The Project Gutenberg EBook of Stem to Stern, by Oliver Optic This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: Stem to Stern or building the boat Author: Oliver Optic Release Date: September 4, 2016 [EBook #52978] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEM TO STERN *** Produced by Chris Curnow, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) "Walk Billcord rushed out from the bushes."—Page 19. THE BOAT-BUILDER SERIES STEM TO STERN OR BUILDING THE BOAT BY OLIVER OPTIC AUTHOR OF "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD," "THE GREAT WESTERN SERIES," "THE ARMY AND NAVY SERIES," "THE WOODVILLE SERIES," "THE STARRY-FLAG SERIES," "THE BOAT-CLUB STORIES," "THE ONWARD AND [Pg 1] UPWARD SERIES," "THE YACHT-CLUB SERIES," "THE LAKE-SHORE SERIES," "THE RIVERDALE SERIES," "ALL ADRIFT," "SNUG HARBOR," "SQUARE AND COMPASSES," ETC., ETC. With Illustrations BOSTON LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS NEW YORK CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 1886 Copyright, 1885, By William T. Adams. —— All Rights Reserved. —— STEM TO STERN. Electrotyped by C. J. Peters & Son, Boston. TO MY ADOPTED "NEVVY," JOHN S. SHRIVER OF BALTIMORE, THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. The Boat-Builder Series. 1 . ALL ADRIFT; or, The Goldwing Club. 2 . SNUG HARBOR; or, The Champlain Mechanics. 3. SQUARE AND COMPASSES; or, Building the House. 4. STEM TO STERN; or, Building the Boat. 5. ALL TAUT; or, Rigging the Boat. 6 . READY ABOUT; or, Sailing the Boat. [Pg 2] [Pg 3] [Pg 4] PREFACE. "Stem to Stern" is the fourth volume of the "Boat-Builder Series." Most of the characters connected with the Beech Hill Industrial School continue to take part in the action of the story. Like its predecessors, a considerable portion of the work is devoted to business and mechanical information. The writer finds it quite impracticable to give as minute directions for the building of a boat as a few of his young readers may desire, for the entire volume would hardly afford sufficient space for all the details of planning and constructing a yacht. But he has endeavored to impart some information in a general way in regard to shipbuilding, and has indicated in what manner the ambitious young boat- builder may obtain the amplest instruction in this difficult art. It is necessary to assure his young friends that, with all the book-knowledge it is possible to obtain on the subject, it will require a great deal of skill and not a little scientific and technical learning to enable him to construct anything more elaborate than an ordinary flatboat. Nothing but assiduous practice can procure the skill, and nothing but hard study the geometrical and technical details of the art. As in the preceding volumes of the series, "Stem to Stern" is largely a story of adventure on Lake Champlain and its shores. A new character is introduced as the leading spirit of the story, whose struggles with the difficulties in his life- path can hardly fail to interest the young reader. Though he is peaceful and submissive under ordinary circumstances, with none of the swellish importance of many boys of his years, he is not a milk-and-water youth, and has pluck and strength enough to "stand up" for those whom misfortune has placed under his protection. Although the two remaining volumes of the series are especially devoted to rigging and sailing a boat, the present and the preceding books incidentally treat of these subjects. While so many young men on the sea, lakes and rivers seem to inherit or early acquire a taste for boats and boating, it is important that they should understand the theory of managing a sailing craft, though nothing but intelligent practice can make a competent "skipper." With such knowledge and skill, boat-sailing is a safe, as well as a healthy and improving sport. As in former volumes, the writer has endeavored to interest his young readers in mechanical operations and pursuits; and he hopes the series will contribute its mite in influencing boys to respect manual labor and to adopt it as a pastime or the business of life. Dorchester, Mass., August 17, 1885. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE Lily Bristol and her Tormentor 13 CHAPTER II. The Son of Toil fights his own Battle 25 CHAPTER III. The Final Mandate of Major Billcord 35 CHAPTER IV. The Absence of the Truant Dragon 45 CHAPTER V. The Goldwing at Sandy Point 55 CHAPTER VI. A Call for All Hands at Beech Hill 65 CHAPTER VII. An Expedition by Moonlight 75 [Pg 5] [Pg 6] [Pg 7] [Pg 9] [Pg 10] CHAPTER VIII. A Change of Location 85 CHAPTER IX. The Janitor of the Boat-House 95 CHAPTER X. A Lecture on Ship-building 105 CHAPTER XI. Rough Water on Lake Champlain 117 CHAPTER XII. A Sailboat in the Trough of the Sea 126 CHAPTER XIII. The Disaster to the Silver Moon 135 CHAPTER XIV. The Work of an Incompetent Skipper 145 CHAPTER XV. "Roll on, Silver Moon" 155 CHAPTER XVI. Dory Dornwood gives a Lesson in Boat-sailing 167 CHAPTER XVII. The Mission of the Six Ruffians 176 CHAPTER XVIII. The Result of an Unequal Conflict 186 CHAPTER XIX. A Deadlock at the Head of the Bay 196 CHAPTER XX. The Rebellious Skipper of the Sloop 206 CHAPTER XXI. An Outrage in the Standing-room of the Sloop 216 CHAPTER XXII. An Invitation to Sandy Point 226 CHAPTER XXIII. The Proceedings at Sandy Point 236 CHAPTER XXIV. The Students decide "What's in a Name" 246 CHAPTER XXV. Building the Boat 256 CHAPTER XXVI. That Cunning Tom Topover 266 CHAPTER XXVII. [Pg 11] [Pg 12] The Brilliant Strategy of the Bruiser 276 CHAPTER XXVIII. A Hard Battle at Sandy Point 286 CHAPTER XXIX. The Engineer of the Undine 296 CHAPTER XXX. Launching the Boat 312 STEM TO STERN; OR, BUILDING THE BOAT. CHAPTER I. LILY BRISTOL AND HER TORMENTOR. "I don't want anybody to row for me, Mr. Walker; I came out to take a little exercise, and I can do it best when I am all alone," said Miss Lily Bristol to a young gentleman of about eighteen who stood on the sandy beach. "But it will be a good deal more sociable to have company," replied Walk Billcord with a smile and a smirk. Lily Bristol had the reputation of being a very pretty girl, and fame had not exaggerated her beauty. She was very plainly dressed, but she was as neat as though she had just come out of the bureau-drawer. She was seated in a rude flatboat, with a pair of oars in her hands, which she seemed to know how to use. The boat was only a rod or two from the end of Sandy Point, at the southern side of the entrance to a bay with the same name. It was in the spring of the year, and the water in Lake Champlain was at its highest. Hardly more than a rod from the point where the rippling waves sported with the bright sand was a small and lightly- built cottage. It contained two rooms on the lower floor, with two small attic chambers over them. The structure rested on posts set in the sand, and looked as light and airy as a bird-cage. This cottage was the home of Peter Bristol, or, rather, of his wife and two children; for the father of the family had been away for two years, seeking to better his impaired fortunes. Peter had always been a poor man, and was always likely to be. He had been a sort of Jack-at-all-trades, not particularly good at any. He had been a fireman on a railroad, a farm-hand, a general jobber; he had tried his hand at almost everything without much success. Major Billcord owned all the land near Sandy Point. Some years before, he had taken it into his head that the high ground in the rear of Sandy Bay would be an excellent site for a hotel. Some of his friends did not agree with him, and assured him that a hotel could not live in this location. But the major was an obstinate man, and had his own way. He erected a structure of fifty rooms, with the intention of adding a hundred more after the first season. But for half a dozen reasons the hotel was a dreary failure. It never contained more than half a score of guests at any one time. Included in this small number was Colonel Buckmill, who was then looking for a suitable site for an academy. The owner of the estate would not admit that the hotel was a failure, but he hinted that the building might be obtained for the school. It exactly suited Colonel Buckmill, and a bargain was soon made for a lease of it. In this manner the Sunnyside Hotel became the Chesterfield Collegiate Institute in the autumn of the same year. Of course, one of the attractions of the Sunnyside was to be boating on the lake, and Major Billcord provided two sailboats and some rowboats; and Peter Bristol, who Was a good boatman, was engaged to take care of the boats, and act as skipper when required. The poor man, taking his cue from his employer, believed he had fallen upon a bonanza. His fortune was made, and the rest of his days would be spent at Sandy Point. His wife had over three hundred dollars in her own right in a savings bank, which she was willing to put into a house, and the cottage on the point was built. The family moved into it, and were delighted with the situation, though it was a rather dismal place in the winter. Peter was to have half the money derived from letting the boats; but he soon found that he had nothing to do. The few guests did not care to row or sail. [Pg 13] [Pg 14] [Pg 15] [Pg 16] The boatman had no rent to pay, for the major had given him permission to put his house on the point without charge; but he found it was very hard work to get enough for his family to eat. Lily obtained work in Westport, and Paul attended to the boats while his father worked at haying, and they got through the season. But the dream of fortune had collapsed. Peter Bristol was discouraged, and went to New York to find work. He obtained no situation, and shipped for the West Indies. A letter from him informed his family that he was at work on a plantation, and he hoped to do well after a while. Since that, nothing had been heard from him in two years. Paul obtained a little work at the institute, and Lily kept her place in Westport; so that the family had worried along until the daughter lost her situation for the want of sufficient work at the store in which she was employed. Then it was difficult even to obtain enough to eat. Paul did his best, and allowed himself to be bullied and kicked by the gentlemanly students of the institute, while he could make an occasional quarter. Major Billcord lived in Westport, and his son had lately become a pupil in the institute. He was older than most of the students, and was a wild young fellow. In the early spring he had seen Lily Bristol. He agreed with others who had seen her that she was a remarkably pretty girl, and he had made frequent visits to Sandy Point. "I prefer to be in the boat alone," Lily replied to the young gentleman's remark that it would be more sociable to have company. "But I want to see you, Lily, and have a talk with you," persisted Walker Billcord. "I will see you at the cottage if you desire," answered Lily. "But I wish to see you alone." "You cannot see me alone, sir," replied the pretty maiden with a great deal of spirit. "What's the reason I can't? I shall not hurt you. I think I know how to behave like a gentleman." "Perhaps you do," added Lily rather doubtfully, for Walk Billcord's reputation was none of the best. "If you will come to the shore, I will row you all about the bay," Walk insisted. "I will make it as pleasant for you as possible." "No, I thank you," replied the damsel decidedly. "What's the matter with you? I hope you don't think I mean to do you any harm." "I am not afraid of you, but I choose to be alone in the boat." With this she pulled away from the shore, though he continued to call out to her as long as she was within hearing. She did not like the young man at all, but rather despised than feared him. He had often thrown himself in her way, and exerted himself to please her. She was civil to him, and that was all. Lily remained in the boat, pulling about the little bay for over an hour. Walk had stood upon the beach for at least half an hour, waiting for her return to the shore. Then he had retired, and the fair maiden supposed he had gone back to the institute. When she had taken all the air and exercise she thought she needed, she rowed back to the shore. Just as she had driven the bow of the flatboat as far as she could on the sand, Walk Billcord rushed out from the bushes, where he had concealed himself, and prevented her from getting out of the boat. She had put the oars under the thwarts, and arranged everything inside of the boat, which had delayed her a few moments. But as soon as she saw her tormentor running to the waterside, she attempted to leap out of the boat. "No, you don't, my pretty maiden!" exclaimed Walk, as he seized her by the shoulders, and crowded her back to her seat in the stern. Under the impetus of the force applied to her by the young man, Lily dropped into the seat, and was obliged to grasp the gunwale of the boat to avoid being thrown into the water. The fair face of the young lady was flushed with anger, as well it might have been, for she had not suspected that her tormentor would resort to violence. She was not inclined to submit quietly to the will of Walk, for she immediately drew out one of the oars from under the thwarts, and poised it in the air, as though she intended to defeat the intentions of the reckless young gentleman even by meeting force with force. Walk Billcord stood for a moment holding on at the prow of the boat, as though he was undecided as to his next step. Doubtless he felt that he had already passed the bounds of propriety, and appeared to be considering whether it was prudent to proceed any further. A glance at the glowing and indignant face of Lily increased his interest in the adventure, and he was not willing to leave her in the moment of her heightened beauty. Lily was the daughter of a poor dependent of his father: at least, he so regarded her, and thought he had some right to subject her to his own whim. He wanted to row her about the bay, and talk with her; and this was the extent of his present wishes. It was only a "bit of a lark," a harmless pleasantry, on his part, as he afterward explained it, and he had [Pg 17] [Pg 18] [Pg 19] [Pg 20] not the slightest intention of injuring her. The fair maiden did not regard herself as a proper subject for the young gentleman's pleasantry, and she was prepared to bring down the blade of the oar upon his head if the occasion should require. In the attitude of defence she waited for his next demonstration. The upraised oar rather tempted Walk to proceed, and he pushed the bow of the boat from the sand, springing into the foresheets as he did so. As this was not a direct assault upon her, Lily did not bring down the oar upon his head, as she would under greater provocation, but she dropped it into the water at the stern of the boat. The water was shoal; and, setting the blade upon the sand at the bottom, she dexterously whirled the craft about, bringing the stern within a few feet of the dry sands on the shore. Mr. Walk Billcord did not object to this movement, as it was necessary to head the boat away from the shore; but he deemed it prudent to secure the other oar before his fair companion could do so. He stooped down and got hold of the blade end of it. It required a little tact to remove it from its position under the thwarts; and, while he was engaged in doing it, Lily gave the oar another push, forcing the boat close up to the shore. Without waiting for her tormentor to get the second oar over the forward thwart, she leaped lightly upon the dry sand, effecting her landing without wetting the soles of her shoes. She still held the oar in her hand, and stood on the shore, waiting for the next move of her unwelcome companion. She was too proud to run away from such a contemptible being as she considered Mr. Walk Billcord. She looked as though she felt abundantly able to defend herself from any attack on the part of the unmanly persecutor. She evidently believed that he had no serious intention to harm her, but was simply making her the sport of his whim. The moment she leaped ashore, Walk realized that she had got the better of him. Whatever he intended, he did not like to be outdone by a feeble girl. It was not pleasant for him, even in fun, to be outwitted by a weak maiden. He felt that he had not been smart, and he was annoyed at the situation. His vanity demanded that he should do something to get "even" with his intended victim. The confident look and attitude of Lily on the shore disconcerted him, and invited further action on his part. He had not yet obtained possession of the oar, for it had to be shoved back before it could be passed over the forward thwart. But he had no present need of the implement, and he abandoned it to survey the position of Lily. He interpreted her looks and attitude as a defiance. The boat, detached from the sand, was floating away from the shore. With a long leap he planted his feet on the land, and the effect of his movement was to drive the boat farther from the beach. A gentle breeze from the westward was driving it farther away, and Lily saw that it would soon be out of her reach. She rushed to the water's edge, and, reaching out as far as she could, she succeeded in placing the end of the blade on the prow. She began to draw the truant craft toward the shore, when Walk put himself at her side. He took the oar from her hand, and pulled the craft up till its bottom grated on the sand. Lily took a stick, and tried to get hold of the painter. As soon as she had it in her hand, Walk took it from her. He not only took the rope, but the hand which held it. He grasped her wrist with one hand, while he tried to drag the boat ashore with the other. He soon found that he had his hands full, both literally and figuratively. Lily attempted to shake him off; but Walk tightened his hold upon her wrist, though he had to drop the painter of the boat, which, having no hold upon the land, began to float off into the open lake. The fair maiden turned and twisted in her efforts to escape, but the young ruffian held on like a vise. In a moment or two she was exhausted with the violence of her exertions, and by this time she was thoroughly frightened. Very likely Walk had no worse intentions than at first, and was simply engaged in the business of getting "even" with the weak maiden who had outwitted him. "What do you mean, you wretch? Let go of me!" gasped Lily, her chest heaving with terror and emotion. "Don't make a fuss, my pretty one; I will not harm you," replied Walk. "Let go of me, Mr. Billcord! I thought you claimed to be a gentleman! Let go, or I will scream," panted Lily. "I only want to take a little row with you, and I shall, you may depend upon that," added Walk, picking up the oar which had fallen on the beach. "Don't make a fuss, and I won't hurt you." But Lily again renewed the struggle with all her might. Just at that moment, Paul Bristol and his mother came out of the cottage. The boy was a stout youth of fifteen, and, the moment he saw what was going on, he broke into a run. CHAPTER II. THE SON OF TOIL FIGHTS HIS OWN BATTLE. [Pg 21] [Pg 22] [Pg 23] [Pg 24] [Pg 25] Paul Bristol seemed to have made only a couple of bounds before he had covered the distance between the cottage and the shore. He saw his sister struggling to release herself from the grasp of Walk Billcord. All the indignation Nature had portioned out to him was roused, and he did not stop to ask any questions. He did not even utter a word of warning or reproach. His two fists were clinched in hard knots before he reached the scene of the encounter, and, without waiting to consider the situation, he planted a blow with his right fist between the two eyes of his sister's persecutor, and then did the same with the left. The effect was instant and decisive. Walk went over backwards upon the sand, and his hold upon the fair maiden was released. By this time Mrs. Bristol had come to the spot, and, putting her arm around her panting, trembling daughter, she led her to the cottage without taking note of the result of the battle, though she could not help seeing that the tormentor had been vanquished in the first onslaught. Walk Billcord was utterly astonished as well as effectually upset. Paul Bristol had always been meek and subservient in his dealings with the students, and no one could have suspected that there was anything like a claw in his hard paws. If Mr. Walker was astonished the first moment after his unexpected fall, he was indignant and boiling over with wrath the second. Though it was probable that both of the young gentleman's eyes had been put into mourning for the coming week, he was not otherwise damaged, and he leaped to his feet as soon as he could realize what had happened. He saw that he had been struck down by one whom he had always regarded as a son of toil,—a sort of cur about the premises of the institute. His blood boiled, and, without a word of any kind, he proceeded to "pitch into" his late assailant with all the physical vigor he could bring to bear upon him. Paul warded off the wild blows aimed at him, and soon planted one of his own on the end of the young gentleman's nose, which caused the blood to flow in a stream from that organ. But Walk did not mind this little incident, though Paul was rather startled to see what he had done. The latter was inclined to deal as gently as he could with his gentlemanly opponent; but he found it necessary to defend himself from the impetuous charges of Walk. In doing so he delivered a hard hit, which carried his foe to the ground again. The young gentleman was not yet satisfied, though he realized that he was not a match for his toil-hardened opponent. He sprang to his feet once more, out of breath, but unwilling to yield a hair to such an assailant. Grasping the stick Lily had used to haul in the boat, he again rushed upon Paul, and aimed a blow at his head; but Paul retreated a few steps, and picked up the oar which had dropped on the beach. Paul Bristol was entirely cool, now that his sister was no longer in peril, and he began to realize that a quarrel with the son of the proprietor of the domain was a very serious matter. With the oar he warded off the blows of his insane adversary, and this was all he wished to do. He could easily have "laid him out" again, but the fear of consequences kept him within bounds. Walk exhausted himself to no purpose. He could not hit his opponent, and his strength and his wind were soon used up. He drew back a little, and fixed a savage gaze upon his stalwart enemy. He panted like a wild beast at bay, and his blood boiled all the more because he could accomplish nothing. "I'll settle you yet, Paul Bristol!" exclaimed Walk as he stepped down to the edge of the water and began to wash the blood from his face. "I'm settled now," replied Paul calmly. "I have had enough of it, and I should like to stop where we are." "You won't stop where we are, not till I have beaten you to a jelly. I shall break every bone in your dirty carcass before I get through with you," gasped Walk, struggling for an even supply of breath. "When I say I have got enough of it, that ought to end the affair," added Paul with a cheerful smile on his face. "I don't care what you say; you haven't got enough. You have given me two sore eyes and a bloody nose, and you haven't got anything to balance it," growled Walk. "I mean to break your head, and then I will call it square." "But I don't want my head broken, if it is all the same to you," replied Paul, leaning on the oar. "My head is of some use to me, and it would not be pleasant to have it broken." "You began it, and you shall have enough of it before we are done," added Walk, beginning to breathe a little more freely. "I began it?" queried Paul with the same cheerful smile. "I don't think so, and I should like to argue the question with you." "Didn't you hit me first, you nunkhead?" demanded Walk. "Didn't you lay hold of my sister first, and frighten her half out of her wits?" "I didn't hurt her, and I was only fooling with her." [Pg 26] [Pg 27] [Pg 28] [Pg 29] "Fooling with her! That's just what I was doing with you. I was only fooling with you, Mr. Walker." "I don't like that sort of fooling, you speckled cur!" "My sister didn't like your sort of fooling any better than you like mine. But, if you want to stop fooling, now is a good time to begin." "I will stop when I get even with you, and not before," snapped Walk. "You struck the first blow, and I mean to strike the last." By this time the young gentleman had fairly recovered his wind, but nothing like coolness had come over his temper. Dropping the stick, he rushed upon Paul again with his naked fists. He was savage, and the boatman's son soon found that he could not passively defend himself, and the result was that Walk soon went under again. This disaster made him madder than ever, and when he rose from the beach he seized the stick again, which Paul met with the oar. Paul liked this way of carrying on the combat better than the other, for he could defend himself without inflicting any injury on his furious opponent. While Walk was thus wearing himself out, a gentleman with a riding-whip in his hand came out of the path through the woods. As soon as he discovered what was going on upon the beach, he quickened his pace, and reached the scene of the conflict at a sharp run. It was Major Billcord, the father of Paul's wrathy opponent. "What does all this mean?" demanded the major when he had come within speaking distance of the combatants. "How dare you strike my son with that oar?" "I haven't struck him once with it," replied Paul, aghast at the presence of the mighty proprietor of the domain. "I am only defending myself, sir." "You have no business to defend yourself against my son, you dirty puppy. How dare you lift a weapon against him?" stormed Major Billcord; and to him there was only one side to the controversy, whatever it was. Walk had dropped his stick as soon as he heard the voice of his father, and Paul had done the same with the oar. The latter felt that he had got into a very bad scrape. The major was a magnate of the first order, and he was supreme on his own domain. His mother was a tenant at will at the cottage. All the money she had inherited from her father's estate, and all she had in the world, was invested in that cottage. The mighty major could turn them out of house and home at a moment's notice, as they paid no rent. "What does all this mean, my son? I am sorry to see you fighting with such a cur as that," said Major Billcord when the battle was suspended for the moment. "It means that he struck me first, and I intend to get even with him if I fight till Lake Champlain dries up," blustered Walk, as he clinched his fists again; and doubtless he had a clear idea of his father's views on the subject of pugilism. "He struck first! You did quite right, my son. Never take a blow from any one," added the major. "But he insulted my sister, sir! He had seized hold of her, and held her when I hit him, sir," pleaded Paul with proper deference; and he felt that he had a good defence. "A fight begins with the first blow, and we needn't ask what happened before it was struck. You admit that you struck the first blow, Bristol?" continued Major Billcord, sitting in judgment on the case. "I did strike the first blow, sir; and a fellow that wouldn't hit hard when his sister was insulted, and held as a prisoner, don't amount to much," Paul replied rather warmly. "You struck the first blow; and that's all I want to hear about it," added the major sharply. "My son has done quite right to resent a blow with another blow; and if he is not satisfied with the punishment he has given you, you vagabond, I will stand by and see fair play till he is satisfied." Mr. Walker did not quite approve the ground taken by his father, and wanted him to do something more than stand by and see fair play. But the major had spoken, and the son realized that he had nothing to do but to take the broad hint the patriarch had given him. Clinching his fists again, he rushed upon Paul for the third time. Paul was indignant at the decision of the magnate, and felt as though he had been commanded by the great man to permit his son to insult his sister. Walk rushed upon him, but Paul's back was up for the first time since he had relieved his sister from the grasp of her assailant. His paws were not velvet: they were all fangs. At the first onslaught of Walk, that young gentleman went over on his back with the blood gushing from his nostrils. Twice more he renewed the attack, with about the same result. Mr. Walker was so full of wrath that he could no longer control himself, and he laid hold of the stick again. Paul picked up the oar once more. The son of toil knocked the stick out of the hands of his opponent, and it flew into the lake. Walk could not find another, and Paul dropped the oar. It was naked fists again, with the same effect as before. By this time Major Billcord was as full of wrath as his son, and without regard to fair play, of which he stood as [Pg 30] [Pg 31] [Pg 32] [Pg 33] champion, he rushed to the assistance of his defeated son. Paul picked up the oar and retreated before the two. "Stop a moment, if you please, Major Billcord," shouted Paul. "I don't want to hit you sir, and I won't if I can help it." "But I am going to flog you within an inch of your life!" yelled the major. Paul had gone as far as he could without retreating into the cottage, and he was unwilling to carry the battle into the presence of his mother and sister. He halted; the major wrenched the oar from his grasp. He struck the son of toil with it. Paul's blood was up; he gave the magnate a blow between the eyes, under which he went down. Walk "pitched in" again, and was planted by the side of his father. CHAPTER III. THE FINAL MANDATE OF MAJOR BILLCORD. Major Billcord was a short, puffy man, inclined to corpulency. The blow of the son of toil, and his fall upon the sand, proved to be enough for him. He was all foam and fury in consequence of his signal defeat. Possibly he had thought that a poor dependent upon his bounty would not dare to strike him; and, in truth, Paul felt that it was something like treading upon the Bible. He had attempted to take the stalwart youth by the collar, and had struck him with his riding-whip in a tender place. The pain was nothing, but the indignity was great; and Paul's impulse had led him farther than he would have gone if he had considered what he was doing. The major and his son picked themselves up, and for a moment they gazed with something like wonder upon the victor in the unequal contest. But all three of them had been beside themselves for the moment. Paul realized what he had done; and so did his mother and sister, for they came out of the cottage while father and son were getting up from the ground. "Woman, do you see what your son has done?" demanded Major Billcord, who was the first to break the impressive silence. "I am very sorry, sir," pleaded the poor woman, stepping between Paul and his victims, in order to prevent him from doing them any further mischief if he should be disposed to renew the combat. "Sorry for it!" exclaimed the magnate, as if simple regret could atone for a blow given by a plebeian to a patrician. "Is this the way you bring up your son?" "I am very sorry, Major Billcord, but he has been greatly provoked. By your leave, sir, it was Mr. Walker that began it." "It is false, marm! Your brute of a son struck the first blow; he has confessed it to me," puffed the magnate. "But Mr. Walker had first insulted my daughter; he had seized hold of her, and was trying to force her into the boat when Paul interfered," Mrs. Bristol explained with as much meekness as the subject would permit. "Nonsense, woman! Seized hold of your daughter! Don't talk such stuff to me. Walker did not mean to do her any harm," added Major Billcord with the utmost contempt. "I only asked her to let me row her about the bay in the boat," the young gentleman explained. "It was impertinent in her to refuse when my son honored her with his notice," continued the major. "I thought she had a right to choose her own company," said Mrs. Bristol with proper humility. "I have allowed you to live on my land for two years without a penny of rent, woman; and this is the return I get for it," replied the great man, in whose heart the poor woman's ingratitude was beginning to make havoc. "You have been very kind to us, Major Billcord, and we are very grateful for all you have done for us. I am so sorry that this sad thing has happened!" pleaded Mrs. Bristol. "And still you try to fasten the blame on my son," retorted the proprietor of Sandy Point and its surroundings. "I am very sorry he meddled with Lily; if he hadn't done it, there would have been no trouble, for Paul has always treated Mr. Walker with respect." "At it again!" exclaimed the major. "You will insist that my son was to blame, simply because he was polite enough to invite your daughter to take a row with him in the boat." "She was not willing to go; and I didn't know that she was obliged to go out on the lake with him. She declined his invitation, and Mr. Walker tried to force her into the boat." [Pg 34] [Pg 35] [Pg 36] [Pg 37] [Pg 38] "It was not civil in her to decline the invitation, and I don't wonder that Walker was a little vexed at her refusal. She is a pert minx, marm, and has not been well brought up, or she would have known better than to decline," added the magnate, bestowing a look of severity upon the fair maiden. Mrs. Bristol and Paul saw that it was useless to attempt to reason with such a man, and they were silent. The major took out his handkerchief, and wiped the perspiration from his face. Then he felt of his nose and the region about his two eyes, between which the son of toil had planted his hard fist. Doubtless there was a soreness in those parts, and perhaps the visual organs of the father would be clothed in sable wreaths by the next day. "That boy must be punished, severely punished, for what he has done," the major resumed. "He has had the audacity to strike me in the face,—me, the benefactor of the whole family!" "Didn't you catch me by the throat, and hit me with your riding-whip, sir?" asked Paul calmly and meekly. "What if I did! Do you mean to put yourself on a level with me, you young reprobate?" demanded the magnate, his wrath beginning to boil again. "Woman, I say that boy must be severely punished for this," he continued, turning to Mrs. Bristol again. "He must be whipped till he can't stand up!" "Who will whip him, sir?" asked the poor woman innocently. "I will do it, if you don't, marm," replied the major savagely. "I could not whip him, sir; he is a great deal stronger than I am; and, if he is whipped at all, you must do it, sir;" but Mrs. Bristol seemed to think there was something a little satirical in what she said. "Then I will do it!" said the magnate, raising his riding-whip. "Perhaps he will not allow you to whip him, sir," suggested Mrs. Bristol; and even her anger appeared to be approaching the boiling-point. "The boy deserves to be severely punished. If he submits to the whipping which Walker and I will give him, we may be willing to let the matter drop where it is." "You had better arrange it with Paul, sir. I should as soon think of whipping Colonel Buckmill as my son," replied the poor woman with a decided touch of satire in her tones and manner. "If the young villain submits, very well." "If you should begin to punish him, I have no doubt he will speak or act for himself," she added. "Bristol, you hear what has been said. Will you submit to the punishment you deserve?" demanded the major severely, turning to the culprit. "No, sir, I will not." "Do you hear him, marm?" "I do, sir; and he answers just as I supposed he would." "Then you uphold him in his treacherous treatment of my son? Then you countenance him in biting the hand that feeds him?" Mrs. Bristol made no reply, for she did not wish to irritate the powerful man unnecessarily. She looked at her son, and she was proud of him. "Bristol, you refuse to submit to the whipping you deserve?" demanded Major Billcord, approaching the stout youth with the riding-whip upraised. "If you hit me with that whip, sir, I will knock you as far beyond the middle of next week as I can," replied Paul firmly and quietly. "Your son insulted my sister, and I treated him as he deserved, and just as I would another time if he did the same thing. My sister is a poor girl, but she is just as good as you are, and just as good as Mr. Walker is. If she is insulted, sir, I will stand up against five hundred Billcords as long as there is anything left of me." "Is this your gratitude for what I have done for the family?" asked the major, knitting his brow into a knot of wrinkles. "Yes, sir; this is my gratitude. Do you think, because you allowed my father to put his cottage on your land, that you and your son have the right to insult my sister?" demanded Paul with considerable energy. "No one insulted her, you young reprobate!" interposed the father. "Is a civil and gentlemanly invitation an insult?" "If he had stopped there, we should have had no trouble." "But she refused the invitation." "She had as much right to decline it as any lady in Westport would have." [Pg 39] [Pg 40] [Pg 41] [Pg 42] "Was it treating a member of my family properly, after all I have done for you?" demanded the major more calmly, but with a terrible havoc in his tender feelings. "You have had a good deal to say about what you have done for us, Major Billcord. The land on which that cottage stands," continued Paul, pointing to it, "is not worth ten dollars. At ten per cent, the ground rent would be one dollar a year, or two dollars for the two years it has stood there. I have done work enough for you in the shape of errands, taking care of your boat, and in other ways, to pay for the land twice over. I have carried the first black bass of the season to your house, when I could have sold the fish for a dollar apiece, for two years. As I look at the question of gratitude, there is a balance of at least twenty dollars in my favor; but I give it to you with all my heart, and I don't claim the privilege of insulting your daughter for what I have done." "You are a glib-talking puppy, and there is no more reason or common sense in you than there is in a heifer calf. I have had enough of you, and so has my son," responded the major, choking with wrath over the unanswerable argument of the poor dependent. "If you have had enough of me, you and Mr. Walker, I am satisfied to let the matter drop where it is; but if Mr. Walker, or any other student of the Chesterfield Collegiate Institute, insults my sister, I shall hit him as hard as I can," replied Paul coolly. "Woman, you have heard the insulting words of your son, and you uphold him in his wickedness. I must take the next step. I will not have such a vile reprobate on my land. I will not have you or your ungrateful daughter on my territory. You are a tenant at will. That cottage must not remain another day on my premises. Remove it at once. If it is here at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon, I will give the students permission to tumble it into the lake. Do you hear me, woman?" stormed the major fiercely. "I hear you, sir," replied Mrs. Bristol, covering her face with her handkerchief, and beginning to weep bitterly. "You needn't cry about it, marm. You and that graceless son of yours have brought it on yourselves; and I think the students will enjoy the fun of pitching the shanty into the lake." "It is all the property I have in the world, Major Billcord," pleaded the poor woman. "Give me a little time to remove the cottage, I implore you!" "Don't implore me, marm! Thank your wretch of a son for it. By three o'clock to-morrow afternoon, if you haven't removed it in the mean time, the shanty shall be rolled into the lake." "I cannot get it through the woods to remove it," groaned Mrs. Bristol. "That's your lookout, marm," said the major as he and Walk departed. Mrs. Bristol seated herself on the lower step of the cottage, and continued to weep bitterly. CHAPTER IV. THE ABSENCE OF THE TRUANT DRAGON. The cottage of the Bristols had been framed in Burlington, and brought down to Sandy Point on a schooner. As it stood, it was estimated to be worth about three hundred and fifty dollars, which was the cost of it to the poor woman when she invested her all in what was to be a home for the family. It was a small sum the cottage cost, but to the poor woman it was as big as a million to a millionnaire. She had been well brought up in her father's house, and she could not exist like a Chinaman or a Hottentot, and it had cost the family a struggle to live during the absence of the father. Now all that she had was to be taken from her. As they had paid no ground rent for the site, the law could do nothing for her. She was a tenant on suffrance rather than a tenant at will, and had no rights whatever. The magnate could tumble the cottage into the lake, and the wind would carry it where it listed. It would probably be broken up on the rocks or shoals, and the major might as well set it on fire as turn it adrift on the lake. The rich man intended to execute his mandate in the cruelest manner possible. The students were to have a frolic in tumbling it into the lake. The humble structure contained all their household goods, all the little articles they valued far beyond the money they cost. It was hardly possible to remove them in the time allowed for the purpose, for everything would have to be carried by hand or transported in the flatboat. No team could be driven down to the point, for the major would not allow a tree to be felled to make a road, and the owner had been compelled to leave his saddle-horse at a considerable distance from the lake when he visited it. Of course, the cruel magnate understood all this, and realized that his final mandate doomed the cottage and all it contained to certain destruction, for neither he nor his persecuted tenants could see any means of relief. Even if they could carry away their goods, they had no place to put them. The brief period of probation given them was [Pg 43] [Pg 44] [Pg 45] [Pg 46] not more than enough to enable the poor woman to find another tenement. It was two miles to Westport, and five to Genverres, by water. The situation looked entirely hopeless to Mrs. Bristol; and the more she thought of it, the more bitterly she wept. "I don't know what will become of us," said she when she had vented her grief for a time. "Don't cry, mother: we shall get out of the scrape in some way," replied Paul in as soothing tones as he could command, for the situation was hardly more hopeful to him than to his mother. "I don't see that we can do anything but submit to the loss of everything we have," moaned Mrs. Bristol. "We can't stay here any longer, and we have no place to go to in the wide world. The students will take a wicked delight in breaking up everything we have. I cannot stay here to see them revel in the destruction of our home, which has been as dear to me as though it had been a palace. But where can I go?" "We had better go to Westport, mother," said Lily, wiping the tears from her eyes. "We can take a few things with us in the boat." "The boat went adrift in the row, and I saw it halfway over to Scotch Bonnet," interposed Paul as he strained his eyes to discover the truant craft. "Then we can walk over to Westport; but we can't carry much of anything in our hands in a walk of two miles," added Lily gloomily. "Where shall we go in Westport when we get there?" asked Mrs. Bristol. "We can't go to a hotel or boarding-house, for we haven't money enough to pay our way for three days." "I don't see that we can do a thing, mother," said Paul when he had carefully looked over the situation. "I would borrow a boat, if there was one to be had; but I am sure the institute boatman would not lend me one now. Major Billcord's story will be all over the neighborhood in a few hours. I could get one in Westport; but it might take me a whole day to find our flatboat, for it must have been driven ashore on the other side of the lake. Some vessel may have picked it up, for I saw two or three going up the lake." "I saw a sailboat go by while you were talking to the major," said Lily. "I noticed her; it was one of the Beech Hill boats," added Paul. "One of these vessels may have picked up the 'Dragon,'" as he had named the flatboat, "and it may be five miles from here by this time." "We are in the hands of Providence, and as helpless as babies," continued Mrs. Bristol. "I don't see that we can do a single thing for ourselves, and we must trust in a higher power than man." "We can stay in the cottage over night, at least, and it will be our last in our happy home," said Paul. "The students will all be at their studies in the forenoon, and then you and Lily can walk over to Westport." "What are you going to do, Paul?" inquired his mother, bestowing a look of the deepest interest upon him. "I shall stay here and save what I can." "You must not stay here!" protested his mother warmly. "The students will kill you, under the lead of Walker Billcord." "I am not afraid of them." "You must not stay here: if you do, I shall stay with you," replied the devoted mother. "There is that sailboat, Paul," said Lily, who had been gazing blankly out upon the lake. "She looks as though she was headed for the point." "That's the 'Goldwing,'" added Paul. "I hope Dory Dornwood is on board of her. He is a good fellow, and he may do something to help us. If she comes near enough, I will hail her." "But Dory Dornwood will not do anything for any one on this side of the lake," replied Mrs. Bristol. "The two schools have waged the fiercest war upon each other." "I know Dory Dornwood very well, mother. I had a long talk with him about the war between the schools, and I know that the Beech-Hillers have done all they could to keep out of trouble with the Chesterfields. I am sure he will do anything he can for us. He don't like Major Billcord any better than I do at this moment, for he had a row with him when he was a waiter on a steamer." "I don't see that he can do anything for us, even if he does come near enough for you to hail him," added Mrs. Bristol, hardly less despondent than before. "He can take some of our things on board his boat, and carry them to a place where they will be safe until we want them again." Paul was quite hopeful that something would come of the visit of the "Goldwing" to the point, if she came there. Without stopping to argue the possibilities with his mother, he hastened to the shore. The "Goldwing" was headed down the [Pg 47] [Pg 48] [Pg 49] [Pg 50] lake, and, with all sail set, she was dashing over the waves at a tremendous high speed. She was towing a small boat astern of her, but Paul could not tell whether it was the "Dragon" or her usual tender. The wind was exactly west, and the schooner was going free. When Paul saw her before, she was on the easterly side of the lake, where she got a better breeze than on the opposite side. He was satisfied that she headed for the vicinity of the point; for she would have started her sheets when she came up with Scotch Bonnet, if she had been bound directly down the lake. Though she was approaching the point, it was by no means certain that she intended to make a landing there. The boat she was towing was astern of her, and Paul could not see it plainly, as the hull of the yacht obstructed his view. As on all occasions, he determined to do the best he could. Running back to the house, he borrowed a tablecloth of reddish hue, and fastened it to the oar. Elevating it as a signal to the "Goldwing," he held it in position at the very apex of the point. Lily and her mother were not inclined to join him, for they did not feel in the mood to meet any young men, however civil they might be. They remained seated on the steps of the cottage; but they watched the sails of the yacht with as deep an interest as Paul did, for it was at least possible that the party on board of her might help them in their present dire emergency. "She is headed for the point!" shouted Paul, when he had satisfied himself of the fact. "I pray that a kind Providence has sent her to our relief," replied Mrs. Bristol. Paul watched her with the most intense interest. When the "Goldwing" was within a quarter of a mile of the point, the party on board of her waved their handkerchiefs as a reply to Paul's signal. The hopes of the watcher on the shore ran high, but he could not yet see whether or not she had the "Dragon" in tow. Sandy Point was a kind of double cape. It was shaped like a letter T. The cottag...