very slippery flight of steps. She was painted white with a green
stripe outside, and on the stern a yellow dolphin, with its scarlet mouth
wide open, stared with a surprised expression at its own reflection in
the water. The boat was a great bargain.
I whirled my cap in the air, and ran to the stairs leading down from the
wharf, when a hand was laid gently on my shoulder. I turned, and faced
Captain Nutter (2 Tom Bailey's grandfather.) I never saw such an old
sharp-eye as he was in those days.
I knew he would not be angry with me for buying a rowboat; but I also
knew that the little bowsprit suggesting a jib and the tapering mast
ready for its few square feet of canvas were trifles not likely to meet his
approval. As far as rowing on the river, among the wharves, was
concerned, the Captain had long since withdrawn his decided
objections, having convinced himself, by going out with me several
times, that I could manage a pair of sculls as well as anybody.
I was right in my surmises. He commanded me, in the most emphatic
terms, never to go out in the Dolphin without leaving the mast in the
boat-house. This curtailed my anticipated sport, but the pleasure of
having a pull whenever I wanted it remained. I never disobeyed the
Captain's orders touching the sail, though I sometimes extended my
row beyond the points he has indicated.
The river was dangerous for sailboats. Squalls, without the slightest
warning, were of frequent occurrence; scarcely a year passed that three
or four persons were not drowned under the very windows of the town,
and these, oddly enough, were generally seacaptains, who either did not
understand the river, or lacked the skill to handle a small craft.
A knowledge of such disasters, one of which I witnessed, consoled me
somewhat when I saw Phil Adams skimming over the water in a
spanking breeze with every stitch of canvas set. There were few better
yachtsmen than Phil Adams. He usually went sailing alone, for both
Langdon and Binny Wallace were under the same restrictions I was.
Not long after the purchase of the boat, we planned an excursion to
Sandpeep Island, the last of the islands in the harbor. We purposed to
start early in the morning, and return with the tide in the moonlight.
Our only difficulty was to obtain a whole day's exemption from school,
the customary half-holiday not being long enough for our picnic.
Somehow, we could not work it; but fortune arranged it for us. I may
say here, that, whatever else I did, I never played truant ("hookey" we
called it) in my life.
One afternoon the four owners of the Dolphin exchanged significant
glances when Mr. Grimshaw announced from the desk that there would
be no school the following day, he having just received intelligence of
the death of his uncle in Boston. I was sincerely attached to Mr.
Grimshaw, but I am afraid that the death of his uncle did not affect me
as it ought to have done.
We were up before sunrise the next morning, in order to take advantage
of the flood-tide, which waits for no man. Our preparations for the
cruise were made the previous evening. In the way of eatables and
drinkables, we had stored in the stern of the Dolphin a generous bag of
hard-tack (for the chowder), a piece of pork to fry the cunners in, three
gigantic apple pies (bought at Pettingil's), half a dozen lemons, and a
keg of spring water--the last-named articles were slung over the side, to
keep it cool, as soon as we got under way. The crockery and the bricks
for our camp- stove we placed in the bows with the groceries, which
included sugar, pepper, salt, and a bottle of pickles. Phil Adams
contributed to the outfit a small tent of unbleached cotton cloth, under
which we intended to take our nooning.
We unshipped the mast, threw in an extra oar, and were ready to
embark. I do not believe that Christopher Columbus, when he started
on his rather successful voyage of discovery, felt half the responsibility
and importance that weighed upon me as I sat on the middle seat of the
Dolphin, with my oar resting in the rowlock. I wonder if Christopher
Columbus quietly slipped out of the house without letting his estimable
family know what he was up to? Charley Marden, whose father had
promised to cane him if he ever stepped foot on sail or row boat, came
down to the wharf in a sour- grape humor, to see us off. Nothing would
tempt him to go out on the river in such a crazy clam-shell of a boat.
He
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