A Sailor in Spite of Himself

by Harry Castlemon

Bob Nellis, the owner and stroke of the Zephyr, was a splendid fellow in every respect. Every one said so except Gus Layton and his set. They did not like him, and the reason was because they were jealous of him. He always stood among the first five in his class, and in athletic sports, in which Gus was particularly anxious to excel, Bob was as far ahead of him as he was in his studies. But Bob had been a changed boy of late. He was almost as gloomy as Gus himself. His mother died when he was too young to remember her, and now that his father was gone he was alone in the world. Besides his uncle he had not a relative to whom he could go for advice or assistance, and to apply to him for either he had already made up his mind was quite out of the question. The students all sympathized with Bob in his troubles, and this was another thing that aroused the ire of Gus Layton, who declared he could not see what there was in that pauper to draw the fellows to him. This much to introduce our two principal characters, and to show how they stand with regard to each other and to the world.

While the rival crews were taking their stations and listening to their final instructions, the Firefly, with Johnny Parker at the helm, was making as good use of her time as she possibly could with the very light breeze that was blowing, and presently ran her bow upon the beach.

"Now, Simp, make yourself scarce about here, and remember that henceforth I want to see and hear as little of you as possible," said Johnny, jumping out and running up the bank, waving his handkerchief above his head as he went. "A boy who knows all that you do, and who goes until this late day without telling it to anybody, I have no use for."

"Oh, now, he's going to blow on me!" whined Simpson, his face growing white with alarm. "Come back here, Johnny. Just consider what a mess you will get me into. Call him back, boys!"

"Just consider what a mess Sprague will be in if he rows in that race," replied Johnny, plunging recklessly into the crowd.

The spectators looked after him as he elbowed them right and left, and wondered if he had taken leave of his senses. Johnny was a lively runner for a little fellow, but he had a good distance to go, and the crowd was so dense that he could scarcely work his way through it. Still he succeeded in attracting the attention of his friend Sprague, who, believing that Johnny was urging him to do his best to win the race, gave him a sign of recognition, and then he grasped his oar with a firmer hold, as if to show that he understood him.

While Johnny was yet too far off to make his words heard, he saw the eight rowers suddenly bend their bodies forward, hold their oars poised in the air for a moment, and then dip them so nearly together that they all seemed to strike the water at the same instant. Johnny was too late to stop the race. With a sigh of regret he worked his way out of the crowd, and seating himself upon an elevated part of the shore, where he was comparatively alone, he fixed his eyes upon the Zephyr and waited to see Bob's oar snap in his hand.

The two boats moved away together and for a few yards kept side by side; but it was only for a few yards, for Bob, who had set out to win, and could be satisfied with nothing else than taking the lead at once and keeping it through to the end, put on a desperate spurt, in which he was faithfully backed by his crew, and in less time than it takes to tell it the Mist was behind, and falling further behind every moment. But why did not Bob's oar break? He was rowing with more vigor and determination than Johnny had ever seen him exhibit before, and although the tough piece of wood he held in his hand bent like a whipstock, it never cracked. Surely no oar that had been cut half in two could stand any such outlay of strength. Johnny was completely bewildered, and so were a score of other students, all Gus Layton's friends, who were waiting with a good deal of anxiety and impatience for the catastrophe which Johnny so much dreaded. There was still another who was interested in the matter, and who was just then learning something about it Johnny would have been delighted to know. It was Simpson.

That young gentleman thought from the expression on Johnny's face that he had better take him at his word and make himself scarce about there. Filled with apprehension, and wondering what would become of him if Johnny succeeded in stopping the race, he sprang ashore, ran up the bank, and stationed himself where he could see all that passed. When he saw the boats start off in spite of Johnny's frantic signals he drew a long breath and once more turned his face toward the beach, intending to be on hand to hear what Bob had to say about his broken oar when he came back. In order to avoid the crowd he was obliged to pass close to the academy building, and as he was hurrying along he heard his name pronounced in low and cautious tones. Looking up, he saw one of Gus Layton's right-hand men, Scotty, (quite as often called Friday, for the reason that Gus always looked to him to do any work that he did not feel inclined to do himself), who was leaning half-way out of a third-story window, beckoning eagerly, and at the same time taking care to be seen by no one but the boy below.

"Oh, Simp, don't say a word, but come up here directly," whispered Scotty, in great excitement. "It is all out, and there's bound to be an awful row when the boats get back."