“I don’t know, I am sure. Come with me and lend a hand at the jib. Jones, you had better attend to Coleman now.”
“Shall I give him his money?” asked Jones, who, we forgot to say, had been elected treasurer of the band without one dissenting voice.
“Yes; hand it over, and perhaps he will want to go ashore and spend some of it. You see,” added Enoch, as he and Lester went forward, “our first hard work must be to get rid of Coleman without raising any fuss, and Jones is going to try to induce him to go off with us at Windsor; so keep away from him and let him talk.”
It was so very dark and there were so many ropes leading down the foremast that Lester didn’t see how Enoch could find the one he wanted; but he laid his hand upon it without the least hesitation, and when he began pulling at it, Lester knew enough to take hold and help him. The schooner swung around as the wind filled the sail, and when her bow pointed down the river the fore and main sails were hoisted, and in a few minutes more she was bowling along right merrily. Enoch superintended the work, all the boys lending willing but awkward assistance, and Coleman complimented him by saying that he was quite a sailor.
“And I am the only one on board,” said he, as soon as he found opportunity to speak to Jones in private. “Brigham is a fraud of the first water. There are lots of fellows aboard who make no pretensions, but who know more about a boat in five minutes than he does in a month.”
“His yacht was a cutter, you know,” suggested Jones.
“Oh, get out!” exclaimed Enoch. “He doesn’t know a cutter from a full-rigged ship.”
Lester, who was painfully aware that his ignorance of all things pertaining to a yacht had been fully exposed, was leaning against the weather-rail, heartily wishing himself back at the academy. He then and there resolved that he would never again attempt to win a reputation among his fellows by boasting. It is a bad thing to do; and the boy who indulges in it is sure to bring himself into contempt sooner or later.