Whistler; or, The Manly Boy

by Walter Aimwell

After breakfast, active preparations were made for the excursion; and promptly, at the hour appointed, all of the company invited were assembled upon the wharf where the yacht lay. The “Echo,” as she was called, was rigged as a sloop,—that is, she had but one mast, and a bowsprit. She was of about twenty-five tons burden, and looked quite small by the side of the huge ships of ten or twelve hundred tons which surrounded and overshadowed her. While these leviathans towered high above the wharves, the modest Echo sat so low in the water that the party had to go down a ladder to reach her deck. She was a neat, trim, and graceful craft, however, and everything about her was scrupulously clean. A blue pennant was flying from her masthead.

The party seated themselves in the stern of the yacht, where they found very good accommodations, while the skipper and his two men—who constituted the whole crew—took their positions forward. Having cast off their lines, they hoisted the jib, and began to push out from the wharf. Both the wind and tide were contrary, and it required some nautical skill to get out into the stream. Once clear from the wharf, the first thing they did was to run into a small row-boat, and the next was to thump against the side of a large steamboat which lay at the opposite wharf. No harm was done, however; and, after a few unintelligible orders from the skipper,—who had now taken his post at the helm,—they swung clear of every obstacle, the mainsail was hoisted, and they were under way.

The wind being in an easterly direction, the yacht was obliged to “beat out,” as it is called; that is, instead of taking a direct course for the outer harbor, she had to sail in zigzag lines, approaching very gradually towards the point to which she was bound. The first “tack,” as the sailors term the course of a ship when beating against the wind, took the Echo close to the shore of East Boston. A large steamship, just arrived from Europe, was entering her berth; and, at the request of several of the party, the captain of the yacht sailed up to within a few yards of her, giving all on board a fine opportunity to inspect the huge and stately leviathan. What an impression of strength and beauty, of gigantic power and indescribable grace, did they derive, as they gazed up from their frail and tiny craft upon the towering walls of this ocean monster! A crowd was assembled upon the wharf, awaiting the landing of the passengers; and several small boats were hovering around, drawn thither, probably, like the Echo, by curiosity. Altogether, it was a very lively and interesting scene. After sailing slowly by the steamship, the Echo was put upon a new tack, heading towards the opposite side of the stream. In taking these tacks from one side to the other, considerable skill was required to steer clear of the numerous vessels of all sorts that were lying in the course of the yacht.

“Beautiful!” “charming!” “splendid!” were exclamations that frequently arose above the general buzz of conversation, in the stern, as the Echo glided smoothly over the waters. Nor were these extravagant terms; for a sail down Boston harbor, on such a day, and in such a craft, is one of the pleasantest excursions that can be imagined. But, while some of the party were enjoying the beautiful views that presented themselves, others, and especially the boys, were engaged in watching their boat, and in examining its various appointments.

“What queer seats these are! What is the object of making them in that shape?” inquired Clinton, as he examined a stool that was shaped somewhat like an hour-glass, and was made of tin, and painted, with the name of the yacht inscribed upon it.

“That is a life-preserver, as well as a stool,” replied Whistler. “If any one should fall overboard, they would throw him one of these stools, and that would keep his head above water till they could get him out.”

“Now, look out for your heads, ladies, if you please!” said the captain, as he was about to swing the boom around to the other side of the boat, for the purpose of changing the tack.

“No matter about the gentlemen’s heads!” said Whistler; and, suiting the action to the word, he sat upright until the boom came upon him, and then, dodging it a little too late, it took his hat from his head, and, but for a quick movement on his part, would have sent it whirling into the water.

“If you had sat still a moment longer, Willie, we might have had an opportunity to experiment with one of these life-preservers,” said Marcus.