The next morning Mr. Douglass, who was reading the “Chicago Tribune,” burst out laughing. “Philip,” said he, “here is part of an account of the cruise of the ‘Santa Maria’—the cruise upon which you saw her.” And, interrupted by the boys’ occasional chuckles, he read aloud as follows:
The old caravel stood out on the waves, queer-looking as compared with modern craft, but full of grace and beauty. When the big square sail was first spread, it took the wind nicely, rounded the pier, and sailed off to the northwest in splendid style.
But when the passengers wanted to turn the caravel there was trouble. Had they continued in a straight line to Michigan all would have been well, but they knew not how to sail the “Santa Maria.” The craft wobbled. The choppy waves tossed it. Though it had braved storms on the Atlantic, it trembled, and its sails became disorganized by the turbulence of the white-topped waves of Lake Michigan.
“It will not sail close to the wind,” said a passenger who claimed to have been out on the lake before.
“Better slow her up,” suggested passenger Millet; “we’re headed for the Forty-third street reef.”
“Who ever heard of a reef on a street?” petulantly returned Sailing-master Hunt.
On flew the caravel until the cheeks of the passengers turned pale, and they pleaded with the captain to turn it about. Its huge hulk was finally swerved just as it scraped the reef. Away it shot again out northwest, more unruly than before.
An hour or so went by. The “Santa Maria” still sped on toward the Michigan fruit-fields. The passengers became hungry. They wanted to go home. A turn about of the caravel was finally made. It shot away toward the Van Buren street pier.
“Land her!” “Land her!” “Ground her!” cried the passengers.
With care the caravel was brought up near enough to the pier to let off the passengers, and the craft was anchored for the night.
Then Mr. Armour said to Millet: “No wonder Columbus discovered America.”
“Why?” inquired the latter.
“Because a man could discover anything in such a craft as the ‘Santa Maria.’ There’s no telling what direction it would carry him. The discovery of America was a ‘scratch.’”
[2] With regard to the little bust of his grandmother, carved in birch-wood, Mr. Zorn says: “I have painted my grandmother a great many times, and the pictures have always been sold, so I made this little carving as something to keep. From beginning to end it was carved from nature and with carvers’ tools. My grandmother,” he adds, “is very picturesque”; but this we do not need to be told, nor that there were probably other reasons why her grandson wished to have a portrait of her; nor again, that this bust probably is a portrait in the fullest, exactest sense of the word. It is a delightful thing in subject as in execution. Every detail of the sweet, strong old peasant face is lovingly rendered, and yet one thinks most not of details or even of features, but of the soul behind them.—“The Century” for August, 1893.
CHAPTER XI
Going after Letters — The Agricultural Building — Machinery Hall — Lunch at the Hotel — Harry’s Proposal — Buffalo Bill’s Great Show.
On Saturday, Philip had heard that for five dollars he could secure permission to use his kodak for a week, and by going to the office of the official photographer on that day and paying the necessary amount, he was able to dismiss from his mind any anxiety about carrying his camera. So on Monday the two boys and Mr. Douglass entered the grounds, fully equipped with note-book, sketch-book, and camera.
Hitherto Philip had been asked but once to exhibit the license, but this time he was challenged by one of the ticket-takers, who shouted to another, “Hi, Jack, here’s a kodak!” But, as it turned out, neither ticket-taker cared to examine the card, and Philip merely waved it, saying, “It’s all right.”
The day was too rainy to risk taking snap-shots, and Philip carried the camera during the forenoon only, and was glad to leave it behind at the hotel when he returned to lunch.