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CHAPTER XVIII
THE REGATTA
The late July morning that broke upon the scene of the last preparations for Honotonka regatta promised as fine a day as heart could wish.
There was a good breeze from early morning. This was fine for the catboat races and for the sailing canoes. Yet the breeze was not too strong, and there was not much “sea.” This latter fact made the paddling less difficult.
The camps on Gannet Island and at Green Knoll were deserted soon after breakfast. The Busters took their canoes aboard the Happy Day, while Mr. Lavine’s launch, the Sissy Radcliffe, carried the girls’ canoes as well as the girls themselves.
They were two merry boatloads, and the boats themselves were strung with banners and pennants. As they shot up the sunlit lake they sighted many other craft headed toward Braisely Park, for some contestants had come from as far away as the Forge, at the head of the Wintinooski.
Suddenly Wyn, looking through the camp spyglass, recognized the patched sail of the Coquette, the little catboat in which Polly Jarley had come to the rescue of the two members of the Go-Ahead Club on that memorable day.
“Polly is aboard,” she told Frank Cameron, passing the glass to her friend. “But who is the boy with her?”
“That’s no boy!” declared the sharp-eyed Frankie. “Why! he’s got a mustache.”
“It’s never Mr. Jarley himself?” exclaimed Wyn, in surprise.
“That’s exactly who it is.”
“I didn’t think they’d both leave the landing at the same time. Do you suppose they have entered the Coquette in the free-for-all catboat race?”
“I shouldn’t wonder. She’s a fast boat if she is old and lubberly-looking. And Dr. Shelton has offered twenty-five dollars for the winning boat.”
“It takes two to work a catboat properly, too. That is the understanding,” said Wyn, thoughtfully: “a crew of two.”
“Hope they win the race!” declared Frank, generously.
“So do I. And they’ve got Polly’s birch canoe aboard. She will enter for the girls’ canoe race, I am sure.”
“All right,” said Frank. “If you don’t win the prize in that, my dear, then I hope Polly does.”
“Why, I haven’t a chance beside Bess, I am sure.”
“That’s all right. Bess is too erratic. One day she paddles well and the next she is ’way behind. It’s her temperament. She’s not a steady old warhorse like yourself, Wynnie.”
“Thanks,” laughed Wyn. “How about Polly? What do you call her?”
“I don’t know. I admire her vastly,” said Frank. “But Polly puzzles me. And I haven’t seen her working at the paddle much. I only know that in a skiff she can out row any of the Busters.”
“I fancy she can paddle some, too. And her canoe is as light as a feather. All those birchbarks are.”
“The judges may handicap her, then. But, hullo! what’s that Dave Shepard up to?”
Wyn turned to look at her next-door neighbor. Dave was writing upon a slip of paper. Once he looked across at Frank and Wyn and saw that the two girls were watching him.
He seemed confused, started as though to tear the paper up, and then hid it under a coil of rope at his feet. But he was very particular to hide every particle of the paper.
“What you doing there, Dave?” demanded Frank, with plain curiosity.
“Oh, nothing,” responded the youth, and rose up, stretching his arms and yawning. It was plain that he did not wish to be questioned.
“What was that paper?” pursued Frank.
“Oh–that–er – It’s of no consequence,” declared Dave, and walked aft so as not to be further questioned.
“Now, he can’t fool me!” cried Frank, under her breath. “It was something of consequence. I–I’m going to see.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Wyn.
“Why not?”
“Well–whatever it is, it isn’t ours.”
“Pooh!”
“And he evidently didn’t want us to see it.”
“For that very reason I am going to look,” declared Frankie. And the moment Dave was out of sight she sprang across the deck and lifted up the rope enough to pull out the paper.
The moment she scanned it, Wyn saw Frankie’s face turn very red. She looked angry, and stamped her foot. Then she burst into a giggle, and slid the paper back out of sight again.
She came back to her friend with a mixture of emotions expressed on her countenance. “What do you suppose?” she demanded.
“Suppose about what?” asked Wyn.
“What do you suppose Dave wrote on that paper?”
“I give it up. Something that didn’t concern us, as I told you.”
“You’re wrong,” cried Frank, divided between wrath and amusement. “And it’s just the very meanest thing!”
“Why, you excite my curiosity,” admitted Wyn.
“That’s what he did it for,” declared Frankie.
“What did he write?” cried Wyn. “Out with it.”
“He wrote: ‘I bet an ice-cream treat all around that your curiosity will not permit you to leave this alone.’ Now! could anything be meaner?”
“Ha, ha!” chuckled Wyn.
“Don’t you see? We can’t claim the treat without giving ourselves away? I believe I’ll join forces with Bess. There is nothing meaner than a boy.”
“Never mind,” said Wyn. “I’ll find some way of making Master Dave pay for the ice-cream treat, just the same. You see if I don’t.”
Soon after this the launches were sent to one side so as to leave the course clear, and the races began. The men’s and boys’ canoe races were very interesting, and Dave Shepard won a sweater, while one of the other Busters got the second prize of a dollar for quickness in overturning and righting a canoe.
Some “funny stunts” followed in the water, and then came a girls’ swimming race. Here the Go-Ahead girls excelled, although there were more than a score of entries. Wyn Mallory won a two-hundred-yard, straightaway dash, while Frank was second and Grace Hedges third in the same race. The people who had come up from Denton cheered the girls enthusiastically. When the parents who had been so afraid for their daughters’ safety saw how well able the girls were to take care of themselves, their anxiety was allayed.
After these swimming contests there was an interval of two hours for refreshments. A caterer had prepared tables of sandwiches and cold drinks, as well as ice cream and cake, on one of the bigger docks belonging to Braisely Park. In fact, it was Dr. Shelton’s dock.
The catboat races were to follow the intermission and Wyn found that the Jarley Coquette had been entered. She ran over to the dock from which the “cats” were to start for the line, and as she approached the spot she heard loud voices and saw a little crowd of excited people.
The Coquette was almost the only catboat left. Dr. Shelton had backed Mr. Jarley up against a post on the wharf and, in a loud and angry voice, was telling the unfortunate boatman what he thought of him.
“You have the cheek to be in this race, John Jarley?” cried the angry man. “I don’t mind your daughter–I pity her. But I’m hanged if I’ll let a thief take part in this race–and me offering the prize. Get out of here!”
“Hold on, Shelton!” exclaimed one of his friends. “You’re going too far when you call Jarley a thief.”
“Or else you are not going far enough,” chimed in another. “If you believe Jarley stole those images–and the boat–why don’t you go about it right? Report it to the county prosecutor and have the man arrested.”
“Or, if Jarley is not guilty,” added another, “I advise him, as a lawyer, to sue you for damages.”
“Let him sue and be hanged to him!” cried Dr. Shelton, who was a great, rough man, twice the size of the boatman, and with all the confidence of his great wealth, as well as his great muscle, behind him. “But he sha’n’t sail in this race.”
“We’ll go back home, Father – Oh, let’s go back!” cried Polly, from the cockpit of the dancing Coquette.
But Wyn Mallory knew that the Jarleys must have hoped to win the twenty-five dollar prize. The Coquette was being mentioned as a possible winner among the knowing ones about the course.
“Dr. Shelton!” she cried, tugging at the angry man’s arm. “Do you mind if Polly and I sail the boat instead?”
“Eh? You– a girl?” grunted the doctor, “Well, why not? I’ve got nothing–as I said before–against his daughter. It’s the man himself who has no business at this end of the lake. I sent him word so a month and more ago. I ought to have him arrested.”
Win thought it would be less cruel to do so, and have the matter thrashed out in the courts. Mr. Jarley was stooping from the wharf, whispering with Polly.
“I can help her,” Wyn cried, turning to the abused boatman. “Let me–do!”
“You are very kind, Miss Mallory,” said Jarley.
The captain of the Go-Ahead Club leaped lightly down into the Coquette.
“What’s our number–sixteen?” she cried. “Pay off the sheet, Polly. We’re off.” Then she added, in a low tone, to the weeping girl in the stern: “Don’t you mind the doctor, Polly–mean old thing! We’ll win the prize in spite of him–you see if we don’t.”
CHAPTER XIX
UNDER WHITE WINGS
Already the catboats were getting off from the starting line, in rotation of numbers and about two minutes apart. The course was ten miles (or thereabout) straightaway to the stake-boat, set far out in the lake–quite out of sight from the decks of the boats about the starting point–and turning that, to beat back. The wind was free, but not too strong. The out-and-return course would prove the boats themselves and the seamanship of their crews.
Being a free-for-all race, there had been brought together some pretty odd-looking craft beside the smart, new boats belonging to dwellers in Braisely Park. But the Jarleys’ boat was by no means the worst-looking.
However, it attracted considerable attention because it was the only catboat “manned” by girls.
Wynifred Mallory had done this on impulse, and it was not usual for her to act in such a way. But her parents had gone home and she had nobody to ask permission of but Mrs. Havel–and she did not really know where the Go-Aheads’ chaperone was.
Beside, there wasn’t time to ask. The catboats were already getting under way. The Coquette was almost the last to start. Wyn was not at all afraid of the task before her, for she had helped Dave sail his cousin’s catboat on the Wintinooski many times. She knew how to ’tend sheet.
The Go-Aheads and Busters recognized Wyn, and began to cheer her and Polly before the Coquette came to the line. Other onlookers caught sight of the two girls, and whether they knew the crew of the Coquette or not, gave them a good “send-off.”
Polly had accepted Wyn’s help quietly, but with a look that Wyn was not likely to forget. It meant much to the Jarleys if the Coquette won the twenty-five dollars. They needed every dollar they could honestly earn.
The boatman’s daughter did not stop then to thank her friend. Instead she gave her brief, but plain, instructions as to what she was to do, and Wyn went about her work in a practical manner.
The catboat was sixteen feet over all, with its mast stepped well forward, of course, carrying a large fore-and-aft sail with gaff and boom. A single person can sail a cat all right; but to get speed out of one, and manœuver quickly, it takes a sheet-tender as well as a steersman.
“Sixteen!” shouted the starter’s assistant through his megaphone, and Polly brought the Coquette about and shot towards the starter’s boat.
The boatman’s girl had held off some distance from the line. Number Fifteen had just crossed and was now swooping away on her first tack toward the distant stake-boat. The momentum the Coquette obtained racing down to the line was what Polly wanted.
“Go!” shouted the starter, looking at his watch and comparing it with the timekeeper’s.
The Coquette flashed past the line of motor-boats and smaller craft that lined the course for some distance. The course was not very well policed and one of the small steamers, with a party of excursionists aboard, got right in the way of the racing boats.
“Look out, Wynnie!” shouted Polly. “I’m going to tack to pass those boats.”
Wyn fell flat on the decked-over portion of the Coquette, and the boom swung across. With gathering speed the catboat flew on and on. Although her sail was patched, and she was shabby-looking in the extreme, the Coquette showed her heels that day to many handsomer craft.
The various boats raced with each other–first one ahead, and then another. There were not many important changes in the positions of the contesting boats, however, until the stake-boat was reached.
But Number Sixteen passed Thirteen, Fifteen, and Twelve for good and all, before five miles of the course were sailed. The Coquette, when once she had dropped an opponent behind, never was caught by it.
Wyn was on the qui vive every moment. She sprang to obey Captain Polly’s commands, and the latter certainly knew how to sail a catboat. She never let an advantage slip. She tacked at just the right time. Yet she sailed very little off the straight course.
The motor boats and steamboats came hooting after the racing catboats that their passengers might have a good view of the contest. These outside boats were a deal of a nuisance, and two of the tail-enders in the race dropped out entirely because of the closeness of the pleasure boats’ pursuit.
“But they couldn’t win anyway,” Polly confided to Wynifred. “Get a bucket of water, dear. Dip it right up. That’s right! Now throw it on the sail. Another! Another! It will hold the wind better if it is wet.”
“What a scheme!” cried Wyn. “Oh, Polly! I wish you lived in Denton and went to our school and belonged to the Go-Ahead Club.”
But Polly only shook her head. That was beyond the reach of possibility for her, she believed. But she thanked Wyn for suggesting it.
Neither girl let her attention to the present business fail, however. They were on their mettle, being the only girls in the race.
Some of the other crews had jollied them at the start; but the old Coquette passed first one and then another of the competing boats, and none of the other craft passed her.
Because of the fact that the boats had started about two minutes apart it was rather difficult to tell which was really winning. The leading boats were still far ahead when the Coquette rounded the stake-boat.
Polly took the turn as shortly as any craft in the race–and as cleanly. The Coquette made a long leg of her first tack, then a short one. Whereas it seemed as though at first the other craft were crowding Polly and Wyn close, in a little while the Coquette was shown to be among the flock of leading craft!
“Only Numbers One, Three, Four, Seven, and Nine ahead of us, Polly Jolly!” reported Wynifred. “And we’re Sixteen! Why, it’s wonderful! We are sailing two lengths to one of some of them, I verily believe!”
“But Conningsby’s Elf, and the Pretty Sue are good sailers–I’ve watched ’em,” said Polly. “And the Waking Up is splendidly manned. If our sail would only hold the wind! It’s a regular old sieve.”
Wyn splashed bucket after bucket of water into the bellying sail. On the long tacks the Coquette shot over the course like a great, swooping bird. When she passed near one of the excursion boats the spectators cheered the two girls vociferously.
Half-way back to the starting boat the Happy Day, into which the Go-Aheads and all the Busters had piled, shot alongside the racing catboat manned by the two girls, and from that point on their friends “rooted” for the Coquette.
The Coquette passed Numbers Seven and Nine; It did seem as though she must have sailed the course fast enough to bring her well up among the leaders, so many higher numbers than her own had been passed.
But Wyn and Polly were not sure, when they crossed the line, how they stood in the race.
CHAPTER XX
THE CANOE RACE
Dave Shepard, at the wheel of the Happy Day, ran directly behind the judges’ boat and stopped.
“Who won?” cried the boys, in chorus. “Where does Number Sixteen stand?”
“How can we tell you until all the boats are in?” returned one of the gentlemen, smiling.
“Of course we know,” declared Dr. Shelton. “And you are quite right to cheer them, boys. The Coquette is ’way ahead of everything else–those two girls are corkers!”
Instantly the Busters and the Go-Aheads began to cheer anew. The older members of their party aboard the Sissy Radcliffe took up the chorus. Wyn Mallory and Polly Jarley had beaten out the other catboats in the dingy old craft, and had won the twenty-five-dollar prize.
“It’s all for you, dear,” cried Wyn, when Polly kissed and thanked her. “Of course I don’t need the money, while you and your father do. You’ll take it from me–for friendship’s sake, dear?”
“Yes, Wyn. From you,” returned the boatman’s daughter, with trembling lips.
“And now you are coming to try for the canoe prize, too? That will be a five-dollar gold piece. But you will have to fight all us Go-Ahead girls for it. I shall beat you myself, if I can,” laughed Wynifred.
Dave had rushed the motor boat over to the landing and he got Wyn’s and Polly’s canoes into the water. The whistle had blown for the girls’ canoe race the minute before, and the other girls were out on the lake.
Altogether there were forty-three canoes. Some were birchbarks like Polly’s; but the large majority were cedar boats.
“Birchbarks line up at Dr. Shelton’s landing!” bellowed the starter’s voice through his megaphone. “Get me? Shelton’s landing!”
Polly and the few other girls who had the Indian canoes waved their hands and got into position. They kept a pretty straight line.
“Now at the starting line here for you cedars!” cried the man, and Wyn, with her five mates, and the rest of the girl canoeists from all about the lake, tried to obey the command.
But there were so many of them that it was not altogether easy to get into line. Nearly forty canoes were “some bunch,” to quote the slangy Frank, who was, by the way, just as eager as any of the other contestants.
Although Frank believed that Wyn, and perhaps Bess, as well as Polly and Grace, had a better chance than she of winning the race; there was, of course, a chance of the very best canoeist getting a spill and so being put out of the race.
It is not always the best paddler who wins; there is too much uncertainty in handling the “tippy” craft–especially in moments of excitement, and among many other similar craft.
So there was hope for any and all. The eager faces of the girls in the canoes showed it. They scuffled somewhat to get place on the line; but the entries had all been numbered, so it was merely a case of getting in right and leaving enough space on either side of one’s bobbing canoe.
One of the starters was pulled up and down the line in a skiff to criticise. Not every girl was as fair-minded to her opponents as the girls from Green Knoll Camp, and there was some little bickering before the starter shouted for the whole crowd–both cedars and birches–to get ready.
“At the shot, remember,” he cried through the megaphone. “Once around the stake-boat, to the right, and return. The birchbarks finish at this line, like the cedars. Now!”
A moment later the pistol shot rang out. There was a splash of paddles–even a clash of them, for some of the girls were too near each other and too eager.
The spectators cheered–the boys from Gannet Island doing especially well in that line. They were determined to root indiscriminately for the girls of Green Knoll Camp.
But within a very few minutes Dave Shepard shouted to his friends:
“Look what’s coming up, fellows! See Polly!”
“Polly Jolly!” yelled the excitable Ferd. “Is that her in the first birchbark?”
“Of course it is,” responded Tubby Blaisdell. “Well! did you ever see a girl like that before? Look at those arms. She’s got better biceps than you have, Dave, m’ boy!”
For the girls were in their bathing dresses and Polly’s bare arms were displayed to the best advantage as she flashed past the motor boat. Her face was set–her eyes bright. And she weaved back and forth as she drove the paddle with the steadiness of a machine.
“Hooray for Polly Jolly!” yelled Ferd Roberts, again.
The Busters took up the chorus. They could not restrain their enthusiasm, for the pace at which Polly was overhauling the cedar boats was really marvelous.
Of course, it was a foregone conclusion that some of the contestants would drop out. These canoes Polly passed as though they were standing still.
In the lead were Wyn, Bess, Grace, Frank, and half a dozen other girls from about the lake. There were already two spills, and several slight collisions followed. The handicap on the birch canoes was really greater than was expected, for being in the rear, they had to dodge all the overset boats and the other paddlers who did not know enough to keep out of the course.
But Polly Jarley had taken the outside and she shot by all the trouble easily. She was soon clinging to the skirts of the head canoes and it looked, before the turn, as though she would soon be in the lead herself.
Up ahead Wyn and Bess and Grace were struggling almost neck and neck with two strange girls. The captain of the Go-Aheads wanted to win–she wanted to do so very much. She was a good sport, and therefore a good loser; but that does not necessarily mean that one likes to lose.
Bessie Lavine was paddling splendidly for her–it was evidently one of her good days. Frank Cameron had fallen behind–indeed, she had clashed with another girl and both were out of the race.
Grace Hedges was almost as big and strong as Polly Jarley; but she lacked the training of the boatman’s daughter. Polly was used to hard work every day of her life. That is different from gymwork and a little paddling, or swimming, or other athletic fun a few times a week.
But Grace was doing finely and she even might have won had she not tried unwisely to pass one of her rivals. Her paddle clashed with that of the other girl. Both canoeists were straining hard–and their tempers were a bit strained, too.
“I wish you’d look where you’re going, Miss!” snapped the other girl, and before Grace could return the compliment–had she so wished–the two canoes crashed together and both girls were spilled into the lake.
There was no danger in these spills. Two motor boats followed behind and picked up the swamped contestants.
But before Grace was picked up she saw Polly Jarley flash by in the birchbark. There were but three cedar boats ahead of the boatman’s daughter, and all were coming down the return course, the paddlers straining to do their very best.
Wyn had a splendid, even stroke; Bess was getting heated, and bit her lip as she paddled. It always hurt Bess when she lost. Up from the rear Polly urged her birchbark with long, steady heaves that seemed to prove her magnificent muscles tireless.
The spectators began to shout for the boatman’s daughter. They saw that she was making a magnificent attempt to win the race.
But when Wyn heard them shouting for another number rather than her own–she did not notice which!–she put forth every ounce of spare strength she possessed.
Bess was left behind by the captain of the Go-Ahead Club. Her canoe quivering, her paddle actually bending under her work, Wyn dashed on. Bess and the other girl were out of the race–hopelessly. It lay between Wyn and the birchbark canoe.
Polly did not withhold her paddle when she saw her friend dart ahead; it was a perfectly fair race. But the boatman’s girl had done so well at first, considering her handicap and all, that there was little wonder if she could not keep up the gruelling work. She had no reserve force, as Wyn had.
The latter dashed over the mark with undiminished speed. Polly only halted long enough to congratulate her.
“It’s dear of you to be glad, Polly, when I know you wanted the prize,” cried Wyn. “But we couldn’t both have it.”
“You have helped me enough to-day, Wynifred,” replied Polly, softly. “Now father and I will go home. He told me how it would be, if he came down here; but at least we won the big prize, thanks to you, and money means so much to us now!”
The day was not over yet for the Go-Aheads and the Busters, although the races were finished. Somehow the news was spread among the campers on Gannet Island and Green Knoll that there was to be a “grand treat” at the ice-cream tables, and they gathered “like eagles to the kill,” Frankie poetically declared.
The waiter brought heaping dishes of cream, there were nice cakes, and Tubby’s unctuous smile at one end of the table radiated cheer. They were all very jolly and nobody asked who was to pay the piper until the waiter gravely brought Dave Shepard the check and a slip of paper.
“Hi! did I order this feed?” demanded Dave, startled by the size of the check.
“I was ordered to give the check to you–and the paper,” quoth the waiter, calmly.
“Gee, Dave! somebody’s stung you!” croaked Tubby, with his mouth still full.
Dave unfolded the paper slowly, and read in his own handwriting: “I bet an ice-cream treat all around to the Go-Ahead girls that your curiosity would not permit you to leave this alone.”
“You don’t deny your own handwriting; do you, sir?” queried the waiter, with a perfectly grave face. “I served the company on that order, Mr. Shepard.”
“That Wyn Mallory! She got me!” groaned Dave, and paid up like a man.
“But what’s the use of trying to put a joke over on those girls?” he said to Tubby afterward. “They’re always turning the tables on a fellow.”
“Very good table, too–very good table,” agreed Tubby, smacking his lips. “But you’re so reckless with your promises, Dave.”
Mr. Lavine’s man took the Happy Day and the canoes back to camp, while the whole party of young folk piled aboard the larger Sissy. They had a fine time sailing down the lake and reached the Cave-in-the-Wood Camp at late supper time.
There was still light enough on the water for the voyagers to see a boat rocking on the waves in the little cove where Polly Jarley had first been introduced to the two canoe clubs.
“And that’s Polly and her father there now,” said Dave, quickly.
“Yes. It’s the Coquette,” agreed Wyn.
“What are they doing in there?” asked Frankie. “See! he is standing up and gesticulating–not to us. He’s talking to Polly.”
“That is the place where he had the misfortune to lose Dr. Shelton’s motor boat last winter,” said Wyn. “Don’t you remember?”
“You see,” Dave cried, “he is showing her the place where the limb fell again–and the direction the boat must have taken in the fog.”
“A lot he knows where it went,” said Tubby, scornfully. “He was swept overboard, and as far as he knows the Bright Eyes might have gone right up into the air!”
“But it didn’t explode, you see, nor did it have wings,” laughed Wynifred. “So it took no aërial voyage–we may be sure of that. I’d give anything to find where it sank.”
“So would I, Wyn,” cried Dave. “If we could locate the sunken boat, Mr. Jarley could easily prove he had neither stolen it nor the silver images.”
“I’d give something handsome to have the mystery explained, myself,” said Mr. Lavine, suddenly.
“What would you give, Father?” asked his daughter.
“I’ll tell you,” he replied, smiling. “I understand both of your clubs–the Go-Aheads and the Busters–are anxious to really own a motor boat. Frank Dumont, here, tells me he has got to go home with the Happy Day to-morrow, as his vacation is ended.
“Now, I’ll make you boys and girls an offer,” pursued Mr. Lavine, more earnestly. “You’ll hunt in packs, anyway–the boys together and the girls together. If the girls find the sunken boat I’ll present them with a motor boat as good as the Happy Day; and if the boys have the luck, then the boat shall belong to the Busters. What say?”
“We say ‘Thanks!’” cried Dave, instantly.
“We think it is very handsome of you, sir,” declared Wyn, coming over to the gentleman and taking his hand. “And I know why you do it, sir–so I thank you twice. If poor Mr. Jarley could be absolved of Dr. Shelton’s accusation, it would help a whole lot.”
“Humph!” muttered Mr. Lavine, “I heard Shelton going on about Jarley myself to-day, and it made me ashamed–I’m free to own it. I never did think John as bad as all that!”
“It sounds different when you hear somebody else say it,” whispered Dave in Wynifred’s ear.
Mr. Lavine’s proposal, however, met with enthusiastic favor on the part of both clubs. A motor boat would be just the finest thing to own! Both boys and girls determined to find the lost Bright Eyes before the season was out.
