went out to
see to Michael, and now it is gone," answered
Captain Patterdale, anxiously. "I didn't know[31]
but that your mother had come in and taken care
of it."

"The tin box gone?" exclaimed Nellie.
"Why, what can have become of it?"

"That is just what I should like to know,"
added the captain, as he renewed his search in
the room for the treasure chest.

It was not in the library, and then he looked
in the great hall and in the little hall, in the
drawing-room, the sitting-room, and the dining-room;
but it was not in any of these. He knew
he had left it on the chair near where he was sitting
when he went out of the room. Then he
examined the spring-lock on the door of the
library which led into the side street. It was
closed and securely fastened. The door shut itself
with a patent invention, and when shut it
locked itself, so that anybody could get out, but
no one could get in unless admitted.

"Where were you when I was up stairs, Nellie?"
asked Captain Patterdale, as he seated
himself in his arm-chair, to take a cool view of
the whole subject.

"I was in the hall most of the time," she replied.[32]

"Who has been in the library?"

"Let me see; Laud Cavendish came down
first, and went out through the library."

The captain rubbed his bald head, and seemed
to be asking himself whether it was possible for
Mr. Laud Cavendish to do so wicked a deed as
stealing that tin box. He did not believe the
young swell had the baseness or the daring to
commit so great a crime. It might be, but he
could not think so.

"Who else has been in here?" he inquired,
when he had hastily considered all he knew about
the moral character of Laud.

"That other man who was with you—I don't
know his name—the one that was here when I
came in with Don John."

"Mr. Hasbrook."

"He went out through the library. I thought
he looked real ugly too," added Nellie. "He
kept fidgeting about all the time I was here."

"And all the time he was here himself. He
went out through the library—did he?"

"Yes, sir."

Captain Patterdale mentally overhauled the
character of Mr. Hasbrook. It was unfortunate[33]
for his late debtor that his character was not first
class, and between him and Laud Cavendish the
probabilities were altogether against Hasbrook.
He had evidently been vexed and angry because
he failed to carry his point, and his cupidity
might have been stimulated by revenge. But the
captain was a fair and just man, and in a matter of
this kind, involving the reputation of any person,
he kept his suspicions to himself.

"Who else has been in the library, Nellie?"
he asked.

"No one but Don John," replied she. And
whatever Laud or Hasbrook might have done in
wickedness, Nellie had too much regard for her
friend and schoolmate to admit for one instant the
possibility of his doing anything wrong, much less
his committing so gross a crime as the stealing
of the tin box and its valuable contents.

Captain Patterdale was hardly less confident of
the integrity of Donald. Certainly it was not
necessary to suspect him when the possibilities of
guilt included two such persons as Laud and Hasbrook.
Donald was rather distinguished, in school
and out, as a good boy, and he ought to have the
full benefit of his reputation.[34]

"You don't think Don John took the box—do
you, father?" asked Nellie, as her father was meditating
on the circumstances.

"Certainly not, Nellie," protested the captain,
warmly; "I don't know that anybody has taken
it."

"I know Don John would not do such a
thing."

"I don't believe he would."

"I know he would not."

Her father thought she was just a little more
earnest in her uncalled-for defence of the young
man than was necessary, and for the first time in
his life it occurred to him that she was more interested
in him than he wished her to be; for,
as Donald was only the son of a poor boat-builder,
such a strong friendship might be embarrassing
in the future. However, this was only the shadow
of a passing thought, which divided his attention
only for a moment. The loss of the tin box was
the question of the hour, and "society" topics
were not just then in order.

"I have no idea that Don John took the box,"
replied Captain Patterdale. "I am more willing
to believe either of the other two who were in the[35]
library took it than that he did. But he was the
last of the three who went out through this room.
He may be able to give me some information, and
I will go down and see him. He and his father
were going off in the new yacht—were they not?"

"Yes, sir."

"You need not say a word about the box to
any one, Nellie, nor even that it is lost," added
the captain. "If I do not find it, I shall employ a
skilful detective to look it up, and he may prefer
to work in the dark."

"I will not mention it, father," replied Nellie.
"What was in the box? Was it money?"

"I put thirteen hundred and fifty dollars into
it, but I took out twenty to pay the bill that Laud
brought. It contains my deeds, leases, policies
of insurance, and my notes, and these papers
are really more valuable to me than the money.
Luckily, my bonds and securities are in another
box, in the vault of the bank."

"Then you will lose over thirteen hundred
dollars if you don't find the box?"

"More than that, I am afraid, for I shall
hardly be able to collect all the money due on the
notes if I lose them," replied the captain, as he
left the house.[36]

He walked down to the boat shop of Mr. Ramsay.
It was on the shore, and near it was the
house in which the boat-builder lived. Neither
Don John nor his father was at the shop, but a
sloop yacht, half a mile out in the bay, seemed to
be the Sea Foam. She was headed towards the
shore, however, and Captain Patterdale seated
himself in the shade of the shop to await its
arrival, though he hardly expected to obtain any
information in regard to the box from Donald.
While he was sitting there, Mr. Laud Cavendish
appeared with a large basket in his hand. The
counter-jumper started when he turned the corner
of the shop, and saw the nabob seated there.

"Going a-fishing?" asked the captain.

"Yes, sir; I'm going over to Turtle Head to
camp out over Sunday," replied Laud. "How is
Michael, sir?"

"He is much better, and is doing very well."

"I'm glad of it," added Laud, as he carried
his basket down to a sail-boat which was partly
aground, and deposited it in the forward cuddy.

Captain Patterdale wanted to talk with Laud,
but he did not like to excite any suspicions on his
part. If the young man had taken the box he[37]
would not be likely to go off on an island to stay
over Sunday. Besides, it was evident from the
position of the boat, and the fact that it contained
several articles necessary for a fishing excursion,
in addition to those in the basket, that
Laud had made his arrangements for the trip before
he visited the library of the elegant mansion.
If he had taken the box, he would probably have
changed his plans. It was not likely, therefore,
that Laud was the guilty party.

"Are you going alone?" asked the captain,
walking down the beach to the boat.

"Yes, sir; I couldn't get any one to go with
me. I tried Don John, but he won't go off to stay
over Sunday," replied Laud, with a sickly grin.

"I commend his example to you. I don't
think it is a good way to spend Sunday."

"It's the only time I can get to go. I've been
trying to got off for a month."

"Saturday must be a bad time for you to
leave," suggested the captain.

"It is rather bad," added Laud, as he shoved
off the bow of the boat, for he seemed to be in
haste to get away.

"By the way, Laud, did you notice a tin box[38]
in my library when you were there this afternoon?"
asked the nabob, with as much indifference
in his manner and tone as he could command.

"A tin box?" repeated Laud, busying himself
with the jib of the sail-boat.

"Yes; it was painted green."

"I don't remember any box," answered Laud.

"Didn't you see it? I opened it to take out
the money I paid you."

"I didn't mind. I was receipting the bill
while you were getting the money ready. You
know I sat down at your desk."

"Yes; I know you did; but didn't you see the
box?"

"No, sir; I don't remember seeing any box,"
said Laud, still fussing over the sail, which certainly
did not need any attention.

"You went out through the library when you
came down from Michael's room—didn't you?"
continued the captain.

"Yes, sir; I did. I left my hat in there."

"Did you see the box then?"

"Of course I didn't. If I had, I should have
remembered it," replied Laud, with a grin. "I
just grabbed my hat, and ran, for I had been[39]
in the house some time; and I got a blessing for
being away so long when I went back to the
store."

"You didn't see the box, then?"

"If it was there, I suppose I saw it; but I
didn't take any notice of it. Why? is the box
lost?"

"I want to get another like it. Haven't you
anything of the sort in the store?"

"We have some cake and spice boxes. They
are tin, and painted on the outside."

"Those will not answer the purpose. It's a
very hot day," added the captain, as he wiped
the perspiration from his face, and walked back
to the shade of the shop.

Mr. Laud Cavendish stepped into the sail-boat,
hoisted the sails, and shoved her off into deep
water with an oar. Captain Patterdale thought,
and then he did not know what to think. Was
it possible Laud had not noticed that tin box,
which had been on a chair out in the middle of
the room? If he had not, why, then he had not;
but if he had Laud had more cunning, more self-control,
and more ingenuity than the captain had
ever given him the credit, or the discredit, of pos[40]sessing,
for there was certainly no sign of guilt in
his tone or his manner, except that he did not look
the inquirer square in the face when he answered
his questions, though some guilty people can even
do this without wincing.

Captain Patterdale watched the departing and
the approaching boats, still considering the possible
relation of Laud Cavendish to the tin box.
If the fellow had stolen it, he would not go off
on an island to stay over Sunday, leaving the box
behind to betray him; and this argument seemed
to be conclusive in his favor. The captain had
looked into the boat, and satisfied himself that
the box was not there; unless it was in the basket,
which appeared to contain so many other
things that there was no room for it. On the
whole, the captain was willing to acquit Mr.
Laud Cavendish of the act, partly, perhaps, because
this had been his first view of the matter.
It was more probable that Hasbrook, angry and
disappointed at his failure, had put the box into
his wagon, and returned to the neighboring town,
where, as before stated, his reputation was not
first class, though, perhaps, not many people believed
him capable of stealing outright, without[41]
the formality of getting up a mining company,
or making a trade of some sort. But Donald had
been the last of the trio of visitors who passed
through the library, and the captain wanted to
see him.

The Sea Foam, with snowy sails just from the
loft, and glittering in her freshly-laid coat of
white paint, ran up to a wharf just below the boat
shop. Donald was at the helm, and he threw
her up into the wind just before she came to the
pier, so that when she forged ahead, with her sails
shaking in the wind, her head came up within
a few inches of the landing-place. Mr. Ramsay
fended her off, and went ashore with a line in
his hand, which he made fast to a ring. Captain
Patterdale walked around to the wharf, as soon as
he saw where she was to make a landing.

"Well, how do you like her, Sam?" said Donald
to a young man of his own age in the standing-room
with him.

"First rate; and I hope your father will go to
work on mine at once," replied the passenger.

"You will lay down the keel on Monday—won't
you, father?"

"What?" asked Mr. Ramsay, who had seated
himself on a log on the wharf.[42]

"You will lay down the keel of the boat for
Mr. Rodman on Monday—won't you?" repeated
Donald.

"Yes, if I am able; I don't feel very well to-day."
And the boat-builder doubled himself up,
as though he was in great pain.

The young man in the standing-room of the
Sea Foam was Samuel Rodman, a schoolmate of
Donald, whose father was a wealthy man, and
had ordered another boat like the Skylark, which
had been the model for the new yacht. He had
come down to see the craft, and had been invited
to take a sail in her; but an engagement
had prevented him from going as far as Turtle
Head, and the boat-builder and his son had returned
to land him, intending still to make the
trip. By this time Captain Patterdale had reached
the end of the wharf. He went on board of the
Sea Foam, and looked her over with a critical
eye, and was entirely satisfied with her. He was
invited to sail in her for as short a time as he
chose, but he declined.

"By the way, Donald, did you see the green
tin box when you were in my library this afternoon?"
he asked, when all the topics relating to
the yacht had been disposed of.[43]

"Yes, sir; I saw you take some money from
it," replied Donald.

"Then you remember the box?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you notice it when you came out—I mean,
when you left the house?"

"I don't remember seeing it when I came out,"
answered Donald, wondering what these questions
meant.

"I want to get another box just like that one.
Did you take particular notice of it?"

"No, sir; I can't say I did."

"You didn't stay any time in the library after
you came down from Michael's room, did you?"

"No, sir; I only went for my hat, and didn't
stay there a minute."

"And you didn't notice the tin box?"

"No, sir; I didn't see it at all when I came
out."

"Then of course you didn't see any marks upon
it," added the captain, with a smile.

"If I didn't see the box, I shouldn't have
been likely to see the marks," laughed Donald.
"What marks were they, sir?"

"It's of no consequence, if you didn't see them.[44]
The box was in the library—wasn't it?—when you
went out."

"I don't know whether it was or not. I only
know that I don't remember noticing it," said
Donald, who thought the captain's question was
a very queer one, after those he had just answered.

The nabob was no better satisfied with Donald's
answers than he had been with those of Laud
Cavendish, except that the former looked him full
in the face when he spoke. He obtained no
information, and went home to seek it at other
sources.

"I think I won't go out again, Donald," said
Mr. Ramsay, when Captain Patterdale had left. "I
don't feel very well, and you may go alone."

"Do you feel very sick, father?" asked the son,
in tones of sympathy.

"No; but I think I will go into the house and
take some medicine. You can run over to Turtle
Head alone," added the boat-builder, as he walked
towards the house.

"Can't you go any how, Sam?" said Donald,
turning to his friend.

"No, I must go home now. I have to drive over[45]
to Searsport after my sister," replied Sam, as he
left the yacht, and walked up the wharf.

Donald hoisted the jib of the Sea Foam, shoved
off her head, and laid her course, with the wind
over the quarter, for Turtle Head—distant about
seven miles.[46]

CHAPTER III

THE YACHT CLUB AT TURTLE HEAD.

The Sea Foam was a sloop yacht, thirty feet in
length, and as handsome as a picture in an
illustrated paper, than which nothing could be
finer. It was a fact that she had cost twelve hundred
dollars; but even this sum was cheaper than
she could have been built and fitted up in Boston
or Bristol. She was provided with everything
required by a first class yacht of her size, both for
the comfort and safety of the voyager, as well
as for fast sailing. Though Mr. Ramsay, her
builder, was a ship carpenter, he was a very intelligent
and well-read man. He had made yachts a
specialty, and devoted a great deal of study to
the subject. He had examined the fastest craft in
New York and Newport, and had their lines in his
head. And he was a very ingenious man, so that
he had the tact to make the most of small spaces,[47]
and to economize every spare inch in lockers,
closets, and stow-holes for the numerous articles
required in a pleasure craft. He had learned his
trade as a ship carpenter and joiner in Scotland,
where the mechanic's education is much more
thorough than in our own country, and he was an
excellent workman.

The cabin of the Sea Foam was about twelve
feet long, with transoms on each side, which were
used both as berths and sofas. They were supplied
with cushions covered with Brussels carpet,
with a pillow of the same material at each end.
Through the middle, fore and aft, was the centre-board
casing, on each side of which was a table
on hinges, so that it could be dropped down
when not in use. The only possible objection to
this cabin, in the mind of a shoreman, would have
been its lack of height. It was necessarily "low
studded," being only five feet from floor to ceiling,
which was rather trying to the perpendicularity
of a six-footer. But it was a very comfortable
cabin for all that, though tall men were compelled
to be humble within its low limits.

It was entered from the standing-room by a
single step covered with plate brass, in which the[48]
name of the yacht was wrought with bright copper
nails. On each side of the companion-way was a
closet, one of which was for dishes, and the other
for miscellaneous stores. The trunk, which readers
away from boatable waters may need to be
informed is an elevation about a foot above the
main deck, to afford head-room in the middle of
the cabin, had three deck lights, or ports, on
each side. At one end of the casing of the centre-board
was a place for the water-jar, and a rack
for tumblers. In the middle were hooks in the
trunk-beams for the caster and the lantern. The
brass-covered step at the entrance was movable,
and when it was drawn out it left an opening into
the run under the standing-room, where a considerable
space was available for use. In the centre
of it was the ice-chest, a box two feet square,
lined with zinc, which was rigged on little
grooved wheels running on iron rods, like a
railroad car, so that the chest could be drawn
forward where the contents could be reached.
On each side of this box was a water-tank, holding
thirty gallons, which could be filled from the
standing-room. The water was drawn by a faucet
lower than the bottom of the tank in a recess at[49]
one side of the companion-way. The tanks were
connected by a pipe, so that the water was drawn
from both. At the side of the step was a gauge
to indicate the supply of fresh water on board.

Forward of the cabin, in the bow of the yacht,
was the cook-room, with a scuttle opening into it
from the forecastle. The stove, a miniature affair,
with an oven large enough to roast an eight-pound
rib of beef, and two holes on the top, was
in the fore peak. It was placed in a shallow pan
filled with sand, and the wood-work was covered
with sheet tin, to guard against fire. Behind the
stove was a fuel-bin. On each side of the cook
room was a shelf eighteen inches wide at the
bulk-head and tapering forward to nothing. Under
it were several lockers for the galley utensils
and small stores. The room was only four feet
high, and a tall cook in the Sea Foam would
have found it necessary to discount himself. On
the foremast was a seat on a hinge, which could
be dropped down, on which the "doctor" could sit
and do his work, roasting himself at the same
time he roasted his beef or fried his fish. Everything
in the cook-room and the cabin, as well as
on deck, was neat and nice. The cabin was cov[50]ered
with a handsome oil-cloth carpet, and the
wood was white with zinc paint, varnished, with
gilt moulding to ornament it. Edward Patterdale,
who was to be the nominal owner and the
real skipper of this beautiful craft, intended to
have several framed pictures on the spaces between
the deck lights, a clock in the forward end
over the cook-room door, and brass brackets for
the spy-glass in the companion-way.

On deck the Sea Foam was as well appointed
as she was below. Her bowsprit had a gentle
downward curve, her mast was a beautiful spar,
and her topmast was elegantly tapered and set
up in good shape. Unlike most of the regular
highflyer yachts, her jib and mainsail were
not unreasonably large. Mr. Ramsay did not intend
that it should be necessary to reef when it
blew a twelve-knot breeze, and, like the Skylark,
she was expected to carry all sail in anything
short of a full gale. But she was provided with
an abundance of "kites," including an immense
gaff-topsail, which extended on poles far above
the topmast head, and far beyond the peak, a
balloon-jib, a jib-topsail, and a three-cornered
studding-sail. The balloon-jib, or the jib-topsail,[51]
was bent on with snap-hooks when it was needed,
for only one was used at the same time. These
extra sails were to be required only in races, and
they were kept on shore. One stout hand could
manage her very well, though two made it easier
work, and six were allowed in a race.

Donald seated himself in the standing-room,
with the tiller in his right hand. As soon as he had
run out a little way, his attention was excited by
discovering three other sloop yachts coming down
the bay. In one of them he recognized the Skylark,
and in another the Christabel, while the third
was a stranger to him, though he had heard of the
arrival that day of a new yacht from Newport,
and concluded this was she. He let off his sheet,
and ran up to meet the little fleet.

"Sloop, ahoy!" shouted Robert Montague, from
the Skylark, as Donald came within hailing distance.

"On board the Skylark!" replied the skipper
of the Sea Foam.

"Is that you, Don John?"

"Ay, ay."

"What sloop is that?" demanded Robert.

"The Sea Foam."[52]

"Where bound?"

"Over to Turtle Head."

"We are bound there; come with us."

"Ay ay."

"Hold on a minute, Don John," shouted some
one from the Christabel.

Each of the yachts had a tender towing astern,
and that from the Christabel, with five boys in it,
immediately put off, and pulled to the Sea Foam.

"Will you take us on board, Don John?"
asked Gus Barker, as the tender came alongside.

"Certainly; I'm glad to have your company,"
replied Donald, who had thrown the yacht up
into the wind.

Three of the party in the tender jumped upon
the deck of the Sea Foam, and the boat returned
to the Christabel. Each of the yachts appeared
to have half a dozen or more on board of her, so
that there was quite a party on the way to Turtle
Head. The sloops filled away again, the Skylark
and the new arrival having taken the lead, while
the other two were delayed.

"What sloop is that with the Skylark?" asked
Donald.

"That's the Phantom. She got here from New[53]port
this forenoon. Joe Guilford's father bought
her for him. She is the twin sister of the Skylark,
and they seem to make an even thing of it in sailing,"
replied Gus Barker.

"You have quite a fleet now," added Donald.

"Yes; and we are going to form a Yacht Club.
We intend to have a meeting over at Turtle Head.
Will you join, Don John?"

"I haven't any boat."

"Nor I, either. All the members can't be skippers,"
laughed Gus. "I am to be mate of the Sea
Foam, and that's the reason I wanted to come on
board of her."

"And I am to be one of her crew," added
Dick Adams.

"And I the steward," laughed Ben Johnson.
"I am going down into the cook-room to see
how things look there."

"You will join—won't you, Don?"

"Well, I don't know. I can't afford to run
with you fellows with rich fathers."

"O, get out! That don't make any difference,"
puffed Gus. "The owner of the yacht has to foot
the bills. Besides, we want you, Don John, for
you know more about a boat than all the rest of
the fellows put together."[54]

"Well, I shall be very glad to do anything I
can to help the thing along; but there are plenty
of fellows that can sail a boat better than I can."

"But you know all about a boat, and they want
you for measurer. We have the printed constitution
of a Yacht Club, which Bob Montague got in
Boston, and according to that the measurer is entitled
to ten cents a foot for measuring a yacht;
so you may make something out of your office."

"I don't want to make any money out of it,"
protested Donald.

"You can make enough to pay your dues, for
we have to raise some money for prizes in the
regattas; and we talk of having a club house
over on Turtle Head," rattled Gus, whose tongue
seemed to be hung on a pivot in his enthusiasm
over the club. "Every fellow must be voted in,
and pay five dollars a year for membership. We
shall have some big times.—We are gaining on
the Skylark, as true as you live!"

"I think we are; but I guess Bob isn't driving
her," added Donald.

"She carries the same sail as the Sea Foam. I
would give anything to beat her. Make her do
her best, Don John."[55]

"I will," laughed the skipper, who had kept
one eye on the Skylark all the time.

He trimmed the sails a little, and began to be
somewhat excited over the prospect of a race.
The Christabel was three feet longer than the
other yachts, and it was soon evident that in a
light wind she was more than a match for them,
for she ran ahead of the Sea Foam. Her jib and
mainsail were much larger in proportion to her
size than those of the other sloops, but she was
not an able boat, not a heavy-weather craft, like
them. The Sea Foam continued to gain on the
Skylark, till she was abreast of her, while the
Phantom kept about even with her. But then
Robert Montague was busy all the time talking
with his companions about the Yacht Club, and
did not pay particular attention to the sailing of
his boat. The Sea Foam began to walk ahead
of him, and then, for the first time, it dawned
upon him that the reputation of the Skylark was
at stake. He had his crew of five with him, and
he placed them in position to improve the sailing
of his craft. He ordered one of his hands to give a
small pull on the jib-sheet, another to let off the
main sheet a little, and a third to haul up the[56]
centre-board a little more, as she was going
free.

The effect of this attention on the part of the
skipper of the Skylark was to lessen the distance
between her and the Sea Foam; they were abeam
of each other, with the Phantom in the same line.
The Christabel was about a cable's length ahead
of them.

"She's game yet," said Gus Barker, his disappointment
evident in the tones of his voice, as
the Skylark came up to the Sea Foam.

"This is a new boat, and I haven't got the
hang of her yet," Donald explained. "Haul up
that fin a little, Dick."

"What fin?"

"The centre-board."

"Ay, ay," replied Dick, as he obeyed the order.

"Steady! that's enough," continued Donald,
who now narrowly watched the sailing of the
Sea Foam, to assure himself that she did not make
too much leeway.

"That was what she wanted!" exclaimed Gus,
when the yacht began to gain again, and in a few
minutes was half a length ahead.

The Start. Page 51.

"But not quite so much of it," replied Donald,[57]
when he saw that his craft was sliding off a very
little. "Give her just three inches more fin,
Dick."

The centre-board was dropped this distance, and
the tendency to make leeway thus corrected.

"She is gaining still!" cried Gus, delighted.

"Not much; it is a pretty even thing," added
Donald.

"No matter; we beat her, and I don't care if
it's only half an inch in a mile."

"But the Christabel is leading us all. She is
sure of all the first prizes."

"Not a bit of it. She has to reef when there's
a capful of wind. In a calm she will beat us, but
when it blows we shall wax her all to pieces."

"Hallo!" shouted Mr. Laud Cavendish, whose
small sail-boat was overhauled about half way
over to Turtle Head. "Is that you, Don John?"

"I believe so," replied Donald.

"Where you going?"

"Over to Turtle Head. Want us to give you
a tow?"

"No; you needn't brag about your old tub.
She don't belong to you; and I'm going to have
a boat that will beat that one all to splinters,"
replied Laud.[58]

"All right; fetch her along."

"I say, Don John, I'm going to stop over
Sunday on Turtle Head. Won't you stay with
me?"

"No, I thank you. I must go home to-night,"
answered Donald.

Mr. Laud Cavendish knew very well that Donald
would not spend Sunday in boating and fishing;
and he did not ask because he wanted him.
Besides, for more reasons than one, he did not
desire his company. The Sea Foam ran out of
talking distance of the sail-boat in a moment.
Robert Montague was doing his best to keep up
the reputation of the Skylark; but when the fleet
came up to Turtle Head, she was more than a
length behind. The jib was hauled down, the
yachts came up into the wind, and the anchors
were let go.

"Beat you," shouted Gus Barker.

"Not much," replied Robert. "We will try
that over again some time."

"We are willing," added Donald.

The mainsails were lowered, and the young
yachtmen embarked in the tenders for the shore.
Turtle Head is a rocky point at the northern[59]
extremity of Long Island, in Penobscot Bay.
There were a few trees near the shore, and under
these the party purposed to hold their meeting.
Though the weather was intensely hot on shore,
it was comfortably cool at the Head, where the
wind came over five or six miles of salt water
cool from the ocean. The boys leaped ashore,
and hauled up their boats where the rising tide
could not float them off. There were over twenty
of them, all members of the High School.

"The Sea Foam sails well," said Robert Montague,
as he walked over to the little grove with
Donald.

"Very well, indeed. This is the first time she
has been out, and I find she works first rate,"
replied Donald.

"I want to try it with her some day, when
everything is right."

"Wasn't everything right to-day?" asked Donald,
smiling, for he was well aware that every
boatman has a good excuse for the shortcomings
of his craft.

"No; my tender is twice as heavy as yours,"
added Robert. "I must get your father to build
me one like that of the Sea Foam."[60]

"We will try it without any tenders, which we
don't want in a race."

"Of course I don't know but the Sea Foam
can beat me; but I haven't seen the boat of her
inches before that could show her stern to the
Skylark," said Robert; and it was plain that he
was a little nettled at the slight advantage which
the new yacht had gained.

"I should like to sail her when you try it, for
I have great hopes of the Sea Foam. If my
father has built a boat that will beat the Skylark
in all weathers, he has done a big thing, and it
will make business good for him."

"For his sake I might be almost willing to be
whipped," replied Robert, good-naturedly, as
they halted in the grove.

Charley Armstrong was the oldest member of
the party, and he was to call the meeting to
order, which he did with a brief speech, explaining
the object of the gathering, though everybody
present knew it perfectly well. Charles was then
chosen chairman, and Dick Adams secretary. It
was voted to form a club, and the secretary was
called upon to read the constitution of the "Dorchester
Yacht Club." The name was changed to[61]
Belfast, and the document was adopted as the
constitution of the Belfast Yacht Club. The second
article declared that the officers should
consist of a "Commodore, Vice-Commodore,
Captain of the Fleet, Secretary, Treasurer, Measurer,
a Board of Trustees, and a Regatta Committee;"
and the next business was to elect them,
which had to be done by written or printed ballots.
As the first three officers were required to
be owners in whole, or in part, of yachts enrolled
in the club, there was found to be an alarming
scarcity of yachts. The Skylark, Sea Foam,
Phantom, and Christabel were on hand. Edward
Patterdale and Samuel Rodman had signified
their intention to join, though they were unable
to be present at the first meeting. The Maud, as
Samuel Rodman's new yacht was to be called,
was to be built at once: she was duly enrolled,
thus making a total of five, from whom the first
three officers must be chosen.

The secretary had come supplied with stationery,
and a slip was handed to each member,
after the constitution had been signed. A ballot
was taken for commodore; Robert B. Montague
had twenty votes, and Charles Armstrong one.[62]
Robert accepted the office in a "neat little
speech," and took the chair, which was a sharp
rock. Edward Patterdale was elected vice-commodore,
and Joseph Guilford captain of the fleet.
Donald was chosen measurer, and the other
offices filled to the satisfaction of those elected,
if not of the others. It was then agreed to have a
review and excursion on the following Saturday,
to which the ladies were to be invited.

The important business of the day was happily
finished, and the fleet sailed for Belfast. Having
secured the Sea Foam at her mooring, Donald
hastened home. As he approached the cottage,
he saw a doctor's sulky at the door, and the neighbors
going in and out. His heart rose into his
throat, for there was not one living beneath that
humble roof whom he did not love better than
himself.[63]

CHAPTER IV.

A SAD EVENT IN THE RAMSAY FAMILY.

Donald's heart beat violently as he hastened
towards the cottage. Before he could
reach it, another doctor drew up at the door,
and it was painfully certain that one of the family
was very sick—dangerously so, or two physicians
would not have been summoned. It might be his
father, his mother, or his sister Barbara; and
whichever it was, it was terrible to think of.
His legs almost gave away under him, when he
staggered up to the cottage. As he did so, he
recalled the fact that his father had been ailing
when he went away in the Sea Foam. It must be
his father, therefore, who was now so desperately
ill as to require the attendance of two doctors.

The cottage was a small affair, with a pretty
flower garden in front of it, and a whitewashed
fence around it. But small as it was, it was not[64]
owned by the boat-builder, who, though not in
debt, had hardly anything of this world's goods—possibly
a hundred dollars in the savings' bank,
and the furniture in the cottage. Though he was
as prudent and thrifty as Scotchmen generally
are, and was not beset by their "often infirmity,"
he had not been very prosperous. The business
of ship-building had been almost entirely suspended,
and for several years only a few small
vessels had been built in the city. Ramsay had
always obtained work; but he lived well, and
gave his daughter and his son an excellent education.

Alexander Ramsay's specialty was the building
of yachts and boats, and he determined to make a
better use of his skill than selling it with his labor
for day wages. He went into business for himself
as a boat-builder. When he established himself,
he had several hundred dollars, with which he
purchased stock and tools. He had built several
sail-boats, but the Sea Foam was the largest job
he had obtained. Doubtless with life and health
he would have done a good business. Donald
had always been interested in boats, and he knew
the name and shape of every timber and plank in[65]
the hull of a vessel, as well as every spar and
rope. Though only sixteen, he was an excellent
mechanic himself. His father had taken great
pains to instruct him in the use of tools, and in
draughting and modelling boats and larger craft.
He not only studied the art in theory, but he
worked with his own hands. In the parlor of the
little cottage was a full-rigged brig, made entirely
by him. The hull was not a log, shaped and
dug out, but regularly constructed, with timbers
and planking. When he finished it, only a few
months before his introduction to the reader, he
felt competent to build a yacht like the Sea
Foam, without any assistance; but boys are generally
over-confident, and possibly he overrated
his ability.

With his heart rising up into his throat, Donald
walked towards the cottage. As he passed the
whitewashed gate, one of the neighbors came out
at the front door. She was an elderly woman,
and she looked very sad as she glanced at the
boy.

"I'm glad you have come, Donald; but I'm
afraid he'll never speak to you again," said she.

"Is it my father?" gasped the poor fellow.[66]

"It is; and he's very sick indeed."

"What ails him?"

"That's more than the doctors can tell yet,"
added the woman. "They say it's very like the
cholera; and I suppose it's cholera-morbus. He
has been ailing for several days, and he didn't
take care of himself. But go in, Donald, and see
him while you may."

The young man entered the cottage. The doctors,
his mother and sister, were all doing what
they could for the sufferer, who was enduring,
with what patience he could, the most agonizing
pain. Donald went into the chamber where his
father lay writhing upon the bed. The physicians
were at work upon him; but he saw his son
as he entered the room and held out his hand to
him. The boy took it in his own. It was cold
and convulsed.

"I'm glad you've come, Donald," groaned he,
uttering the words with great difficulty. "Be a
good boy always, and take care of your mother
and sister."

"I will, father," sobbed Donald, pressing the
cold hand he held.

"I was afraid I might never see you again,"
gasped Mr. Ramsay.[67]

"O, don't give up, my man," said Dr. Wadman.
"You may be all right in a few hours."

The sick man said no more. He was in too
much pain to speak again, and Dr. Wadman sent
Donald to the kitchen for some hot water. When
he returned with it he was directed to go to the
apothecary's for an ounce of chloroform, which
the doctors were using internally and externally,
and had exhausted their supply. Donald ran all
the way as though the life of his father depended
upon his speed. He was absent only a few minutes,
but when he came back there was weeping
and wailing in the little cottage by the sea-side.
His father had breathed his last, even while the
doctors were hopefully working to save him.

"O, Donald, Donald!" cried Mrs. Ramsay, as
she threw her arms around his neck. "Your poor
father is gone!"

The boy could not speak; he could not even
weep, though his grief was not less intense than
that of his mother and sister. They groaned, and
sobbed, and sighed together, till kind neighbors
led them from the chamber of death, vainly endeavoring
to comfort them. It was hours before
they were even tolerably calm; but they could[68]
speak of nothing, think of nothing, but him who
was gone. The neighbors did all that it was necessary
to do, and spent the night with the
afflicted ones, who could not separate to seek
their beds. The rising sun of the Sabbath found
them still up, and still weeping—those who could
weep. It was a long, long Sunday to them, and
every moment of it was given to him who had
been a devoted husband and a tender father.
On Monday, all too soon, was the funeral; and
all that was mortal of Alexander Ramsay was laid
in the silent grave, never more to be looked upon
by those who had loved him, and whom he had
loved.

The little cottage was like a casket robbed of
its single jewel to those who were left. Earth
and life seemed like a terrible blank to them.
They could not accustom themselves to the empty
chair at the window where he sat when his day's
work was done; to the vacant place at the table,
where he had always invoked the blessing of God
on the frugal fare before them; and to the silent
and deserted shop on the other side of the street,
from which the noise of his hammer and the clip of
his adze had come to them. A week wore away[69]
and nothing was done but the most necessary
offices of the household. The neighbors came
frequently to beguile their grief, and the minister
made several visits, bearing to them the consolations
of the gospel, and the tender message of a
genuine sympathy.

But it is not for poor people long to waste
themselves in idle lamentations. The problem
of the future was forced upon Mrs. Ramsay for
solution. If they had been able only to live
comfortably on the earnings of the dead husband,
what should they do now when the strong arm that
delved for them was silent in the cold embrace of
death? They must all work now; but even then
the poor woman could hardly see how she could
keep her family together. Barbara was eighteen,
but she had never done anything except to assist
her mother, whose health was not very good,
about the house. She was a graduate of the High
School, and competent, so far as education was
concerned, to teach a school if she could obtain
a situation. Mrs. Ramsay might obtain work to
be done at home, but it was only a pittance she
could earn besides doing her housework. She
wished to have Donald finish his education at the[70]
High School, but she was afraid this was impossible.

Donald, still mourning for his father, who had
so constantly been his companion in the cottage
and in the shop, that he could not reconcile himself
to the loss, hardly thought of the future, till
his mother spoke to him about it. He had often,
since that bitter Saturday night, recalled the last
words his father had ever spoken to him, in which
he had told him to be a good boy always and take
care of his mother and sister; but they had not
much real significance to him till his mother
spoke to him. Then he understood them; then
he saw that his father was conscious of the near
approach of death, and had given his mother and
his sister into his keeping. Then, with the memory
of him who was gone lingering near and dear
in his heart, a mighty resolution was born in his
soul, though it did not at once take a practical
form.

"Don't worry about the future, mother," said
he, after he had listened to her rather hopeless
statement of her views.

"I don't worry about it, Donald, for while we
have our health and strength, we can work and[71]
make a living. I want to keep you in school till
the end of the year, but I—"

"Of course I can't go to school any more,
mother. I am ready to go to work," interposed
Donald.

"I know you are, my boy; but I want you to
finish your school course very much."

"I haven't thought a great deal about the matter
yet, mother, but I think I shall be able to do
what father told me."

"Your father did not expect you to take care
of us till you had grown up, I'm sure," added
Mrs. Ramsay, who had heard the dying injunction
of her husband to their son.

"I don't know that he did; but I shall do the
best I can."

"Poor father! He never thought of anything
but us," sighed Mrs. Ramsay; and her woman's
tears flowed freely again, so freely that there was
no power of utterance left to her.

Donald wept, too, as he thought of him who
was not only his father, but his loving companion
in study, in work, and in play. He left the
house and walked over to the shop. For the first
time since the sad event, he unlocked the door[72]
and entered. The tears trickled down his cheeks
as he glanced at the bench where his father had
done his last day's work. The planes and a few
other tools were neatly arranged upon it, and his
apron was spread over them. On the walls were
models of boats and yachts, and in one corner
were the "moulds." Donald seated himself on
the tool-chest, and looked around at every familiar
object in the shop. He was thinking of something,
but his thought had not yet taken definite
form. While he was considering the present and
the future, Samuel Rodman entered the shop.

"Do you suppose I can get the model of the
Sea Foam, Don John?" inquired he, after something
had been said about the deceased boat-builder.

"I think you can. The model and the drawings
are all here," replied Donald.

"We intend to build the Maud this season, and
I want her to be as near like the Sea Foam as possible."

"Who is going to build her?" asked Donald,
his interest suddenly kindled by the question.

"I don't know; we haven't spoken to any one
about it yet," replied Samuel. "There isn't any[73]body
in these parts that can build her as your
father would."

Don John wants a Job. Page 73.

"Sam, can't I do this job for you?" said
Donald.

"You?"

"Yes, I. You know I used to work with my
father, and I understand his way of doing things."

"Well, I hadn't thought that you could do it;
but I will talk with my father about it," answered
Samuel, who appeared to have some doubts
about the ability of his friend to do so large a
job.

"I don't mean to do it all myself, Sam. I will
hire one or two first-rate ship carpenters," added
Donald. "She shall be just like the Sea Foam,
except a little alteration, which my father explained
to me, in the bow and run."

"Do you think you could do the job, Don
John?" asked Samuel, with an incredulous smile.

"I know I could," said Donald, earnestly.
"If I had time enough I could build her all
alone."

"We want her as soon as we can get her."

"She shall be finished as quick as my father
could have done her."[74]

"I will see my father about it to-night, Don
John, and let you know to-morrow. I came
down to see about the model."

Samuel Rodman left the shop and walked down
the beach to the sail-boat in which he had come.
Donald was almost inspired by the idea which
had taken possession of him. If he could only
carry on his father's business, he could make
money enough to support the family; and knowing
every stick in the hull of a vessel, he felt
competent to do so. Full of enthusiasm, he hastened
into the cottage to unfold his brilliant
scheme to his mother. He stated his plan to her,
but at first she shook her head.

"Do you think you could build a yacht, Donald?"
she asked.

"I am certain I could. Didn't you hear father
say that my brig contained every timber and
plank that belongs to a vessel?"

"Yes, and that the work was done as well as he
could do it himself; but that does not prove that
you can carry on the business."

"I want one or two men, if we build the Maud,
because it would take too long for me to do all
the work alone."[75]

"The Maud?"

"That was the yacht that father was to build
next. I asked Sam Rodman to give me the job,
and he is going to talk with his father about it
to-night."

Mrs. Ramsay was rather startled at this announcement,
which indicated that her son really
meant business in earnest.

"Do you think he will let you do it?" she
asked.

"I hope he will."

"Are you sure you can make anything if you
build the yacht?"

"Father made over three hundred dollars on
the Sea Foam, besides his day wages."

"That is no reason why you can do it."

"All his models, moulds, and draughts are in
the shop. I know where they are, and just what
to do with them. I hope you will let me try it,
mother."

"Suppose you don't make out?"

"But I shall make out."

"If Mr. Rodman refuses to accept the yacht
after the job is done, what will you do?"

"I shall have her myself then, and I can make
lots of money taking out parties in her."[76]

"Your father was paid for the Sea Foam as the
work progressed. He had received eight hundred
dollars on her when she was finished."

"I know it; and Captain Patterdale owes four
hundred more. If you let me use some of the
money to buy stock and pay the men till I get
payment on the job, I shall do very well."

"We must have something to live on. After
I have paid the funeral expenses and other bills,
this money that Captain Patterdale owes will be
all I have."

"But Mr. Rodman will pay me something on
the job, when he is satisfied that the work will
be done."

The widow was not very clear about the business;
but she concluded, at last, that if Mr.
Rodman would give him the job, she would allow
him to undertake it. Donald was satisfied, and
went back to the shop. He opened his father's
chest and took out his account book. Turning to
a page which was headed "Sea Foam," he found
every item of labor and expenditure charged to
her. Every day's work, every foot of stock,
every pound of nails, every article of brass or
hardware, and the cost of sails and cordage,[77]
were carefully entered on the account. From
this he could learn the price of everything used
in the construction of the yacht, for his guidance
in the great undertaking before him. But
he was quite familiar before with the cost of
everything used in building a boat. On a piece
of smooth board, he figured up the probable
cost, and assured himself he could make a good
job of the building of the Maud.

The next day was Saturday—two weeks after
the organization of the yacht club. There had
been a grand review a week before, which Donald
did not attend. The yachtmen had taken
their mothers, sisters, and other friends on an
excursion down the bay, and given them a collation
at Turtle Head. On the Saturday in
question, a meeting of the club at the Head had
been called to complete the arrangements for a
regatta, and the Committee on Regattas were to
make their report. Donald had been requested
to attend in order to measure the yachts. He
did not feel much like taking part in the sports
of the club, but he decided to perform the duty
required of him. He expected to see Samuel
Rodman on this occasion, and to learn the de[78]cision
of his father in regard to the building of
the Maud.

After breakfast he embarked in the sail-boat
which had belonged to his father, and with a
fresh breeze stood over to Turtle Head. He had
dug some clams early in the morning, and told
his mother he should bring home some fish
which he intended to catch after the meeting of
the club. As the boat sped on her way, he
thought of his grand scheme to carry on his
father's business, and everything seemed to depend
upon Mr. Rodman's decision. He hoped
for the best, but he trembled for the result.
When he reached his destination, he found another
boat at the Head, and soon discovered
Laud Cavendish on the bluff.

"Hallo, Don John!" shouted the swell, as
Donald stepped on shore.

"How are you, Laud? You are out early."

"Not very; I came ashore here to see if I
couldn't find some clams," added Laud, as he
held up a clam-digger he carried in his hand—a
kind of trowel fixed in a shovel-handle.

"You can't find any clams here," said Donald,
wondering that even such a swell should expect
to find them there.[79]

"I am going down to Camden to stay over
Sunday, and I thought I might fish a little on the
way."

"You will find some farther down the shore,
where there is a soft beach. Do you get off every
Saturday now, Laud?"

"Get off? Yes; I get off every day. I'm out
of a job."

"I thought you were at Miller's store."

"I was there; but I'm not now. Miller
shoved me out. Do you know of any fellow
that has a good boat to sell?"

"What kind of a boat?"

"Well, one like the Skylark and the Sea
Foam."

"No; I don't know of any one around here.
Do you want to buy one?"

"Yes; I thought I would buy one, if I could
get her about right. She must be cheap."

"How cheap do you expect to buy a boat like
the Sea Foam?" asked Donald, wondering what a
young man out of business could be thinking
about when he talked of buying a yacht.

"Four or five hundred dollars."

"The Sea Foam cost twelve hundred."[80]

"That's a fancy price. The Skylark didn't
cost but five hundred."

"Do you want to give five hundred for a
boat?"

"Not for myself, Don John. I was going to
buy one for another man. I must be going
now," added Laud, as he went down to his boat.

Hoisting his sail, he shoved off, and stood over
towards Searsport. Donald walked up the slope
to the Head, from which he could see the yacht
club fleet as soon as it sailed from the city.[81]

CHAPTER V.

CAPTAIN SHIVERNOCK.

Donald seated himself on a rock, with his
gaze directed towards Belfast. His particular
desire just then was to see Samuel Rodman,
in order to learn whether he was to have the job of
building the Maud. He felt able to do it, and even
then, as he thought of the work, he had in his
mind the symmetrical lines of the new yacht, as
they were to be after the change in the model which
his father had explained to him. He recalled a
suggestion of a small increase in the size of the
mainsail, which had occurred to him when he
sailed the Sea Foam. His first aspiration was
only to build a yacht; his second was to build
one that would beat anything of her inches in the
fleet. If he could realize this last ambition, he
would have all the business he could do.

The yacht fleet did not appear up the bay; but[82]
it was only nine o'clock in the morning, and possibly
the meeting of the club would not take
place till afternoon. If any one had told him the
hour, he had forgotten it, but the former meeting
had been in the forenoon. He was too nervous
to sit still a great while, and, rising, he walked
about, musing upon his grand scheme. The
place was an elevated platform of rock, a portion
of it covered with soil to the depth of several
feet, on which the grass grew. It was not far
above the water even at high tide, nor were the
bluffs very bold. The plateau was on a peninsula,
extending to the north from the island,
which was not unlike the head of a turtle, and
the shape had given it a name. Donald walked
back and forth on the headland, watching for the
fleet.

"I wonder if Laud Cavendish was digging for
clams up here," thought he, as he observed a spot
where the earth appeared to have been disturbed.

The marks of Laud's clam-digger were plainly
to be seen in the loam, a small quantity of which
remained on the sod. Certainly the swell had
been digging there; but it could not have been
for clams; and Donald was trying to imagine[83]
what it was for, when he heard footsteps near
him. Coming towards him, he discovered Captain
Shivernock, of the city; and he had two
problems to solve instead of one; not very important
ones, it is true, but just such as are suggested
to everybody at times. Perhaps it did
not make the least difference to the young man
whether or not he ascertained why Laud Cavendish
had been digging on the Head, or why Captain
Shivernock happened to be on the island,
apparently without any boat, at that time in the
morning. I do not think Donald would have
given a nickel five-cent piece to have been informed
correctly upon either point, though he did
propose the question to himself in each case.
Probably Laud had no particular object in view
in digging—the ground did not look as though he
had; and Captain Shivernock was odd enough to
do anything, or to be anywhere, at the most unseasonable
hours.

"How are you, Don John?" shouted the captain,
as he came within hailing distance of
Donald.

"How do you do, Captain Shivernock," replied
the young man, rather coldly, for he had no[84]
regard, and certainly no admiration, for the man.

"You are just the man I wanted to see," added
the captain.

Donald could not reciprocate the sentiment,
and, not being a hypocrite, he made no reply.
The captain seemed to be somewhat fatigued and
out of breath, and immediately seated himself on
the flat rock which the young man had occupied.
He was not more than five feet and a half high,
but was tolerably stout. The top of his head was
as bald as a winter squash; but extending around
the back of his head from ear to ear was a heavy
fringe of red hair. His whiskers were of the
same color; but, as age began to bleach them out
under the chin, he shaved this portion of his
figure-head, while his side whiskers and mustache
were very long. He was dressed in a complete
suit of gray, and wore a coarse braided straw hat.

Captain Shivernock, as I have more than once
hinted, was an eccentric man. He had been a
shipmaster in the earlier years of his life, and
had made a fortune by some lucky speculations
during the War of the Rebellion, in which he
took counsel of his interest rather than his
patriotism. He had a strong will, a violent tem[85]per,
and an implacable hatred to any man who had
done him an injury, either actually or constructively.
It was said that he was as faithful and devoted
in his friendships as he was bitter and
relentless in his hatreds; but no one in the city,
where he was a very unpopular man, had any particular
experience of the soft side of his character.
He was a native of Lincolnville, near Belfast,
though he had left his home in his youth. He
had a fine house in the city, and lived in good
style. He was said to be a widower, and had no
children. The husband of his housekeeper was
the man of all work about his place, and both of
them had come with their employer from New
York.

He seldom did anything like other people.
He never went to church, would never put his
name upon a subscription paper, however worthy
the object, though he had been known to give a
poor man an extravagant reward for a slight service.
He would not pay his taxes till the fangs
of the law worried the money out of him, but
would give fifty dollars for the first salmon or the
first dish of peaches of the season for his table.
He was as full of contradictions as he was of[86]
oddities, and no one knew how to take him. One
moment he seemed to be hoarding his money like
a miser, and the next scattering it with insane
prodigality.

"I'm tired out, Don John," added Captain
Shivernock, as he seated himself, fanning his red
face with his hat.

"Have you walked far, sir?" asked Donald,
who was well acquainted with the captain; for
his father had worked on his boat, and he was
often in the shop.

"I believe I have hoofed it about ten miles this
morning," replied Captain Shivernock with an
oath; and he had a wicked habit of ornamenting
every sentence he used with a profane expletive,
which I shall invariably omit.

"Then you have walked nearly the whole
length of the island."

"Do you mean to tell me I lie?" demanded the
captain.

"Certainly not, sir," protested Donald.

"My boat got aground down here. I started
early this morning to go down to Vinal Haven;
but I'm dished now, and can't go," continued
Captain Shivernock, so interlarding with oaths[87]
this simple statement that it looks like another
thing divested of them.

"Where did you get aground?" asked Donald.

"Down by Seal Harbor."

"About three miles from here."

"Do you think I lied to you?"

"By no means, sir."

Donald could not divine how the captain had
got aground near Seal Harbor, if he was bound
from Belfast to Vinal Haven, though it was possible
that the wind had been more to the southward
early in the morning, compelling him to
beat down the bay; but it was not prudent to
question anything the captain said.

"I ran in shore pretty well, and took the
ground. I tried for half an hour to get the Juno
off, but I was soon left high and dry on the
beach. I anchored her where she was, and I'm
sorry now I didn't set her afire," explained the
captain.

"Set her afire!" exclaimed Donald.

"That's what I said. She shall never play
me such a trick again," growled the strange man.

"Why, it wasn't the fault of the boat."

"Do you mean to say it was my fault?" de[88]manded
the captain, ripping out a string of oaths
that made Donald shiver.

"It was an accident which might happen to any
one."

"Do you think I didn't know what I was
about?"

"I suppose you did, sir; but any boat may get
aground."

"Not with me! if she did I'd burn her or sell
her for old junk. I never will sail in her again
after I get home. I know what I'm about."

"Of course you do, sir."

"Got a boat here?" suddenly demanded the
eccentric.

"Yes, sir; I have our sail-boat."

"Take me down to Seal Harbor in her," added
the captain, rising from his seat.

"I don't think I can go, sir."

"Don't you? What's the reason you can't?"
asked the captain, with a sneer on his lips.

"I have to meet the yacht club here."

Captain Shivernock cursed the yacht club with
decided unction, and insisted that Donald should
convey him in his boat to the place where the
Juno was at anchor.[89]

"I have to measure the yachts when they
come, sir."

"Measure—" but the place the captain suggested
was not capable of measurement. "I'll
pay you well for going."

"I should not ask any pay if I could go,"
added Donald, glancing up the bay to see if the
fleet was under way.

"I say I will pay you well, and you will be a
fool if you don't go with me."

"The yachts haven't started yet, and perhaps I
shall have time to get back before they arrive."

"I don't care whether you get back or not; I
want you to go."

"I will go, sir, and run the risk," replied
Donald, as he led the way down to the boat.

Shoving her off, he helped the captain into her,
and hoisted the sail.

"What boat's that over there?" demanded
Captain Shivernock, as he pointed at the craft
sailed by Laud Cavendish, which was still standing
on towards Searsport.

Donald told him who was in her.

"Don't go near her," said he, sternly. "I
always want a good mile between me and that
puppy."[90]

"He is bound to Camden, and won't get there
for a week at that rate," added Donald.

"Don't care if he don't," growled the passenger.

"I don't know that I do, either," added the
skipper. "Laud wants to buy a boat, and perhaps
you can sell him yours, if you are tired of
her."

"Shut up!"

Donald did "shut up," and decided not to
make any more talk with the captain, only to
give him civil answers. Ordinarily he would as
soon have thought of wrestling with a Bengal
tiger as of carrying on a conversation with such a
porcupine as his passenger, who scrupled not to
insult man or boy without the slightest provocation.
In a few moments the skipper tacked,
having weathered the Head, and stood into the
little bay west of it.

"Don John," said Captain Shivernock, sharply,
fixing his gaze upon the skipper.

"Sir?"

The captain took his wallet from his pocket.
It was well filled with greenbacks, from which
he took several ten-dollar bills—five or six of
them, at least.[91]

"I will pay you," said he.

"I don't ask any pay for this, sir. I am willing
to do you a favor for nothing."

"Hold your tongue, you fool! A favor?"
sneered the eccentric. "Do you think I would
ask a little monkey like you to do me a favor?"

"I won't call it a favor, sir."

"Better not. There! take that," and Captain
Shivernock shoved the bills he had taken from
his wallet into Donald's hand.

"No, sir! I can't take all that, if I do anything,"
protested the skipper, amazed at the generosity
of his passenger. The captain, with a
sudden spring, grasped a short boat-hook which
lay between the rail and the wash-board.

"Put that money into your pocket, or I'll
smash your head; and you won't be the first
man I've killed, either," said the violent passenger.

Donald did not find the money hard to take
on its own merits, and he considerately obeyed
the savage order. His pride, which revolted at
the idea of being paid for a slight service rendered
to a neighbor, was effectually conquered.
He put the money in his pocket; but as soon as[92]
the captain laid down the boat-hook, he took it
out to count it, and found there was fifty dollars.
He deposited it carefully in his wallet.

"You don't mean to pay me all that money for
this little job?" said he.

"Do you think I don't know what I mean?"
snarled the passenger.

"I suppose you do, sir."

"You suppose I do!" sneered the cynic. "You
know I do."

"Fifty dollars is a great deal of money for
such a little job."

"That's none of your business. Don John,
you've got a tongue in your head!" said Captain
Shivernock, pointing his finger at the skipper,
and glowering upon him as though he was
charging him with some heinous crime.

"I am aware of it, sir," replied Donald.

"Do you know what a tongue is for?" demanded
the captain.

"It is of great assistance to one in talking."

"Don't equivocate, you sick monkey. Do
you know what a tongue is for?"

"Yes, sir."

"What's a tongue for?"[93]

"To talk with, and—"

"That's enough! I thought you would say
so. You are an ignorant whelp."

"Isn't the tongue to talk with?"

"No!" roared the passenger.

"What is it for, then?" asked Donald, who
did not know whether to be alarmed or amused
at the manner of his violent companion.

"It's to keep still with, you canting little
monkey! And that's what I want you to do
with your tongue," replied Captain Shivernock.

"I don't think I understand you, sir."

"I don't think you do. How could you, when
I haven't told you what I mean. Listen to me."
The eccentric paused, and fixed his gaze earnestly
upon the skipper.

"Have you seen me this morning?" demanded
he.

"Of course I have."

"No, you haven't!"

"I really thought I had."

"Thought's a fool, and you're another! You
haven't seen me. If anybody in Belfast asks
you if you have seen me, tell 'em you haven't."

"If the tongue isn't to talk with, it isn't to
tell a lie with," added Donald.[94]

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the captain; "you've
got me there."

He produced his wallet again, and took a ten-dollar
bill from the roll it contained, which he
tendered to Donald.

"What's that for?" asked the skipper.

"Put it in your pocket, or I'll mash your
empty skull!"

Donald placed it with the other bills in his
wallet, more than ever amazed at the conduct of
his singular passenger.

"I never allow anyone to get ahead of me
without paying for my own stupidity. Do you
go to Sunday School, and church, and missionary
meetings?" asked the captain, with a sneer.

"I do, sir."

"I thought so. You are a sick monkey. You
don't let your tongue tell a lie."

"No, sir; I don't mean to tell a lie, if I can
help it, and I generally can."

"You walk in the strait and narrow way which
leads to the meeting-house. I don't. All right!
Broad is the way! But one thing is certain,
Don John, you haven't seen me to-day."

"But I have," persisted Donald.[95]

"I say you have not; don't contradict me, if
you want to take that head of yours home with
you. Nobody will ask whether you have seen
me or not; so that if a lie is likely to choke
you, keep still with your tongue."

"I am not to say that I have seen you on the
island?" queried Donald.

"You are not," replied the captain, with an
echoing expletive.

"Why not, sir?"

"None of your business! Do as you are told,
and spend the money I gave you for gingerbread
and fast horses."

"But when my mother sees this money she
will want to know where I got it."

"If you tell her or anybody else, I'll hammer
your head till it isn't thicker than a piece of
sheet-iron. Don't let her see the money. Hire
a fast horse, and go to ride next Sunday."

"I don't go to ride on Sunday."

"I suppose not. Give it to the missionaries
to buy red flannel shirts for little niggers in the
West Indies, if you like. I don't care what you
do with it."

"You don't wish anybody to know you have[96]
been on the island this morning—is that the idea,
Captain Shivernock?" asked Donald, not a little
alarmed at the position in which his companion
was placing him.

"That's the idea, Don John."

"I don't see why—"

"You are not to see why," interrupted the captain,
fiercely. "That's my business, not yours.
Will you do as I tell you?"

"If there is any trouble—"

"There isn't any trouble. Do you think I've
killed somebody?—No. Do you think I've
robbed somebody?—No. Do you think I've set
somebody's house on fire?—No. Do you think
I've stolen somebody's chickens?—No. Nothing
of the sort. I want to know whether you can
keep your tongue still. Let us see. There's
the Juno."

"Somebody will see your boat, and know that
you have been here—"

"That's my business, not yours. Don't bother
your head with what don't concern you," growled
the passenger.

The Juno was afloat, but she could not have
been so many minutes, when Donald came along[97]side
of her. It was now about half tide on the
flood, and she must have grounded at about half
tide on the ebb. This fact indicated that Captain
Shivernock had left her at four o'clock in the
morning. The owner of the Juno stepped into
her, and Donald hoisted the sail for him. The
boat was cat-rigged, and about twenty-four feet
long. She was a fine craft, with a small cabin
forward, furnished with every convenience the
limited space would permit. The captain seated
himself in the standing-room, and began to heap
maledictions upon the boat.

"I never will sail in her again," said he. "I
will burn her, and get a centre-board boat."

"What will you take for her, sir?" asked
Donald.

"Do you want her, Don John?" demanded the
captain.

"I couldn't afford to keep her; but I will sell
her for you."

"Sell—" it is no matter what; but Captain Shivernock
suddenly leaped back into Donald's boat,
and her skipper wondered what he intended to do
next. "She is yours, Don John!" he exclaimed.

"To sell for you?"[98]

"No! Sell her, if you like, but put the
money in your own pocket. I will sail up in
your boat, and you may go to Jerusalem in the
Juno, if you like. I will never get into her
again," added the captain, spitefully.

"But, Captain Shivernock, you surely don't
mean to give me this boat."

"Do you think I don't know what I mean?"
roared the strange man, after a long string of
expletives. "She is yours, now; not mine. I'll
give you a bill of sale as soon as I go ashore.
Not another word, or I'll pound your head.
Don't tell anybody I gave her to you, or that
you have seen me. If you do there will be a job
for a coffin-maker."

The captain shoved off the boat, and laid her
course across the bay, evidently to avoid Laud
Cavendish, whose craft was a mile distant; for he
had probably put in at Searsport. Donald
weighed the anchor of the Juno, and sailed for
Turtle Head, hardly knowing whether he was
himself or somebody else, so amazed was he at
the strange conduct of his late passenger. He
could not begin to comprehend it, and he did not
have to strain his logic very much in coming to
the conclusion that the captain was insane.[99]

CHAPTER VI.

DONALD GETS THE JOB.

Whether Captain Shivernock was sane or
insane, Donald Ramsay was in possession
of the Juno. Of course he did not consider himself
the proprietor of the craft, if he did of the sixty
dollars he had in his pocket. She had the wind
over her port quarter, and the boat tore through the
water as if she intended to show her new skipper
what she could do. But Donald paid little attention
to the speed of the Juno, for his attention
was wholly absorbed by the remarkable events of
the morning. Captain Shivernock had given him
sixty dollars in payment nominally for the slight
service rendered him. But then, the strange
man had given a poor laborer a hundred dollars
for stopping his horse, when the animal leisurely
walked towards home from the store where the
owner had left him. Again, he had given a[100]
negro sailor a fifty-dollar bill for sculling him
across the river. He had rewarded a small boy
with a ten-dollar bill for bringing him a despatch
from the telegraph office. When the woman
who went to his house to do the washing was
taken sick, and was not able to work for three
months, he regularly called at her rooms every
Monday morning and gave her ten dollars, which
was three times as much as she ever earned in
the same time.

Remembering these instances of the captain's
bounty, Donald had no doubt about the ownership
of the sixty dollars in his pocket. The
money was his own; but how had he earned it?
Was he paid to keep his tongue still, or simply
for the service performed? If for his silence,
what had the captain done which made him desire
to conceal the fact that he had been to the
island? The strange man had explicitly denied
having killed, robbed, or stolen from anybody.
All the skipper could make of it was, that his
desire for silence was only a whim of the captain,
and he was entirely willing to accommodate
him. If there had been any mischief done on
the island, he should hear of it; and in that[101]
event he would take counsel of some one older
and wiser than himself. Then he tried to satisfy
himself as to why the captain had walked at
least three miles to Turtle Head, instead of waiting
till the tide floated the Juno. This appeared
to be also a whim of the strange man. People
in the city used to say it was no use to ask
the reason for anything that Captain Shivernock
did. His motive in giving Donald sixty
dollars and his boat, which would sell readily for
three hundred dollars, and had cost over five hundred,
was utterly unaccountable.

Donald was determined not to do anything
wrong, and if the captain had committed any evil
deed, he fully intended to expose him; but he
meant to keep still until he learned that the evil
deed had been done. The money in his pocket,
and that for which the Juno could be sold, would
be capital enough to enable him to carry on the
business of boat-building. But he was determined
to see Captain Shivernock that very day in
regard to the boat. Perhaps the strange man
would give him a job to build a centre-board
yacht, for he wanted one.

"Hallo! Juno, ahoy!" shouted Laud Cavendish.[102]

Donald threw the boat up into the wind, under
the stern of Laud's craft.

"I thought you were going down to Camden,"
said he. "You won't get there to-day at this
rate."

"I forgot some things I wanted, and ran up to
Searsport after them. But what are you doing
in the Juno, Don John?"

"She's going to be sold, Laud," replied Donald,
dodging the direct question. "Didn't you say
you wanted to buy a boat?"

"I said so; and I want to buy one badly. I'm
going to spend my summer on the water. What
does the captain ask for her?"

"I don't know what the price is, but I'll let you
know on Monday," added Donald, as he filled
away again, for the yacht fleet was now in sight.

"Hold on a minute, Don John; I want to talk
with you about her."

"I can't stop now. I have to go up to the
Head and measure the yachts."

"Don't say a word to anybody about my buying
her," added Laud.

He was soon out of hearing of Laud's voice.
He wondered if the swell really wished to buy[103]
such a boat as the Juno, and could pay three hundred
dollars for her. His father was not a rich
man, and he was out of business himself. And
he wanted Donald to keep still too. What motive
had he for wishing his proposition to be kept
in the dark? His object was not apparent, and
Donald was obliged to give up the conundrum,
though he had some painful doubts on the subject.
As he thought of the matter, he turned to observe
the position of the two boats to the southward of
him. Directly ahead of Laud's craft was an
island which he could not weather, and he was
obliged to tack. He could not lay his course,
and he had to take a short and then a long
stretch, and he was now standing across the bay
on the short leg. Captain Shivernock had run
over towards the Northport shore, and Donald
thought they could not well avoid coming within
hailing distance of each other. But the Juno
passed beyond the north-west point of the island,
and he could no longer see them. He concluded,
however, that the captain would not let
Laud, or any one else, see him afloat that day.
He was a very strange man.

Donald ran the Juno around the point, and[104]
anchored her under the lee of Turtle Head. The
fleet was still a couple of miles distant, and after
he had lowered and secured the mainsail, he had
nothing to do but examine the fine craft which
had so strangely come into his possession. He
went into the cuddy forward, and overhauled
everything there, till he was fully qualified to set
forth the merits of her accommodations to a purchaser.
The survey was calculated to kindle his
own enthusiasm, for Donald was as fond of boating
as any young man in the club. The idea of
keeping the Juno for his own use occurred to
him, but he resisted the temptation, and determined
not even to think of such an extravagant
plan.

The yacht fleet was now approaching, the Skylark
gallantly leading the way, and the Christabel,
with a reef in her mainsail, bringing up the
rear. The Sea Foam did not seem to hold her
own with the Skylark, as she had done before,
but she was the second to drop her anchor
under the lee of Turtle Head.

"I cam glad to see you, Don John," said
Commodore Montague, as he discovered Donald
in the Juno. "I was afraid you were not com[105]ing,
and I went up to the shop to look for you.
But how came you in that boat?"

"She is for sale," replied Donald, as the tender
of the Skylark came alongside the Juno, and he
stepped into it. "Do you know of anybody that
wants to buy her?"

"I know three or four who want boats, but I
am not sure the Juno would suit either of
them," replied the commodore.

The boat pulled to the shore, and no one asked
any more questions about the Juno, or her late
owner. The members of the club on board of
the several yachts landed, and Donald was soon
in earnest conversation with Samuel Rodman.

"What does your father say?" he asked.

"He wants to see you," replied Samuel.

"Does he think I can't do the job?"

"He did not think so at first, but when I told
him you would employ one or two regular ship
carpenters, he was satisfied, and I think he will
give you the job."

"I hope he will, and I am sure I can give
him as good work as he can get anywhere."

"I haven't any doubt of it, Don John. But
the Sea Foam isn't doing so well as she did the[106]
first day you had her out. The Skylark beats
her every time they sail."

"Ned Patterdale hasn't got the hang of her
yet."

"Perhaps not."

"I should like to have Bob Montague sail
her, and Ned the Skylark; I think it would
make a difference," added Donald. "Ned does
very well, but a skipper must get used to his
boat; and he hasn't had much experience in
yachts as large as the Sea Foam. I spoke to you
of a change in the model for the Maud; and if
I'm not greatly mistaken, she will beat both the
Sea Foam and the Skylark."

"I would give all my spending-money for a
year, over and above the cost, if she would do
that," replied Rodman, with a snap of the eye.

"Of course I can't promise that she will do
it, but I expect she will," said Donald.

The club assembled under the trees, and the
members were called to order by the commodore.
The first business was to hear the report of the
Regatta Committee, which proved to be a very
interesting document to the yachtmen. The
race was to take place the next Saturday, and[107]
was open to all yachts exceeding twenty feet in
length, duly entered before the time. All were
to sail in the same class; the first prize was a
silver vase, and the second a marine glass. The
course was to be from the judge's boat, in Belfast
harbor, by Turtle Head, around the buoy on
Stubb's Point Ledge, leaving it on the port hand,
and back to the starting-point. The sailing regulations
already adopted by the club were to be
in full force. The report was accepted, and the
members looked forward with eager anticipation
to what they regarded as the greatest event of the
season. Other business was transacted, and
Donald, who had brought with him a measuring
tape and plummet, measured all the yachts of the
club. Dinner was served on board of each craft,
and the commodore extended the hospitalities of
the Skylark to Donald.

In the afternoon, the fleet made an excursion
around Long Island, returning to Belfast about
six o'clock, Donald sailing the Juno, and catching
a mess of fish off Haddock Ledge. He
moored her off the shop, and was rather surprised
to find that his own boat had not yet been returned.
After supper he hastened to the house[108]
of Mr. Rodman, with whom he had a long talk in
regard to the building of the Maud. The gentleman
had some doubts about the ability of the
young boat-builder to do so large a job, though
he desired to encourage him.

"I am willing to give you the work, and to
pay you the same price your father had for the
Sea Foam; but I don't like to pay out money till
I know that you are to succeed," said he.

"I don't ask you to do so, sir," replied Donald,
warmly. "You need not pay me a cent till
you are perfectly satisfied."

"But I supposed you would want money to
buy stock and pay your men, even before you had
set up your frame."

"No, sir; we have capital enough to make a
beginning."

"I am satisfied then, and you shall have the
job," added Mr. Rodman.

"Thank you, sir," replied Donald, delighted
at his success.

"You may go to work as soon as you please;
and the sooner the better, for Samuel is in a
great hurry for his yacht."

"I will go to work on Monday morning. The[109]
model, moulds, and drawings are all ready, and
there will be no delay, sir," answered the young
boat-builder, as he took his leave of his considerate
patron.

Perhaps Mr. Rodman was not satisfied that the
young man would succeed in the undertaking, but
he had not the heart to discourage one who was
so earnest. He determined to watch the progress
of the work very closely, and if he discovered
that the enterprise was not likely to be successful,
he intended to stop it before much time or
money had been wasted. Donald had fully detailed
the means at his command for doing the
job in a workman-like manner, and he was well
known as an ingenious and skilful mechanic.
Mr. Rodman had strong hopes that the young
man would succeed in his undertaking.

Donald walked toward the house of Captain
Shivernock, congratulating himself on the happy
issue of his interview with Mr. Rodman. As he
passed the book and periodical store, he saw
Lawrence Kennedy, a ship carpenter, who had formerly
worked with Mr. Ramsay, standing at the
door, reading the weekly paper just from the
press. This man was out of work, and was talk[110]ing
of going to Bath to find employment. Donald
had already thought of him as one of his
hands, for Kennedy was a capital mechanic.

"What's the news?" asked Donald, rather to
open the way to what he had to say, than because
he was interested in the latest intelligence.

"How are you, Donald?" replied the ship
carpenter. "There's a bit of news from Lincolnville,
but I suppose you heard it; for all the town
is talking about it."

"I haven't heard it."

"A man in Lincolnville was taken from his
bed in the dead hour of the night, and beaten to
a jelly."

"Who was the man?"

"His name was Hasbrook."

"Hasbrook!" exclaimed Donald.

"Do you know him, lad?"

"I know of him; and he has the reputation of
being anything but an honest man."

"Then it's not much matter," laughed the ship
carpenter.

"But who beat him?" asked Donald.

"No one knows who it was. Hasbrook
couldn't make him out; but likely it's some one
the rogue has cheated."[111]

"Hasbrook must have seen him," suggested
Donald.

"The ruffian was disguised with his head in a
bit of a bag, or something of that sort, and he
never spoke a word from first to last," added
Kennedy, looking over the article in the paper.

Donald wondered if Captain Shivernock had
any dealings with Hasbrook. He was just the
man to take the law into his own hands, and
assault one who had done him a real or a fancied
injury. Donald began to think he understood
why the captain did not wish it to be known
that he was on Long Island the night before.
But the outrage had been committed in Lincolnville,
which bordered the western arm of Penobscot
Bay. It was three miles from the main land
to the island. If the captain was in Lincolnville
in "the dead of night," on a criminal errand,
what was he doing near Seal Harbor, where the
Juno was aground, at four o'clock in the morning?
If he was the guilty party, he would naturally
desire to get home before daylight. The
wind was fair for him to do so, and there was
enough of it to enable the Juno to make the run
in less than two hours. It did not seem probable,[112]
therefore, that the captain had gone over to the
other side of the bay, three miles off his course.
Besides, he was not disguised, but wore his usual
gray suit; and Hasbrook ought to have been able
to recognize him by his form and his dress even
in the darkest night.

Donald was perplexed and disturbed. If there
was any probability that Captain Shivernock had
committed the crime, our hero was not to be
bribed by sixty or six thousand dollars to keep
the secret. If guilty, he would have been more
likely to go below and turn in than to walk three
miles on the island for assistance, and he would
not have gone three miles off his course. But
Donald determined to inquire into the matter,
and do his whole duty, even if the strange man
killed him for it. Kennedy was reading his
paper while the young man was thinking over the
case; but, having decided what to do, he interrupted
the ship carpenter again.

"Are you still out of work, Mr. Kennedy?" he
asked.

"I am; and I think I shall go to Bath next
week," replied Kennedy.

"I know of a job for you."

The News from Lincolnville. Page 110 .

[113]

"Do you, lad? I don't want to move away
from Belfast, and I should be glad to get work
here. What's the job?"

"We are going to build a yacht of the size of
the Sea Foam."

"Who?" inquired the workman.

"My mother and I intend to carry on my
father's business."

"And you wish me to manage it for you?"

"No; I intend to manage it myself," added
Donald, confidently.

"Well, lad, you are clever enough to do it;
and if you are like your father, I shall be glad
to work for you."

The wages were agreed upon, and Kennedy
promised to be at the shop on Monday morning,
to assist the young boat-builder in selecting the
stock for the Maud. Donald walked to the
house of Captain Shivernock. In the yard he
found Sykes, the man who did all sorts of work
for his employer, from taking care of the horses
up to negotiating mortgages. Donald had occasionally
been to the house, and he knew Sykes
well enough to pass the time of day with him
when they met in the street.[114]

"Is Captain Shivernock at home?" asked the
young man, trying to appear indifferent, for he
wanted to get as much information in regard to
the strange man's movements during the last
twenty-four hours as possible.

"No, he is not," replied Sykes, who to some
extent aped the manners of his eccentric employer.

"Not at home!" exclaimed Donald, who had
not expected this answer, though he had not
found his own boat at her moorings on his return
from the excursion with the fleet.

"Are you deaf, young man?"

"No, sir; not at all."

"Then you heard me say he was not at
home," growled Sykes.

"I want to see him very much. Will he be
long away?" asked Donald.

"I can't tell you. He won't come back till
he gets ready, if it isn't for a month."

"Of course not; but I should like to know
when I can probably see him."

"You can probably see him when he comes
home. He started in his boat for Vinal Haven
early this morning."[115]

"This morning?" repeated Donald, who wished
to be sure on this point.

"Didn't I say so? This morning. He comes
back when he pleases."

"When do you expect him?"

"I don't expect him. I never expect him. He
may be home in five minutes, in five days, or
five weeks."

"At what time this morning did he go?"

"He left the house at five minutes after four
this morning, the last that ever was. I looked
at my watch when he went out at the gate; for
I was thinking whether or no his boat wasn't
aground. Do you want to know what he had
for breakfast? If you do, you must ask my
wife, for I don't know," growled Sykes.

"I am very anxious to see him," continued
Donald, without heeding the sulky tones and
manner of the man. "Perhaps he told Mrs.
Sykes when he should return."

"Perhaps he did, and perhaps he told her
how much money he had in his pocket. He was
as likely to tell her one as the other. You can
ask her," sneered Sykes.

As the housekeeper sat on the piazza enjoying
the cool evening breeze, Donald decided to avail[116]
himself of this permission, for he desired to know
how well the two stories would agree. He saluted
the lady, who gave him a pleasanter reception
than her bearish husband had accorded to him.

"Mr. Sykes told me that Captain Shivernock
was away from home," said Donald. "Can you
tell me when he is likely to return?"

"He intended to come back to-night if the
wind favored him. He went to Vinal Haven
early this morning, and as you are a sailor, you
can tell better than I whether he is likely to return
to-night," replied Mrs. Sykes.

"The wind is fair, and there is plenty of it,"
added Donald. "What time did he leave?"

"About four o'clock. I gave him his coffee at
half past three, and it must have been about four
when he went away."

If the outrage at Lincolnville had been committed
in "the dead of the night," it was perfectly
evident to Donald that Captain Shivernock
had had nothing whatever to do with it. This
conclusion was a great relief to the mind of the
young man; but he had hardly reached it before
the captain himself passed through the gate, and
fixed a searching gaze upon him, as though he regarded
him as an interloper.[117]

CHAPTER VII.

LAYING DOWN THE KEEL.

"What are you doing here, Don John?"
demanded Captain Shivernock, as he
ascended the steps of the piazza.

"I came to see you, sir," replied Donald, respectfully.

"Well, you see me—don't you?"

"I do, sir."

"Have you been talking to Sykes and his
wife?" asked the captain, sternly.

"I have, sir."

"Have you told them that you saw me on the
island?"

"No, sir; not them, nor anybody else."

"It's well for you that you haven't," added
the captain, shaking his head—a significant gesture,
which seemed to relate to the future, rather
than to the present. "If you lisp a syllable of[118]
it, you will need a patch on your skull.—Now,"
he continued, "what do you want of me?"

"I wanted to talk about the Juno with you.
Perhaps I can find a customer for you."

"Come into the house," growled the captain,
as he stalked through the door.

Donald followed him into a sitting-room, on
one side of which was a secretary, provided with
a writing-desk. The captain tossed his cap and
overcoat into a chair, and seated himself at the
desk. He picked up a quill pen, and began
to write as though he intended to scratch a hole
through the paper, making noise enough for a
small locomotive. He finished the writing, and
signed his name to it. Then he cast the contents
of a sand-box upon it, returning to it the portion
which did not adhere to the paper. The document
looked as though it had been written with
a handspike, or as though the words had been
ploughed in, and a furrow of sand left to form
the letters.

"Here!" said the captain, extending the paper
to his visitor, with a jerk, as though he was performing
a most ungracious office.

"What is it, sir?" asked Donald, as he took
the document.[119]

"Can't you read?" growled the strange man.

Under ordinary circumstances Donald could
read—could read writing when not more than
half the letters were merged into straight lines;
but it required all his skill, and not a little of his
Scotch-Yankee guessing ability, to decipher the
vagrant, staggering characters which the captain
had impressed with so much force upon the paper.
It proved to be a bill of sale of the Juno, in due
form, and for the consideration of three hundred
dollars.

"Surely you cannot mean this, Captain Shivernock?"
exclaimed the amazed young man.

"Can't I? Do you think I'm a lunatic?"
stormed the captain.

Donald did think so, but he was not so imprudent
as to say it.

"I can't pay you three hundred dollars for the
boat," pleaded he.

"Nobody asked you to pay a red cent. The
boat is yours. If you don't want her, sell her to
the first man who is fool enough to buy her.
That's all."

"I'm very grateful to you for your kindness,
Captain Shivernock; and I hope—"[120]

"All stuff!" interposed the strange man, savagely.
"You are like the rest of the world, and
next week you would be as ready to kick me as
any other man would be, if you dared to do so.
You needn't stop any longer to talk that sort of
bosh to me. It will do for Sunday Schools and
prayer meetings."

"But I am really—"

"No matter if you are really. Shut up!"

"I hope I shall be able to do something to
serve you."

"Bah!"

"Have you heard the news, Captain Shivernock?"
asked Donald, suddenly changing the
topic.

"What news?"

"It's in the Age. A man over in Lincolnville,
by the name of Hasbrook, was taken out of
his bed last night, and severely beaten."

"Hasbrook! Served him right!" exclaimed
the captain, with a rough string of profanity,
which cooled the blood of the listener. "He is
the biggest scoundrel in the State of Maine, and
I am much obliged to the man who did it. I
would have taken a hand with him at the game,
if I had been there."

The Bill of Sale. Page 119.

[121]

This was equivalent to saying that he was not
there.

"Do you know this Hasbrook?" asked Donald.

"Do I know him? He swindled me out of a
thousand dollars, and I ought to know him. If
the man that flogged him hasn't finished him, I'll
pound him myself when I catch him in the
right place," replied the strange man, violently.
"Who did the job, Don John?"

"I don't know, sir. He hasn't been discovered
yet."

"If he is discovered, I'll give him five hundred
dollars, and pay the lawyers for keeping him out
of jail. I wish I had done it myself; it would
make me feel good."

Donald was entirely satisfied that Captain Shivernock
had not done it. He was pleased, even
rejoiced, that his investigation had resulted so
decidedly in the captain's favor, for he would
have been very sorry to feel obliged to disregard
the injunction of secrecy which had been imposed
upon him.

"Did you fall in with any one after we parted
this morning?" asked Donald, who desired to
know whether the captain had met Laud Caven[122]dish
when the two boats appeared to be approaching
each other.

"None of your business!" rudely replied the
captain, after gazing a moment into the face of
the young man, as if to fathom his purpose in
asking the question. "Do you think the world
won't move on if you don't wind it up? Mind
your own business, and don't question me. I
won't have anybody prying into my affairs."

"Excuse me, sir; I don't wish to pry into your
affairs; and with your permission I will go home
now," replied Donald.

"You have my permission to go home,"
sneered the strange man; and Donald availed
himself of it without another instant's delay.

Certainly Captain Shivernock was a very
strange man, and Donald could not begin to understand
why he had given him the Juno and the
sixty dollars in cash. It was plain enough that
he had not been near Hasbrook's house, though
it was not quite clear how, if he left home at four
o'clock, he had got aground eight miles from the
city at the same hour; but there was probably
some error in Donald's reckoning. The young
man went home, and, on the way, having assured[123]
himself, to his own satisfaction, that he had no
painful duty in regard to the captain to perform,
he soon forgot all about the matter in the more
engrossing consideration of his great business
enterprise. When he entered the cottage, his
mother very naturally asked him where he had
been; and he gave her all the details of his interview
with Mr. Rodman. Mrs. Ramsay was more
cheerful than she had been before since the death
of her husband, and they discussed the subject
till bed time. Donald had seventy-two dollars
in his pocket, including his fees for measuring
the yachts. It was a new experience for him to
keep anything from his mother; but he felt that
he could not honorably tell her what had passed
between the captain and himself. He could soon
work the money into his business, and he need
keep it only till Monday. He did not feel just
right about it, even after he had convinced himself
that he ought not to reveal Captain Shivernock's
secret to her; but I must add, confidentially,
that it is always best for boys—I mean
young men—to tell their mothers "all about it;"
and if Donald had done so in this instance, no
harm would have come of the telling, and it[124]
might have saved him a great deal of trouble, and
her a great deal of anxiety, and a great many
painful doubts. Donald thought his view was
correct; he meant to do exactly right; and he
had the courage to do it, even if thereby he incurred
the wrath and the vengeance of the strange
man.

I have no doubt, from what indications I have
of the character of Donald Ramsay, that he tried
to learn his Sunday School lesson, tried to give
attention to the sermons he heard, and tried to
be interested in the good books he essayed to
read on Sunday; but I am not sure that he succeeded
entirely, for the skeleton frame of the
Maud would rise up in his imagination to cloud
the vision of higher things, and the remembrance
of his relations with Captain Shivernock would
thrust itself upon him. Yet it is a great deal
even to try to be faithful in one's thoughts, and
Donald was generally more successful than on
this occasion, for it was not often that he was excited
by events so stirring and prospects so brilliant.
A single week would be time enough to
accustom the young boat-builder to his occupation
and restore his mental equilibrium.[125]

The light of Monday morning's sun was very
welcome to him; and when only its light gleamed
in the gray east, he rose from his bed to begin
the labors of the day. His father had enlarged
the shop, so that he could build a yacht of the
size of the Maud under its roof; and before
breakfast time, he had prepared the bed, and levelled
the blocks on which the keel was to rest.
At seven o'clock Lawrence Kennedy appeared,
and together they looked over the stock on hand,
and made out a list of the pieces of timber and
plank that would be required. At first the journeyman
was inclined to take the lead in the
business; but he soon found that his youthful employer
was entirely familiar with the minutest
details of the work, and knew precisely how to
get out every stick of the frame. Donald constantly
referred to the model of the Sea Foam,
which he had already altered in accordance with
the suggestions of his father, using the inch scale
on which the model was projected, to get the size
of the pieces, so that there should be no unnecessary
waste in buying.

Kennedy went with him to the lumber wharf,
where the stock was carefully selected for the[126]
frame. Before dinner it was carted over to the
shop, and in the afternoon the work was actually
commenced. The keelson, with the aperture for
the centre-board nicely adjusted, was laid down,
levelled, and blocked up, so that the yacht should
be as true as a hair when completed. The next
steps were to set up the stern-post and the stem-piece,
and Mr. Ramsay's patterns of these timbers
were ready for use. Donald was tired enough to
rest when the clock struck six; but no better
day's work for two men could be shown than that
performed by him and his journeyman. Another
hand could now work to advantage on the frame,
and Kennedy knew of a first-rate workman who
desired employment. He was requested to have
him in the shop the next morning.

After supper, Donald went back to the shop to
study, rather than to work. He seated himself
on the bench, and was thinking over the details
of the work, when, through the window, he saw
Laud Cavendish run his sail-boat alongside the
Juno, which was moored a short distance from the
shore. Laud wanted to buy a boat, and Donald
wanted to sell one. More than once he had been
tempted to keep the Juno for his own use; but he[127]
decided that he could not afford such a luxury,
even though she had cost him nothing. If he
kept her, he would desire to use her, and he
might waste too much of his precious time in
sailing her. It would cost money as well as time
to keep her; for boats are always in need of paint,
spars, sails, rigging, and other repairs. He was
resolute in his purpose to dispose of the Juno,
lest the possession of her should demoralize him,
and interfere with his attention to business.

It was plain enough to Donald that he must sell
the Juno, though it was not as clear that Laud
Cavendish could buy her; but he decided to see
him, and, launching his tender, he pulled out for
the Juno. While he was plying his oars, it suddenly
came across the mind of the young boat-builder
that he could not sell this boat without
exposing his relations to Captain Shivernock.
He was rather startled by the thought, but, before
he had followed it out to a conclusion, the tender
was alongside the Juno.

"How are you, Don John?" said Laud. "I
thought I would come down and look over the
Juno."

"She is a first-rate boat," replied Donald.[128]

"And the captain wants to sell her?"

"She's for sale," replied her owner.

"What's the price of her?"

"Four hundred."

"That's too steep, Don John. It is of no use
for me to look at her if the captain won't sell her
for less than that."

"Say three fifty, then," replied Donald.

"Say three hundred."

"She is worth more money," continued the
owner, as he unlocked the cuddy. "She has a
fine cabin, fitted up like a parlor. Go in and
look round."

Donald led the way, and pointed out all the
conveniences of the cabin, eloquently setting forth
the qualities of the boat and her accommodations.

"I'll give three hundred for her," said Laud.

"She is worth more than that," replied Donald.
"Why, she cost the captain over five hundred;
and I wouldn't build her for a mill less than
that."

"You?" laughed Laud.

"I'm building a yacht thirty feet long for Sam
Rodman; and I'm to have twelve hundred for
her," answered Donald, struggling to be modest.[129]

"You are some punkins—aren't you, Don
John?"

"I can't quite come up to you, Mr. Cavendish."

"Perhaps you will when you are as old as I
am."

"Possibly; but it's a big height to reach in two
years. A man of your size ought not to haggle
for fifty dollars on a boat."

"I can't afford to give more than three hundred
for the Juno," protested Laud, very decidedly.

"Can you afford to give that?" asked Donald,
with a smile.

Laud looked at him sharply, and seemed to be
somewhat embarrassed.

"I suppose I can't really afford it; but what's
life for? We can't live it over again, and we
ought to make the best of it. Don't you think
so?"

"Certainly—the best of it; but there may be
some difference of opinion in regard to what the
best of it may be."

"I mean to be a gentleman, and not a philosopher.
I go in for a good time. Will you take
three hundred for the boat? or will you tell the
captain I will give that?"[130]

"I can sell her without going to him. I
haven't offered her to anybody but you, and I
have no doubt I can get my price for her."

Laud talked till it was nearly dark; but Donald
was firm, and at last he carried his point.

"I will give the three hundred and fifty, because
I want her very badly; but it's a big price," said
Laud.

"It's dog cheap," added Donald, who was
beginning to think how he should manage the
business without informing the purchaser that the
Juno was his own property.

Donald was a young man of many expedients,
and he finally decided to ask Captain Shivernock
to exchange the bill of sale for one conveying the
boat directly to Laud Cavendish. This settled,
he wondered how Laud expected to pay for his
purchase, for it was utterly incredible to him that
the swell could command so large a sum as three
hundred and fifty dollars. After all, perhaps it
would not be necessary to trouble the captain
about the business, for Donald did not intend to
give a bill of sale without the cash.

"When do you want to close the trade?" he
asked.[131]

"I thought we had closed it," replied Laud.

"You want a bill of sale—don't you?"

"No, I don't; I would rather not have one.
When I get the boat, I know how to keep her.
Besides, you will be a witness that I have bought
her."

"That isn't the way to do business," protested
Donald.

"If I'm satisfied, you need not complain. If I
pay you the cash down, that ends the matter."

"If you do."

"Well, I will; here and now," added Laud,
pulling out his wallet.

"Where did you get so much money, Laud?"
asked Donald.

It was doubtless an impertinent question, but it
came from the heart of him who proposed it; and
it was not resented by him to whom it was put.
On the contrary, Laud seemed to be troubled,
rather than indignant.

"Don John, you are a good fellow," said
Laud, after a long pause.

"Of course I am."

"For certain reasons of my own, I want you to
keep this trade to yourself."[132]

"Why so?"

"I can't tell you."

"Then I won't do it. If there is any hitch
about the money, I won't have anything to do
with it."

"Any hitch? What do you mean by that?"
demanded Laud, with a lofty air.

"It's no use to mince the matter, Laud. Three
hundred and fifty dollars don't grow on every
bush in your or my garden; and I have been
wondering, all the time, where a fellow like you
should get money enough to buy a boat like the
Juno."

Donald said all this fairly and squarely; but it
occurred to him just then, that after he had sold
the boat, any one might ask him the same question,
and he should not feel at liberty to answer it.

"Do you mean to insult me?" demanded Laud.

"Nothing of the sort; and you needn't ride
that high horse. I won't sell the boat till I know
where the money came from."

"Do you doubt my honor?"

"Confound your honor! I think we have said
enough."

"If you mean to say that I didn't come honorably
by my money, you are mistaken."[133]

"Where did you get it, then?"

"Are you always willing to tell where you get
every dollar in your pocket?" retorted Laud.

That was a home-thrust, and Donald felt it in
his trowsers pocket, where he kept his wallet.

"I am generally ready to tell where I get my
money," he replied, but he did not speak with
much energy.

Laud looked about him, and seemed to be considering
the matter.

"I don't like to be accused of stealing," mused
he.

"I don't accuse you of anything," added
Donald.

"It's the same thing. If I tell you where I
got this money, will you keep it to yourself?"
asked Laud.

"If it's all right I will."

"Honor bright, Don John?"

"If it's all right."

"O, it is!" protested Laud. "I will tell you;
but you must keep the secret, whatever happens."

"I will, if everything is as it should be."

"Well, Captain Shivernock gave it to me,"
said Laud, in confidential tones, and after looking[134]
about to satisfy himself that no third person was
within hearing.

"Captain Shivernock!" exclaimed Donald.

"Just so."

"What for?"

"I can't tell you any more. The captain
would kill me if he found out that I had told you
so much," answered Laud. "I don't understand
the matter myself; but the captain gave me that
money and fifty dollars more;" and he handed
Donald the price of the Juno. "You are not to
say that I have even seen the captain."

"When was this?"

"Last Saturday; but that's all; not another
word from me."

"It's very odd," mused Donald.

"You will keep still—won't you?"

"Yes; until I am satisfied the thing is not all
right."

"I shall not say that I own the Juno yet a
while," added Laud, as he returned to the boat
in which he had come.

Donald pulled ashore, with the money in his
pocket.[135]

CHAPTER VIII.

THE FIRST REGATTA.

Donald was not disposed to doubt the truth
of Laud Cavendish's story, for the circumstances
were precisely the same as those under
which he had received the boat and the money
from Captain Shivernock. If he had had no experience
with the eccentric shipmaster himself,
he would have doubted the whole explanation,
and refused to take the money. He recalled the
events of Saturday. The last he saw of Laud, on
that day, was when he ran his boat over towards
the Northport shore, whither the captain had
gone before him. He had lost sight of both their
boats at a time when it seemed very probable
that they would meet. After what Laud had
just said to him, and with the money he had paid
him in his pocket, he was confident they had met.
The strange man had purchased the silence of[136]
Laud, as he had his own, and at about the same
price.

Donald realized that Captain Shivernock had
thrown away about seven hundred dollars that
morning, and, as he thought of it, he was amazed
at his conduct; but the captain did not mind paying
a thousand dollars any time to gratify the
merest whim. The young man tried again to
fathom the motive of his eccentric but liberal
patron in thus throwing away such large sums,
unnecessarily large, to accomplish his object.
The Lincolnville outrage was the only possible
solution; but if he were the ruffian, he would not
have been on Long Island when he had a fair
wind to run home, and Sykes and his wife both
agreed that he had left the house on the morning
that Donald had seen him. It was not possible,
therefore, that the captain was guilty of the outrage.
Laud had paid him seven fifty dollar bills,
and he had over four hundred dollars in his
pocket. He did not know what to do with it,
and feeling that he had come honestly by it, he
was vexed at the necessity of concealing it from
his mother; but he was determined to pay it out,
as occasion required, for stock and hardware for[137]
the yacht he was building. When he went to his
chamber, he concealed three hundred and fifty
dollars of the money in a secret place in the pine
bureau in which his clothes were kept.

The next morning Kennedy appeared with the
man he was authorized to employ, and the chips
flew briskly in the shop all that day. At noon
Donald went to the wharf where he had bought
his stock, and paid the bill for it. The lumber
dealer commended his promptness, and offered to
give him credit for any lumber he might need;
but Donald proudly declared that he should pay
cash for all he bought, and he wanted the lowest
cash prices. On his return to the shop, he entered,
in the account-book his father had kept,
the amount he had expended. The work went
bravely on, for his two journeymen were interested
in his success. They were glad to get employment,
and desired that the young boat-builder
should not only build a fine yacht, but should
make money by the job. The stem-piece and
stern-post were set up, and gradually the frame
began to assume the shape of a vessel. Donald
watched the forming of the yacht very carefully,
and saw that everything was done according to
the model and the scale.[138]

On Saturday morning Mr. Rodman, accompanied
by a friend who was a ship-builder, visited
the shop to inspect the work. The frame, so far
as it had been set up, was carefully examined, and
the expert cordially approved all that had been
done, declaring that he had never seen a better
job in his life. Of course Donald was proud of
this partial success.

"I have had some doubts, Don John," laughed
Mr. Rodman; "but I am entirely satisfied now."

"Thank you, sir. I have had no doubts; I
could see that frame in my mind as plainly before
a stick had been touched as I do now."

"You have done well, and I am quite sure that
you will make a yacht of it. Now, if you will give
me a receipt for one hundred dollars, I will let
you have so much towards the price of the Maud,
for I suppose you want to pay your men off
to-night."

"I have money enough, sir, to pay my men,
and I don't ask you for any money yet," replied
the young boat-builder.

"But I prefer to pay you as the work progresses."

Donald did not object, and wrote the receipt.[139]
He was a minor, and his mother, who was the
administratrix of her husband's estate, was the
responsible party in the transaction of business;
but he did not like to sign his mother's name to
a receipt, and thus wholly ignore himself, and,
adopting a common fiction in trade, he wrote,
"Ramsay and son," which he determined should
be the style of the firm. Ramsay might mean
his father or his mother, and he had already
arranged this matter with her. Mr. Rodman
laughed at the signature, but did not object to it,
and Donald put the money in his pocket, after
crediting it on the book.

This was the day appointed for the first regatta
of the Yacht Club. The coming event had been
talked about in the city during the whole week,
not only among the boys, but among the men
who were interested in yachting. About a dozen
yachts had been entered for the race, though only
four of them belonged to the club; those that
were not enrolled being nominally in charge of
members, in order to conform to the regulations.
Donald had measured all these boats, and made a
schedule of them, in which appeared the captain's
name, the length of the craft, with the correction[140]
to be subtracted from the sailing time in order
to reduce it to standard time. There were columns
in the table for the starting time, the return
time, and the sailing time. The "correction"
was virtually the allowance which a large yacht
made to a smaller one for the difference in length.

The club had adopted the regulation of the
Dorchester Yacht Club, which contained a "table
of allowance per mile." In this table, a yacht
one hundred and ten feet six inches long, is taken
as the standard for length. The Skylark was just
thirty feet long on the water-line, and her allowance
by the table was two minutes forty-three and
four tenths seconds for every mile sailed in a
regatta. The Sea Foam's length was three inches
less, and her allowance was one and three tenths
seconds more. Donald had his table all ready for
the use of the judges, of whom he had been
appointed the chairman. Mr. Montague's large
yacht had been anchored in the bay, gayly dressed
with flags and streamers, to be used as the judges'
boat. The yachts were to start at ten o'clock.

"I don't want to leave my work a bit," said
Donald, as he took off his apron. "I may have to
lose a whole day in the race, and I can't afford
it."[141]

"Now, I think you can," replied Kennedy.

"It looks too much like boys' play."

"No matter what it is. If you are going to
make a business of building yachts and sail-boats,
it is for your interest to encourage this sort of
thing all you can," added Kennedy.

"I think you are right there," answered Donald,
who had not before taken this view.

"Besides, you ought to see how the boats
work. You will get some ideas that will be of
use to you. You should observe every movement
of the boats with the utmost care. I think you
will make more money attending the regattas, if
there was one every week, than by working in the
shop."

"You are right, Kennedy, and I am glad you
expressed your opinions, for I shall feel that I
am not wasting my time."

"Your father has been to Newport and New
York on purpose to attend regattas, and I am
sure, if he were here now, he would not miss this
race for a fifty-dollar bill," continued the workman.

Donald was entirely satisfied, and went into
the house to dress for the occasion. He was soon[142]
ready, and walked down the beach towards the
skiff he used to go off to the sail-boat. The sky
was overcast, and the wind blew a smashing
breeze, promising a lively race. The Juno had
been entered for the regatta, but she was still at
her moorings off the shop, and Donald wondered
where Laud was, for he had been very enthusiastic
over the event. Before he could embark, the
new proprietor of the Juno appeared. He was
dressed in a suit of new clothes, wore a new
round-top hat, and sported a cane in his hand.
His mustache had been freshly colored, and every
hair was carefully placed. He did not look like
a yachtman; more like a first-class swell.

"I have been all the morning looking for some
fellows to sail with me," said Laud. "I can't
find a single one. Won't you go with me, Don
John?"

"Thank you; I am one of the judges, and I
can't go," replied Donald, who, if he had not
been engaged, would have preferred to sail with
some more skilful and agreeable skipper than
Laud Cavendish.

"Won't your men go with me?"

"I don't know; you can ask them."[143]

"I am entitled to carry five, and I want some
live weights to-day, for it is blowing fresh,"
added Laud, as he walked towards the shop.

Neither of Donald's men was willing to lose
his time, and as Laud came out of the shop, he
discovered a young lady walking up the beach
towards the city. A gust of wind blew her hat
away at this moment, and Mr. Cavendish gallantly
ran after, and recovered it, as Donald would have
done if he had not been anticipated, for he recognized
the young lady as soon as he saw her.
Even as it was, he was disposed to run after that
hat, and dispute the possession of it with Mr.
Laud Cavendish, for the owner thereof was Miss
Nellie Patterdale.

"Allow me to return your truant hat, Miss
Patterdale," said Laud.

"Thank you, Mr. Cavendish," replied Nellie,
rather coldly, as she resumed her walk towards
the place where Donald stood, a few rods farther
up the beach.

"We have a fine breeze for the race, Miss Patterdale,"
added Laud, smirking and jerking, as
though he intended to improve the glorious opportunity,
for the young lady was not only be[144]witchingly
pretty, but her father was a nabob,
with only two children.

"Very fine, I should think," she answered;
and her tones and manner were anything but
encouraging to the aspirant.

"I hope you are going to honor the gallant
yachtmen with your presence, Miss Patterdale."

"I shall certainly see the race.—Good morning,
Don John," said she, when she came within
speaking distance of Donald.

"Good morning, Nellie," replied he, blushing,
as he felt the full force of her glance and her
smile—a glance and a smile for which Laud would
have sacrificed all he held dear in the world, even
to his cherished mustache. "Don't you attend
the race?"

"Yes, I want to attend now. Ned invited me
to go on board of the judge's boat; but the sun
was out then, and mother would not let me go.
Father said the day would be cloudy, and I decided
to go; but Ned had gone. I came down
here to see if I couldn't hail him. Won't you
take me off to the Penobscot in your boat?"

"Certainly I will, with the greatest pleasure,"
replied Donald, with enthusiasm.[145]

"I beg your pardon, Miss Patterdale," interposed
Laud. "I am going off in the Juno; allow
me to tender her for your use. I can take you
off, Don John, at the same time."

"It's quite rough; as you see, Nellie, and the
Juno is much larger than my boat. You can go
in her more comfortably than in mine," added
Donald.

"Thank you; just as you please, Don John,"
she answered.

"Bring her up to the wharf, Mr. Cavendish,"
continued Donald.

Laud leaped into his skiff, and pulled off to the
Juno, while Nellie and Donald walked around to
the wharf. In a few moments the boat was ready,
and came up to the pier, though her clumsy skipper
was so excited at the prospect of having the
nabob's pretty daughter in his boat, that he had
nearly smashed her against the timbers. The
gallant skipper bowed, and smirked, and smiled,
as he assisted Miss Patterdale to a place in the
standing-room. Donald shoved off the bow, and
the Juno filled her mainsail, and went off flying
towards the Penobscot.[146]

"It's a smashing breeze," said Donald, as the
boat heeled down.

"Glorious!" exclaimed Laud. "Are you fond
of sailing, Miss Patterdale?"

"I am very fond of it."

"Perhaps you would like to sail around the
course in one of the yachts?" suggested the skipper.

"I should be delighted to do so," she replied,
eagerly; and she glanced at Donald, as if to
ascertain if such a thing were possible.

"I should be pleased to have you sail in the
Juno," added Laud, with an extra smirk.

"Thank you, Mr. Cavendish; you are very
kind; but perhaps I had better not go."

"I should be delighted to have you go with
me."

"I don't think you would enjoy it, Nellie," said
Donald. "It blows fresh, and the Juno is rather
wet in a heavy sea."

Laud looked at him with an angry expression,
and when Nellie turned away from him, he made
significant gestures to induce Donald to unsay
what he had said, and persuade her to go with
him.[147]

"I am sure you will be delighted with the sail,
Miss Patterdale. You will be perfectly dry where
you are sitting; or, if not, I have a rubber coat,
which will protect you."

"I think I will not go," she replied, so
coldly that her tones would have frozen any one
but a simpleton like Laud.

The passage was of brief duration, and Donald
assisted Nellie up the accommodation steps of the
Penobscot, stepping forward in season to deprive
Laud of this pleasant office.

"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Cavendish,"
said she, walking away from the steps.

"That was mean of you, Don John," muttered
Laud, as Donald came down the steps to assist in
shoving off the Juno.

"What was mean?"

"Why, to tell Nellie she would not enjoy the
sail with me."

"She could do as she pleased."

"But you told her the Juno was wet," added
Laud, angrily.

"She is wet when it blows."

"No matter if she is. It was mean of you to
say anything about it, after all I have done for
you."[148]

"It wasn't mean to tell the truth, and save
her from a ducking, and I don't know what you
have done for me."

"You don't? Didn't I buy this boat of you,
and pay you fifty dollars more than she is worth?"

"No, you didn't. But if you are dissatisfied
with your bargain, I will take her off your
hands."

"You! I want the money I paid."

"You shall have it. Come to the shop after
the race, and you may throw up the trade."

"Will Captain Shivernock pay you back the
money?" sneered Laud.

"I'll take care of that, if you want to give her
up," added Donald, warmly.

"Never mind that now. Can't you persuade
Nellie to sail with me?" continued Laud, more
gently. "If you will, I will give you a five-dollar
bill."

Donald would have given double that sum
rather than have had her go with him, and she
would have given ten times the amount to avoid
doing so.

"I can't persuade her, for I don't think it is
best for her to go," replied Donald.[149]

"No matter what you think. You are a good
fellow, Don John: do this for me—won't you?
It would be a great favor, and I shall never forget
it."

"Why do you want her to go with you?"
demanded Donald, rather petulantly. "A yacht
in a race is no place for ladies. I can find some
fellows on board here who will be glad to go with
you."

"But I want her to go with me. The fact of
it is, Don John, I rather like Nellie, and I want
to be better acquainted with her."

"If you do, you must paddle your own canoe,"
replied Donald, indignantly, as he ascended the
steps, and joined the other two judges on deck.

"We are waiting for you, Don John," said
Sam Rodman, who was one of them.

"It isn't ten yet, and I have the papers all
ready. Who is to be time-keeper?" asked the
chairman.

"I have a watch with a second hand, and I will
take that office," said Frank Norwood, who was
the third.

Most of the yachts were already in line, and
the captain of the fleet, in the tender of his yacht,[150]
was arranging them, the largest to windward.
The first gun had been fired at half past nine
which was the signal to get into line, and at the
next, the yachts were to get under way. All sail
except the jib was set, and at the signal each
craft was to slip her cable, hoist her jib, if she
had one, and get under way, as quickly as possible.
The "rode" was simply to be cast off, for
the end of it was made fast to the tender, which
was used as a buoy for the anchor.

"Are they all ready?" asked Donald, as the
time drew near.

"All but the Juno. Laud has picked up two
live weights, and wants another man," replied
Sam Rodman.

"We won't wait for him."

But Laud got into line in season. One of the
seamen of the Penobscot stood at the lock-string
of the gun forward, ready to fire when the chairman
of the judges gave the word.

"Have your watch ready, Frank," said Donald.

"All ready," answered Norwood.

"Fire!" shouted Donald.

Some of the ladies "squealed" when the gun
went off, but all eyes were immediately directed[151]
to the yachts. The Christabel, with a reef in
her fore and main sails, was next to the Penobscot;
then came the Skylark, the Sea Foam, and
the Phantom. Before the gun was fired, the
captain had stationed a hand in each yacht at the
cable, and others at the jib-halyards and down-hauls.
The instant the gun was discharged, the
jibs were run up, and the "rodes" thrown overboard.
Some of the yachts, however, were unfortunate,
and did not obtain a good start. In
one the jib down-haul fouled, and another ran
over her cable, and swamped her tender. The
conflict was believed to be between the Skylark
and the Sea Foam, for there was too much wind
for the Christabel, which was the fastest light-weather
craft in the line.

It was a beautiful sight when the yachts went
off, with the wind only a little abaft the beam.
The young gentlemen sailing them were rather
excited, and made some mistakes. The Skylark
at once took the lead, for Commodore Montague
was the most experienced boatman in the fleet.
He made no mistakes, and his superior skill was
soon evident in the distance between him and the
Sea Foam.[152]

The crowd of people on the shore and the
judges' yacht watched the contestants till they
disappeared beyond Turtle Head. The boats had
a free wind both ways, with the exception of a
short distance beyond the head, where they had
to beat up to Stubb's Point Ledge. There was
nothing for the judges to do until the yachts came
in, and Donald spent a couple of delightful hours
with Nellie Patterdale. Presently the Skylark
appeared again beyond the Head, leading the
fleet as before. On she drove, like a bolt from an
arrow, carrying a big bone in her mouth; and the
judges prepared to take her time.[153]

CHAPTER IX.

THE SKYLARK AND THE SEA FOAM.

Frank Norwood was the time-keeper,
and he stood with his watch in his hand.
Each yacht was to pass to windward of the Penobscot,
and come round her stern, reporting as she
did so. Sam Rodman was to call "time" when
the foremast of each yacht was in range with a certain
chimney of a house on the main shore. At the
word Frank was to give the time, and Donald
was to write it down on his schedule. Everything
was to be done with the utmost accuracy.
The Skylark was rapidly approaching, with the
Sea Foam nearly half a mile astern of her. The
Phantom and Christabel were not far behind the
Sea Foam, while the rest were scattered along all
the way over to Turtle Head.

"Ready there!" shouted Donald, as the Skylark
came nearly in range of the Penobscot and
the chimney.[154]

"All ready," replied Sam Rodman.

The gun forward had been loaded, and a seaman
stood at the lock-string, to salute the first
boat in.

"Time!" shouted Sam, as the mainsail of the
Skylark shut in the chimney on the shore; and
the six-pounder awoke the echoes among the hills.

"Twelve, forty, and thirty-two seconds," added
Frank, as he took the time from the watch.

"Twelve, forty, thirty-two," repeated Donald,
as he wrote it on the schedule.

The crowd on the judges' yacht cheered the
commodore as the Skylark rounded the Penobscot,
and the ladies waved their handkerchiefs at
him with desperate enthusiasm.

"I thought you said the Sea Foam was to beat
the Skylark," said Nellie Patterdale.

"I think she may do it yet," replied Donald.

"And Sam's new boat must beat them both,
Don John," laughed Maud Rodman.

"Time!" called Sam.

"Twelve, forty-five, two," added Frank.

"Twelve, forty-five, two," repeated Donald,
writing down the time.

By this time the Skylark had come about, not[155]
by gybing,—for the wind was too heavy to make
this evolution in safety,—but had come round
head to the wind, and now passed under the stern
of the Penobscot.

"Skylark!" reported the commodore.

A few minutes later the Sea Foam did the
same. The Phantom came in a minute after the
Sea Foam, and for a few moments the judges
were very busy taking the time of the next four
boats. The Juno did not arrive till half past
one, and she was the last one. As fast as the
yachts rounded the Penobscot, they went off to
the line and picked up their cables and anchors.
The captains of the several craft which had sailed
in the race then boarded the Penobscot to ascertain
the decision of the judges.

"You waxed me badly, Robert," said Ned
Patterdale, who was mortified at the defeat of the
Sea Foam, though he kept good-natured about it.

"I still think the Skylark can't be beaten by
anything of her inches," replied Commodore
Montague.

"I am rather disappointed in the Sea Foam,"
added Ned.

Donald heard this remark, and he was much[156]
disturbed by it; for it seemed like a reproach
upon the skill of his father, and an imputation
upon the reputation of Ramsay and Son. If the
yachts built by the "firm" were beaten as badly
as the Sea Foam had been, though she had outsailed
the Phantom, it would seriously injure the
business of the concern. The defeat of the Sea
Foam touched the boat-builder in a tender place,
and he found it necessary to do something to
maintain the standing of the firm. He knew just
what the matter was; but under ordinary circumstances
he would not have said a word to damage
the pride of the present owner of the Sea Foam.

"I am sorry you are not satisfied with her,
Ned," said Donald.

"But I expected too much of her; for I thought
she was going to beat the Skylark," replied Ned
Patterdale. "I think you encouraged me somewhat
in that direction, Don John."

"I did; and I still think she can beat the Skylark."

"It's no use to think so; for she has just beaten
me four minutes and a half; and that's half a
mile in this breeze. Nothing could have been
more fairly done."[157]

"It was all perfectly fair, Ned; but you know
that winning a race does not depend entirely upon
the boat," suggested Donald, hinting mildly at
his own theory of the defeat.

"Then you think I didn't sail her well?" said
Ned.

"I think you sailed her very well; but it could
not be expected that you would do as well with
her as Bob Montague with the Skylark, for he has
sailed his yacht for months, while you have only
had yours a few weeks. This is a matter of business
with me, Ned. If our boats are beaten, we
lose our work. It is bread and butter to me."

"If it was my fault, I am sorry she was beaten,
for your sake, Don John; but I did my best with
her," replied Ned, with real sympathy for his
friend.

"Of course I am not going to cry over spilt
milk."

"Do you really think the Sea Foam can beat
the Skylark?"

"I think so; but I may be mistaken. At any
rate, I should like the chance to sail the Sea Foam
with the Skylark. I don't consider it exactly an
even thing between you and the commodore,[158]
because he has had so much more experience than
you have," replied Donald.

"You believe you can sail the Sea Foam better
than I can—do you, Don John?"

"It wouldn't be pleasant for me to say that,
Ned."

"But that's what you mean?"

"I have explained the reason why I spoke of
this matter at all, Ned. It is bread and butter to
me, and I hope you don't think I am vain."

Ned was a little vexed at the remarks of his
friend, and rather indignant at his assumed superiority
as a boatman. Donald was usually very
modest and unpretentious. He was not in the
habit of claiming that he could do anything better
than another. Generally, in boating matters,
when he saw that a thing was done wrong, he
refrained from criticising unless his opinion was
asked, and was far from being forward in fault-finding.
Though he was an authority among the
young men in sailing boats, he had not attained
this distinction by being a critic and caviller.
Ned was therefore surprised, as well as indignant,
at the comments and the assumption of Donald;
but a little reflection enabled him to see the boat-[159]builder's
motive, which was anything but vanity.
He had some of this weakness himself, and felt
that he had sailed the Sea Foam as well as any
one could have done it, and was satisfied that the
Skylark was really a faster yacht than his own.
The race was plain sailing, with a free wind
nearly all the way, and there was not much room
for the exercise of superior skill in handling the
craft. At least, this was Ned's opinion. If the
course had been a dead beat to windward for ten
miles, the case would have been different; and
Ned had failed to notice that he had lost half the
distance between the Skylark and the Sea Foam
when he rounded the stake buoy.

It was a fact that among the large party on
board the Penobscot, the boats of the firm of
Ramsay and Son were just then at a discount,
and those of the Newport builders at a corresponding
premium. Donald was grieved and vexed,
and trembled for the future of the firm of which
he was the active representative. But he figured
up the results of the race, and when the captains
of all the yachts had come on board of the judges'
boat, he announced the prizes and delivered them
to the winners, with a little speech. The silver[160]
vase was given to the commodore, with liberal
and magnanimous commendations both of the
yacht and her captain. The marine glass was
presented to Edward Patterdale, as the winner of
the second prize, with some pleasant words,
which did not in the least betray the personal
discomfiture of the chairman. There was a further
ceremony on the quarter-deck of the Penobscot,
which was not in the programme, and which
was unexpected to all except the officers of the
club.

"Captain Laud Cavendish, of the Juno," said
the chairman of the judges, who stood on the
trunk of the yacht, where all on board, as well as
those in the boats collected around her, could see
him.

Laud stepped forward, wondering what the call
could mean.

"I find, after figuring up the results of the
race," continued the chairman, glancing at the
schedule he held in his hand, "that you are entitled
to the third and last prize. By carefully
timing the movements of your excellent craft, and
by your superior skill in sailing her, you have
contrived to come in—last in the race; and the[161]
officers of the club have instructed the judges to
award this medal to you. I have the honor and
the very great pleasure of suspending it around
your neck."

The medal was made of sole leather, about six
inches in diameter. Attached to it was a yard of
stove-pipe chain, by which it was hung around the
neck of the winner of the last prize. A shout of
laughter and a round of applause greeted the
presentation of the medal. Laud did not know
whether to smile or get mad; for he felt like the
victim of a practical joke. Miss Nellie Patterdale
stood near him, and perhaps her presence restrained
an outburst of anger. Mr. Montague,
the father of the commodore, had provided a
bountiful collation in the cabin of the Penobscot,
and the next half hour was given up to the discussion
of the repast. Laud tried to make himself
agreeable to Nellie, and the poor girl was
persecuted by his attentions until she was obliged
to break away from him.

"Don John, I am told that everybody is satisfied
with this race except you," said Commodore
Montague, as the party went on deck after the
collation.[162]

"I am satisfied with it," replied Donald.
"Everything has been perfectly fair, and the Skylark
has beaten the Sea Foam."

"But you still think the Sea Foam can outsail
the Skylark?"

"I think so; but of course I may be mistaken."

"You believe that Ned Patterdale didn't get
all her speed out of the Sea Foam," added the
commodore.

"I don't mean to say a word to disparage Ned;
but he don't know the Sea Foam as you do the
Skylark."

"There is hardly a particle of difference between
the boats."

"I know it; but you have had so much more
experience than Ned, that he ought not to be expected
to compete with you. If you will exchange
boats, and you do your best in the Sea
Foam, I believe you would beat your own yacht.
I think Ned does first rate for the experience he
has had."

"So do I; but I believe the difference is in the
sailing of the boats; for you may build two yachts
as near alike as possible, and one of them will do
better than the other," said Robert Montague.[163]

"I should like to have you sail the Sea Foam
against the Skylark, Bob," added Donald.

"You don't want me to beat my own boat, if I
can—do you, Don John?" laughed Robert.

"I think you could."

"I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll sail the Skylark
against the Sea Foam this afternoon, and you
shall handle Ned's yacht. I have been talking
with him about it, and he agrees to it."

"I'm willing, Bob," replied Donald, eagerly.

"All right."

"I hope Ned don't think hard of me for speaking
of this matter," added Donald. "I wouldn't
have uttered a word if this result did not affect
our business."

"I understand it, Don John; and so does Ned.
But I think you are making a mistake; for if the
Sea Foam is beaten again by the Skylark,—as I
believe she will be,—it will be all the worse for
your firm," laughed Robert.

"I am willing to run the risk," replied Donald.
"If we can't build a boat as fast as the Skylark,
I want to know it."

"But, Don John, you don't expect me to let
you beat me—do you?"[164]

"Certainly not, Bob. I hope you will do your
very best, and I shall be satisfied with the result."

It was soon reported over the Penobscot that
another race was to be sailed immediately, and
the report created intense excitement when
the circumstances of the affair were explained.
Judges were appointed, and other arrangements
concluded. Donald and Ned Patterdale went on
board of the Sea Foam, and Commodore Montague
on board of the Skylark. The two yachts anchored
in line, with the Skylark to windward, as she was
three inches longer than the other. The start
was to be made at the firing of the first gun.
Donald took his place at the helm of the Sea
Foam, and stationed the hands. He was a little
afraid that Ned Patterdale was not as enthusiastic
as he might be; for if his yacht won the race, the
responsibility for the loss of the first prize in the
regatta would rest upon him, and not upon his
craft. It would not be so pleasant for him to
know that he had failed, in any degree, as a
skipper. The position of Donald, therefore, was
not wholly agreeable; for he did not like to prove
that his friend was deficient in skill, though the
future prosperity of the firm of Ramsay and Son
required him to do so.[165]

The wind was even fresher than before, and
dark clouds indicated a heavy rain before night;
but Donald did not heed the weather. He stationed
Ned in the standing-room to tend the jib-sheets
and mind the centre-board. Two hands
were at the cable, and two more at the jib-halyards.

"Are you all ready forward?" called the
skipper pro tem. of the Sea Foam.

"All ready," replied the hands. And Donald
waited with intense interest for the gun.

Bang.

"Let go! Hoist the jib!" cried Donald.

The hands forward worked with a will. The
rope was thrown into the tender, to which the
end of it was made fast, and the jib, crackling
and banging in the stiff breeze, now almost a
gale, went up in an instant.

"Haul down the lee jib-sheet," said Donald to
his companion in the standing-room. And it is
but fair to say that Ned worked as briskly as the
yachtmen at the bow.

The Sea Foam heeled over, as the blast struck
her sails, till her rail went under; but Donald
knew just what she would bear, and kept the[166]
tiller stiff in his hand. Stationing Dick Adams
at the main sheet behind him, he placed the
others upon the weather side. In a moment
more the yacht came to her bearings, and lying
well over, she flew off on her course. She had
made a capital start, and the Skylark was equally
fortunate in this respect. The two yachts went
off abeam of each other, and for half a mile
neither gained a hair upon the other. Then commenced
the struggle for the victory. First the
Skylark gained a few inches; then the Sea Foam
made half a length, though she immediately lost
it; for in these relative positions, she came under
the lee of her opponent.

Again the Skylark forged ahead, and was a
length in advance of the Sea Foam, when the
yachts came up with Turtle Head.

"You are losing it, Don John," said Ned,
apparently not much displeased at the result.

"Not yet," replied Donald. "A pull on the
main sheet, Dick," added the skipper, as he put
the helm down. "Give her six inches more
centre-board, Ned."

"You will be on the rocks, Don John!"
shouted the owner of the yacht, as the Sea Foam[167]
dashed under the stern of the Skylark, and ran in
close to the shore.

"Don't be alarmed, Ned. Haul down the jib-sheet
a little more! Steady! Belay!" said the
confident skipper.

By this manœuvre the Sea Foam gained a position
to windward of her rival; but she ran within
half her breadth of beam of the dangerous rocks,
and Ned expected every instant the race would
end in a catastrophe. She went clear, however;
for Donald knew just the depth of water at any
time of tide. Both yachts were now under the
lee of the island, and went along more gently
than before. It was plain enough now that the
Sea Foam had the advantage. Beyond the Head,
and near the ledge, she was obliged to brace up to
the wind, in order to leave the buoy on the port,
as required by the rule. Donald kept her moving
very lively, and when she had made her two
tacks, she had weathered the buoy, and, rounding
it, she gybed so near the ledge that the commodore
could not have crawled in between him and
the buoy if he had been near enough to do so.
Hauling up the centre-board, and letting off the
sheets, the Sea Foam went for a time before the
wind.[168]

When the Skylark had rounded the buoy, and
laid her course for Turtle Head again, she was at
least an eighth of a mile astern of her rival.
Donald hardly looked at her, but gazed steadfastly
at the sails and the shore of the island.
The sheets had to be hauled in little by little, as
she followed the contour of the land, till at the
point below Turtle Head the yacht had the wind
forward of the beam. Then came the home
stretch, and the skipper trimmed his sails, adjusted
the centre-board, and stationed his crew as
live weights with the utmost care. It was only
necessary for him to hold his own in order to win
the race, and he was painfully anxious for the
result.

Donald sailing the Sea Foam. Page 166.

In the Skylark the commodore saw just where
he had lost his advantage, and regretted too late
that he had permitted the Sea Foam to get to
windward of him; but he strained every nerve to
recover his position. The wind continued to
freshen, and probably both yachts would have
done better with a single reef in the mainsail;
but there was no time to reduce sail. As they
passed Turtle Head and came out into the open
bay, the white-capped waves broke over the bows,[169]
dashing the spray from stem to stern. Neither
Donald nor Robert flinched a hair, or permitted
a sheet to be started.

"You'll take the mast out of her, Don John,"
said Ned Patterdale, wiping the salt water from
his face.

"If I do, I'll put in another," replied Donald.
"But you can't snap that stick. The Skylark's
mast will go by the board first, and then it will
be time enough to look out for ours."

"You have beaten her, Don John," added Ned.

"Not yet. 'There's many a slip between the
cup and the lip.'"

"But you are a quarter of a mile ahead of her,
at least. It's blowing a gale, and we can't carry
all this sail much longer."

"She can carry it as long as the Skylark.
When she reefs, we will do the same. I want to
show you what the Sea Foam's made of. She is
as stiff as a line-of-battle ship."

"But look over to windward, Don John,"
exclaimed Ned, with evident alarm. "Isn't that
a squall?"

"No; I think not. It's only a shower of rain,"
replied Donald. "There may be a puff of wind
in it. If there is, I can touch her up."[170]

"The Skylark has come up into the wind, and
dropped her peak," added Norman, considerably
excited.

But Donald kept on. In a moment more a
heavy shower of rain deluged the deck of the Sea
Foam. With it came a smart puff of wind, and
the skipper "touched her up;" but it was over in
a moment, and the yacht sped on her way towards
the goal. Half an hour later she passed the
Penobscot, and a gun from her saluted the victor
in the exciting race. About four minutes later
came the Skylark, which had lost half this time
in the squall.[171]

CHAPTER X.

THE LAUNCH OF THE MAUD.

The heavy rain had driven nearly all the people
on board of the Penobscot below, but the
judges, clothed in rubber coats, kept the deck, in
readiness to take the time of the rival yachts.
After the squall, the weather was so thick that both
of them were hidden from view. The craft not in
the race had anchored near the Penobscot, and on
board of all the yachts the interest in the result
was most intense.

"I'm afraid it will be no race," said Sam Rodman,
who was now the chairman of the judges.

"The commodore will put the Skylark through,
whatever the weather," replied Frank Norwood.

"Don John will keep the Sea Foam flying as
long as Bob runs the Skylark, you may depend."

"It was quite a little squall that swept across
the bay just now," added Rodman. "I hope no
accident has happened to them."[172]

"I'll risk the accidents. I would give a dollar
to know which one was ahead."

"Not much doubt on that point."

"I think there is. Don John generally knows
what he is about. He don't very often say what
he can do, but when he does, he means it."

"The commodore is too much for him."

"Perhaps he is, but I have hopes of the Sea
Foam. Don John is building the Maud for me,
and I have some interest in this race. I don't
want a yacht that is to be beaten by everything in
the fleet. If the Skylark is too much for the Sea
Foam, the chance of the Maud won't be much
better."

The judges discussed the merits of the two
yachts for half an hour longer, and there was as
much difference of opinion among them as among
the rest of the spectators of the race.

"There's one of them!" shouted Frank Norwood,
as the Sea Foam emerged from the cloud of
mist which accompanied the rain.

"Which is it?" demanded Rodman.

"I can't make her out," replied Norwood, for
the yacht was over a mile distant.

"But where is the other? One of them is getting
badly beaten," added Rodman.[173]

"That must be the Skylark we see."

"I don't believe it is. It is so thick we can't
make her out, but her sails look very white. I
think it is the Sea Foam."

"There's the other!" exclaimed Norwood, as
the Skylark was dimly perceived in the distance.

"She is half a mile astern. It is a bad beat for
one of them."

"That's so; and if it is the Sea Foam, I shall
want to throw up the contract for the Maud," said
Rodman.

"There is one thing about it; both of those craft
are good sea boats, and if they can carry whole
jib and mainsail in this blow, they are just the
right kind of yachts for me. I like an able boat,
even if she don't win any prizes. Give me a stiff
boat before a fast one."

"I should like to have mine both stiff and fast."

"Look at the Christabel. She went round the
course with a reef in the fore and main sails, and
was beaten at that," added Norwood. "Here
comes the head boat. It is the Skylark, as sure
as you live."

"Not much, Frank. Do you see her figure[174]-head?
Is it a bird?" demanded Rodman, triumphantly.

"It isn't; that's a fact."

"That's the Sea Foam fast enough."

This was exciting news, and Sam Rodman
walked rapidly to the companion-way of the
Penobscot.

"Yachts in sight!" shouted he to the people
below.

"Which is ahead?" asked Mr. Montague.

"The Sea Foam," replied Rodman.

"I'm so glad!" exclaimed Miss Nellie Patterdale.

Mr. Montague and Captain Patterdale only
laughed, but they were sufficiently interested to
go on deck in spite of the pouring rain, and they
were followed by many others.

"Time!" shouted Sam Rodman, as the gun was
fired.

"Four, thirty-two, ten," added Frank Norwood;
and the figures were entered upon the
schedule.

The Sea Foam passed the judges' yacht, came
about, and went under her stern.

"The Sea Foam," shouted Donald.[175]

Though the spectators were not all satisfied
with the result, they gave three cheers to the
victorious yacht, magnanimously led off by Mr.
Montague himself.

"Time!" called Sam, as the Skylark came into
the range of the chimney on shore.

"Four, thirty-six, twelve," said Norwood.

The Skylark came about, and passed under the
stern of the Penobscot, reporting her name. The
judges went below, and figured out the result, by
which it appeared that the Sea Foam had beaten
the Skylark, after the correction for the three
inches' difference in length, by three minutes fifty-nine
and four tenths seconds.

Donald was the first to come on board of the
Penobscot, and was generously congratulated on
his decisive victory, especially by Mr. Montague,
the father of the commodore. Robert followed
him soon after, and every one was curious to know
what he would say and do.

"Don John, you have beaten me," exclaimed
he, grasping the hand of Donald. "You have
done it fairly and handsomely, and I am ready to
give up the first prize to the Sea Foam."

The party in the cabin of the Penobscot heartily
applauded the conduct of the commodore.[176]

"You are very kind and generous, Bob," replied
Donald, deeply moved by the magnanimity
of the commodore.

"When I am whipped, I know it as well as the
next man. The silver vase belongs to the Sea
Foam."

"Not at all," protested Donald. "This last
race was not for the vase, and you won the first
one fairly."

"Of course the vase belongs to the commodore,"
added Rodman. "The judges have already
awarded and presented the prizes."

This was the unanimous sentiment of all concerned,
and Robert consented to retain the first
prize.

"I say, Don John," continued the commodore,
removing his wet coat and cap, "I want to have
an understanding about the affair. While I own
that the Skylark has been beaten, I am not so
clear that the Sea Foam is the faster boat of the
two."

"I think she is, commodore," laughed Donald;
"though I believe I understand your position."

"We made an even thing of it till we came up
with Turtle Head—didn't we?"[177]

"Yes, that's so. If either gained anything for
the moment, he lost it again," replied Donald.

"Then, if we made exactly the same time to
Turtle Head, it seems to me the merits of the two
boats are about the same."

"Not exactly, commodore. You forgot that the
Skylark has to give time to the Sea Foam—one
and three-tenths seconds per mile; or about eight
seconds from here to the Head."

"That's next to nothing," laughed Robert.
"But I was a length ahead of you."

"I let you gain that, so that I could go to windward
of you."

"You made your first point by running nearer
to the rocks than I like to go, by which you cut
off a little of the distance; and inches counted in
so close a race."

"That's part of the game in sailing a race."

"I know that, and it's all perfectly fair. I lost
half my time when the squall came. I thought it
was going to be heavier than it proved to be."

"I threw the Sea Foam up into the wind when
it came," said Donald.

"But you didn't drop your peak, and I lost two
minutes in doing it. Now, Don John, I can put[178]
my finger on the four minutes by which you beat
me; and I don't think there is any difference
between the two yachts."

"You forget the allowance."

"That's nothing. In all future regattas the
result will depend more upon the sailing than
upon the boats."

"I think you are quite right, Bob; and the
fellow who makes the most mistakes will lose the
race. But when the Maud is done she is going to
beat you right along, if she has anything like fair
play," laughed Donald.

"She may if she can," replied Robert.

The reputation of Ramsay & Son, boat builders,
was greatly increased by the result of the race.
If Edward Patterdale was a little mortified to have
it demonstrated that the Sea Foam had lost the
first prize by his own want of skill and tact in
sailing her, he was consoled by the fact that
Commodore Montague, who had the credit of
being the best skipper in Belfast, had been beaten
by his yacht. When the shower was over the
party went on shore, and Donald hastened to the
shop to attend to business. He found that his
men had done a good day's work in his absence,[179]
and he related to Kennedy all the particulars of
the two races.

"It would have been a bad egg for you if you
had not been present," said Kennedy, much interested
in the story. "In these regattas the
sailing of the yacht is half the battle, and these
young fellows may ruin your reputation as a boat-builder,
if you don't look out for them."

"When I heard Ned Patterdale say he was disappointed
in the Sea Foam, I felt that our business
was nearly ruined. I think I have done a good
thing for our firm to-day."

"So you have, Donald; and when the Maud is
finished, I hope you will sail her yourself in the
first race she enters."

"I will, if Sam Rodman consents."

Donald paid off his men that night from the
money received from Mr. Rodman. The next
week he employed another hand, and worked diligently
himself. Every day his mother came out
to see how the work progressed, as she began to
have some hope herself of the success of the firm
of Ramsay & Son. Donald paid her all the fees
he received for measuring yachts, and thus far this
had been enough to support the family. She did[180]
not inquire very closely into the financial affairs
of the concern, and the active member of it was
not very communicative; but she had unbounded
confidence in him, and while he was hopeful she
was satisfied.

It would be tedious to follow the young builder
through all the details of his business. The frame
of the Maud was all set up in due time, and then
planked. By the first of August, when the vacation
at the High School commenced, she was ready
to be launched. All the joiner work on deck and
in the cabin was completed, and had received two
coats of paint. Mr. Rodman had paid a hundred
dollars every week on account, which was more
than Donald needed to carry on the work, and the
affairs of Ramsay & Son were in a very prosperous
condition.

On the day of the launch, the Yacht Club attended
in a body, and all the young ladies of the
High School were present. Miss Maud Rodman,
with a bottle in her hand, had consented formally
to give her own name to the beautiful craft. Nellie
Patterdale was to be on deck with her, attended
by Donald and Sam Rodman. The boarding at the
end of the shop had been removed, to allow the[181]
passage of the yacht into her future element. The
ways had been laid down into the water, and well
slushed. It was high tide at ten o'clock, and this
hour had been chosen for the great event.

"Are you all ready, Mr. Kennedy?" asked
Donald.

"All ready," replied the workman.

"Let her slide!" shouted the boat-builder.

A few smart blows with the hammers removed
the dog-shores and the wedges, and the Maud
began to move very slowly at first. Those on
deck were obliged to stoop until the hull had
passed out of the shop.

"Now stand up," said Donald, as the yacht
passed the end of the shop; and he thrust a long
pole, with a flag attached to the end, into the mast
hole.

The boat increased her speed as she advanced,
and soon struck the water with a splash.

"Now break the bottle, Maud," added Donald.

"I give this yacht the name of Maud," said Miss
Rodman, in a loud tone, as she broke the bottle
upon the heel of the bowsprit.

"Won't she tip over, Don John?" asked Nellie.

"Not at all; nearly all her ballast has been put[182]
into her, and she will stand up like a queen on the
water," answered Donald, proudly, as he realized
that the launch was a perfect success.

Loud cheers from the crowd on shore greeted
the yacht as she went into the embrace of her
chosen element. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs,
and the gentlemen their hats. Maud and
Nellie returned the salute, and so did Sam Rodman;
but Donald was too busy, just then, even to
enjoy his triumph. As the hull slid off into the
deep water, the boat-builder threw over the anchor,
and veered out the cable till her headway
was checked. The Maud rested on the water as
gracefully as a swan, and the work of the day was
done.

Hardly had the yacht brought up at her cable,
when the Juno, in which Laud Cavendish had been
laying off and on where he could see the launch,
ran alongside of her.

"Keep off!" shouted Donald; "you will scrape
her sides."

"No; hold on, Don John; I have a cork fender,"
replied Laud, as he threw his painter on
board of the Maud. "Catch a turn—will you?"

"Don't let him come on board, if you can help[183]
it," whispered Nellie Patterdale. "He is a terrible
bore."

"I can help it," replied Donald, as, with a
boat-hook he shoved off the bow of the Juno.

Then, for the first time, he observed that Laud
had a passenger, a man whom he remembered to
have seen before, though he did not think where.

"What are you about, Don John?" demanded
Laud.

"Keep off, then," replied Donald. "We don't
want any visitors on board yet. We are going
to haul her up to the wharf at once."

"But I came off to offer the ladies a passage to
the shore," said Laud.

"They don't want any passage to the shore."

"Good morning, Miss Patterdale," added Laud,
as Nellie went to the rail near the Juno. "Allow
me to offer you a place in this boat to convey you
to the shore."

"Thank you, Mr. Cavendish; I intend to remain
where I am," replied she, rather haughtily.

"I shall be happy to take you out to sail, if you
will do me the honor to accompany me; and Miss
Rodman, too, if she will go."

"No, I thank you; I am otherwise engaged,"[184]
answered Nellie, as she retreated to the other side
of the yacht.

"I say, Donald, let me come on board," asked
Laud, who was desperately bent upon improving
his acquaintance with Nellie Patterdale.

"Not now; you can come on board at the
wharf."

Donald was resolute, and Laud, angry at his
rebuff, filed away.

"Here is a man that wants to see you, Don
John," shouted Laud, as he ran his boat up to the
Maud again.

"I can't see him now," replied Donald.

Kennedy now came alongside in the skiff, bringing
a warp-line from the shore, by which the Maud
was hauled up to the wharf. The spectators went
on board, and examined the work. Many of them
crawled into the cabin and cook-room, and all of
them were enthusiastic in their praise, though a
few seasoned it with wholesome criticism. Some
thought the cabin ought to be longer, evidently
believing that it was possible to put a quart of
water into a pint bottle; others thought she ought
to be rigged as a schooner instead of a sloop, which
was a matter of fancy with the owner; but all[185]
agreed that she was a beautiful yacht. In honor
of the event, and to please the young people, Mr.
Rodman had prepared a collation at his house, to
which the members of the Yacht Club and others
were cordially invited. Kennedy and the other
men who worked on the Maud were included in
the invitation, and the afternoon was to be a holiday.
Laud Cavendish, who had moored the Juno
and come on shore, liberally interpreted the invitation
to include himself, and joined the party,
though he was not a member of the club. Some
people have a certain exuberance on the side of
their faces, which enables them to do things which
others cannot do.

"I want to see you, Don John," said Laud, as
the party began to move from the wharf towards
the mansion of Mr. Rodman.

"I'll see you this evening," replied Donald,
who was anxious to gain a position at the side of
Miss Nellie Patterdale.

"That will be too late. You saw the man in
the Juno with me—didn't you?" continued Laud,
proceeding to open his business.

"I saw him."

"Did you know him?"[186]

"No; though I thought I had seen him before,"
replied Donald, as they walked along in the rear
of the party.

"He is the man who was beaten within an inch
of his life over to Lincolnville, a while ago."

"Hasbrook?"

"Yes, his name is Jacob Hasbrook."

"He was with us in the library of Captain Patterdale
the day we were there, when the man had
a sun-stroke."

"Was he? Well, I don't remember that. Folks
say he is a big rascal, and the licking he got was
no more than he deserved. He was laid up for a
month after it; but now he and the sheriff are trying
to find out who did it."

Donald was interested, in spite of himself, and
for the time even forgot the pleasant smile of
Nellie, which was a great deal for him to forget.

"Has he any idea who it was that beat him?"

"I don't know whether he has or not. He only
asks questions, and don't answer any. You know
I met you over to Turtle Head the morning after
the affair in Lincolnville."

"I remember all about it," answered Donald.

"I saw you in the Juno afterwards. By the[187]
way, Don John, you didn't tell me how you happened
to be in the Juno at that time. I don't recollect
whether you had her at Turtle Head, or not.
I don't think I saw her there, at any rate."

"No matter whether you did or not. Go on
with your story, for we are almost to Mr. Rodman's
house," replied Donald, impatiently.

"Well, after I left you, I ran over towards Saturday
Cove," continued Laud. "You know where
that is."

"Of course I do."

This was the place towards which Captain Shivernock
had gone in the sail-boat, and where Laud
had probably seen him, when he gave him the
money paid for the Juno. Laud did not say that
this was the time and place he had met the captain,
but Donald was entirely satisfied on this point.

"From Saturday Cove I ran on the other tack
over to Gilky's Harbor," added Laud.

"Did you see anybody near the cove?"

"I didn't say whether I did or not," replied
Laud, after some hesitation, which confirmed Donald's
belief that he had met the captain on this
occasion. "Never mind that. Off Gilky's Harbor
I hailed Tom Reed, who had been a-fishing.[188]
It seems that Tom told Hasbrook he saw me that
forenoon, and Hasbrook has been to see me half
a dozen times about it. I don't know whether he
thinks I am the fellow that thrashed him, or not.
He has pumped me dry about it. I happened
to let on that I saw you, and Hasbrook wants to
talk with you."

By this time they reached Mr. Rodman's house,
and to the surprise of Donald, Laud Cavendish
coolly walked into the grounds with him.[189]

CHAPTER XI.

THE WHITE CROSS OF DENMARK.

Laud Cavendish was at Donald's side
when they entered the grounds of Mr. Rodman,
where the tables were spread under the trees
in the garden. As the collation was in honor of
the launch of the Maud, of course the young boat-builder
was a person of no little consequence, and
being with him, Laud was permitted to enter the
grounds unchallenged; but they soon separated.

Donald was disturbed by what Laud had told
him, and he did not wish to answer any questions
which might be put to him by Hasbrook, who was
evidently working his own case, trying to ascertain
who had committed the outrage upon him. He
did not wish to tell whom he had seen on that
Saturday forenoon, and thus violate the confidence
of Captain Shivernock. But he was entirely satisfied
that the captain had nothing to do with it,[190]
for he had not left his house until after the deed
was done, according to the testimony of Sykes and
his wife, whom he had separately interviewed. To
decline to answer Hasbrook's questions, on the
other hand, was to excite suspicion. He could
not tell any lies about the case. If he could, it
would have been easily managed; as it was, the
situation was very awkward. But he had not time
to think much of the matter, for one and another
began to congratulate him upon the success of the
launch, the fine proportions and the workmanship
of the Maud. The praise of Captain Patterdale
was particularly agreeable to him; but the best
news he heard was that Major Norwood intended
to have a yacht built for his son, and would probably
give the job to Ramsay & Son.

"Well, Don John, you are a real lion," laughed
Nellie Patterdale, when, at last, the young boat-builder
obtained a place at her side, which had
been the objective point with him since he entered
the grounds.

"Better be a lion than a bear," replied Donald.

"Everybody says you have built a splendid
yacht, and Maud is delighted to have it named
after her."[191]

"I think the Sea Foam ought to have been called
the Nellie," added Donald.

"Pooh! I asked Ned to call her the Sea Foam."

"If I ever build a yacht on my own account, I
shall certainly name her the Nellie Patterdale,"
continued Donald, though the remark cost him a
terrible struggle.

"I thank you, Don John; but I hope you will
never build one on your own account, then," answered
she, with a slight blush.

"Why, wouldn't you like to have a boat named
after you?" asked he, rather taken aback at her
reply.

"I shouldn't like to have my whole name given
to a boat. It is too long."

"O, well! Then I shall call her the Nellie."

"You are too late, Don John," laughed Laud
Cavendish, who was standing within hearing distance,
and who now stepped forward, raised his
hat, bowed, and smirked. "I have already ordered
the painter to inscribe that word on the bows and
stern of the Juno, for I never liked her present
name."

Nellie blushed deeper than before, but it was
with anger this time, though she made no reply to[192]
Laud's impudent remark. At this moment Mr.
Rodman invited the party to gather around the
tables and partake of the collation.

"Will Miss Patterdale allow me to offer her my
arm?" added Laud, as he thrust his elbow up
before her.

"No, I thank you," she replied, walking towards
the tables, but keeping at Donald's side.

The boat-builder had not the courage to offer
her his arm, though some of the sons of the nabobs
had done so to the ladies; but he kept at her side.
Laud was desperate, for Nellie seemed to be the
key of destiny to him. If he could win her heart
and hand, or even her hand without the heart, his
fortune would be made, and the wealth and social
position of which cruel fate had thus far robbed
him would be obtained. Though she snubbed him,
he could not see it, and would not accept the situation.
If Donald had not been there, she would
not have declined his offered arm; and he regarded
the boat-builder as the only obstacle in his path.

"I wish you had not invited that puppy, Don
John," said Nellie, as they moved towards the
tables; and there was a snap in her tones which
emphasized the remark.[193]

"I didn't invite him," replied Donald, warmly.

"He came in with you, and Mr. Rodman said
you must have asked him."

"Indeed, I did not; I had no right to invite
him," protested Donald.

Nellie immediately told this to the host of the
occasion, and in doing so she left Donald for a
moment.

"Why don't you get out of the way, Don John,
when you see what I am up to?" said Laud, in a
low tone, but earnestly and indignantly, as though
Donald had stepped between him and the cheerful
destiny in which his imagination revelled.

"What are you up to?"

"I told you before that I liked Nellie, and you
are all the time coming between me and her. She
would have taken my arm if you had stepped
aside."

"I don't choose to step aside," added Donald.

"I want to get in there, Don John," added
Laud, in a milder tone.

"Paddle your own canoe."

"You don't care anything about her."

"How do you know I don't?"

"Do you?"[194]

"That's my affair."

"She don't care for you."

"Nor you, either."

"Perhaps not now, but I can make it all right
with her," said Laud, as he twirled his colored
mustache, which he probably regarded as a lady-killer.
"Besides, you are not old enough to think
of such things yet, Don John."

"Well, I don't think of such things yet," replied
Donald, who really spoke only the truth, so far as
he was consciously concerned.

"But you ought not to stick by her to-day. You
are the boat-builder, and you should bestow your
attentions upon Maud Rodman, after whom the
yacht was named. She is the daughter of the man
who gave you the job. If you will just keep away
from Nellie, I can paddle my own canoe, as you
say."

"Mr. Cavendish," interposed Mr. Rodman, "I
believe you are not a member of the Belfast Yacht
Club."

"I am not yet, but I intend to join," replied
Laud.

"In the mean time, this occasion is for the
members of the club and their friends; and I wish[195]
to suggest the propriety of your withdrawing, as I
believe you are here without an invitation,"
added Mr. Rodman.

"I came with Don John," said Laud, rather
startled by the plain speech of the host.

"If Don John invited you—"

"I didn't invite him, or any one else. I did
not consider that I had any right to do so," protested
Donald, as he walked forward and joined
Nellie.

Laud could not gainsay this honest avowal; but
there was no limit to his wrath at that moment,
and he determined to punish the boat-builder for
"going back" on him, as he regarded it.

The collation was a sumptuous one, for when
Belfast nabobs do anything, they do it. The
guests had good appetites, and did abundant justice
to the feast. The incident of which Laud Cavendish
had been the central figure caused some talk
and some laughter.

"He had the impudence to say he was going to
name his boat after me," said Nellie Patterdale.
"He don't like the name of Juno."

"Does he own the Juno?" asked Captain Patterdale,
quietly.[196]

"I suppose he does."

"How is that, Don John?" added the captain.

"Yes, sir, he owns her; Captain Shivernock got
tired of the Juno, and Laud bought her."

Captain Patterdale made a note of that piece of
information, and regarded it as a clew to assist in
the discovery of the tin box, which had not yet
been found, though the owner and the deputy
sheriff had been looking diligently for it ever since
its disappearance.

"What did he pay for her?" inquired Captain
Patterdale.

"Three hundred and fifty dollars," answered
Donald, who hoped he would not be asked of whom
Laud had bought the Juno.

The captain did not ask the question, for it
seemed to be self-evident that he had purchased
her of Captain Shivernock. Indeed, nothing more
was said about the matter. A dance on the shaven
lawn followed the collation, and the guests remained
until the dews of evening began to fall.
Donald walked home with Nellie, and then went
to the shop. He expected to find Hasbrook there,
but he had returned to Lincolnville. He saw that
the sails for the Maud had been sent down during[197]
his absence, and on the desk lay the bill for them,
enclosed in an envelope, directed to "Messrs.
Ramsay & Son." While he was looking at it,
Mr. Leach, the sail-maker, entered the shop. He
had come to look after his money, for possibly he
had not entire confidence in the financial stability
of the firm.

"Have you looked over those sails, Don John?"
asked Leach.

"Not yet; it is rather too dark to examine them
to-night," replied Donald.

"That's the best suit of sails I ever made,"
added the sail-maker. "You said you wanted the
best that could be had."

"I did." And Donald unrolled them. "They
look like a good job."

"If they are not as good as anything that ever
went on a boat, I'll make you another suit for
nothing. I was in hopes you would look them
over to-night. I don't want to trouble you, Don
John, but I'm a little short of money. Captain
Patterdale has a mortgage on my house, and I like
to pay the interest on it the day it is due. You
said you would let me have the money when the
sails were delivered."

"And so I will."[198]

"If they are not all right, I will make them
so," added Leach. "I should like to pay the
captain my interest money to-night, if I can."

"You can. I will go into the house and get the
money."

Donald went to his room in the cottage, and
took from their hiding-place the bills which had
been paid to him by Laud Cavendish for the Juno.
Without this he had not enough to pay the sail-maker.
He did not like to use this money, for he
was not fully satisfied that Laud would not get
into trouble on account of it, or that he might not
himself have some difficulty with Captain Shivernock.
He feared that he should be called upon to
refund this money; but Mr. Rodman would pay
him another instalment of the price of the Maud
in a few days, and he should then be in condition
to meet any demand upon him. Laud had paid
him seven fifty-dollar bills, and he put them in his
pocket. As he passed through the kitchen, he
lighted the lantern, and returned to the shop.

"I didn't mean to dun you up so sharp for this
bill," said Leach; "but I haven't a dollar in my
pocket at this minute, and I am very anxious to be
punctual in the payment of my interest."[199]

"It's all right; I had as lief pay it now as at
any other time. In fact, I like to pay up as soon
as the work is done," replied Donald, as he handed
the sail-maker three of the fifty-dollar bills, which
was the price agreed upon for the sails, five in
number.

Leach looked carefully at each of the bills. All
of them were quite new and fresh, and one was
peculiar enough to attract the attention of any one
through whose hands it might pass. It was just
like the others, but at some period, not very
remote in its history, it had been torn into four
parts. It might have been in a sheet of note
paper, torn up by some one who did not know the
bill was between the leaves. It had been mended
with two narrow slips of thin, white paper, extending
across the length and width of the bill, like
the horizontal white cross on the flag of Denmark.

"That bill has been in four pieces," said Leach,
as he turned it over and examined it; "but I suppose
it is good."

"If it is not, I will give you another for it,"
answered Donald.

"It is all here; so I think it is all right. I wonder
who tore it up."[200]

"I don't know; it was so when I took it."

"I am very much obliged to you, Don John;
and the next time I make a suit of sails for you,
you needn't pay me till you get ready," said the
sail-maker, as he put the money in his wallet.

"I didn't pay for this suit till I got ready,"
laughed the boat-builder; "and when you get up
another, I hope I shall be able to pay you the cash
for them."

Leach left the shop a happy man; for most men
are cheerful when they have plenty of money in
their pocket. He was more especially happy
because, being an honest man, he was able now
to pay the interest on the mortgage note on the
day it was due. He had worked half the night
before in order to finish the sails, so that he might
get the money to pay it. With a light step,
therefore, he walked to the elegant mansion of
Captain Patterdale, and rang the bell at the library
door. There was a light in the room, which
indicated that the captain was at home. He was
admitted by the nabob himself, who answered his
own bell at this door.

"I suppose you thought I wasn't going to pay
my interest on the day it was due," said Leach,
with a cheerful smile.

The Sail-maker's Bill. Page 199.

[201]

"On the contrary, I didn't think anything at
all about it," replied Captain Patterdale. "I was
not even aware that your interest was due to-day."

"I came pretty near not paying it, for work has
been rather slack this season; but the firm of
Ramsay & Son helped me out by paying me
promptly for the sails I made for the Maud."

"Ramsay & Son is a great concern," laughed
the nabob.

"It pays promptly; and that's more than all of
them do," added Leach, drawing his wallet from
his pocket.

"I haven't your note by me, Mr. Leach," said
Captain Patterdale; but he did not consider it
necessary to state that the important document
was at that moment in the tin box, wherever the
said tin box might be. "I will give you a receipt
for the amount you pay, and indorse it upon the
note when I have it."

"All right, captain."

"Do you know how much the interest is? I am
sure I have forgotten," added the rich man.

"I ought to know. I have had to work too hard
to get the money in time to forget how much it
was. It is just seventy dollars," answered Leach.[202]

"You needn't pay it now, if you are short."

"I'm not short now. I'm flush, for which I
thank Don John," said the sail-maker, as he
placed two of the fifty-dollar bills on the desk,
at which the captain was writing the receipt.

The uppermost of the two bills was the mended
one, for Leach thought if there was any doubt in
regard to this, it ought to be known at once. If
the nabob would take it, the matter was settled.
Captain Patterdale wrote the receipt, and did not
at once glance at the money.

"There's a hundred, captain," added the sail-maker.

The rich man picked up the bills, and turned
over the upper one. If he did not start, it was
not because he was not surprised. He was utterly
confounded when he saw that bill, and his thoughts
flashed quickly through his mind. But he did not
betray his thoughts or his emotions, quick as were
the former, and intense as were the latter. He
took up the mended bill, and looked it over several
times.

"That's the white cross of Denmark," said he,
suppressing his emotions.

"Isn't the bill good?" asked the sail-maker.[203]

"Good as gold for eighty-eight cents on a dollar,"
replied the captain.

"Then it is not good," added Leach, who did
not quite comprehend the nabob's mathematics.

"Yes, it is."

"But you say it is worth only eighty-eight cents
on a dollar."

"That is all any paper dollar is worth when gold
is a little rising fourteen per cent. premium. The
bill is perfectly good, in spite of the white cross
upon it. You want thirty dollars change."

The captain counted out this sum, and handed
it to the debtor.

"If the bill isn't good, I can give you another,"
replied Leach, as he took the money.

"It is a good bill, and I prefer it to any other
for certain reasons of my own. It has the white
cross of Denmark upon it; at least, the white bars
on this bill remind me of the flag of that nation."

"It's like a flag—is it?" added the sail-maker,
who did not understand the rich man's allusion.

"Like the flag of Denmark. I made a voyage
to Copenhagen once, and this bill reminds me of
the merchant's flag, which has a couple of white
bars across a red ground. Where did you say you
got this bill, Mr. Leach?"[204]

"Don John gave it to me, not half an hour ago."

"It has been torn into quarters some time, and
the pieces put together again. Did Don John
mend the bill himself?"

"No, sir; he says the bill is just as it was when
he received it. I looked at it pretty sharp when
I took it; but he said if it wasn't good, he would
give me another."

"It is perfectly good. Did he tell you where
he got the bill?" asked Captain Patterdale, manifesting
none of the emotion which agitated him.

"No, sir; he did not. I didn't ask him. If it
makes any difference, I will do so."

"It makes no difference whatever. It is all
right, Mr. Leach."

The sail-maker folded up his receipt, and left
the library. He went home with eighty dollars
in his pocket, entirely satisfied with himself, with
the nabob, and especially with the firm of Ramsay
& Son. He did not care a straw about the white
cross of Denmark, so long as the bill was good.
Captain Patterdale was deeply interested in the
bill which bore this mark, and possibly he expected
to conquer by this sign. He was not so much
interested in the bill because he had made a voyage[205]
up the Baltic and seen the white cross there,
as because he had seen it on a bill in that tin box.
He was not only interested, but he was anxious,
for the active member of the firm of Ramsay & Son
seemed to be implicated in a very unfortunate and
criminal transaction.

More than once Captain Patterdale had observed
the pleasant relations between Don John and his
fair daughter. As Nellie was a very pretty girl,
intelligent, well educated, and agreeable, and in
due time would be the heiress of a quarter or a
half million, as the case might be, he was rather
particular in regard to the friendships she contracted
with the young gentlemen of the city.
Possibly he did not approve the intimacy between
them. But whatever opinions he may have entertained
in regard to the equality of social relations
between his daughter and the future partner of her
joys and sorrows, we must do him the justice to
say that he preferred honor and honesty to wealth
and position in the gentleman whom Nellie might
choose for her life companion. The suspicion, or
rather the conviction, forced upon him by "the
white cross of Denmark," that Donald was neither
honest nor honorable, was vastly more painful than[206]
the fact that he was poor, and was the son of a
mere ship carpenter.

Certainly Nellie did like the young man, though,
as she was hardly more than a child, it might be a
fancy that would pass away when she realized the
difference between the daughter of a nabob and
the son of a ship carpenter. While he was thinking
of the subject, Nellie entered the library, as
she generally did when her father was alone there.
She was his only confidant in the house in the
matter of the tin box, and he determined to talk
with her about the painful discovery he had just
made.[207]

CHAPTER XII.

DONALD ANSWERS QUESTIONS.

"Well, Nellie, did you have a good time
to-day?" asked Captain Patterdale, as
his daughter seated herself near his desk.

"I did; a capital time. Everybody seemed to
enjoy it," replied she.

"But some seemed to enjoy it more than
others," added the captain, with a smile.

"Now, father, you have something to say," said
she, with a blush. "I wish you would say it right
out, and not torment me for half an hour, trying
to guess what it is."

"Of course, if I hadn't anything to say, I should
hold my tongue," laughed her father.

"Everybody don't."

"But I do."

"Do you think I enjoyed the occasion more
than any one else, father?"[208]

"I thought you were one of the few who enjoyed
it most."

"Perhaps I was; but what have I done?"

"Done?"

"What terrible sin have I committed now?"

"None, my child."

"But you are going to tell me that I have sinned
against the letter of the law of propriety, or something
of that kind. This is the way you always
begin."

"Then this time is an exception to all other
times, for I haven't a word of fault to find with
you."

"I am so glad! I was trying to think what
wicked thing I had been doing."

"Nothing, child. Don John seemed to be
supremely happy this afternoon."

"I dare say he was; but the firm of Ramsay &
Son had a successful launch, and Don John had
compliments enough to turn the head of any one
with a particle of vanity in his composition."

"No doubt of it; and I suppose you were not
behind the others in adding fuel to the flame."

"What flame, father?"

"The flame of vanity."[209]

"On the contrary, I don't think I uttered a
single compliment to him."

"It was hardly necessary to utter it; but if you
had danced with him only half as often, it would
have flattered his vanity less."

"How could I help it, when he asked me? There
were more gentlemen than ladies present, and I
did not like to break up the sets," protested
Nellie.

"Of course not; but being the lion of the occasion,
don't you think he might have divided himself
up a little more equitably?"

"I don't know; but I couldn't choose my own
partner," replied Nellie, her cheeks glowing.

"You like Don John very well?"

"I certainly do, father," replied she, honestly.
"Don't you?"

"Perhaps it don't make so much difference
whether I like him or not."

"You have praised him to the skies, father.
You said he was a very smart boy; and not one in
a hundred young fellows takes hold of business
with so much energy and good judgment. I am
sure, if you had not said so much in his favor, I[210]
shouldn't have thought half so much of him,"
argued Nellie.

"I don't blame you for thinking well of him,
my child," interposed her father. "I only hope
you are not becoming too much interested in him."

"I only like him as a good-hearted, noble fellow,"
added Nellie, with a deeper blush than
before, for she could not help understanding just
what her father meant.

"He appears to be a very good-hearted fellow
now; but he is young, and has not yet fully developed
his character. He may yet turn out to be a
worthless fellow, dissolute and dishonest," continued
the captain.

"Don John!" exclaimed Nellie, utterly unwilling
to accept such a supposition.

"Even Don John. I can recall more than one
young man, who promised as well as he does, that
turned out very badly; and men fully developed
in character, sustaining the highest reputations in
the community, have been detected in the grossest
frauds. I trust Don John will realize the hopes
of his friends; but we must not be too positive."

"I can't believe that Don John will ever become
a bad man," protested Nellie.[211]

"We don't know. 'Put not your trust in
princes,' in our day and nation, might read, 'Put
not your trust in young men.'"

"Why do you say all this, father?" asked
Nellie, anxiously. "Has Don John done anything
wrong; or is he suspected of doing anything
wrong?"

"He is at least suspected," replied Captain
Patterdale.

"Why, father!"

"You need not be in haste to condemn him, or
even to think ill of him, Nellie."

"I certainly shall not."

"There is the white cross of Denmark," added
the captain, holding up the bank bill which had
told him such a terrible story about the boat-builder.

"What is it, father? It looks like a bank note."

"It is; but there is the white cross of Denmark
on it."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"I only mean that these white slips of paper
make the bill look like the flag of Denmark."

Nellie took the bill and examined it.

"It has been torn into four pieces and mended,"
said she.[212]

"That is precisely how it happens to be the
white cross of Denmark. Do you think, if you
had ever seen that bill before, you would recognize
it again, if it fell into your hands?" added the
captain.

"Certainly I should."

"Well, it has been in my hands before. Do
you remember the day that Michael had the sun-stroke?"

"Yes, sir; and your tin box disappeared that
day."

"Precisely so; and this bill was in that tin box.
Jacob Hasbrook, of Lincolnville, paid me a note.
I put the money in the box, intending to take it
over to the bank before night, and deposit it the
next day. I looked at the bill when I counted the
money, and I spoke to Hasbrook about it. I
called it the white cross of Denmark then."

"Where did you get it now?" inquired Nellie,
her heart in her throat with anxiety.

"Mr. Leach, the sail-maker, paid it to me just
before you came into the library."

"Mr. Leach!" exclaimed she, permitting herself
to be cheered by a ray of hope that her father
was not working up a case against Donald Ramsay.[213]

"Yes; you remember who were in the library
on the day I lost the tin box."

"I remember very well; for all of you went out
and carried Michael into the house. Besides we
talked about the box ever so long. You asked me
who had been in the library while you were up
stairs; and I told you Mr. Hasbrook, Laud Cavendish,
and Don John."

"Precisely so; I remember it all very distinctly.
Now, one of the bills that was in that box comes
back to me."

"But it was paid to you by Mr. Leach."

"It was; but he had it from Don John half an
hour before he paid it to me."

"Why, father!" exclaimed Nellie, with real
anguish; for even a suspicion against Donald was
a shock to her. "I can never believe it!"

"I don't wish you to believe anything yet; but
you may as well be prepared for anything an investigation
may disclose."

"That Don John should steal!" ejaculated
Nellie. "Why, we all considered him the very
soul of honor!"

"You are getting along faster than I do with
your conclusions, child," added Captain Patter[214]dale.
"A suspicion is not proof. The bill came
from him, beyond a doubt. But something can
be said in his favor, besides the statement that his
character is excellent. Of the three persons who
were in the library that day, two of them had
wagons on the street. It does not seem probable
that Don John walked through the city with that
tin box in his hand. If he did, some one must
have seen it. Of course he would not have carried
it openly, while it could easily have been concealed
in the wagon of Hasbrook or Laud Cavendish."

"Certainly; if Don John had taken it, he would
not have dared to carry it through the streets,"
added Nellie, comforted by the suggestion.

"Again, if he had stolen this white cross of
Denmark, he would not have been likely to pass
it off here in Belfast," continued the captain; "for
he is sharp enough to see that it would be identified
as soon as it appeared. Very likely Mr. Leach
told him he intended to pay me some money, and
he surely would not have allowed the bill to come
back to me."

"I know he didn't do it," cried Nellie, with
enthusiasm.[215]

"You are too fast again, child. It is possible
that he did, however improbable it may seem now,
for rogues often make very silly blunders. Is
Edward in the house?"

"I think so; he was reading the Age when I
came in."

"Tell him to go down and ask Don John to
come up and see me. We will have the matter
cleared up before we sleep. But, Nellie, don't tell
Edward what I want to see Don John for. Not a
word about that to any one. By keeping my own
counsel, I may get at the whole truth; whereas the
thief, if he gets wind of what I am doing, may
cover his tracks or run away."

"I will be very discreet, father," replied Nellie,
as she left the library.

In a few moments she returned.

"He has gone, father; though he is very tired,"
said she.

"I suppose he is; but I don't want to believe
that Don John is a thief even over one night,"
replied the captain.

"He asked me what you wanted of Don John;
but I didn't tell him."

The father and daughter discussed the painful[216]
suspicion until Donald arrived, and entered the
library with Edward. A conversation on indifferent
topics was continued for some time, and the
boat-builder wondered if he had been sent for to
talk about the launch of the Maud, which was now
an old story.

"How is the wind, Edward?" asked Captain
Patterdale.

"'Sou'-sou'-west, half west," laughed Edward,
who understood precisely what his father meant
by his question; and bidding Donald good night,
he left the library, without the formality of saying
he would go and see which way the wind was.

"You know which way the wind is, Nellie; and
so you need not leave," added the captain, as she
rose from her seat to follow the example of her
brother.

"So did Ned, for he told you," she answered.

"And you heard him, and know also."

When Captain Patterdale had private business
with a visitor, and he wished any member of his
own family to retire, he always asked which way
the wind was.

"Don John, you had a great success in the
launch of the Maud to-day," said the nabob; but[217]
as the same thing had been said half a dozen times
before since the boat-builder entered the room, it
was hardly to be regarded as an original idea; and
Donald was satisfied that the launch was not the
business upon which he had been sent for.

"Yes, sir; we got her off very well," he replied.
"I was sorry I couldn't launch her with the mast
stepped, so as to dress her in the colors."

"In that case, you would have needed the flags
of all nations. I have them, and will lend them
to you any time when you wish to make a sensation."

"Thank you, sir."

"I have here the white cross of Denmark,"
added the captain, holding up the mended bill.

"A fifty-dollar white-cross," laughed Donald.
"I have seen it before."

"This bill?"

"Yes, sir; I paid it to Mr. Leach for the Maud's
sails since dark," answered Donald, so squarely
that the nabob could not help looking at his daughter
and smiling.

"He said you paid promptly, which is a solid
virtue in a business man. By the way, Don John,
you will be out of work as soon as the Maud is
finished."[218]

"I hope to have another yacht to build by that
time, especially if the Maud does well."

"I wanted to say a word to you about that, and
tell you some good news, Don John," continued
Captain Patterdale, as calmly as though he had no
interest whatever in the mended bill. "I had a
long talk with Mr. Norwood this afternoon. He
says he shall give you the job if the Maud sails as
well as the Skylark or the Sea Foam. He don't
insist that she shall beat them."

"But I expect she will do it; if she don't I
shall be disappointed," added Donald.

"Don't expect too much, Don John. I thought
you would sleep better if you knew just how Mr.
Norwood stood on this question."

"I shall, sir; and I am very much obliged to
you."

"Do you think you will make any money on the
building of the Maud?" asked the nabob.

"Yes, sir. I think I shall do pretty well with
her."

"You seem to have money enough to pay your
bills as you go along. Did Mr. Rodman pay you
this bill?" inquired the captain, as he held up the
cross again.[219]

"No, sir; he did not. I have had that bill in
the house for some time," replied Donald.

"Are you so flush as that?"

"Yes, sir; I had considerable cash in the
house."

"Your father left something, I suppose."

"Yes, sir; but he never had that bill and the
other two I paid Mr. Leach," replied Donald;
and he could not help thinking all the time that
they were a part of the sum Laud Cavendish had
paid him for the Juno, under promise not to say
where he got it, if everything was all right.

Though the boat-builder was a square young
man, he could not help being somewhat embarrassed,
for his sense of honor did not permit him
to violate the confidence of any one.

"If it is a fair question, Don John, where did
you get this bill?" asked the captain.

Donald thought it was hardly a fair question
under the circumstances, and he made no answer,
for he was thinking how he could get along without
a lie, and still say nothing about Laud's connection
with the bill, for that would expose Captain
Shivernock.

"You don't answer me, Don John," added the
nabob, mildly.[220]

"I don't like to tell," replied Donald.

"Why not?"

"I promised not to do so."

"You promised not to tell where you got this
money?"

Poor Nellie was almost overwhelmed by these
answers on the part of Donald, and her father began
to have some painful doubts.

"I did, sir; that is, I promised not to tell if
everything about the money was all right."

"If you don't tell where you got the money,
how are you to know whether everything is all
right or not?" demanded Captain Patterdale, in
sharper tones than he had yet used.

"Well, I don't know," answered the boat-builder,
not a little confused, and sadly troubled
by the anxious expression on Miss Nellie's pretty
face.

Perhaps her father, who understood human
nature exceedingly well, had required her to
remain in the library during this interview, for a
purpose; but whether he did or not, Donald was
really more concerned about her good opinion
than he was about that of any other person in the
world, unless it was his mother. He was con[221]scious
that he was not making a good appearance;
and under the sad gaze of those pretty eyes, he
was determined to redeem himself.

"You ought not to make such promises, Don
John," said the captain; and this time he spoke
quite sternly.

"You have that bill, sir. Is there anything
wrong about it?" asked Donald.

"Yes."

"Then my promise covers nothing. Laud Cavendish
paid me that bill," added the boat-builder.

"Laud Cavendish!" exclaimed Nellie.

Her father shook his head, to intimate that she
was to say nothing.

"Laud Cavendish gave you this bill?" repeated
the captain.

"Yes, sir, and six more just like it; only the
others were not mended. I paid Mr. Leach three
of them, and here are the other four," said Donald,
producing his wallet, and taking from it the four
bills, which he had not returned to their hiding-place
in the bureau.

Captain Patterdale examined them, and compared
them with the two in his possession. They
looked like the bills he had deposited in the tin[222]
box, when Hasbrook paid him the thirteen hundred
and fifty dollars and interest. Twelve of the bills
which made up this sum were fifties, nearly new;
the balance was in hundreds, and smaller notes,
older, more discolored, and worn.

"Laud Cavendish paid you three hundred and
fifty dollars, then?" continued the nabob.

"Yes, sir; just that. But what is there wrong
about it?" asked Donald, trembling with emotion,
when he realized what a scrape he had got into.

"Following your example, Don John, I shall
for the present decline to answer," replied the
captain. "If you don't know—"

"I don't!" protested Donald, earnestly.

"If you don't know, I thank God; and I congratulate
you that you don't know."

"I haven't the least idea."

"Of course, if you don't wish to answer any
question I may ask, you can decline to answer, as
I do, Don John."

"I am entirely willing to answer any and every
question that concerns me."

"As you please; but you can't be called upon
to say anything that will criminate yourself."

"Criminate myself, sir!" exclaimed Donald,
aghast. "I haven't done anything wrong."[223]

"I don't say that you have, Don John; more
than that, I don't believe you have; but if you
answer any question of mine, you must do it of
your own free will and accord."

"I will, sir."

"For what did Laud Cavendish pay you three
hundred and fifty dollars?"

"For the Juno," replied Donald, promptly.

"I did not know he owned the Juno."

"He said he did to-day; at least, he said he was
going to change her name," added Nellie.

"The fact that I did not know it doesn't prove
that it was not so. You sold the Juno to Laud,
did you, Don John?"

"I did, sir."

"Did you own the Juno?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you buy her of Captain Shivernock?"

"No, sir; I did not buy her; he made me a
present of her."

"A present!"

"Yes, sir; he got disgusted with her, and gave
her to me. I could not afford to keep her, and
sold her to Laud Cavendish."

"Gave her to you! That's very strange."[224]

"But Captain Shivernock is a very strange
man."

"None will dispute that," replied Captain Patterdale,
with a smile and a shrug of the shoulders.
"That man throws away his property with utter
recklessness; and I should not be surprised if he
ended his life in the almshouse. I will not ask
any explanation of the conduct of Captain Shivernock.
Laud Cavendish is not a man of means.
Did he tell you, Donald, where he got his money
to buy a boat worth three hundred and fifty
dollars?"

"He did, sir, and explained the matter so that
I was satisfied; for I would not sell him the Juno
till he convinced me that there was no hitch about
the money."

"Well, where did he get it?"

"I don't feel at liberty to tell, sir; for he told
me it was a great secret, which did not affect him,
but another person. I inquired into the matter
myself, and was satisfied it was all right."

"I am afraid you have been deceived, Don
John; but I am convinced you have done no wrong
yourself—at least, not intentionally. Secrets are
dangerous; and when people wish you to conceal[225]
anything, you may generally be sure there is something
wrong somewhere, though it may look all
right to you. I have no more questions to ask to-night,
Don John; but I may wish to see you again
in regard to this subject. I must see Mr. Laud
Cavendish next."

Donald answers Questions. Page 225.

Donald declared that he was ready to give all
the information in his power; and after a little
chat with Nellie, he went home, with more on his
mind than had troubled him before, since he could
remember.[226]

CHAPTER XIII.

MOONLIGHT ON THE JUNO.

Donald felt that he was in hot water, in spite
of the assurance of Captain Patterdale that
he believed him innocent of all wrong, and he was
sorry that he had made any bargains, conditional
or otherwise, with Captain Shivernock or Laud
Cavendish. The nabob would not tell him what
was wrong, and he could not determine whether
Laud or some other person had stolen the money.
He went into the house on his return from the elegant
mansion. His mother had gone to watch with
a sick neighbor, though his sister Barbara was
sewing in the front room.

Donald was troubled, not by a guilty conscience,
but by the fear that he had innocently done wrong
in concealing his relations with Captain Shivernock
and with Laud Cavendish. Somehow the case
looked different now from what it had before.[227]
Laud had told where he got his money, and given
a good reason, as it seemed to him at the time, for
concealment; but why the strange man desired
secrecy he was utterly unable to imagine. He
almost wished he had told Captain Patterdale all
about his meeting with Captain Shivernock on
Long Island, and asked his advice. It was not
too late to do so now. Donald was so uneasy
that he could not sit in the house, and went out
doors. He walked about the beach for a time,
and then sat down in front of the shop to think the
matter over again.

Suddenly, while he was meditating in the darkness,
he saw the trunk lights of the Maud illuminated,
as though there was a fire in her cabin.
He did not wait to study the cause, but jumping
into his skiff, he pushed off, and sculled with all
his might towards the yacht. He was mad and
desperate, for the Maud was on fire! He leaped on
board, with the key of the brass padlock which
secured the cabin door in his hand; but he had
scarcely reached the deck before he saw a man on
the wharf retreating from the vicinity of the yacht.
Then he heard the flapping of a sail on the other
side of the pier; but he could not spend an instant[228]
in ascertaining who the person was. He opened
the cabin door, and discovered on the floor a pile
of shavings in flames. Fortunately there was a
bucket in the standing-room, with which he dashed
a quantity of water upon the fire, and quickly
extinguished it. All was dark again; but to make
sure, Donald threw another pail of water on the
cabin floor, and then it was not possible for the
fire to ignite again.

Although the deck had been swept clean before
the launch, the side next to the wharf was littered
with shavings, and a basket stood there, in which
they had been brought on board, for it was still
half full. Donald found that one of the trunk
lights had been left unfastened, in the hurry and
excitement of attending the festival at Mr. Rodman's
house. Through the aperture the incendiary
had stuffed the shavings, and dropped a card
of lighted matches upon them, for he saw the remnants
of it when he threw on the first water. Who
had done this outrageous deed? Donald sprang
upon the wharf as he recalled the shadowy form
and the flapping sail he had seen. Leaping upon
the pier, he rushed over to the other side, where
he discovered a sail-boat slowly making her way,
in the gentle breeze, out of the dock.[229]

Beyond a peradventure, the boat was the Juno.
Her peculiar rig enabled him readily to identify
her. Was Laud Cavendish in her, and was he
wicked enough to commit such an act? Donald
returned to the Maud to assure himself that there
was no more fire in her. He was satisfied that the
yacht was not injured, for he had extinguished the
fire before the shavings were well kindled. He
fastened the trunk lights securely, locked the cabin
door, and taking possession of the basket, he
embarked in his skiff again. Sculling out beyond
the wharf, he looked for the Juno. The wind was
so light she made but little headway, and was
standing off shore with the breeze nearly aft. It
was Laud's boat, but it might not be Laud in her.
Why should the wretch attempt to burn the Maud?

Then the scene in Mr. Rodman's garden, when
Laud had been invited to leave, came to his mind,
and Donald began to understand the matter.
While he was thinking about it, the moon came
out from behind a cloud which had obscured it,
and cast its soft light upon the quiet bay, silvering
the ripples on its waters with a flood of beauty.

Donald glanced at the basket in the skiff, still
half filled with shavings. It was Laud's basket,[230]
beyond a doubt, for he had often seen it when the
owner came down to the shore to embark in his
boat. The initials of his father's name, "J. C.,"
were daubed upon the outside of it, for there is
sometimes as much confusion in regard to the
ownership of baskets as of umbrellas. Donald
was full of excitement, and full of wrath; and as
soon as he got the idea of the guilty party through
his head, he sculled the skiff with all the vigor of
a strong arm towards the Juno, easily overhauling
her in a few moments. He was so excited that he
dashed his skiff bang into the Juno, to the serious
detriment of the white paint which covered her
side.

"What are you about, Don John?" roared Laud
Cavendish, who had seen the approaching skiff,
but had not chosen to hail her.

"What are you about?" demanded Donald,
answering the question with another, Yankee fashion,
as he jammed his boat-hook into the side of
the Juno, and drew the skiff up to the yacht, from
which it had receded.

Taking the painter, he jumped on the forward
deck of the Juno, with the boat-hook still in his
hand.[231]

"What do you mean by smashing into me in
that kind of style, and jabbing your boat-hook into
the side of my boat?" cried Laud, as fiercely as
he could pitch his tones, though there seemed to
be a want of vim to them.

"What do you mean by setting the Maud
afire?" demanded Donald. "That's what I want
to know."

"Who set her afire?" replied Laud, in rather
hollow tones.

"You did, you miserable spindle-shanks!"

"I didn't set her afire, Don John," protested
Laud.

"Yes, you did! I can prove it, and I will prove
it, too."

"You are excited, Don John. You don't
know what you are talking about."

"I think I do, and I'll bet you'll understand it,
too, if there is any law left in the State of Maine."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean what I say, and say what I mean."

"I haven't been near the Maud."

"Yes, you have! Didn't I see you sneaking
across the wharf? Didn't I see your mainsail alongside
the pier? You can't humbug me. I know a[232]
pint of soft soap from a pound of cheese," rattled
Donald, who could talk very fast when he was both
excited and enraged; and Laud's tongue was no
match for his member.

"I tell you, I haven't been near the Maud."

"Don't tell me! I saw it all; I have two eyes
that I wouldn't sell for two cents apiece; and I'll
put you over the road at a two-forty gait."

Laud saw that it was no use to argue the point,
and he held his peace, till the boat-builder had
exhausted his rhetoric, and his stock of expletives.

"What did you do it for, Laud?" asked he, at
last, in a comparatively quiet tone.

"I have told you a dozen times I didn't do it,"
replied the accused. "You talk so fast I can't
get a word in edgeways."

"It's no use for you to deny it," added Don
John.

"Do you think I'd burn your yacht?"

"Yes, I do; and I know you tried to do it. If
I hadn't been over by the shop, you would have
done it."

Don John visits the Juno. Page 230.

"I didn't do it, I repeat. Do you think I would
lie about it? Do you think I have no sense of honor
about me!"[233]

"Confound your honor!" sneered Donald.

"Don't insult me. When you assail my honor,
you touch me in a tender place."

"In a soft place, and that's in your head."

"Be careful, Don John. I advise you not to
wake a sleeping lion."

"A sleeping jackass!"

"I claim to be a gentleman, and my honor is
my capital stock in life."

"You have a very small capital to work on,
then."

"I warn you to be cautious, Don John. My
honor is all I have to rest upon in this world."

"It's a broken reed. I wouldn't give a cent's
worth of molasses candy for the honor of a fellow
who would destroy the property of another,
because he got mad with him."

In spite of his repeated warnings, Laud Cavendish
was very forbearing, though Donald kept the
boat-hook where it would be serviceable in an
emergency.

"No, Don John, I did not set the Maud afire.
Though you went back on me this afternoon,
and served me a mean and shabby trick, I wouldn't
do such a thing as burn your property."[234]

"Who went back on you?" demanded Donald.

"You did; when you could have saved me from
being driven out of the garden, you took the
trouble to say, you did not invite me," replied
Laud, reproachfully.

"I didn't invite you; and I had no right to
invite you."

"No matter for that; if you had just said that
your friend, Mr. Cavendish, had come in with you
it would have been all right."

"My friend, Mr. Cavendish!" repeated Donald,
sarcastically. "I didn't know I had any such
friend."

"I didn't expect that of you, after what I had
done for you, Don John."

"Spill her on that tack! You never did anything
for me."

"I took that boat off your hands, and I suppose
you got a commission for selling her. Wasn't
that doing something for you?"

"No!" protested Donald.

"I have always used you well, and done more
for you than you know of. You wouldn't have
got the job to build the Maud if it hadn't been for
me. I spoke a good word for you to Mr. Rodman,"
whined Laud.[235]

"You!" exclaimed Donald, disgusted with this
ridiculous pretension. "If you said anything to
Mr. Rodman about it, I wonder he didn't give the
job to somebody else."

"You think I have no influence, but you are
mistaken; and if you insist on quarrelling with
me, you will find out, when it is too late, what
folks think of me."

"They think you are a ninny; and when they
know what you did to-night, they will believe you
are a knave," replied Donald. "You didn't
cover your tracks so that I couldn't find them;
and I can prove all I say. I didn't think you
were such a rascal before."

"You won't make anything out of that sort of
talk with me, Don John," said Laud, mildly.
"You provoke me to throw you overboard, but
I don't want to hurt you."

"I'll risk your throwing me overboard. I can
take care of myself."

"I said I didn't want to hurt you, and I don't.
I didn't set your boat afire; I wouldn't do such a
thing."

"You can tell that to Squire Peters to-morrow."

"You don't mean to say that you will prosecute
me, Don John?"[236]

"Yes; I do mean it."

"I came down from the harbor, and tacked
between those two wharves," explained Laud.
"I was standing off on this tack when you bunted
your skiff into me. That's all I know about it."

"But I saw you on the wharf. No matter; we
won't argue the case here," said Donald, as he
made a movement to go into his skiff.

"Hold on, Don John. I want to talk with you
a little."

"What about?"

"Two or three things. I am going off on a long
cruise in a day or two. I think I shall go as far
as Portland, and try to get a situation in a store
there."

"I don't believe you will have a chance to go
to Portland, or anywhere else, unless it's Thomaston,
where the state prison is located."

"I didn't think you would be so rough on me,
Don John. I didn't set your boat afire; but I can
see that it may go hard with me, because I happened
to be near the wharf at the time."

"You will find that isn't the worst of it," added
Donald.

"What is the worst of it?"[237]

"Never mind; I'll tell Squire Peters to-morrow,
when we come together."

"Don't go to law about it, Don John; for though
I didn't do it, I don't want to be hauled up for it.
Even a suspicion is sometimes damaging to the
honor of a gentleman."

"You had better come down from that high
horse, and own up that you set the Maud afire."

"Will you agree not to prosecute, if I do?"
asked Laud.

Donald, after his anger subsided, thought more
about the "white cross of Denmark" than he did
about the fire; for the latter had done him no
damage, while the former might injure his character
which he valued more than his property.

"I will agree not to prosecute, if you will answer
all my questions," he replied; but I confess that
it was an error on the part of the young man.

Donald fastened the painter of his skiff at the
stern, and took a seat in the standing-room of the
Juno.

"I will tell you all I know, if you will keep me
out of the courts," added Laud, promptly.

"Why did you set the Maud afire?"

"Because I was mad, and meant to get even[238]
with you for what you did at Rodman's this afternoon.
You might do me a great service, Don
John, if you would. I like Nellie Patterdale; I
mean, I'm in love with her. I don't believe I can
live without her."

"I'll bet you'll have to," interposed Donald,
indignantly.

"You don't know what it is to love, Don John."

"I don't want to know yet awhile; and I think
you had better live on a different sort of grub.
What a stupid idea, for a fellow like you to think
of such a girl as Nellie Patterdale!"

"Is it any worse for me to think of her, than it
is for you to do so?" asked Laud.

"I never thought of her in any such way as that.
We went to school together, and have always been
good friends; that's all."

"That's enough," sighed Laud. "I actually
suffer for her sake. If the quest were hopeless,"
Laud read novels—"I think I should drown myself."

"You had better do it right off, then," added
Donald.

"You can pity me, Don John, for I am miserable.
Day and night I think only of her. My[239]
feelings have made me almost crazy, and I hardly
knew what I was about when I applied the incendiary
torch to the Maud."

"I thought it was a card of friction matches."

"The world will laugh and jeer at me for loving
one above my station; but love makes us equals."

"Perhaps it does when the love is on both
sides," added the practical boat-builder.

"But I think I am fitted to adorn a higher station
than that in which I was born."

"If so, you will rise like a stick of timber forced
under the water; but it strikes me that you have
begun in the wrong way to figure for a rise."

"But I wish to rise only for Nellie's sake. You
can help me, Don John; you can take me into her
presence, where I can have the opportunity to win
her affection."

"I guess not, Laud. Shall I tell you what she
said to me this afternoon?"

"Tell me all."

"She said you were an impudent puppy, and
she was sorry I invited you."

"Did she say that?" asked Laud, looking up to
the cold, pale moon.

"She did; and I was obliged to tell her that I
didn't invite you."[240]

"Perhaps I have been a fool," mused the lover.

"There's no doubt of it. Nellie Patterdale dislikes,
and even despises you. I have heard her
say as much, in so many words. That ought to
comfort you, and convince you that it is no use to
fish any longer in those waters."

"Possibly you are right; but it is only because
she does not know me. If she only knew me
better—"

"She would dislike and despise you still more,"
said Donald, sharply. "If she only knew that
you set the Maud afire, she would love you as a
homeless dog likes the brickbats that are thrown
at him."

"You will not tell her that, Don John?"

"I will not tell her, or any one else, if you
behave yourself. Now I want to ask some more
questions."

"Go on, Don John."

"Where did you get the money you paid for the
Juno?" demanded Donald, with energy.

"Where did I get it?" repeated Laud, evidently
startled by the question, so vigorously put. "I
told you where I got it."

"Tell me again."[241]

"Captain Shivernock gave it to me."

"What for?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because it is a matter between the captain and
me."

"I don't care if it is. You said you would
answer all my questions, if I would not prosecute."

"Questions about the Maud," explained Laud.
"I have told you the secret of my love—"

"Hang the secret of your love!" exclaimed
Donald, disgusted with that topic. "I meant all
questions."

"But I cannot betray the secrets of Captain
Shivernock. My honor—"

"Stick your honor up chimney!" interrupted
Donald. "If you go back on the agreement, I
shall take the fire before Squire Peters. The
question I asked was, why Captain Shivernock
gave you four or five hundred dollars?"

"I wish I could answer you, Don John; but I
do not feel at liberty to do so just now. I will
see the captain, and perhaps I may honorably give
you the information you seek."[242]

"You needn't mince the matter with me. I
know all about it now; but I want it from you."

"All about what?" asked Laud.

"You needn't look green about it. Do you
remember the Saturday when I told you the Juno
was for sale?"

"I do, very distinctly," answered Laud. "You
were in the Juno at the time."

"I was; we parted company, and you stood over
towards the Northport shore."

"Just so."

"Over there you met Captain Shivernock."

"I didn't say I did."

"But I say you did," persisted Donald. "For
some reason best known to himself, the captain
did not want any one to know he was on Long
Island that night."

Laud listened with intense interest.

"Do you know what his reason was, Don
John?"

"No, I don't. You saw his boat, and overhauled
him near the shore."

"Well?"

"You overhauled him near the shore, and he
gave you a pile of money not to say that you had
seen him."[243]

"It is you who says all this, and not I," added
Laud, with more spirit than he had before exhibited.
"My honor is not touched."

"I wish you wouldn't say anything more about
your honor. It is like a mustard seed in a haymow,
and I can't see it," snapped Donald.

"You can see that I came honorably by the
money."

"Honestly by it; I am satisfied on that point,"
replied Donald. "If I had not been, I wouldn't
have sold you the boat. You see I knew something
of Captain Shivernock's movements about
that time. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have believed
that he gave it to you."

"Then you must have seen the captain at the
same time."

"I didn't say I saw him," laughed Donald.
"But the wind is breezing up, and we are half
way over to Brigadier Island. Come about,
Laud."

The skipper acceded to the request, and headed
the Juno for Belfast.[244]

CHAPTER XIV.

CAPTAIN SHIVERNOCK'S JOKE.

Donald considered himself shrewd, sharp,
and smart, because he had induced Laud
virtually to own that Captain Shivernock had
given him the money to purchase his silence, but
Donald was not half so shrewd, sharp, and smart
as he thought he was.

"Mr. Cavendish, it's no use for us to mince
this matter," he continued, determined further to
draw out his companion, and feeling happy now,
he was very respectful to him.

"Perhaps not, Don John."

"It can do no harm for you and me to talk over
this matter. You saw Captain Shivernock on that
Saturday morning—didn't you?"

"Of course, if I say I did, you will not let on
about it—will you?"

"Not if I can help it; for the fact is, I am in
the same boat with you."[245]

"Then you saw the captain."

"Of course I did."

"But what was he doing down there, that made
him so particular to keep shady about it?"

"I haven't the least idea. It was the morning
after Hasbrook was pounded to a jelly in his own
house; but I am satisfied that the captain had
nothing to do with it."

"I am not so sure of that," added Laud.

"I am. I went to the captain's house before
he returned that day, and both Sykes and his wife
told me he had left home at four o'clock that morning,
and this was after the pounding was done.
Besides, the captain was over on Long Island
when I saw him. If he had done the deed, he
would have got home before daylight, for the wind
was fresh and fair. Instead of that, he was over
at Turtle Head when I first saw him. The Juno
got aground with him near Seal Harbor, which
made him so mad he would not keep her any
longer. He was mad because she wasn't a centre-boarder.
I suppose after we parted he went over
to the Lincolnville or Northport Shore, and hid
till after dark in Spruce Harbor, Saturday Cove,
or some such place. At any rate, I was at his
house in the evening, when he came home."[246]

"The old fellow had been up to some trick, you
may depend upon it," added Laud, sagely.

"I came to the conclusion that his desire to
keep dark was only a whim, for he is the strangest
man that ever walked the earth."

"That's so; but why should he give me such a
pile if he hadn't been up to something?"

"And me another pile," added Donald. "We
can talk this thing over between ourselves, but
not a word to any other person."

"Certainly; I understand. I am paid for holding
my tongue, and I intend to do so honorably."

"So do I, until I learn that there is something
wrong."

"You have told me some things I did not know
before, Don John," suggested Laud.

"You knew that the captain was down by Long
Island."

"Yes, but I didn't know he was at Turtle Head;
and I am satisfied now that he is the man that
shook up Hasbrook that night," continued Laud,
in meditative mood.

"Are you? Then I will let the whole thing out,"
exclaimed Donald.

"No, no! don't do that!" protested Laud.
"That wouldn't be fair, at all."[247]

"I would not be a party to the concealment of
such an outrage."

"You don't understand it. Hasbrook is a regular
swindler."

"That is no reason why he should be pounded
half to death in the middle of the night."

"He borrowed a thousand dollars of Captain
Shivernock a short time before the outrage. The
captain told him he would lend him the money if
Hasbrook would give him a good indorser on the
paper. After the captain had parted with the
money, he ascertained that the indorser was not
worth a dollar. Hasbrook had told him the name
was that of a rich farmer, and of course the captain
was mad. He tried to get back his money, for he
knew Hasbrook never paid anything if he could
help it. Here is the motive for the outrage,"
reasoned Laud.

"Why didn't he prosecute him for swindling?
for that's what it was."

"Captain Shivernock says he won't trouble any
courts to fight his battles for him; he can fight
them himself."

"It was wrong to pound any man as Hasbrook
was. Why, he wasn't able to go out of the house[248]
for a month," added Donald, who was clearly
opposed to Lynch law.

Donald was somewhat staggered in his belief by
the evidence of his companion, but he determined
to inquire further into the matter, and even hoped
now that Hasbrook would call upon him.

"One more question, Laud. Do you know
where Captain Shivernock got the bills he paid
you, and you paid me?" asked he.

"Of course I don't. How should I know where
the captain gets his money?" replied Laud, in
rather shaky tones.