“I don’t find any fault, though such a berth as that would have suited me first-rate,” I continued, laughing; but I confess I had but little confidence in my new-made friend’s zeal in my favor.
“It is not too late, Wolf, for my father and I are disgusted with the management of the boat, and it is high time something should be done.”
“We will talk it over by and by,” I added, leaving the cabin.
I put another reef into the mainsail, cast off the painter, which I had made fast to the pier, and pushed off. In a moment the Belle was rolling and pitching in the heavy surges of the lake. With two reefs in her mainsail she would not lie very close to the wind; but I ran her across the lake, intending to work along under the lee of the west shore, partially sheltered by the high bank from the fury of the tempest.
CHAPTER X.
WADDIE IN A NEW CHARACTER.
Even as close-hauled as she could be under the double-reefed mainsail, the Belle flew on her course; but under this short sail she did not labor so heavily as before, and I had no fear but that she would make tolerably good weather of it. As I had anticipated, I found comparatively smooth water under the lee of the west shore; but, with two reefs in the mainsail, I found it impossible to lie close enough to the wind to avoid running out into the heavy sea.
I decided to make a sheltered cove, and turn out the last reef I had put in, satisfied that I could keep close enough under this sail to avoid the savage sea in the middle of the lake. Waddie was reclining upon one of the berths, as comfortable as though he had been in his father’s house, while I was again shivering with the cold and wet to the skin. I supposed he was working up his good resolutions. I never had much hope of Waddie, his temper was so bad and his impulses so violent. On the other hand, it had always seemed to me that a very little improvement would make a good fellow of Tommy Toppleton. It was, therefore, almost incredible that the former should be the first to proclaim his good resolutions, and express a desire to mend his character.
Waddie’s impulses, whether good or evil, appeared to be equally violent. It is true I had never before heard him whisper a doubt that he was not, even morally, the best young man in the vicinity; but his demonstration seemed to be rather too enthusiastic to endure for more than a day or two, or a week at the most. Tommy Toppleton had never, I confidently believe, soared to the elevation of making good resolutions. If he had, there would have been hope of him.
My companion in the boat was engaged in deep and earnest thought. I should not have known any better what he was thinking about if he had told me in so many words. In the face of his earnestness, therefore, I could not help cherishing a slight hope that he would do better—it was not a strong hope. I determined to encourage him as much as I could, and in a gentle way make such suggestions to him from time to time as his case seemed to require.
After all, it was not so surprising that Waddie should have his eyes opened by the exciting events of that day. He had been thoroughly convinced that he was not omnipotent; that there was such a thing as retribution. Probably he was also aware of the extent of the dislike with which the Wimpletonians regarded him. He was no fool, and ordinary perception would have enabled him to comprehend his relations with his associates at the institute. I think he ought to have known all that Dick Bayard had told me; and possibly he was suspicious that his battalion and the stockholders of his steamboat company intended to mutiny against him. At any rate, he was conscious of his own unpopularity; he had acknowledged as much to me. He was in deep thought. I did not disturb him.