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

by Arthur Astor Carey

At about four o’clock in the afternoon, it began to rain, and all hands on deck got into their oilskins and rubber boots. Fortunately, however, there was no fog, and Cape Race light soon loomed up clearly across the port bow. Once passed, it became necessary to beat to the northward against the wind, so that they did not drop anchor in Provincetown Harbor until after dark.

In the meantime the weather had developed into a storm, and the Bright Wing, along with a number of fishing schooners that were moored in the harbor, dropped extra anchors as a matter of precaution.

It was not possible to send the launch ashore that night for the mail, and it seemed a strange thing to the younger boys to feel the motion of the ship, and to hear the sound of the wind blowing through the rigging, while at the same time they knew that they were at anchor.

Dick Gray had been getting more and more into his work since the crisis he had passed through some days before. He felt as if he had thrown off a great load that used to weigh him down while he was working, and had taken more than half the fun out of his play. He had a new sense of freedom which he had never felt before; and, at the same time, a tremendous desire to make good in whatever he was called upon to do. Dick “Number 1” was not only in command, but using all his force and intelligence to make a good and obedient servant of Dick “Number 2.” He began to feel a new sense of enjoyment in his life which he, himself, did not quite understand; but the truth was very simple: he was becoming a man, and learning to appreciate a man’s responsibilities.

Ronald Jones, the new “B. M.” who had succeeded Turner, was a boy who had got ahead in his tests for ratings and merit badges rather by book learning than from actual experience. Of course all the senior officers as well as the “B. M.’s” were interested to see whether he had in him the right stuff for a petty officer; and Mr. Wentworth, as Officer of the Day, watched with even greater care than usual to see whether Jones gave his commands on time, and also whether they were properly carried out. The boy, of course, did not realize how carefully he was being observed, and seemed rather pleased with himself than otherwise, until Mr. Wentworth asked him why the order for the first instruction period of the afternoon was three minutes late. Jones mumbled out an excuse of some sort; but, as a matter of fact, it had really never occurred to him that three minutes would make any difference one way or the other.

“You remember, Jones, I explained to you when I gave you your watch billet that every routine order must be given and carried out on the dot by the deck clock. If you have not remembered to give the order within sixty seconds of the right time, you are clearly at fault, and no excuse will be accepted. Until you have had some practice, you will not find this an easy thing to do, and it may be that you will never be able to accomplish it. All men cannot be officers, for they haven’t got it in them, and yet they may be very good privates. It is the same with boys, and now you have your chance of proving whether you can make good or whether you can’t.”

Jones might have understood from Mr. Wentworth’s serious tone that there was need for mending his ways; but he seemed to take his new authority more as a feather in his cap than as a serious responsibility. This was not the first time he had been “called down” since noon, when he and his section had been put in charge of the watch. His “life buoy” (whose duty it is to stand on the leeward side, prepared to throw the buoy at any moment) was lolling most of the time on the cabin house instead of being alert on his two feet. There were four or five more routine orders on Jones’s watch bill to be given before he was relieved at four o’clock; and, of those, only two were punctually and properly carried out.

At the officers’ conference that evening, Mr. Wentworth reported, among other things, on Jones’s first watch that afternoon, and it was decided to give him another forty-eight hours to see whether he could make good as a petty officer.

The next morning Mr. Jackson, who was anxious to take the train to Boston, found to his surprise that it was impossible to get ashore, for the storm had risen to unusual violence. The Captain and the mate kept a close watch on the anchor cables, for they feared the anchors might drag at any moment. On account of the rain, quarters, setting up exercises, and instruction were all held on the berth deck; but toward noon there came a break in the clouds, and, with the first gleams of sunshine, the wind began to abate.

It was not until after dinner, however, that the launch was sent ashore with Mr. Jackson, the yeoman, and Billy Brown, who accompanied his uncle to the train; and, as soon as they had landed, the yeoman started for the post office, while Mr. Jackson and Billy walked to the railway station.