Chapter VI.
When the boys awoke, soon after dawn, a thick fog hid everything except the oyster sloop from their view. The crew of the latter were already on deck, and as soon as the Captain saw that the boys were putting away their blankets, and getting out their breakfast dishes, he invited them to come to breakfast. There is nothing more cheerless than cooking your own breakfast in a cold wet fog, and the young yachtsmen, who were feeling rather tired in consequence of loss of sleep and the excitement of the previous night, were glad to accept the Captain's invitation. Harry, foreseeing that the oystermen's coffee would not be quite suited to his fastidious taste, and also desiring to make some return for the Captain's kindness, asked to be allowed to furnish the breakfast table with coffee made by himself. The oystermen were pleased with the proposal, and Harry, taking the Ghost's coffee-pot to the galley, made what the Captain declared was the "bulliest" coffee he had ever drank.
They sat down to breakfast in the cozy little cabin of the sloop, and the Captain told them all about the oyster fishery. He was on his way to Amityville, where he lived, with a cargo of clams; for during the summer months, when there was no demand for oysters, he loaded his vessel with clams and scallops, which are in season all the year round. He prophesied that the fog would last all day, but assured the boys that by steering due northeast by compass, they would reach the northern shore of the bay, and could then safely pursue their voyage by keeping close to the land, where the deepest water in the Great South Bay is usually found. During the night the tide had ebbed, leaving the sloop aground in the mud, and it would be several hours before she would be afloat again. The boys would have preferred to let the sloop lead the way, and to follow her through the fog, but they did not care to wait until she would be afloat. So bidding their new friends good-by, they hoisted their sails, and with a fair breeze, just strong enough to give their boat steerage-way, they started to cross the bay.
They neither saw nor heard any other boats during the hour that they sailed silently on the course given them by the Captain of the sloop. At first they felt a little nervous, and had a dread of being run down by some big schooner or other craft; but in a little while they began to enjoy the novelty of sailing in a dense fog, and were rather sorry when the Ghost unexpectedly ran her bow against the low shore of the mainland of Long Island.
What to do next was the question. Nobody wanted to spend the day moored to the shore, and waiting for the fog to lift; and as Charley, in consulting the chart, found that the shore-line was very irregular, indented with a succession of long narrow bays separated by low sandy capes, neither he nor his comrades liked the idea of keeping close to it, and thus wasting time in a very uninteresting way. While they were still studying the chart, they heard what was evidently a breakfast bell ringing a little to the west of them.
"That bell must be in Amityville," said Charley, "and we must be close by this little creek that is laid down on the chart. Now let's find that creek, and then we'll know exactly where we are, and can tell what course to steer without following the shore."
"I'll go ashore," said Harry, "and hunt up the creek, and get some eggs, and a loaf of bread. It will be twice as much fun to sail straight ahead through the fog as it would be to keep along shore, just as if the Ghost was a canal-boat."
"I'll go with you," said Joe. "I am getting the cramps sitting still in this boat so long."
The two explorers stepped ashore, and immediately vanished in the fog. Charley and Tom presently heard a dismal exclamation in Joe's unmistakable voice, and in a short time he returned, announcing that the creek was only three or four boat-lengths distant. He was dripping with water, having found the creek by unexpectedly walking into it from off a boat-landing.
"Wet again, boys," he remarked, sadly, as he proceeded to find a dry shirt and trousers. "The next time we go cruising, I'm going to wear a water-proof suit like Captain Boyton's. This is our fourth day out, and I've fallen overboard twice, been rained on once, and walked off a pier once. I wonder how it would do to rub myself all over with oil. Do you think I'd shed water then?"
"You couldn't rub yourself with oil, and then put your clothes on, without getting them all greasy," observed Tom.
"Then I won't try oil; but the least you fellows can do is to wring me out. I can never get myself dry by rubbing with a towel."
"We'll wring you as soon as we get time," said Charley, kindly. "We'll begin with your neck, if you say so. But here comes Harry with the provisions. Shove the boat off, Tom, and we'll steer for a big cape that is just this side of Islip. The end of the cape ought to bear just east-northeast from the mouth of the creek Joe discovered."
IN THE GREAT SOUTH BAY.
The Ghost was soon under sail again, and the shore was lost in the fog. The breeze freshened a little, but the fog remained as thick as ever. Occasionally a fog-horn could be faintly heard in the distance, but whether it was blown on board a vessel on the bay, or a vessel at sea a little distance beyond the beach, it was impossible to tell.
"We ought to have brought a horn along with us," remarked Charley; "and it would be a good idea to stop somewhere and buy one. We ought to have green and red side-lights too. We haven't any right to sail at night without them."
"Why don't you insist on having a surgeon and a chaplain, and two or three life-boats, while you're about it?" said Joe. "You forget that the Ghost isn't a man-of-war going on a three years' cruise. We can get along without such luxuries as side-lights and surgeons. I'll tell you one thing we do want, though."
"What's that?" asked Charley.
"We want somebody on the look-out in a fog like this."
"That's so," exclaimed Charley. "I forgot all about it. Go to the bow, Joe, and keep the sharpest kind of a look-out. Boys, I'm not fit to be Captain, for I've neglected one of the first duties of an officer."
"We'll forgive you," said Harry. "Especially as I don't believe there's another boat on the bay to-day."
"Of course there isn't really much danger of running into anything, unless it may be a sloop lying at anchor. Still, we—"
"What's that?" exclaimed Tom.
"Sail on the port bow!" yelled Joe, at the top of his lungs.
While Joe was still speaking, the mainsail of a big cat-boat suddenly loomed up through the fog, and before the least thing could be done to avoid a collision, the strange boat struck the Ghost amidships, and a chorus of girls' voices cried out, "Oh, my!"
"No harm done," called out Charley. "Let go the jib-sheet, Joe. Now hold on to the side of that boat, boys, and don't let her get away till we see if she is damaged." So saying, he put the helm hard down, bringing the Ghost up into the wind. The other boat had already dropped her sail, and the two vessels were soon lying quietly side by side.
On board the cat-boat were four girls, three of them about fourteen years old, and the fourth about ten. There was also a boy, who did not seem to be as old as Joe, but who was apparently one of the "Bay boys," who spend most of their time during the summer in sailing boats of various kinds, and who at twelve years old are often thoroughly good sailors. The boy did not seem in the least alarmed, but the girls were terribly frightened.
"Do, please, help us," implored the tallest and prettiest of the four, addressing Charley almost as respectfully as if he were a man. "We are awfully afraid to be out here in this fog."
"May I ask how you came to be out here?" asked Charley.
"Why, we started to go on a fishing picnic, and there wasn't any fog when we started. Father and all the ladies and gentlemen are in the other boat, and we've got all the provisions. We were going to an island somewhere—I don't know where—to have dinner, and to go fishing; but the fog came up, and we got lost, and we're so frightened!"
"I ain't lost very much," said the Bay boy; "that is, I can find my way back to the shore by the wind; but I hain't got no compass, and I don't feel very sure about fetching the island."
"When did the fog come up?" asked Charley.
"About three hours ago. It come up from the south-west, and if you've come that way, you've had it longer than we have."
"I don't exactly see how we can help you," said Charley to the girl who had spoken to him; "but we'll all be delighted to do anything we can. If you like, we'll keep together, and try to find the island."
"Oh, I do wish you would!" exclaimed the girl. "It's so dreadful to be all alone in this awful fog."
"Do you know how the island bears from the place where you started from?" Charley asked the Bay boy.
"Put me back there, and give me a compass, and I could hit it to an inch. Just try me once."
"We've got a compass," said Charley. "Let's run over to the shore and get our bearings, and then we'll head for the island."
This proposal delighted the girls, and accordingly both boats set their sails again, and running side by side, soon reached the shore. The Bay boy declared that he now knew exactly where he was, and what course to steer for the island.
"We want to steer a little east of south, and we'll fetch it," he said. "You go ahead with your boat, and keep her south, half east, and I'll follow right after you."
"You won't run away from us, will you, sir?" asked the pretty girl: and Charley thought that he had never seen anything half so pretty before.
"If you don't mind," he said, "I'll come on board your boat, and then you'll feel sure that our boats will keep together. Only you mustn't call me 'sir.' You take the helm, Tom," he continued, "and keep her south, half east; and you'd better slack the peak a little, or else you'll out-sail us."
Without waiting to have his offer accepted, Charley sprang on board the cat-boat, and after trimming the sheet, sat down, half frightened at his rashness in thrusting himself among a boat-load of girls.
"Are you staying near here, sir?" asked the pretty girl.
"No. We're from New York, and bound on a cruise through the South Bay. That is, the other boys are from New York, but I am from Annapolis. I'm in the navy."
"In the navy!" exclaimed all the girls together. "Aren't we in luck, Nina," added one of them, addressing the girl who had won Charley's admiration, "to have a naval officer to take care of us? Now I don't mind the fog one bit."
"I'm not much of an officer yet," said Charley, laughing; "and you've got somebody here who can manage a sail-boat better than I can."
"Are you a lieutenant, sir, or a captain of the fore-top?" asked Nina.
"I'm only a cadet midshipman; but you really mustn't call me 'sir.' My name is Charley Smith, and I'd be awfully obliged if you'd call me Charley."
"And mine's Nina Stone; and as everybody calls me Nina, I suppose you ought to."
So in a few minutes Charley and Nina were talking like old friends, and the young Captain of the Ghost found the time pass so pleasantly that he was sorry when, after a long sail, the island was reached, and the missing boat found at anchor, with all her passengers engaged in fishing for weak-fish.
Mr. Stone, the father of the pretty Nina, was greatly relieved at the arrival of his daughter; and when she had told him how the Ghost and her Captain had gone out of their way to escort the cat-boat to the island, he shook Charley and his companions warmly by the hand, and insisted that they should stay and join the picnic party at dinner. The fog was already beginning to grow thinner, and there was every prospect that it would soon vanish, and that the sun would come out. The boys were getting hungry, and were not at all averse to spending the afternoon in fishing. So they accepted Mr. Stone's invitation, and the whole party went ashore, and had a delicious dinner of fresh weak-fish, broiled on the coals. After dinner they went on board the boats, pushed out in the channel, and anchoring, devoted the rest of the day to fishing. The sun was now shining brightly, the fish were abundant and ravenous, and the pretty Nina was fishing by the side of Charley, who baited her hook, and took off her fish as fast as she caught them. When the two cat-boats finally hauled up their anchors, and prepared to return home, the boys felt as if they were parting from old friends. Mr. Stone invited them all to come and see him in New York, and Miss Nina told Charley that she should never forget his kindness to her. When her handkerchief could no longer be seen waving over the waters, Charley said that he was tired of fishing, and thought the cabin had better be rigged up, and that all hands had better turn in early.
It was a rather gloomy ending of a delightful day. The young Captain evidently felt very little inclined to talk.
"If we meet any more pretty girls," whispered Joe to Harry, as they were lashing down the sides of the cabin, "we'll have to get a new Captain. I can't see what some fellows see in girls. They can't play foot-ball, nor wrestle, nor do anything rational, and I'd like to know what use they are, anyway."
"Girls are all very well in their place," said Harry; "but I don't think they ought to go sailing. They can do sums, for instance, for my sister does mine for me sometimes. But I say, that was a pretty girl, though, wasn't she? and she seemed real nice and jolly."
"She's the best girl I ever met," exclaimed Tom.
"That's so," said Joe. "I was only pretending not to think so, because I didn't want to make Charley jealous. I tell you what, boys, we'll get her to go fishing again with us some day."
[to be continued.]
"IN THE BARN."—From a Painting by H. Allingham.
[HOW TOM RAN THE ENGINE WITHOUT WOOD OR WATER.]
BY CHARLES BARNARD.
Once upon a time a rich man built a school for boys, in which they might study surveying, engineering, mechanics, and the sciences one needs to know to be a railroad man. This man began life as a train-boy, and steadily pushed his way up to be fireman, engineer, master-mechanic, and finally President of a railroad. He often said his own chance in life would have been better if he could have gone to school when a boy, and learned from books about steam and engines, levels, inclines, and curves, before he undertook to fire a boiler or take a locomotive over the road. As it was, he got his education by hard knocks, heavy work on the engine's foot-plate, and weary toil in the machine-shop. So it happened he built the school close to the repair shops of the road of which he was President. He put good teachers and good books in the school, and then opened it, free, to the sons of the brakemen, conductors, engineers, and other men employed on the line. In the school the boys were to study the science of the railroad and locomotive, and then, if they afterward went to work on the road, they would not have such a hard time as the train-boy who became President.
Twice every year the President offered a Waltham watch as a prize to the boy in the school who should write the best composition on any subject connected with the things they had been studying, or anything in relation to engines or railroads. Tom Stayboltt, whose father was conductor on the night express, had been in the school three years, and had tried five times for the prize, and lost it every time. Tom was regarded by all the scholars as the brightest boy in the school. He stuttered in his speech, and his handwriting was as stiff as a switch-rod, yet he was always at the head of his class. You could never trip him on any knotty questions as to whether the cylinders were on top of the boilers or under the tender. He knew the name and use of every bit of metal in an engine, and it was believed by all the boys that he was a good engineer, and could take his father's train right through to the Junction, without running past a red light, or wasting steam on the down grades.
The semi-annual prize had been announced, and nearly every boy in the school was busy over his composition.
"I-i-it's no use, b-b-boys. I shall not try for the p-p-prize. I can't write, and I never can t-t-tell—tell what I know. If they would give a prize for doing something, I think I might g-g-get—get it."
Tom was a great favorite in the school, and not one of the boys laughed at this speech. They were taught manners, as well as mechanics, in that school, and the boys well knew that what Tom said was true. They might write compositions and get prizes, but when it came to doing the things, why, Tom Stayboltt would beat them all.
The day of the prize-giving drew near, and every boy save Tom was hard at work over his composition. He had tried five times, and each time the teachers had said his composition was very bad indeed, with the wrong words, awkward sentences, and punctuation that was truly awful. Now it happened that the day before the prize was to be given, a new locomotive arrived on the railroad, and stood, without wood or water, on the track of the repair-shop yard. It had been hauled up on the freight train, and had never been used on the road. After school a number of the boys went over to the yard to see the new engine, and among them was Tom Stayboltt.
It was a first-class passenger engine, built for high speed, and looking very handsome in its new paint and shining brass work. There were several men looking at the engine as the boys came up, and they gathered round to hear what might be said.
"An empty engine," remarked one of the men, "always seems to me a very helpless thing. It is so big and heavy, it is impossible to move it without steam-power, and yet it will not only move itself, but will drag many times its weight at forty miles an hour over the line."
"It is not the engine that moves," said another man. "It's the wood or coal and water—the fuel and steam. If it were not for the fire and water inside, it could never move at all."
"I can make her go without w-w-w-wood—wood or water."
This remark caused a laugh from the boys, and even the men smiled at the absurd statement. One man came over to where Tom stood, and said, "How would you do that, my boy?"
"I'd rather n-n-not—not tell."
"Why not?"
"Because I n-n-never t-t-tried—tried it."
"Oh, you mean you think you could, but you have never proved your theory by experiment."
"Y-y-yes—yes, sir."
The men and boys became wonderfully interested in this conversation, for it was clear that Tom Stayboltt knew what he was talking about.
"Do you belong to the Railroad School?"
"Y-y-yes—yes, sir."
"You mean to try for the prize, I suppose?"
"No, sir. My handwriting is as crooked as a r-r-ram's h-h-horn—ram's horn."
After that, nothing more of importance was said, and the boys, having looked over the engine to their hearts' content, went home.
The next day at ten o'clock the entire school was marched into the lecture-room of the school building to see the prize watch given by the President to the boy who had written the best composition. All the teachers were there, together with the fathers and mothers of the boys, visitors, and people connected with the railroad. This prize-giving was regarded as a great event along the line, and every man, from engine-wipers to directors, wanted to be on hand to see whose son carried off the prize. At 10.15, railroad time, the President and the Honorable Directors, with their wives and daughters, marched in and took seats on the platform, while all the boys stood up as a matter of respect to the founder of the school. It was altogether quite a grand and ceremonious affair, and was for the boys an impressive occasion. When the directors and the ladies were seated, the boys sat down. Then there was a speech from the head master, followed by one from a director, and one from the President's wife. Then it came the President's turn to give out the prizes. All the compositions, neatly tied up in red tape, were laid on the desk, and when he stood up he brushed them all one side, as if he did not care much for compositions. His speech was short and very peculiar.
"Ladies and gentlemen, and boys of the school, I have carefully read all the compositions, and while I think they are all excellent, I have decided that this time the chance to win the prize shall be open to those who did not write a composition."
This was a great surprise, and the boys wondered how this was to be done. They knew the President was a just and honorable man, and would do nothing unfair; so they accepted what he said in silence, though those who had written the compositions were, of course, somewhat disappointed.
"Yesterday," continued the President, "I heard one of the boys say he could run a locomotive engine without wood or water. If he can do it, he shall have the prize. Is the boy present?"
There was a solemn hush in the room. Every one looked about, and wondered if the audacious and foolish boy was there. Of course it could not be done, and the President had taken this means to punish him for his vain and idle boasting. As for Tom Stayboltt, he felt ready to sink through the floor. Something must be done about it, and in a moment he stood up, and said, in a clear, manly voice,
"I said so, sir; and if you will give me the engine, and Jerry Smith's Mogul, I'll do it."
The sudden appearance of little Tom Stayboltt, pale and yet calm, and the clear voice without a defect, caused a great sensation, and every one turned in wonder to look at him. Some of the ladies wanted to know what the boy meant by "Jerry Smith's Mogul," and the gentlemen with them explained that it was a heavy freight engine of the "Mogul" pattern run by Mr. J. Smith.
The President called Tom up to the platform, and for a moment or two there was a whispered conversation between Tom, the head-master of the school, and the President. Every one looked on with the greatest interest, and wondered what would happen next. Tom seemed to have convinced the two gentlemen that he knew exactly what he was talking about, for the President smiled and shook Tom by the hand, and then stood up and said to all the people:
"When I heard Master Stayboltt say yesterday afternoon he could run the engine, I resolved to give him a chance. I therefore ordered a train to be got ready, and I now invite the school and all their friends to go to the station. We will take the engine out on the line, and Master Stayboltt shall try for the prize by running the engine a mile without wood or water. The engine has never been used, except on its trial trip, and there is not a quart of water in the boiler or tank, nor a pound of coal, or so much as a match, on the tender."
This proposal was received with the greatest enthusiasm, and the entire company, ladies and gentlemen, teachers, boys, and all, marched down to the station, and took a train of cars they found all ready for them. A heavy "Mogul" engine backed up and took the train over to the repair-shop yard, where the new engine stood. Several of the directors got out and examined the engine, and declared there was no fuel in the tender nor a drop of water in the boiler. The train was backed up to the front of the engine, and it was coupled on. Every one got on board, and the train hauled out of the yard, and took the main line, with the empty engine trailing behind. As for Master Stayboltt, they put him on the engine, and made him ride there all alone.
Tom didn't care; in fact, this was just what he wanted. The train ran at a good speed for about ten miles into the country. Then it stopped, and everybody hurried out to see the performance—or the failure. The road just here was perfectly level, and there was a switch and siding. The train was uncoupled from the engine, and run into the siding, out of the way, and flag-men were sent up and down the line to stop all trains that might interfere with the show. The people gathered round the cold and silent engine, standing in a crowd on the grass by the line. Tom still sat in the engine, and when everything was ready, the President said that Master Stayboltt might now try for the prize.
The idea of that boy making an engine go a mile! It was very silly in him, and no doubt he would now be properly punished for his vain boasting.
"Are you ready, sir?"
"Y-y-yes—yes, sir."
"Then go ahead."
The people stood looking on, and quite ready to laugh at the poor boy's failure. Ah! she moves. The big wheels turn slowly, and the cold and silent engine rolled slowly backward. For an instant there was a laugh. She was going the wrong way. She moved faster and faster, and the laugh died away. Ah! she's slowing up. She has stopped. It's a failure. No. Tom could be seen turning the reversing bar. The engine gave one loud whistle, and started ahead. Faster and faster! On it came, and rushed past all the people, at twenty miles an hour. How the people cheered and cheered! It was wonderful. Tom was looking straight ahead, like a good engineer. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the boys shouted until they were hoarse. Tom Stayboltt had won the prize.
The engine ran on about half a mile, stopped, and then came slowly back, and stopped just before the President's pretty daughters. Tom came to the window, and took off his hat and bowed politely to the ladies.
"How much pressure have you, Master Engineer?" said the President.
"T-t-twenty—twenty pounds, sir."
Then the school gave three cheers for Tom, and three more for the President, for every one said it was far better to do something than to write the best composition ever seen. Of course every one wished to know just how it was done, and to make it all clear, the President mounted a pile of sleepers, and told them the whole story.
"You all know that in a steam-engine is a boiler and a furnace, or fire-box. Water is put in the boiler, and a fire is made in the furnace precisely as in a tea-kettle on a stove. The water boils in the tea-kettle, and we see the steam escape. In the engine the steam is locked in, and can not escape, and very soon it becomes crowded, and if still kept locked in, it will burst the boiler. Before this can happen, the engineer opens a valve, and permits the steam to enter two oblong iron boxes, called the cylinders. Here it meets a piece of metal, called the piston, that fits the inside of the cylinder pretty closely. It can not get past, and so it pushes the piston away to the other end of the cylinder. As soon as this happens, the valves close of their own accord, and the steam escapes into the open air with a loud puff. Then the steam enters the other end of the cylinder, and drives the piston back again. In this manner the steam pushes the piston to and fro as it tries to escape from the boiler.
"Now there is a rod fastened to the piston, and passing through the end of the cylinder. Each cylinder has one, and these are connected by means of other rods with the great wheels of the locomotive. You now see that the piston, driven forward and backward, moves the wheels, and thus it is the escaping steam moves the engine. These rods you can see outside the engine; the piston and valves are inside, out of sight.
"Now the air is elastic, like steam, and it may be used in any engine in place of steam. If air is pumped into a tight box like a boiler, it may be locked up, or compressed, and if we were to go on pumping, we might burst the boiler with compressed air. Master Stayboltt knew all this, and he also knew that when an empty engine is dragged along the rails by another engine, as happened on our ride out here, the wheels will turn round, and these move the rods and the pistons, and each cylinder works like a pump. Instead of letting steam out, it pushes air back into the boiler, and very soon the boiler is full of elastic compressed air struggling to get out. Master Stayboltt, as soon as the train stopped, opened the valves, and the air rushed out the way it went in, making the pistons move, and the wheels turn round. Of course the air soon ran out, and the engine stopped. This made no difference to us, for Master Stayboltt clearly showed that he had learned his lessons well, and knew how to apply them."
Then the President's youngest daughter climbed up into the engine, and gave Tom the prize watch. The boys took him on their shoulders in triumph to the President's car, every one got on board, the flag-men were called in, and the entire party went gayly home with the empty engine trailing behind.
[BEES IN THE MEADOW.]
BY MRS. SANGSTER.
Bees in the meadow,
Birds on the bough,
Bloom on the hill-side—
Play-time is now.
Stones in the pasture,
Weeds in the bed;
Haying and harvest,
Hard work ahead.
Loud sings the robin,
"If you'd be gay,
Take to the work, lad,
The heart of the play."
PUNCH AND JUDY IN A CONVENT.