“Whom have you seen, Brigham?” asked Jones, as the two met again just before the supper call was sounded. “All right. Enoch and I have seen the rest, and have found them all true blue. There’s not a single weak-kneed one among them. We mustn’t leave the camp in a body, you know, for that might excite suspicion; but we’ll see them in Bridgeport to-morrow afternoon, and tell them to be at Haggert’s dock at dark.”
They were all going, that was evident, and Lester did not see how he could refuse to accompany them. If he feigned illness or neglected to ask for a pass, he would surely be found out and accused of cowardice, and then the boys would have nothing more to do with him. There were few outside the band who ever took the trouble to speak to him, and if they deserted him he would be lonely indeed.
“And more than all, Williams and Jones would refuse to go home with me, and that would knock my visit to Maryland in the head,” said Lester to himself. “That wouldn’t be at all pleasant. I shall have a harder time at Rochdale than I ever had before. Don and Bert Gordon will be sure to tell all the people there how I have acted ever since I came to the academy, and what a coward I was on the night the false alarm was given, and they will make it so disagreeable for me that I can’t stay. I must stick to those boys, for they are the only friends I have. I believe I’ll turn the command of the yacht over to Enoch. He wants it and I don’t; and if I give it up to him of my own free will, perhaps it will increase his friendship for me.”
Lester breathed easier after he made this resolution, and, although he did not enjoy his sleep that night, he did not look forward with so many gloomy forebodings. He received his pass and his money when he asked for them, and in company with Jones set out for Bridgeport. They directed their course toward Haggert’s dock, and when they reached it Lester obtained his first view of a sea-going yacht. One glance at her was enough to satisfy him that he could do nothing with her, and he suddenly thought of an excuse for saying so.
“Is that the schooner?” he asked, as he and his companion seated themselves on a spar that was lying on the dock.
“Why, of course she’s a schooner,” exclaimed Jones, looking up in surprise. “A vessel of that size wouldn’t be square-rigged, would she? Can’t you see that she is a fore-and-after?”
“Not being blind I can,” replied Lester, loftily. “I inquired if she was the schooner—the one we are going to take.”
“Oh!” replied Jones. “Yes, I suppose she is, but I can very soon find out,” he added, as he drew his handkerchief from his pocket. “If that man who is lounging in the cockpit is Coleman, I can bring him ashore.”
“Having always been used to plenty of sea-room, I am not sure that I can handle the schooner in this narrow river,” said Lester.