Kitabı oku: «The Young Oarsmen of Lakeview», sayfa 2
CHAPTER V.
HARRY IS RESCUED
“I can stay on deck, can’t I?” asked Dora, as she turned the tiller over to the homeless youth.
“If you wish. But be very careful when the sloop swings around,” replied Jerry. “You did very well,” he added.
Dora smiled at this. Then she went forward and settled down, in spite of the rain, to help look for Harry Parker, whose folks she knew fairly well.
The Cutwater was put on a different track, and they began to move across the lake, it being Jerry’s idea to cross and recross at a distance of every six or seven hundred feet.
Twice did they come close to each shore without seeing anything of Harry.
“Gone down, suah’s you’re born!” said Blumpo, and the tears started out of his big, honest eyes.
“I am afraid so,” returned Jerry, “and yet – hark!”
He put up his hand and all were instantly on the alert. The wind had gone down somewhat, and from a distance came a low cry.
“It’s Harry’s!” said Jerry. “Hullo, Harry!” he yelled, with all the power of his lungs.
He waited, and an answering cry came back from toward the center of the lake. It was very weak, showing that Harry was almost exhausted.
The course of the sloop was instantly changed, and they strove to reach the spot before the boy should go down.
Jerry was the first to see the form floating about amid the whitecaps.
“Keep up, Harry!” he called encouragingly. “We will soon have you on board.”
“I can’t keep up any longer,” gasped his chum. “I am played out.” And throwing up his arms, Harry disappeared.
Tying the end of a long rope about his waist, Jerry leaped overboard. He struck the spot where Harry had gone down and felt in every direction for his chum.
His hand touched an arm, and then he held Harry fast and brought him to the surface. The poor boy was too weak to make the first movement.
“Haul in on the rope, Blumpo!” called Jerry.
Turning the tiller over to Dora Vincent, the homeless youth did as directed.
Jerry, with his burden, was soon brought alongside.
It was no easy matter to hoist Harry on deck in the storm, but at last it was accomplished, and Jerry followed his charge.
Harry was unconscious, and he was taken to the cabin, where Dora and the other girls did all in their power for him; and then the Cutwater was headed for Lakeview, two miles distant.
The hurricane, or whatever it might be called, had by this time spent itself. The rain ceased and before the lake town came into view the sun shone once more as brightly as ever.
Clarence Conant came on deck looking very much annoyed. He felt that he had played the part of a coward, and knew he would have no easy time of it to right himself in the eyes of the young ladies.
“The – ah – truth is, I was very sick,” he explained to Jerry. “I got a – ah – spasm of the – ah – heart.”
“Sure it wasn’t a spasm in your great toe?” said Jerry, with a grin.
But Clarence never smiled. It would not have been good form, you know.
As soon as the dock was reached, Jerry left Blumpo to tie up and went to Harry. He found his chum able to sit up. He was very weak, but that was all.
“It was a close call for me, Jerry,” said Harry, with a shudder. “I owe you my life.”
“It was a close call all around,” replied our hero. “We can be thankful that we are here safe and sound.”
Harry felt too weak to walk, so a carriage was called to take him home. Jerry went with him, while Blumpo went over to the grocery store to tell of all that had happened.
Clarence Conant was utterly left. He tried to excuse himself to Dora Vincent and the other young ladies, but they would have nothing to do with him.
“The next time I go out it will be with somebody who can manage a boat, and who is brave enough to do it, even in a storm,” said Dora, and walked away with her lady friends.
“Beastly bad job, beastly!” muttered Clarence to himself. “And my best sailor suit utterly ruined, too! Oh, why did that storm have to come up on us?”
But this was not the end of the matter for the dude.
The row-boat that had been smashed was a valuable one belonging to the Lakeview Boat Club. They did not care to lose the cost of it, and so called on Conant to pay for the same.
At first he refused, but when they threatened arrest he weakened. It took nearly three weeks of his salary to square accounts, and then the young man was utterly crushed. He never went sailing again.
It did not take Harry long to recover from the effects of his outing on the lake. Inside of a week he was as well as ever.
Blumpo took good care to tell every one of all that had happened, and on every side Jerry was praised for his daring work in saving the Cutwater and his chum.
We have spoken of the match to take place between Jerry and Si Peters of Rockpoint. This was postponed for two weeks on Si’s account.
Si Peters was a tall overgrown youth of eighteen, and was generally considered to be the best oarsman on the lake.
Consequently, when a match was arranged by the clubs to which they belonged between the pair it was thought, even by many Lakeview people, that Si Peters would win.
Si had one great advantage over Jerry. His father was rich, while Jerry’s father was poor. Consequently, while Jerry had to help on the farm during idle hours Si Peters could go out and practice, and thus get himself in perfect condition.
It was this fact that made Si think he was going to have an easy time defeating Jerry.
But, unknown to him, Jerry got more time than he thought. Harry was anxious to have his chum win, and spoke to his father about it.
Now, Mr. Parker and Si Peters’ father were not on good terms, and the former readily agreed to a plan Harry proposed.
“Mr. Upton,” he said one evening, when he met Jerry’s father down in the town, “I would like to hire Jerry to work for me every afternoon for a couple of weeks.”
“All right, Mr. Parker,” said Jerry’s father, promptly. “When do you want him to come?”
“To-morrow, if he can. I’ll pay you five dollars a week.”
“Very well. You can pay Jerry.”
So it was settled, and every afternoon the young oarsman went over to the Parker place, which bordered on the lake.
Here Jerry would practice in secret in a little cove seldom visited by any boats.
As the time grew close for the race between Jerry and Si Peters the boat clubs began to bet on their favorites.
So sure were the Rockpointers that they would win, that they gave the Lakeview people heavy odds.
Together the two clubs put up as a trophy a silver cup, which later on would be engraved with the name of the winner.
Of course, Jerry’s father soon found out what his son was doing.
But he would not break his bargain with Mr. Parker, and so let Jerry practice every afternoon, feeling sure that Jerry would not take the money the rich manufacturer had offered.
“You will win,” said Harry, confidently.
“I shall try my best,” returned Jerry.
Si Peters and his friends smiled broadly whenever they came over to Lakeview.
“Jerry Upton won’t be in it after the first quarter,” said they.
The race was to be a mile, half a mile each way, the turning point being a well-known rocky island scarcely fifty feet in diameter.
Jerry kept at his practice steadily until the great day for the race arrived.
CHAPTER VI.
THE SINGLE SHELL RACE
The race had been spoken of so much that Lakeview presented a holiday appearance.
All those who could, crossed over from Rockpoint, and many came from other places.
The lake was crowded with craft of all sorts, and even standing room along the shore was at a premium.
Even Farmer Upton grew interested.
“You must win that race, son,” he said. “Not only for your own sake, but for the sake of the whole Lakeview district.”
And this made Jerry more determined to win than ever.
The race was not to come off until three o’clock in the afternoon. In the meanwhile there were half a dozen other contests, in which, however, the masses took but small interest.
While one of these contests was going on, and Jerry was in the dressing room of the boathouse putting on his rowing rig, Harry came in excitedly.
“Jerry, you want to be on your guard,” he said in a low tone, so that those standing about might not hear.
“On guard? How?”
“Against Si Peters.”
“I don’t understand.”
“From what I have overheard, I imagine there is a plot on foot to make you lose the race.”
“What sort of a plot?”
“I can’t say.”
The young oarsman gazed at his chum in perplexity.
“What have you heard? I don’t know what to make of this.”
“You know Wash Crosby?”
“Yes. He is Si Peters’ toady.”
“Well, I heard him tell Browling that it was a dead sure thing Si would win.”
“That might have been mere blowing.”
“No. Browling thought so, too, but then Crosby whispered in his ear. At once Browling’s face took on a look of cunning.
“ ‘Can you do it?’ he asked, and Crosby said he could.
“Then Browling said he would put out his money on Si, if he could find anyone to bet. You know the whole crowd is rich.”
“Yes, and I know another thing!” exclaimed Jerry suddenly. “I fancy I can see through their plan.”
“What?”
“Crosby owns a steam launch, you know.”
“I do.”
“What is to prevent him from running the launch so that I shall get all the swash? It would make me lose a quarter minute or more, and perhaps upset me.”
“Jiminey crickets! I believe you are right!” whispered Harry.
“Did they mention the steam launch?”
“They did. Browling said he would go and take a look at her.”
“Then that is what the plot is, you may be sure of it. You ought to be able to stop them, Harry. You are going to be on your uncle’s naptha launch.”
“I will! If they get too close to you I’ll boathook them and pull them off!” cried Harry.
“Good for you.”
“But beware, Jerry, the plot may not be that after all.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open,” replied the young oarsman.
A minute after this Harry went off.
Then Jerry, having donned his rowing outfit, was surrounded by the other members of the club. His shell was inspected and found in perfect condition. It had been guarded carefully, and now the club members did not dare to let their eyes off of it.
“Bring me my blades, please,” said Jerry, and they were at once brought from the locker.
He began to examine them from end to end. Suddenly he uttered a cry.
“Boys, look here!”
“What’s up, Jerry?”
“This one has been strained and cracked. An extra hard pull on it, and it would give out.”
A murmur arose.
“Who did this?”
“Some enemy wants Jerry to lose, sure!”
How the blade had got into that condition was a mystery.
But now was no time to speculate on the affair. A new set of blades must be procured at once.
Luckily there was a pair belonging to a private party to be had. They were just the same size and weight.
“I would rather have my own, but I’ll make these do, and beat them in spite of all,” said Jerry.
At a given signal six of the boat club boys marched down the float carrying Jerry’s shell, which had been polished and oiled until it shone like a mirror.
With a faint splash the shell dropped into the water. Then Jerry ran down and stepped in. His feet were “locked,” and the oars were handed over.
“Hurrah for Jerry Upton!”
“He’s the boy to win!”
“Hurrah for Si Peters!”
“Jerry won’t be in it with Si!”
“He will!”
“Never!”
And so the talking and the shouting ran on.
Meanwhile Si Peters had emerged from the landing at a private boathouse some distance up the lake shore.
He received a hearty shout as he moved slowly over to the starting point.
Si Peters won the choice of positions, and, of course, took the inside.
The race should have been a mile straightway, but the original challenge which led to the race had been for a half mile going and the same coming.
Soon the two boys were in position.
“Ready?”
There was a dead silence.
Bang!
They were off! Both boys caught the water at the same instant. Each pulled a long but quick stroke. Ten yards were covered, and they remained side by side.
“Pull, Si!”
“Go it, Jerry!”
Like two clocks, so far as regularity went, the two contestants bent their backs and pulled with might and main.
One thing was certain, unless something happened, it would be a close race.
But now the Lakeview boys were getting wild.
“See Jerry! He is gaining.”
“Jerry is five feet and more in the lead!”
It was true. Slowly but surely our hero was forging ahead. Should he be able to keep this up he would cross Si Peters’ course at the turning point.
But now Wash Crosby showed his hand. Without so much as a toot of the whistle, his steam launch kept drawing closer and closer to Jerry’s side.
Then it gradually went ahead, until Jerry was caught in the swash of the tiny waves it produced.
Under ordinary circumstances these waves would not have been noticed, but in a shell, and especially during a race, even such apparent trifles count heavily.
“Keep off!” shouted the young oarsman.
“Mind your business!” shouted Wash Crosby in return, but so lowly that no one but Jerry could hear him. “This is Si Peters’ race!”
CHAPTER VII.
WHO WON THE SHELL RACE
Jerry saw at once that he had been right in imagining that this was the plot against him. Wash Crosby intended to keep just close enough to cause him trouble without actually fouling him.
Already the swash from the steam launch was telling on Jerry’s lead. Si Peters kept up at his best and soon was once more abreast of our hero.
“Hurrah!” came from the shore.
“Si Peters leads!”
“I said he would win!”
“That steam launch is too close to Jerry Upton.”
“Nonsense! Don’t croak because you are going to lose the race,” shouted Browling.
The Lakeview boys began to look glum.
But now something happened that Wash Crosby had not calculated upon.
Straight from across the lake came the naptha launch belonging to Harry Parker’s uncle. In the bow stood Harry, boathook in hand.
When the launch was within three yards of the Crosby craft she came to a halt. Wash Crosby was so interested in watching the race that he did not notice what was going on.
Harry threw the boathook and it caught fast in the steam launch’s stern. Then the naptha launch was moved back, and away she went, carrying the steam launch with her.
She could do this because Crosby did not have on a full head of steam.
Astonished at the turn of affairs, Wash Crosby looked around to see what was the matter.
“Hi! what are you doing?” he bellowed to Harry.
“Hauling you off,” returned Jerry’s chum. “I know your plot, Wash Crosby; but it is not going to work.”
“Let go there!”
“Not much! You’ll keep your distance from Jerry Upton’s shell.”
“I would like to know who made you my master!” stormed Crosby, in a perfect rage.
“If you don’t come away I’ll report you and get the town to lynch you,” retorted Harry, valiantly. “Don’t you dare to touch that boathook.”
However, Wash Crosby did dare. But as long as the line attached was taut he could not loosen it. Then he tried new tactics. He put on a full head of steam.
It was a tug of war between the steam and the naptha launches, and for the moment it was hard to tell which would come off victorious.
But Harry’s craft was more powerful than Crosby’s, and soon the steam launch was carried far away from the racing shells.
Wash Crosby was furious and would have eaten Harry up could he have gotten at the lad.
“I’ll fix you for this!” he cried and threw a heavy chunk of coal at Harry’s head, which the boy dodged.
“Don’t try that again, Wash Crosby, or I’ll retaliate in a way you least expect.”
“You had no right to haul me off.”
“You had no right to interfere with Jerry Upton.”
Wash Crosby grumbled but could do nothing. Harry calmly proceeded to hold him back until the race was almost over.
In the meanwhile, how was Jerry faring?
With long, quick strokes, he swept on, side by side with Si Peters.
It was going to be a close contest, and the spectators along the lake front went wild with enthusiasm.
“Don’t let up, Si!”
“Show the Rockpointers what you can do, Jerry!”
“A dollar that Si wins by a length!”
“A dollar that Jerry wins by two lengths!”
At last the two reached Rocky Island, which formed the turning point.
They were still side by side, but Si had the inner turn all to himself, while Jerry had to move about in a much larger area.
This brought Jerry a good length behind Si Peters when the return was begun.
Si Peters saw this and grinned to himself.
“You ain’t in it a little bit, Jerry Upton!” he called out, but Jerry did not reply. He was not foolish enough to waste breath just then in talking.
Over the smooth water swept the two long shells, each boy working with quick and long strokes.
Now the finishing stake was in view. Si Peters still kept his lead.
“It’s Si’s race, no doubt of it!”
“Didn’t I say Jerry Upton wouldn’t be in it?”
“What does Cornfield know about rowing, anyhow?”
But scarcely had the last remark been made when Jerry began to increase his stroke.
Slowly but surely his shell began to overlap that of Si Peters. Now he was half-way up, now three-quarters, now they were even!
“See him gaining!”
“Look! look! Jerry is ahead!”
“He can’t keep that stroke! It’s enough to kill him!”
“Can’t he? Look, he is actually walking away from Si.”
Jerry was now “letting himself out.”
Like a flash he swept past Si Peters and reached the finish two and a half lengths ahead.
A rousing cheer from the Lakeview boys greeted him, while the Rockpointers were as mum as oysters.
Si Peters looked decidedly crestfallen. For several minutes he had nothing to say. Then some of his friends whispered into his ear.
“You must do it, Si,” said one of the number.
“All right, I will,” replied Peters doggedly, and hurried to the judges’ boat.
“I claim a foul!” he cried out loudly.
Every one was astonished, and none more so than Jerry.
“Where were you fouled?” asked one of the judges.
“Up at the turning point.”
“That is a falsehood!” cried Jerry indignantly. “I never came anywhere near you.”
“I’m telling the truth,” said Si Peters. “If he hadn’t fouled me I would have beaten with ease.”
CHAPTER VIII.
A PRISONER OF THE ENEMY
At once a loud murmur arose. Some sided with Jerry, while others took Si Peters’ part.
From hot words the boys of the rival towns almost came to blows.
In the midst of the quarrel a row-boat came down the lake carrying two elderly and well-known gentlemen, both residents of Rockpoint. Curious to know the cause of the trouble, the gentlemen came up to the judges’ craft, now moored along shore.
“Peters claims a foul up at the turning point,” said some one of the gentlemen.
“You mean up at the island?”
“Yes.”
“There was no foul there. Was there, Greenley?”
“None at all,” replied the second gentleman.
These assertions attracted attention. On inquiry it was learned that the two gentlemen had been up at the island fishing. They had watched the race in the meanwhile, and they were willing to make affidavit that Jerry had not interfered in the slightest degree with Si Peters.
“He took the outside, and he really gave Peters more room than was necessary.”
The two gentlemen were too well known to be doubted in what they said, and at once the judges refused to accept Si Peters’ plea.
“The race goes to Jerry Upton, who won it fairly.”
Then how Jerry’s friends did yell with delight! The lad was pounced upon and raised up on his friends’ shoulders, and away went the boat club boys around the town, Blumpo in advance of them blowing a big fish-horn.
“You is de boy!” said the homeless youth. “You is de best oarsman on de lake!”
Harry was in the crowd, and when he told how he had outwitted Wash Crosby every one roared.
The race, however, made lots of ill-feeling. The Rockpoint boys could not stand defeat, and that evening half a dozen rows started in as many different places.
Sticks and stones were freely used, and many boys went home with their arms and heads tied up.
Jerry became involved in one of the worst of the fights in rather a peculiar manner. He was on his way home rather late, thinking all was over and that the Rockpointers had departed, when he heard a hoarse cry for help from down a side street.
He recognized the voice as that of Blumpo Brown, and at once hurried to the spot, there to find the youth at the mercy of four of the Rockpoint boys, including Wash Crosby, Si Peters, and two others named Banner and Graves. The quartet had poor Blumpo down on his back and were kicking him as hard as they could.
“You cowards!” shouted Jerry as he rushed up, “to kick a fellow when he’s down!”
“This is none of your affair,” shouted Si Peters. “He insulted us, and we won’t take an insult from anybody, much less an Indian coon.”
“Da jess pitched inter me!” howled Blumpo. “Sabe me!”
“Let up, I say!” went on Jerry, and, clutching Si Peters by the shoulder, he flung the big Rockpointer flat on his back several feet away. Then Jerry pitched into the others of the crowd.
This gave Blumpo a chance to rise. He scrambled up and let out a long and loud yell for help. Luckily, some other boys were not far away. They heard the cry and arrived on a run.
“We must skip now!” cried Wash Crosby to Si Peters. “We’ll have the whole town on us in another minute.”
“Hang the luck!” howled Peters. “But just wait, Jerry Upton, I’ll get square with you yet.”
He turned away with his friends, and the quartet scooted for the lake, with Jerry, Blumpo, and half a dozen others at their heels.
Wash Crosby’s launch was tied up at a dock, and into this they tumbled. The line was cut, and off they steamed, amid a perfect shower of stones, lumps of dirt, old bottles, and anything that came handy to the Lakeview boys’ reach.
“There, I fancy that’s the end of them,” said Jerry. “I thought they had gone long ago.”
“Da laid for me!” groaned Blumpo. “Wish I dun had a hoss pistol, I would shoot ’em all full of holes!”
Soon the steam launch faded away in the darkness, and a little later found Jerry again on his way home. Of course his folks were proud to think he had won the race.
“My boy, Jerry!” was all Mrs. Upton said, but the way she said it meant a good deal.
It was a week later that the boat club gave a reception, at which Jerry was the lion. He was presented with the silver trophy, and made a neat little speech. There were refreshments and music, and altogether the affair was the most brilliant Lakeview had seen for some time.
Matters moved along slowly for a week after the racing and the reception were over. Jerry worked on the farm, and never was there a more industrious youth.
In the meanwhile Harry Parker made several arrangements for the outing up the lake, in which Jerry and Blumpo were to accompany him.
One day Mr. Upton received a letter from Rockpoint. It was from a friend, and asked if the farmer could send him over at once a load of hay.
“I can’t go very well,” said Mr. Upton. “Supposing you take it over to Mr. Dike, Jerry?”
“I will, sir,” replied Jerry, promptly.
The young oarsman had not been over to Rockpoint since the races, but he thought he could go over and come back without encountering trouble.
The hay was soon loaded on the rick, and then Jerry started off for the other shore. He was compelled to drive nearly to the lower end of the lake to cross on the bridge, consequently it was well on toward the middle of the afternoon when Rockpoint was reached.
He and Mr. Dike put the load in the barn, and after being paid, and partaking of a glass of cold milk and a piece of home-made pie, Jerry, at just six o’clock, started on the return.
It had been a gloomy day, and, consequently, it was already growing dark, although it was midsummer.
But Jerry knew the way well, so he did not mind the darkness. He let the team go their own gait, and took it easy in the rick on a couple of horse blankets.
He was in a sort of day dream, when suddenly, his team was stopped by a couple of boys, who sprang from behind a clump of trees.
The boys wore masks over their faces, and when they spoke, they did their best to disguise their voices.
Jerry sprang up in alarm. At the same time four more boys, also masked, surrounded the hay-rick.
“What’s the meaning of this?” demanded Jerry. “Let go of those horses.”
Instead of replying, the two boys continued to hold the team. The other four leaped into the hay-rick and fell on Jerry. Taken so suddenly, he was at a disadvantage. Hardly could he make a move before one of the boys struck him on the head with a club, dazing him.
Then a rope was brought forth, and Jerry’s hands were tied behind him and he was thrown on the ground.
The boys sent the team on their way, trusting to luck that the horses would find their way home.
“What are you going to do with me?” asked Jerry, when he found himself bound and helpless.
“You’ll soon see, Jerry Upton,” came from the leader, in such a muffled voice that our hero tried in vain to recognize the speaker.
“Make him march!” said another.
“All right, march!”
Into the woods the masked gang hurried Jerry. When he attempted to turn back, they hit him with their sticks and tripped him up.
Finally, when he would go no further, four of the boys picked him up and carried him.
Nearly a quarter of an hour was spent in this manner, and the party reached a little clearing. On three sides were tall trees, and on the fourth a wall of rocks.
“This is the spot,” cried the leader. “Now tie him to a tree and get the stuff out of the cave.”
At once the young oarsman was bound to a tree on the edge of the clearing.
Then two of the boys entered a cave between the rocks.
Soon they came forth with a pot filled with a thick, black liquid and two big pillows.
At once Jerry realized what his captors meant to do. They were going to tar and feather him!
