The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ready About, 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: Ready About or, Sailing the Boat Author: Oliver Optic Release Date: September 16, 2017 [EBook #55557] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK READY ABOUT *** Produced by Chris Curnow, readbueno and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) Cover The Boat-Builder Series. I. ALL ADRIFT; OR, THE GOLDWING CLUB. II. SNUG HARBOR; OR, THE CHAMPLAIN MECHANICS. III. SQUARE AND COMPASSES; OR, BUILDING THE HOUSE. IV. STEM TO STERN; OR, BUILDING THE BOAT. V. ALL TAUT; OR, RIGGING THE BOAT. VI. READY ABOUT; OR, SAILING THE BOAT. DORY AND MR. JEPSON WATCH THE BURGLARS LANDING. The Boat-Builder Series 1 3 4 READY ABOUT OR SAILING 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 UPWARD SERIES" "THE YACHT-CLUB SERIES" "THE LAKE-SHORE SERIES" "THE RIVERDALE STORIES" "ALL ADRIFT" "SNUG HARBOR" "SQUARE AND COMPASSES" "STEM TO STERN" "ALL TAUT" ETC. ETC. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BOSTON LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS Copyright 1887 By WILLIAM T. ADAMS All rights reserved Ready About TO My Young Friend OTHO WILLIAMS CUSHING OF FORT TRUMBULL, NEW LONDON, CONN. This Book IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 5 6 "R PREFACE. eady About" is the sixth and last volume of "The Boat-Builder Series," which was begun six years ago. The only new characters presented in this story are the members of "The Nautifelers Club," who are introduced to exhibit the contrast between young men of high aims and correct principles, and those who are inclined to live too fast, and have no fixed ideas of duty to sustain and advance them in the battle of life. But, even in this miserable club, there are two classes of members; for one-half are reckless and worse than indifferent in the matter of right living, while the other half are led to the very verge of the precipice of crime by their unfortunate associations. The reform of the latter interests the principal of the Beech Hill Industrial School, who does his duty, as always, in the premises, with a very happy result. More than its predecessors in the series since the first volume, this book is a story of adventure. In this portion, its tendency is to inculcate courage without rashness, and to show that a young man of high principles is not necessarily a coward and a milksop. As indicated in the sub-title, "Sailing the Boat" is one of the principal features of the book. This is an art that cannot be mastered by simply learning the theory. Nothing but abundant practice can make a competent boatman. Fifty years ago, the writer, however, would have deemed it very fortunate if he could have obtained from a book, even such instruction as he has endeavored to impart. He has by no means exhausted the subject, though whatever more is to be learned will almost come of itself with experience. The author has learned in fifty years that there is always something more to learn; and the handling of a yacht has come to be almost "high art" in the amount of time, study, and enthusiasm bestowed upon the subject in recent years. As the writer closes his twelfth series of books for young people, he cannot help thanking his numerous constituency in all parts of the country for the abundant and generous favor received from them. Thirty-three years have elapsed from the date of "The Boat Club," his first juvenile; and the kindness of his friends has never failed him in this period of a generation of the human race. Minneapolis, Minn., July 15, 1887. 8 9 CONTENTS. PAGE CHAPTER I. Mr. Spickles from the Metropolis 13 CHAPTER II. The Nautifelers Club on the Lake 24 CHAPTER III. A Terrific Explosion in the Night 34 CHAPTER IV. The Scene of Operations 45 CHAPTER V. On the Track of the Burglars 55 CHAPTER VI. A Victim of Strategy 66 CHAPTER VII. The Effects of the Explosion 76 CHAPTER VIII. Some Differences of Opinion 87 CHAPTER IX. Under the Lee of Gardiner's Island 97 CHAPTER X. A Battle with the Elements 108 CHAPTER XI. The Turning of the Tables 118 CHAPTER XII. Dory Dornwood resorts to Strategy 129 CHAPTER XIII. 10 11 The Arrival of Michael Angelo Spickles 139 CHAPTER XIV. The Result of Dory's Strategy 150 CHAPTER XV. Under Way, or Under Weigh 160 CHAPTER XVI. On Board of the La Motte 171 CHAPTER XVII. The Standing-Rigging of a Sloop 181 CHAPTER XVIII. The Running-Rigging of a Sloop 193 CHAPTER XIX. The Plan that was not Successful 204 CHAPTER XX. More Members of the Nautifelers Club 215 CHAPTER XXI. The Goldwing on the Starboard Tack 225 CHAPTER XXII. Something about Steering a Sail-Boat 236 CHAPTER XXIII. Operations in the Hold of the La Motte 247 CHAPTER XXIV. The Defenders of the Pirate-Schooner 257 CHAPTER XXV. A Selfish View of an Important Question 267 CHAPTER XXVI. "See, the Conquering Hero comes!" 278 12 CHAPTER XXVII. The Guests of the Institution 287 CHAPTER XXVIII. Stations for getting Under Way 297 CHAPTER XXIX. All of Dory's Class become Skippers 308 CHAPTER XXX. The Goldwing's Trip to Plattsburg 318 READY ABOUT; OR, SAILING THE BOAT. 13 "I CHAPTER I. MR. SPICKLES FROM THE METROPOLIS. can't go on board now, Spickles," said Matt Randolph, in a very decided tone, and with an expression on his manly face which indicated that he did not wish to go, even if he could. "What's the reason you can't?" demanded Spickles, evidently very much dissatisfied with the decision of the other. "Because I have something else to do," added Matt. "I have to attend to my duties as closely here as though I were an officer in the navy, on sea-duty." "What's the use of being tied up as though you were a prisoner at Sing Sing?" asked Spickles, his disgust apparent on his rather brutal face. "Your father is as rich as mud, and there is no need of your being kept in a strait-jacket." "I am not kept in a strait-jacket," protested Matt, very warmly. "I think you are," returned Spickles, with a curling sneer on his thick lips. "When I saw you in New York a year ago, you told me what a big thing Lake Champlain was." "I still think it is the finest sheet of water in the world, and the region around it is a perfect paradise." "Paradise!" exclaimed the visitor from the metropolis. "You said there was lots of fun to be had here." "I find plenty of amusement for all the spare hours I have." "After what you said, I kept thinking of this place; and five of our fellows have come up here, and chartered a schooner for the summer. She is anchored out in the river; and now that we are here, you will not even go on board of her," continued Spickles, becoming more and more disgusted with the refusal of the captain of the Lily; for such he was, and his "class in sailing" were about ready to go on board of the schooner. "I am the skipper of that schooner you see out in the lake, and I have to go out in her in a short time," Matt explained. "Put it off; let the party wait till you come back," insisted the visitor. "We don't do things in that way here," added Matt, with a smile. "Tell them you are sick, and can't go," suggested Spickles. "But I am not sick." "You were not always above stretching the truth a little in an emergency." "I am now." Matt did not blush in saying it, either. "We are going to stay on the lake all summer, if we don't get tired of it," continued Spickles. "I depended upon having you with us, Matt; for we don't know much about the navigation in these waters, though we have the government charts." "I don't see how you could depend upon me, for I told you that I was under strict discipline in the Beech Hill Industrial School," argued Matt. "I can't come and go when I will." "Confound the Beech Hill Industrial School! Run away from it, and join our party for the summer." "I certainly shall not run away from it, for I am perfectly contented and happy here," replied Matt. "At least you will come on board of the La Motte?" "What's the La Motte?" "She's the schooner we chartered for the summer, though she's nothing but a lumber-vessel fixed up for our use. She sails very well, and is large enough for a party of ten. We found her at Rouse's Point. Now, come on board of her. We have just opened a keg of beer in view of your expected visit," said Spickles, in the most persuasive tones he could command. "I don't drink beer," answered the student of the school. "You don't drink beer!" exclaimed the visitor, stepping back in his apparent astonishment. "How long has that been?" "I haven't tasted beer, or any thing of the kind, since I came to this school, about two years ago," replied the captain of the Lily. "Then, it was only because you couldn't get any beer." "Perhaps that is one reason, though I haven't tried to get any. I had it all about me while I was at home in New York, but I had decided not to take any under any circumstances." "Then, it is time for you to begin again. Come along, Matt." "No beer for me, and I cannot go with you," added Matt resolutely. "I made up my mind a year ago not to drink any thing that fuddles, and to keep out of bad company." "Bad company!" exclaimed Spickles, looking earnestly into the face of his former associate in the city. "That is what I said; and I advise you to do the same thing, Spickles. It is best to keep on the safe side of the evils of this world." "You are a regular built parson!" This conversation was continued for some time longer, but the captain of the Lily remained as firm as the rocks in the quarry above Beechwater. The visitor was not only disgusted with his want of success in enticing his former companion to the schooner in the river, but he was offended at what he considered the stiffness of Matt. When the latter spoke of 14 15 16 17 18 keeping out of bad company, he put the coat on, whether he saw that it fitted him or not. "You are an out-and-out spooney now, Matt Randolph; and I did not think that of you," said Spickles, as the crew of the Lily began to gather on the wharf, where the conversation had taken place. "Just as you please, Spickles," replied Matt, with a smile; and he seemed to feel that the interview had come to a desirable point, and that his former associate would drop him from the roll of his friends. "But I want to look about this place a little before I leave it forever," added the visitor. "I suppose I can do so?" "Certainly, upon application to the principal, Captain Gildrock. He will show you all over the establishment," replied Matt. "There he comes, and I will introduce you." "All right. Chuckworth! Mackwith!" answered Spickles, calling to his two companions in the boat. The three young men appeared to be about eighteen or twenty years old. They were dressed in yachting costume, and a person of experience in the ways of the world would at once have set them down as fast young men. They were of the reckless order, swaggering, defiant, boisterous. If a lady had seen them together, she would have taken the other side of the street. Captain Gildrock was coming down the wharf, to look after the embarkation of the sailing-class. Matt Randolph presented Spickles to the principal, and left the chief of the party to introduce his companions. "You are the boss of this concern, I take it, Captain Gilthead," said Spickles, suddenly putting on his usual style, and in a sort of patronizing tone, as if the principal had been a country schoolmaster, who ought to consider himself honored by being noticed by a young gentleman from the metropolis. In fact, Captain Spickles, as his companions on board of the La Motte called him, was determined to "take him down" a little. The visitor, after what Matt had said to him about the discipline of the institution, regarded him with a sort of instinctive hatred. He did not like any one who disciplined young men. Principals, professors, schoolmasters, were monsters, ogres, tyrants, whose only mission in the world was to tease, torture, and torment young fellows like himself. Captain Gildrock looked at him with a puzzled expression on his dignified face; though the usual smile when he was in repose, played about his mouth. He read the young man almost at the first glance; and if he had considered the popinjay worthy of his steel, he would have prepared for a skirmish of words with him. "I said 'Captain Gildrock,'" interposed Matt, with emphasis enough to clear himself; for he saw that the fellow had purposely miscalled the name. "Excuse me, Captain Goldblock." "Certainly, Mr. Spittle," added the principal blandly. "Mr. Spickles, if you please," interposed the visitor, who did not at all relish being paid off in his own coin. "Precisely so, Mr. Spiddles," laughed the principal; while Matt had to turn away to hide his choking laugh. "My name is Spickles, Captain Goldblock." "Ah, indeed, Mr. Skiggles! Permit me to add that mine is Gildrock." "Well, Captain Gildrock"-- "Well, Mr. Spickles"-- "I suppose you are the boss of this concern. Will you show it up?" "I am the principal of this institution." "Possibly I shall be able to entertain these visitors alone, Randolph, and you may go on board with your ship's company," said Captain Gildrock, a little later, while he was waiting for the young gentleman from New York to study up his next question. Matt had twelve students to instruct in the art of sailing a boat, and he directed them to take their places in the two boats that were waiting for them. "Well, boss, we are ready to see what you have got to show," said Spickles. "Well, my young cub, I don't know that things here will interest you, but I will show you all you may wish to see," continued the captain, as he conducted the strangers to the office, under the schoolroom. "We register all students here when they come. If they have any money, we keep it for them in that steel safe." "Is that a steel safe?" asked Mr. Spickles. "Upon my word, I thought it was a wooden one." "You thought it was made of the same material as your head; but I assure you it is not. Nothing so soft would answer the purpose," answered the principal, who did not always stand on his dignity, though he had plenty of it. Messrs. Chuckworth and Mackwith turned away, and indulged in audible smiles. Associated with Mr. Spickles, they were often the victims of his peculiar humor, and they were not at all sorry to have him put under the harrow. They enjoyed the remarks of the principal more than Spickles did. "Then, it is really a steel safe; and I suppose you are afraid the students will steal your money, or you wouldn't have a steel safe," continued Mr. Spickles, chuckling as though he thought he had made a pun. "Well, no; we hardly expect the students to rob the safe, for they are taught not to steal; but some of these visitors might have a taste for that sort of thing. I sometimes have a thousand dollars in that safe, besides small sums belonging to the students. In fact, I believe I have two thousand dollars in it at this moment: that is the reason why I prefer a steel safe to a wooden one." The principal showed the visitors over the premises, though they took very little interest in the institution. Spickles 19 20 21 22 23 indulged in impudent remarks, which the captain parried in his own way, so that he soon got tired of making them; for every time he did so, his friends had a chance to laugh at him, and enjoy the retort. If Spickles disliked the principal in the first of it, he hated him in the end. A sharp answer made him mad when they had finished the survey, and he was so saucy that Captain Gildrock ordered him to leave. He did not take the hint; and the principal took him by the collar, dragged him to the wharf, and tumbled him into the boat. The leader of the summer party vowed vengeance to his companions. C CHAPTER II. THE NAUTIFELERS CLUB ON THE LAKE. aptain Gildrock hardly thought of the self-sufficient visitor after he had seen the boat which contained him pull away from the wharf. He only wondered how Matt Randolph had ever made the acquaintance of such a fellow, for he was a gentleman himself. The Beech Hill Industrial School had nearly completed its third year of existence; and in the opinion of the principal, and also of a great many other people, it was a decided success. It had certainly reformed quite a number of young men who might otherwise have become useless, if not dangerous, members of the community. It had given useful trades to a considerable number of young men who would not have taken them up on their own account. Its moral influence had been even more marked than its industrial power, and it had assuredly done something to make manual labor more respectable than it had been considered to be before. There were already those who were not only earning a living, but were supporting their parents, by the aid of the knowledge and skill they had acquired in the institution; and if it had done nothing more than this, it would have done a great deal. Cold critics said it ought to be a success, for the founder of it had a purse long enough to make any reasonable undertaking a success; but the idea was not a practical one, because it was not susceptible of universal application. The State could not afford to support such schools for all who might be willing to use them. It certainly could not provide for an expenditure as liberal as that of Captain Gildrock, but it could do a great deal more than it has yet done in this direction. After the principal had disposed of his impertinent visitor,--for there was really only one of this type, as Chuckworth and Mackwith hardly spoke a word,--he could not help thinking that it was a great pity Spickles could not be brought under such discipline as that of the Beech Hill School. He was a young man of decided ability, and all he needed was a kind of discipline that would give him something to live for. He needed something to think about and work for. When Matt Randolph returned from his trip with his class in sailing, he reported to the principal, who happened to be in the office. He informed the captain where he had been, and the nature of the operations he had conducted on board of the Lily. He commended his crew for good discipline, and close application to their duty. A critic might have laughed at this last part of the report as entirely superfluous; for, as a matter of course, any party of human boys would be interested, and do their whole duty, in sailing a boat. "By the way, Randolph, is Mr. Spickles a friend of yours?" asked the principal, after he had listened attentively to the report. "No, sir!" replied Matt, very decidedly. "I was acquainted with him at home, and he was on board of the yacht a number of times; but after he stole a thousand dollars from his father, and ran away, I had nothing more to do with him." "Was he as bad as that? He seemed to be more like one of the puppy order than one of the criminal kind. He was very saucy to me after I had shown his party over the school; and I had to take him by the collar, and put him into his boat." "I am glad you did, sir," added Matt. "I was inclined to lay hands on him after his impudence at the beginning." "He came to see you, I suppose?" "Yes, sir. He is with a party, and there are five of them. They have chartered a schooner, and intend to spend the summer on the lake. Spickles invited me on board of the vessel, and insisted that I should go with him. I refused." "The less you have to do with such a fellow as that, the better it will be for you, though it may be all the worse for him," added the principal. "Spickles told me they had just tapped a keg of beer." "Of course! the fellow has made considerable progress in the downward road." After supper the students embarked in the barges for a row, and for practice with the oars. As during the last season, there were three of these boats, the Gildrock and the Winooski, each of twelve oars, and the Marian of eight oars. The crews had been re-organized; and the two larger boats were preparing for a race, each against the other. Matt Randolph was the coxswain of the Winooski, and Dory Dornwood of the Gildrock; for the crew of each had selected the most skilful boatman in the school to get them in condition for this race. For the last year the students had been on tolerably peaceable terms with the members of the Chesterfield Collegiate Institute, on the other side of the lake; and it was possible that a race would be arranged with them for the Fourth of July. The two barges were careful to keep away from each other during their practice. The two coxswains, though on the most friendly terms, never talked about the coming race. If either had any points, he wanted to keep them to himself. Each of them had a system of his own in the method of rowing, and each kept his own counsel. Matt Randolph, for these reasons, did not immediately follow the Gildrock when she left the boat-house, but went up to the head of Beechwater. As soon as the rival craft had passed out of the little lake, the Winooski followed her. The coxswain saw that the party on board of the La Motte, which lay just below the entrance of the creek into the river, hailed the Gildrock when she went by her. But Dory took no notice of them; and Matt concluded that he had not been addressed in civil tones, or he would have replied. "I wonder what that schooner is that lies in the river," said Ash Burton, who pulled the stroke-oar in the Winooski. "She has been there all the afternoon, and a boat from her went up into Beechwater a while ago." "That is the schooner La Motte; and she has a party of young fellows on board of her who are going to spend the 24 25 26 27 28 29 summer on the lake," replied the coxswain, loud enough for all in the barge to hear him. "They are hoisting the mainsail," added the stroke-oarsman. "That looks as though they were going out of the river." "If they are going to leave these parts, I am glad of it," said Matt in a lower tone. "Why are you glad of it, Matt?" asked Ash curiously. "They are not the sort of fellows I like to have very near me; for they are on a lark, and they have plenty of beer on board," replied the coxswain. The boat passed out of the creek into the river. The La Motte had set her mainsail, and was now hoisting the foresail. Matt gave the schooner as wide a berth as he could, but he could not get more than a hundred feet from her. "Is that you, Matt Randolph?" shouted Spickles. "I believe so," replied the coxswain. "Come on board, will you, Matt?" continue the captain of the La Motte, beckoning with his hand. "You must excuse me, Spickles. I have the charge of this barge, and I can't leave her," replied Matt, very civilly, but not less decisively. "I have to attend to my duty." "But I want to see you about the navigation of this river; for I got aground coming in, and I don't want to do it again," added the captain of the La Motte. The coxswain shifted the helm of the barge; for if there was any thing to be done that would assist in the departure of the schooner, he was willing to do it. He ran alongside of the vessel, and held the boat at a distance of about ten feet from her. "What is the trouble about the navigation, Spickles?" asked Matt, coming to business at once. "Off that point below, I found that the water was not more than two feet deep," said the captain. "And it is marked one foot on the chart; and you told me you were supplied with charts." "I am; but the river is not laid down on the chart." "You have a south-west wind; and all you have to do is to keep near the middle of the stream, and you will go out all right. Is that all?" "No, that is not all," replied Spickles, who seemed to be dissatisfied at the distance his former friend kept between them, and with his apparent desire to get off again. "The water is not more than two or three feet deep anywhere out beyond that point." "To the southward of the point, the water is shoal; but it is deep enough north of it to float an ocean-steamer anywhere. As soon as you get to that bend in the river, and open up the point, run for it. Then--have you a compass on board?" "Of course I have a compass: I brought a good one with me from New York," replied Spickles. "When you are up with Beaver Point"-- "Where is that?" interposed the captain of the La Motte, who seemed to be intent upon detaining the coxswain as long as possible. "The point at the mouth of the river. When you come up with it, make your course north-west by west, and you will be all right till you run on the shore on the other side of the lake." "I say, Matt, I want to introduce you to the members of the Nautifelers Club; and I wish you would come on board," persisted Spickles. "As I said before, I cannot, and you must excuse me. But what is the club?" asked Matt, whose curiosity was excited. "The Nautifelers Club." "Is that a Greek word?" "Of course it is." "I can't quite make it out: will you spell it for me?" asked Matt. "I will write it for you: it means in English, 'Lots of fun.'" The coxswain gave an order which brought the stern of the barge near enough to the vessel to enable him to obtain the paper, but resisted all persuasions to go on board of the schooner. 30 31 32 33 M CHAPTER III. A TERRIFIC EXPLOSION IN THE NIGHT. att Randolph looked at the name of the club, as Spickles had written it, and spelled it out so that all his crew could hear him. All of them seemed to "take it in," or got its meaning from his boatmates. They all laughed, with the exception of the coxswain, and he was inclined to frown. "It is easy to get at the meaning of such Greek as that, even if a fellow has not fitted for college; and for my part, I should not care to join a club with such a name," said he, with a look of disgust on his face, which was also evident in his tones. "I expected you to join us as soon as we found you, Matt," added the captain of the schooner. "You reckoned without your host, then.--Ready to give way!" said the coxswain. "Hold on a minute, Matt! Do you go to Sunday school now?" jeered Spickles. "Every Sunday." "I am sorry for you. You are under the thumb of that old hunker who calls himself the principal, and you don't know enough to catch the straw when you are drowning. I gave the old hunks some!" "And he took you by the collar, and put you into your boat, and served you right. Give way!" added Matt. "He's an old squalipop; and he will be likely to hear from me again! He is no gentleman, and he treated me like an uneducated owl. I shall pay him off for it, or my name is something besides Spickles," foamed the skipper of the La Motte. At this moment, and while the barge was backing away, one of the party brought out a tray, on which were tall glasses filled with beer; and each member of the Nautifelers Club took one of them. "Here's to the Nautifelers Club! Lots of fun to them, and confusion to old Squalipop!" shouted Spickles, at the top of his lungs, as he and his companions drank off the contents of the glasses. The barge darted away from the schooner, and was soon out of hail of her. It was evident that the members of the club with the Greek name had bargained for an extensive frolic of the coarsest sort, and most of the crew of the Winooski were simply disgusted with the members of it. Some of them had come from the city, and were more or less familiar with such sights. "I should rather like to join that club," said Tom Topover, when the boat was some distance from the La Motte. "You are not one of that sort of fellows now, Tom," added the coxswain. "You have got beyond that kind of a life, and I hope you are strong enough to keep above it." "You know how to preach, Matt; but I don't want to sit under your preaching. Those fellows are going to have a good time; and I think they will enjoy it," added Tom pleasantly, as some of his old temptations came back to him. "Do you know those fellows, Matt?" "I know Spickles; but I never saw the others before, though I think they behave like gentlemen compared with their leader." "He is a jolly fellow," added Tom. "Spickles's father was formerly a wealthy man in the city, and his son stole a thousand dollars from him. Since that I have kept out of his way, and I will not associate with him." "What did he do with the money? Give it to the missionaries?" asked Tom; and his companions noticed that he talked a good deal worse than he meant sometimes, and could not entirely rid himself of his former ways of expressing himself. "He took a steamer to New Orleans, and spent his stolen money in dissipation. When it was all gone, he had to come home before the mast in a bark. He is a bad boy, and his father could not manage him. If he had been sent to the Beech Hill School, it would have made a man of him. I don't quite understand, though I can guess, how he can take such a trip as the one he is now making; for his father lost his money, failed, and is now at work as a clerk." "Perhaps some of the other fellows have rich fathers," suggested Ash Burton. "It may be so, but I don't believe it. The sons of rich fathers, when they want to go on a frolic, don't make such a fellow as Michael Angelo Spickles their leader," added Matt. "Is that his name?" asked Ash. "They say his mother don't like the name of Spickles, and gave him a high-sounding handle to it to smooth it off. I don't know any thing about it, Tom Topover; but if I were a betting man, I would wager two to one that Spickles stole the money which is used to pay the expenses of the La Motte," continued Matt impressively. "Then, again, perhaps he didn't," replied Tom. "I think he did; and he didn't steal it from his father this time, for Mr. Spickles did not have it. Now, Tom, whether he stole this money, or not, he will certainly come to grief. In a month, a year, or ten years, when you see him in the State prison, you will be glad you were not a member of the Nautifelers Club," said Matt, as he consulted the paper in his hand to recall the Greek word. "You don't know what is going to become of that fellow any more than you know what is going to become of me," added Tom. "Certainly I don't know; but when you see a young fellow like Spickles, drinking, dissipating, insulting a gentleman like 34 35 36 37 38 Captain Gildrock, it is easy enough to see where he is coming out. I used to drink beer with Angy, as we used to call Spickles when he was a more decent fellow than he is now, and I know something about it." "Didn't you like it?" asked Tom. "I can't say that I did: it always gave me the headache, and made me feel more like a fool than I generally do. I used to drink it because other fellows did. When I came up here, I did not want it; and I have been a great deal better without it." The Winooski went to the other side of the lake, where the coxswain proceeded to train his crew for the work before him. Not a word was spoken that did not relate to the practice, which was kept up till nearly dark, when the barge returned to Beech Hill. As the boat approached the mouth of the river, the La Motte was seen two or three miles to the northward, standing down the lake. Matt hoped that she would not again visit the waters in the vicinity of Beech Hill. Matt reported to the principal when the boat had been housed, as all who were in charge of expeditions, excursions, or business trips, were required to do. He informed the captain of the departure of the La Motte, and related to him what had taken place during the interview, giving him the name of the club, as written on the paper. "The Nautifelers Club is well named, if the word is Greek," said Captain Gildrock. "I suppose they are merely engaged in a frolic, and I only hope they will keep away from this part of the lake." "They came from the northern part of the lake, for they chartered the schooner at Rouse's Point; and I don't exactly understand why they are going off in that direction again," suggested Matt. "They have not yet been to the upper part of the lake, and it looks as though they did not intend to do so." "Perhaps they have drunk so much beer they don't know what they are about," added the principal. "I should say that Spickles was a bright boy, and it is a thousand pities that he is plunging into excesses." At the usual hour all was still; and the students, who had had plenty of exercise in the boats as well as in the shops, slept soundly in their rooms. Insomnia was unknown at the institution, and all were active and bright in the morning at an early hour. Some of them awoke at an unusually early hour the next morning, though it soon appeared that the current of events was not flowing in its ordinary channel. The students and others had been awakened by some extraordinary disturbance, or most of them would have slept till the morning-bell roused them from their slumbers. As nearly at three o'clock as the hour could afterwards be fixed, a tremendous explosion, with a sound which equalled the report of one of the yacht-guns on board of the Sylph, shook the buildings of the school, and made the windows of the dormitory rattle as though a hurricane had struck them. The very earth seemed to tremble under the effects of the convulsion. Suddenly startled from their slumbers, those who heard the sound, and had been shaken in their beds by it, were unable to determine where the report came from, or to form any idea of what had caused it. Perhaps half the students in their rooms leaped from their beds, and the other half were partially paralyzed where they lay by the shock. Doubtless, if they had been awake, and had understood the cause of the explosion, they would have enjoyed it; for the average boy delights in a terrific noise. But they were literally and figuratively in the dark. They could see nothing to explain the tremendous racket which had startled them from their deep sleep, and not a sound followed the shock to give them a clew to the strange event. Some thought it must be an earthquake; others that it was a crash of thunder which attended the striking of the lightning at some point not far from them. Possibly some of them thought that a daring rogue of the school was playing off a trick upon his companions; and more wondered if one of the chimneys on the dormitory had not fallen over, and crushed in the roof of the building. It might be an earthquake, for there was no smell of powder, no lightning in the sky; and no one was stirring in the building, as would have been the case if the roof had been crushed. In fact, not even the most intelligent and quick-witted of the students could assign any cause to the event. They stood in their rooms, or lay in their beds, thinking of it for a few moments, waiting for something else to come, some after-clap, which would throw a ray of light on the subject. Nothing came. Some of the boldest and most energetic of the boys began to put on a portion of their clothes, and unfastened their doors. As may well be supposed, Dory Dornwood was one of the first to come out of the stupor produced by the shock. He had not been awake more than five seconds, before he had jumped inside of his pants, and opened the door of his room. He looked out into the long hall, but it was as dark as Egypt there; and there was no glare of a fire in the building,--not a flash, not a sound of any kind. He went back into his room, and opened the window. He looked out on the lawn, but there was nothing in motion there. No key to the enigma was within his reach. But by this time, he heard a sound in the hall. He went to the door, but it was too dark to see any thing. Some conspiracy on the part of a few restless students might have been brought to a focus at this time, and he deemed it prudent to light his lamp before he took any step. If there was any thing to be seen, he wanted to see it. If any conspirators were trying to knock down the dormitory, or perpetrate a practical joke, he had a desire to know who they were; for all such tricks were at a discount in the school. The principal had no mercy for a practical joker when the feelings or the person of any individual was imperilled by the so-called fun. There was some one in the hall, beyond a doubt. It might be one of the students, roused, like himself, by the explosion; or it might be an evil-doer from outside of the fold. Dory opened the door again, and thrust the lamp out into the hall, so as to light every part of it. 39 40 41 42 43 44 The person in the hall proved to be Matt Randolph.