A Sailor in Spite of Himself

by Harry Castlemon

"I didn't tell him. I haven't spoken to him in a month," declared Simpson, earnestly.

"Then how did he find it out? I didn't tell him."

"I don't know how he found it out. Perhaps he was watching us when we hid the oar."

"That's highly probable," replied Scotty, with a sneer. "Good-bye, Simp; you'll not do to tie to. I have at last satisfied myself of that fact. I don't know what Layton will do to you."

Simpson didn't know, either, and that was what troubled him just then more than anything else. Believing it best to keep out of sight for a while, he made his way out of the academy grounds without being discovered and directed his course toward the village of Elmwood, which lay about a mile distant. Having no other way of passing the time he roamed about the streets until seven o'clock, and then with great reluctance turned his face toward the academy. The buildings were closed at half-past seven, and all the students who were not in their dormitories at that hour were obliged to account for their absence to the professors the next morning.

As Simpson was passing the wharf he saw the little steamer which plied up and down the coast getting under way. The gangplank had been hauled in, the lines cast off, and then, in obedience to some hurried orders, the plank was once more shoved out again and the steamer made fast to the wharf. At the same time a hack, driven at furious speed, came down the road from the direction of the academy, and it was in response to the shouts of the driver and the frantic signals of some one inside that the steamer had delayed her departure. Simpson had a good view of the passenger, who was leaning more than half-way out of the window flourishing his hand-kerchief, and his heart gave a great bound when he saw that it was Gus Layton. He watched him until he was safe on board the vessel, saw the porters take charge of his baggage, and then hurried out of the village with a much lighter heart than he had brought into it.

"Thank goodness he is gone and I am safe!" said Simpson, to himself. "I do not know what the other fellows will do to me, but of one thing I am satisfied—they'll not beat me."

Yes, Gus was gone, and that, too, with the determination of never coming back. His departure had been hastened by something that transpired at the academy shortly after his interview with Simpson. He saw Claxton when he went into the building with the oar, and he noticed, too, that while the Whites still wore their colors, there was not a Blue rosette to be seen. Even Scotty's impudence could not hold out in the face of public opinion so generally and forcibly expressed, and he had thrown aside his Blue rosette; and, furthermore, he seemed anxious to avoid Gus, for when he saw him coming he slipped around the building and out of sight.

"Rats desert a sinking ship," said Gus, enraged at the conduct of his man Friday. "I must be getting low down in the world when such fellows as Scotty go back on me."

As Gus entered the hall he saw Bob and his victorious crew surrounded by a crowd of students, who were congratulating them on their success, and among the most enthusiastic Gus was surprised to see three of his own men, Sprague, Haight and Bright. They seemed to have eyes and ears for no one but the members of the winning crew—there was not one of them who took the least notice of him. Gus knew the meaning of this, and it was more than he could stand. Hastily leaving the academy, he made the best of his way to the boat-house. Pausing a moment to look at the Mist, once his pride and delight, but which now lay in her dock shattered and half-filled with water, Gus passed into a little anteroom, in which the club held their meetings, and sat down to think over his troubles and determine upon some course of action. Scarcely was he seated when the door opened, admitting Sprague, Haight and Bright.