THE “CHELTON”
“Oh, isn’t it exciting?” cried Marita, who had managed to have Jack help her over the dunes on the way to the dock.
“You’re right!” replied Jack, surveying her “nautical” outfit. “Couldn’t beat it.”
“Silly! I mean going for the cruise.”
“Oh, I thought you meant that rig you’re wearing. It is most becoming, but I hope it won’t get wet.”
“Oh, the water won’t hurt it. I got it on that account. I think the girls’ maroon sweaters look dandy—they can be seen for such a distance.”
“Yes, I suppose togs have something to do with a good time, although I must say Cora doesn’t seem to give much time to hers. Look at Marita in white. She looks like a French doll.”
“Oh, she is the cutest thing!” replied Lottie, in her gushing way. “But Cora is simply stunning! Just see how she stands out in the crowd.”
Lottie and Jack strolled through the moss-padded path that led to the white sands of Tangle Turn, talking in this vein as they went. It was indeed a merry crowd, and well worth noticing, as was evinced by the number of curious spectators already assembled on the dock to which the Chelton was tied.
“Who’s the man?” asked Jack, espying a striking figure in the throng.
“Oh, that’s Uncle Denny; don’t you know him? He is the dearest——”
“Now, Lottie, I can see his bald head under his cap at this distance without marine glasses, and it’s a rule of the club that ‘dears’ have special advantages in the matter of healthy heads of hair. But, of course, if you wish to call him ‘dear’——”
“Jack, you are the greatest tease,” she pouted.
Bess, Belle and Cora had already reached the motor boat. Denny was proudly “looking her over,” pipe in mouth and hands in pockets. The girls were bustling about, all enthusiasm, while the boys, assuming an air of importance, found many points to investigate.
“Now take seats,” called Cora, “we are ready to push off. Lottie, don’t lean overboard.”
“Oh, I am watching the cutest little fish. See, Bess,” she exclaimed.
Ed was on the dock with the rope loose from the cleat. Cora was at the steering wheel, while Denny insisted on turning the fly wheel, as that seemed about the most difficult thing to do. The gasoline was turned on, Jack attending to that, and as Denny gave the fly wheel a vigorous turn, Ed pushed off and jumped into the boat. The “push” sent the Chelton out in the water, but the motor failed to do its duty. Again Denny tried, but still no response. As this is not unusual with any motor, whether new or old, all hands waited patiently.
“Oh, there’s the Dixie!” called Lottie, jumping up and waving to an approaching boat.
At that instant the Chelton started with a jerk, and there was a chorus of screams.
“Lottie’s overboard!” cried the girls.
“Overboard!” repeated the boys.
“Quick!” begged Cora. “She may sink!”
To bring the boat to a sudden stop was not an easy matter, and there were some moments of suspense before the Chelton passed safely to the other side of the spot where Lottie was struggling.
The water was not so deep but that she was able to scramble to her feet, but the wash of the boat forced her to work violently to keep her head above water.
“The rope!” called Cora, who had dashed from her position at the steering wheel to the side of the boat where the mooring rope had been dropped. In the excitement, of course, all crowded to one side of the small craft, which caused it to careen alarmingly.
“There! There!” shouted Ed. “Lottie, grab the rope!”
“Oh, I can’t,” came the rather weak and shaky reply. “I can’t reach it.”
By this time the Dixie, the innocent cause of the accident, was alongside. Drayton Ward, the wealthy young fellow who could boast of a motor boat that would have aroused comment even at Newport, leaned over the side and grasped the arm of the girl in the water. The rest was a simple matter, for soon Lottie was assisted over the rail of the Dixie, and was in the finest boat on Crystal Bay.
“What do you think of that?” gasped Bess into Cora’s ear.
“Clever!” replied Cora, simply.
“But the togs?” queried Jack, to whom the accident had seemed something of a joke.
“What a pity,” returned Belle, “and she did look so sweet!”
All this time the drenched girl was being most carefully looked after by the gallant captain of the Dixie. He was seeing to it that she did not suffer from a chill, for a big coat had been wrapped around her and her pretty white cap that had merrily floated off was now replaced by one marked “Dixie.” Altogether, for a mere Summer dip, Lottie was having a magnificent time, as Ed took pains to observe.
“Oh, I can’t go with you now!” called Lottie. “Mr. Ward has kindly offered to take me home.”
There was a pause after that remark. If Lottie went back to the bungalow it seemed only reasonable that someone should go with her. But who? Everyone wanted to take the trip on the Chelton.
“Let us take you up to the point,” called Cora, “and we can wait for you to change and come back. Our trip would be spoiled with one of the party missing.”
“Let’s shift,” suggested Drayton, with a gracious smile at Cora. “Mine is probably the faster boat. You get in here with us, Miss Cora, and we will run up and down the bay while your friends are working off the oil smoke. That’s a neat little boat you have, a perfect little model,” he finished, coming as close as possible to the Chelton.
“Yours is all right, too, Dray,” replied Jack, “but it looks too good to be true. Doesn’t shoot up on land for a change, does it? I have heard of Dixies doing that stunt.”
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Lottie. “I am freezing to death. I guess I’ll go change my dress.”
“Good idea,” agreed Cora, who was ready to leave her boat and go back to the bungalow with Lottie. “Come on,” and she jumped to the dock to which her boat had drifted. “I’ll run along with you.”
“Nice way to treat a fellow,” complained Drayton. “Well, fellows, I’ll race you while we are waiting for the ladies to return. What do you say, Jack?”
“I’m willing, as long as Cora has finally condescended to let me touch the wheel. Everybody sit down this time.”
Without a word all hands, keen for a race as soon as one was suggested, took seats, and the two boats veered out into the bay and “lined up” for the start. Denny was the proudest engineer imaginable, and constantly looked over the fine mechanism.
“Ready!” shouted Ed, and at the word both throttles were thrown wide open and the boats shot up the bay, emitting clouds of smoke from their newly oiled works, and “chugging” so rapidly that the sounds were drowned in a roar. It was a pretty sight, for in the girls’ boat a line of colored sweaters and waving caps lent life to the gray of the waters, while Drayton, in his glistening, highly-polished Dixie, only needed the glint that the sun lent to complete the picture afforded by his fine craft.
“Oh, isn’t this glorious!” exclaimed Marita. “I thought I should be frightened, but this is—lovely.”
“Frightened!” repeated Belle. “I used to be so afraid of the water I couldn’t see anything but the bottom every time I came out; but now I just love it.”
“Hey there, Dray!” shouted Ed. “You’re out of the course. Get in from shore!”
“He’s keeping his eye on those girls on the beach,” laughed Walter. “Those are the lassies who have the white canoe.” So saying he waved his own cap and a flutter of handkerchiefs from the beach came back in recognition.
“Turn at the island,” ordered Denny.
Here a white flag fluttered, the stake left from some recent sailing races. Gracefully the Chelton rounded the stake first. Drayton had lost time in running too close to shore. Only a minute later the Dixie swayed after the Chelton, then the final stretch was taken up in earnest. Spectators on the bank might wave now, but the motorists had no eyes for them. A slight miss in the Chelton’s explosion brought Denny and Ed to their feet—there should be no break in the rhythm of that chug.
“She’s all right,” Ed called to the old sailor, “only too much oil.”
Denny shook his head lest a word might interfere with the boat’s motion. Dray stood up and did something that caused the bow of his boat to shoot up, while the stern seemed to bury itself in the waves.
“His is a racer,” Walter told Bess, who was as intent as any of the watchers on the result of the trial of speed.
“Maybe ours will turn out to be a winner,” Bess responded. “We keep pretty close.”
Jack never took his hand off the steering wheel, Denny was watching the engine, and the others were peering down the straight course ahead.
“Oh, I’m getting all wet,” exclaimed Marita, for the spray was dashing in on all sides.
“Get down in the bottom,” advised Walter, “we can’t slacken up now. Or go in the cabin if you like and close the ports.”
This was a signal for all three girls to slip down to the floor of the boat and while they lost the good view afforded from the seats, they evidently enjoyed the change, and craned their necks to see over the sides.
“Of course Dray will win,” complained Belle. “We couldn’t expect to beat the Dixie.”
“We might,” encouraged Bess. “Cora said this boat had remarkable speed for its size.”
“Gee, whiz!” shouted Walter, “look at that spray deluge Dray!”
“And she’s missing,” added Ed, for the sounds from the Dixie were distinctly out of time.
Suddenly Dray’s boat slowed down, and the Chelton shot so far ahead that it was plain something had happened to the Dixie.
Jack stood up and looked back. “Something is wrong,” he said. “We had better not get too far ahead. Dray is fussing with the carbureter.”
The race was over. The girls stood up from their hiding place and Jack turned the boat about. By this time Dray had turned off the gasoline and the Dixie merely heaved up and down on the swells.
“What’s the matter, Dray?” called Walter. “Something given way?”
“I don’t know,” answered Dray, “she simply won’t ‘mote.’”
“Let me take a look at her,” suggested Denny, ever eager for a new adventure.
“Oh, there are Cora and Lottie!” exclaimed Belle. “Can’t we go in for them, and look after Dray’s boat afterward?”
“That would be a nice way to treat a ship in distress,” said Denny, “but excuse me,” and he showed regret at his remark. “I shouldn’t be thinkin’ of a lad when the young girls are needin’ help.”
“Oh, the girls are all right,” Jack assured the old seaman; “but say, Dray,” he called, “what’s the matter, anyhow?”
“Just give me a line and tow me in, then we will hold a post mortem,” replied Dray, good humoredly. “I don’t fancy taking her apart out here.”
“Good!” exclaimed Marita, “then we can go for Cora and Lottie.”
Promptly the brand new rope of the Chelton was tossed to the disabled boat and fastened, then the two boats started for shore.
Cora and Lottie were waiting. The latter had shed her wet “garments of vanity,” as Belle described them, for a simple brown linen frock.
“What happened?” called Cora, as the boats neared shore.
“Mis-happened,” answered Dray. “It was just fate. We couldn’t expect to beat the motor girls.”
“Nice of you,” acknowledged Cora, “but I am sorry if there is anything wrong with your beautiful boat.”
“It’s the boat and not the boy,” remarked Ed. “Well, we’ll do as much for you some day, Cora. Wait until we get our little Lassie out. She, being a mere girl, may have a show.”
“What’s the matter, Lottie?” asked Bess, as they landed and the girls noted that Lottie was remarkably quiet, and even a trifle pale.
“Not a thing,” Cora hurriedly answered, while she crushed her fingers on Lottie’s arm. “We were detained at the bungalow, that’s all. We’ll tell you all about it later on.”
The girls gathered around Cora and Lottie at this remark. But Cora, by some mysterious signal system, had warned Lottie not to say anything, and she soon joined the boys, who had already boarded the Dixie to overhaul her.
They looked at the engine, at the spark plugs, at the cylinder, but Cora, who happened to have more room at the point where the carbureter was situated, suddenly exclaimed:
“I’ve got it! Water in the carbureter!”
“Right-o!” confirmed Dray, in another moment. “The spray mixed with the gas—dashed over into the air in-take valve. Moral, go slow, for water sometimes is fatal, even in a good cause!”
“Shame to spoil the race,” said Ed; “we were just warming up.”
“It’s all right,” commented Denny, “and a good lesson. I never knew myself that too much speed would do the like of that. Well, I must be off doin’ some chores. I’ve been a-galavantin’ most of the day, and the fishes of Crystal Bay are not educated to come up to me door yet. Thank you for the sport. It was fine,” he concluded, genially.
“Indeed you must come along again,” Cora urged. “This was only a baby-trial. We will want to be going out on the deep soon; then you must come along.”
“Thank you, very kindly,” Denny called, as he started off. “The deep is a bad place for young ’uns, I can tell you. Better stick around shore.”
“Tell us what is the matter, Lottie,” demanded Bess, for Lottie had not yet recovered her self-possession.
“Oh, I guess I had a chill,” she evaded, glancing at Cora.
“And the mere sight of a couple of strange men startled her,” Cora added. “I have warned her there may be lots of strange men around Crystal Bay.”
“But not the same strange men every time,” Lottie put in. This gave a clue to her fright. The men who had secluded themselves under the Lonely Willow that morning had appeared again, this time in the vicinity of the girls’ bungalow, now known as the “Motely Mote.”