A Sailor in Spite of Himself

by Harry Castlemon

"Won't we, indeed? You'll soon tell a different tale. In less than an hour you will pull off those blue rosettes and throw them overboard."

"On the contrary, in less than an hour the boys who wear those blue rosettes will be cheering the champions of the State."

"Ha! Tell that to the marines. Perhaps they will believe it."

This conversation took place between the occupants of two little sailboats, the Sunbeam and the Firefly, which had been thrown up into the wind and now lay almost motionless side by side, while the boys who made up their passengers and crews lounged on the thwarts, fanning their flushed faces with their hats, and ever and anon turning their eyes toward the shore in an eager, expectant manner, as if they were waiting for something.

From the positions in which the little vessels lay, their crews had a good view of the bay for ten miles on every side, and the sight presented to their gaze was one worth going a long way to see. The water was dotted with small craft of every description—tugs, skiffs, single-oared shells and sailboats, the latter all flying the colors of the Lone Star Yacht Club, and the shore in front of the academy was lined with carriages and people. It was a gala day in Elmwood, and almost every man, woman and child for miles around had come in to witness an event that had been the topic of conversation for weeks—a race between two of the best boat clubs in the State.

Elmwood was situated on an extensive bay which indented the coast of one of our Southern States. It was a wealthy and thriving place, and in spite of the fact that the war was only just over, it boasted of as fine an academy as could be found anywhere. There were two hundred students and more on the rolls, and although you could have picked out from the number any number of lazy, mischievous boys—such fellows intrude themselves everywhere—you could not have found one who did not love the school and all its surroundings. It was no wonder that the institution stood high in the estimation of both scholars and patrons, for the faculty were men who believed in making it a pleasant place for the boys under their charge. Innocent sports of every kind were not only tolerated but encouraged, the professors often taking part in them with as much eagerness as the boys themselves. Just now everything except aquatics was at a discount, and this state of affairs had been brought about by accident.

Among the boys who spent all their spare time upon the bay were two crews who were looked up to by the rest of the students as authorities on all matters pertaining to boats and rowing. The head man of one of these crews was Gus Layton, and the owner and stroke of the other was Bob Nellis, his cousin. The former rowed in a shell called the Mist, while Bob and his men took their daily airings in a beautiful little craft called the Zephyr.

One evening, while the crew of the Mist, who called themselves the champions of Elmwood, were taking a pull on the bay to exercise their muscles and cool their brains after a long siege of study in the school-room, they fell in with Bob Nellis and his men, who were out for the same purpose, and of course a race ensued. The self-styled champions expected to walk away with their opponents very easily, but to their intense chagrin and the overwhelming astonishment of fifty or more students who stood on the shore watching the contestants, the Zephyr went ahead rapidly, and rounded to in front of the academy the winner by more than a dozen lengths. Bob and his crew were so highly elated over the result of the race that they immediately challenged the crew of the Mist to a contest for the championship, which was promptly accepted, and this particular day had been set for the trial.

The excitement began to run high directly. The students at once declared themselves the adherents of one or the other of the rival clubs, and took to wearing rosettes on their jackets. Bob and his men wore a white uniform, and Gus and his men dressed in blue, and by looking at the rosettes a student wore one could tell which side he favored without asking any questions.

For weeks nothing but the race had been talked of. The enthusiasm of the students was so contagious that even their fathers, older brothers, and mothers and sisters became interested. The ladies, old and young, took to wearing rosettes, and manufactured them by the dozen, blue or white, as their fancy and their preference dictated. Mr. Sprague, the father of one of the Mist's crew, purchased a beautiful pitcher and cup, both bearing suitable inscriptions, which were to be presented to the winning crew by the prettiest young lady in Elmwood, and so the young oarsmen had something besides the championship to work for.