Boy Scouts at Sea; Or, A Chronicle of the B. S. S. Bright Wing

by Arthur Astor Carey

Mr. Wentworth stood with watch in hand ready to time the different operations for the ship’s log, and Chippie Smith, who had been detailed as recorder, waited with pencil and paper in his hand. Everything went more smoothly than usual, and the work was watched with great interest by the Chairman, who wanted the boys to grow even more skilful and efficient in handling the ship. No noise was allowed while the work of getting under way was going on,—no whistling, or singing, or anything which might possibly drown the voice of the Captain in giving orders, or of the other officers in repeating them. The consequence was that the Captain could give his commands in a comparatively low tone which was distinctly heard; and this, in itself, tended to prevent confusion.

The jib and jumbo went up respectively in three and two minutes; the foresail and the mainsail in six and eight minutes. Jack Perkins, as Chief Boatswain’s Mate, had prepared for the morning’s work the night before by holding a little council with the three other “B. M.’s” and going over with them in detail the duties and stations of the four different sections. As a result, the work was very prompt, each “B. M.” at his station with his own section listening carefully to get the orders either from the Captain or the mate, or the boatswain, according to his position on deck, and then repeating them promptly and quietly to his own boys and leading them in carrying out the manœuvre—whatever it might be.

When the anchor was hoisted, the sails caught the breeze on the starboard tack and the Bright Wing worked out of the harbor against the wind. Once outside, the breeze began to rise, and everybody felt the delight that comes from the buoyancy of the water and the freshness of the wind and spray.

“I’m glad it’s a head wind,” said Tom to Dick, who was sitting alongside him on the day bunk, “because it will take us longer to get to Northbridge, and we’ll get more of a sail.”

“You bet,” said Dick, “shouldn’t wonder if we got a spanking breeze pretty soon. I thought I saw a little water coming through a lee scupper for’ard, just now. The old ship seems to sail best on her side, anyway.”

The conversation was interrupted by the boatswain’s whistle for “scrub and wash clothes”; and all who did not belong to the watch went down and started scrubbing their clothes. In ten minutes the clothes were up on the lines, and the decks were being scrubbed—after the cabin skylight and portholes had been securely closed—with a smile in memory of Mr. Miller’s discomfiture two days before. Then came personal washing for every individual, followed by mess inspection and breakfast.

Everybody had been so busy all the early morning that the great event of the day which was to happen at quarters had been temporarily forgotten; but, after the first keen edge of appetite was satisfied, interest and curiosity asserted themselves as to what was going to be done about the work at Salem, and who was to receive awards or commendation.

Of course everybody knew that Jack Perkins had done a lot of good work, and had been responsible for seeing that orders were carried out. He was always a valuable man in any kind of business, because he never forgot things himself and always reminded his subordinates when they were apt to forget. As far as the boys could judge, they all had tried their best, but of course some had been more successful than others. As regards Dick Gray, the company were divided in opinion, some believing that the rescue of a cat would not be even mentioned in an official Order of the Day, and others asserting their belief that he would receive the medal for “life saving.” Tom and Chippie were especially earnest advocates of the value of Dick’s achievement.

“It wasn’t his fault that it was only a cat,” said they. “He would have done the same thing if it had been a boy or girl!”

Dick had been up on deck among the very first that morning and had enjoyed getting under way in the fresh morning air. He went below to breakfast with the others in high spirits; but when he heard the talk about the coming awards and so forth, it made him feel queer, and the feeling stuck to him—even after he was on deck again polishing brasses.