CHAPTER II.

THE VOYAGE OF THE THUNDERER.

"Who is to be the captain of this craft, Tom?" asked Ash Burton, when the leader of the gang had taken his place at the post of honor.

"I am, of course," replied Tom, opening his mouth from ear to ear in a grin which was intended to express his astonishment that any one should put such a question to him.

"All right," added Ash, with a nod of his head in addition to emphasize his consent; "we will all obey your orders."

"Of course you will. In a boat there can be only one head, and others must do as the captain says," continued the self-appointed skipper.

"You are exactly right there, Tom. On board of the Sylph a fellow is not allowed to say his soul is his own; and if he disobeys the orders of his superior officer, he is shut up in the dark, or something of that sort."

"That's the right way to do it," argued Tom. "If a fellow won't mind the captain, he ought to be shut up, and kept there till he is willing to mind."

"We shall all mind," said Ash; but some of his companions could not help noticing a sort of chuckle as he spoke.

As no one said any thing more on the subject, and all seemed to agree that he should be the captain, Tom proceeded to station his ship's company in the boat. He ordered Ash to take a place beside him in the stern. There was no more than room enough for the six boys, and certainly none for as many more who had taken part in the building of the boat, but were not present at the rigging of the craft.

The Thunderer—for that was the name Tom had given her in spite of the protest of Ash and Sam, who wanted to call her the Boxer, perhaps as a compliment to the leader of the party, but more probably because she was more like a box than a boat—had her bow on the sand at the bank of the creek. Tom directed Sam Spottwood, who was in the forward part of the boat, to shove her off.

The boy addressed had a piece of board in his hand, and he obeyed the order. The clumsy craft slid off the sandbank into the water. The six stout boys in her settled her down so, that Tom began to manifest some signs of timidity; but when she had reached her bearings she did very well, and rested like a log on the water. The hills and trees on each side sheltered the creek in this place from the breeze that was blowing, and the sail hung idly from the gaff.

The boat was provided with a rudder moved by a tiller thrust into a half-inch auger-hole. It was sufficient to move the rudder, and that was all that was expected of it. Tom thought that the boat was a decided success, as she had not yet spilled them out into the creek. The current of the stream was strong enough to set the craft in motion, and she began her maiden voyage down to the little lake.

But she did not pay proper allegiance to her helm, in spite of all the twisting and jerking that Tom bestowed upon the innocent tiller, which was not at all responsible for the erratic course of the Thunderer. She bunted on the sandbars, and even poked her blunt nose into the banks as if she were hunting for muskrats.

"There is some mistake about this boat," said Tom, when he had exhausted his strength and his patience in vain attempts to bring the craft to some definite course.

"What is it, Captain Topover?" asked Ash, winking slyly to Sam in the bow.

"That's more than I know, for every thing seems to be all right about her. The rudder moves when I shift the tiller, but she don't mind it no more than a naughty boy minds his mother," replied Tom, looking over the boat in his efforts to ascertain what the matter was.

Just at that moment, the obdurate Thunderer was whirled by an eddy in the current, and thrown against a log of wood projecting from the bank. She canted over, and Kidd Digfield sprang to his feet. It looked as though the boat were going to spill them all out, but she did not: on the contrary, she rebounded from the obstacle, and went whirling on her way down the stream.

"Sit down, Kidd Digfield!" shouted Tom imperatively. "You have been in a boat enough to know better than to stand up in that fashion. No fellow is to get on his feet, whatever happens."

The skipper had learned this from the discipline of the students, with some of whom he had conversed; and he had often been near enough to their boats to learn something of the way in which they managed them.

"That's right, Captain Topover," said Ash approvingly. "A fellow that stands up without orders in such a craft as this ought to be thrown overboard."

"No matter what happens, no fellow must get on his feet," repeated Tom sternly. "It won't do."

"Suppose the thing upsets or sinks, are we to keep our seats?" asked Kidd, more to bother his commanding officer than for any other reason.

"When it comes to that, it is another thing," replied Tom, with all the dignity he could manage to muster. "Obey the orders of your captain; and when he gets on his feet, it will be time enough for you to do so."

The Thunderer continued to wander and whirl in the current and the eddies, in spite of the best skill of the skipper to prevent it. Ash Burton knew very well what the matter was, but he did not think it proper for a simple sailor to give advice or instruction to the high and mighty captain. Tom was the captain, and it devolved upon him to manage the Thunderer as he thought best.

The boat whirled entirely around sometimes, rudder or no rudder; and Tom did not know what to make of it. He had never seen a boat act so before, and he was sure that none of the school navy behaved in such an unaccountable manner. The progress of the expedition was very slow; and the skipper declared that it would take all day to get to Beechwater at this rate, to say nothing of Lake Champlain, upon whose waves they desired to navigate the Thunderer.

"I say, Sam Spottwood, just use that board of yours a little, and keep the boat from twisting about like a ram's horn," said Tom, when he could devise no other expedient for keeping the boat in a direct course.

"What am I to do with it?" asked Sam, who had some idea of what had been passing in the mind of Ash.

"When you see her whirling about, just stick the board on the bottom, or against the bank, and push her round," added Tom.

Sam obeyed the order when the bow came near enough to the bank for him to touch it. But when he attempted to reach the bottom of the creek, the water was too deep for the length of his stick. The boat whirled again, and Tom reproved the hand forward for not preventing it.

"I can't touch bottom with this oar," replied Sam. "I can only use it when she runs into the bank."

The Thunderer was approaching the stone-quarries, and the creek was wider and deeper than where they had embarked. Tom could give no further orders to remedy the difficulty, and the craft continued to waltz on her course. When they had gone a short distance farther, a slight breeze from behind Beech Hill filled the sail. In that turn of the stream it happened to be fair, and the boat began to move more rapidly through the water.

There was no more trouble about the steering at that moment; for, as soon as she had steerage-way, there was something for the rudder to act against.

"That's the talk!" exclaimed Tom, when he saw the Thunderer behaving like a proper and obedient Thunderer. "She has got over that bad trick, and she steers like a lady now."

The craft reached the hill, and again she was left in a calm. Not a particle of breeze came to fill the sail, and she began to gyrate as she had done before. Tom was vexed; and he tried in vain to solve the mystery, while Ash chuckled at the ignorance and stupidity of the captain of the Thunderer.

Passing the Bristol cottage, which seemed to be closed up, they came into Beechwater. There was a little breeze on the lake, and the sail filled again. But the wind did not come from the same direction as before; and after the sheet—not the main sheet, but the bed-sheet doing duty as a mainsail—had filled once, it refused to fill again. It had been trimmed at random, and was not in position to profit by the light air that came to it.

Ash Burton laughed in his sleeve, and winked at Sam Spottwood. As the Thunderer had passed out of the current, or where the force of it was diffused through the whole breadth of the lake, she ceased to move at all, so far as her gallant skipper could discern.

"Are we going to stop for dinner here?" asked Ash, with another wink at Sam.

"That sail keeps flapping, and there is wind enough; but the boat don't seem to go at all," replied the perplexed commander of the Thunderer. "I wonder what's the matter with her?"

"The captain of the vessel ought to know what ails her," added Ash.

"Well, I don't know; and she won't move at all," added the skipper. "Do you know what ails her, Ash Burton?"

"I don't pretend to know any thing at all about it, and I only obey the captain's orders," answered Ash, winking again at his crony forward.

"If you want to tell me any thing about the matter, I am ready to hear you," continued the captain, nonplussed at the situation.

"I don't want to tell you a single word. I know my place better than to do such a thing. It would be nothing less than mutiny for me to presume to tell the commander of the vessel what to do."

"We will let up a little on that," added Tom, with a grin, which was his apology for receding from his position. "Can you tell me what the matter is?"

"I cannot, but I am ready to obey orders," replied Ash.

Tom Topover took hold of the main sheet,—not the bed-sheet this time, but the rope,—and pulled the boom towards him. He had done so in the process of his investigation, rather than to accomplish any movement. But the effect was the same as though he had done it on purpose.

The moment he hauled in the sail, the wind filled it, and the boat began to go ahead again. Tom was not a fool in all branches of human action, and he could not help seeing how he should keep the sail full. He made fast the sheet; and the boat continued to go ahead, till she was within a short distance of the Goldwing, Dory Dornwood's sloop-yacht.

"Run for the shore, Tom!" suddenly shouted Nim Splugger, who was seated in the middle of the craft.

"What's the matter with you, Nim?" demanded the skipper.

"The putty and cotton is coming out of the cracks, and the boat will be full of water in about two minutes," added Nim.

"That's so!" yelled Kidd. "The water is pouring in like a mill-stream, and we shall be in the lake in a couple of minutes."

The two minutes had not elapsed when the boat was half full, and she rolled over as gently as though she had been a log.