CHAPTER IV.

A MUTINY, AND A NEW SKIPPER.

Ash Burton did not believe that Tom Topover could handle the Goldwing; and he was anxious to have him appeal to him for assistance, which, however, he had decided not to render while the present incumbent remained as captain. Tom was sailing the boat away from the wharf, and two of the party at least were strongly opposed to doing so. The wind was fair for the wharf, but Tom had not the most remote idea of the way to bring the sloop about. His nautical education had been confined to rowboats.

Ash walked forward to the forecastle, where Sam Spottwood had seated himself. He was fully resolved to give the skipper rope enough so that he could hang himself, and prove his own incompetency. There was hardly wind enough in Beechwater to upset the boat, and the emergency was to be something else that would call him to command.

"We are going away from the wharf," said Sam, when his friend seated himself by his side.

"Of course we are; I am not exactly blind. Tom don't know enough to bring the boat about, and that's what's the matter," replied Ash.

"I believe the fellow means to go off on the lake," added Sam.

"Not a bit of it! He couldn't get her down the river if he tried a week. No; he couldn't even get her through the outlet, for at the turn he will have the wind dead ahead," chuckled Ash.

Tom Topover at the helm looked as though he were supremely contented with his position. He had got the hang of the wheel so far as to be able to steer the sloop when there were no complications. By trial he found that when he pulled the spokes towards him, sitting on the weather side, it caused the bow to swing in the same direction. If he turned the wheel too much, it felt as though the boat would tip over. Turning it too much the other way, made the wind shake the sail as it was "spilled." This was the extent of the skipper's present skill in sailing a boat.

The Goldwing moved rapidly even in a light wind, and she was soon near the outlet. It looked as though Tom meant to go through, for he made no attempt to check the further progress of the sloop in this direction. Sam protested that he must not go any farther: the navigation of the outlet was difficult, and it required all Dory Dornwood's skill to carry her through with a west wind.

"Why don't you say something to him, Ash?" asked Sam, beginning to be anxious about the result of the venture.

"He is the skipper, and I don't want to interfere with him," replied Ash very decidedly.

"But he means to run away with the boat, and we don't agree to that," remonstrated Sam. "He don't know what to do, even if he don't intend to take a cruise on the lake; and you ought to tell him, for you are the only fellow on board that knows any thing about a sailboat. He will get us all into a scrape that we did not bargain for."

"I tell you he can't get through the outlet," replied Ash impatiently. "When he gets her aground, as you may be sure he will, all we have to do is to jump ashore and go home."

"We had no business to come down here in the boat, and I want to get out of the muddle before it gets any hotter," persisted Sam.

"You have a tongue in your head, and you know how to use it. Why don't you talk to Tom yourself?" inquired Ash.

"I don't know any thing more about a sailboat than I do about making turtle-soup," added Sam.

"That won't prevent you from telling Tom to come about and go to the wharf by the boat-house."

Sam Spottwood had not thought of this before. If he told the skipper to go back, he thought he must explain how it was to be done.

"This won't do, Tom Topover!" said he vigorously, as he walked aft through the standing-room. "We are going away from the wharf all the time, and we shall never get there at this rate."

"I suppose you don't know much about a boat, but you have to sail as the wind will let you," replied Tom in an airy manner, as though he comprehended the subject perfectly.

"I don't know any thing about a sailboat, but I think it is high time we were getting near the wharf," added Sam.

"I was just thinking so myself, and I will turn her about now," said Tom, as he cast his eyes about him like a prudent sailor before he changes the position of his vessel.

In this part of the lake the country was more open than farther up the creek, and the wind from the great lake came fresh over the lowlands at the mouth of Beaver River. As Sam spoke, the breeze freshened; and, as the boat happened to have a "good full," she heeled over till her gunwale was very near the surface of the water. This sudden jerk frightened all in the boat except Ash Burton; and the captain more than any one else, for he felt the responsibility of his position.

Tom Topover was bound to do something to counteract the pressure of the wind against the sail; and he put the helm hard up, instead of hard down as he should have done. He neglected to cast off the main sheet, which he had made fast to the cleat. The result was that the boat came as near going over as she could in that amount of wind. The skipper was so mixed up that he did not know what to do next, and he moved the wheel over the other way as soon as the boat had gybed. A moment later the Goldwing repeated the operation, for she was not used to being handled in this clumsy manner.

Tom whirled the wheel from one side to the other, for he did not know what he was about; and finally she was again headed into the outlet, with her sail drawing on the starboard tack. He could make her go as she had gone before, and that was all he could do.

Ash Burton was used to the movements of a boat, even when badly managed; and he was not at all alarmed, for they were close to the shore. He laughed at the struggles of the skipper to set things to rights.

"I thought you were going to the wharf," said Sam, as soon as he had recovered in some measure from his fright. "You are headed the wrong way."

"She won't go the other way," protested Tom.

"The wind is west, and it ought to take us the other way as well as this," Sam objected.

"But it won't take us that way," replied Tom sharply. "Haven't I just tried it?"

"But you don't know how to manage the boat," protested Sam, disgusted with the conduct of the captain.

"Who says I don't know how?" demanded Tom, who never admitted his inability to accomplish any thing he undertook to do.

"I say so, and you have proved it. I believe you mean to take us out on the lake."

"Well, what if I do? I don't believe the fellows will object to a trip on the lake in this boat," replied Tom, willing to take the clew the mutinous hand had given him.

"I object to it, and for one I won't go on any trip on the lake. You don't know how to manage the boat, and you will drown the whole of us."

"I guess I know what I am about; and if you don't dry up, Sam Spottwood, I'll bat you over the head. I am the captain of this ship, and I ain't goin' to have any feller stick his nose into my baked beans," returned the skipper angrily.

Sam was not a coward; but he had never measured his skill with Tom, and he did not care to quarrel in the boat. He went forward again, and he and Ash agreed to jump ashore as soon as they got a chance.

The boat was now fairly in the outlet of Beechwater. The course for a short distance was the same as before. The current could be felt as the lake narrowed into a stream of less than a twentieth part of its width, and the Goldwing increased her pace. The turn in the stream would bring the wind dead ahead in a moment. Tom Topover kept his eyes wide open; but he might as well have shut them tight, for he did not know where the channel was, and he could not have kept the boat in it if he had known.

It was necessary to change the course of the sloop to prevent her from running into the bank, and Tom shifted the helm to send her in the direction of the most water. The sail shook, and the boat began to swing about, as it was quite proper for her to do; but he met her with the helm too soon, not knowing any thing about his business, and the sloop lost her headway, so that she missed stays. The next moment she drifted into the shallow water, and was aground close to the bank, which was a little higher than the forecastle of the craft.

Ash Burton saw his opportunity at once, and without a word to any one he leaped upon the land. Sam Spottwood followed him without a moment's delay. The sail hung loosely from the gaff, and was slapping and banging in a manner that was trying to the nerves of the inexperienced skipper. The noise seemed to be an element of danger to him, though it was entirely harmless. He saw the two members of his crew leap ashore, and this step on their part contributed to complete his demoralization.

"What are you about, Ash Burton?" demanded Tom, as he saw his late companions seat themselves on the grass.

"About to quit that trip," replied Ash. "I have had enough of it if you are not going to the wharf as we agreed in the beginning."

"I am ready to go to the wharf, but the boat would not sail that way," the skipper explained.

"She would sail that way as well as the other; but you don't know how to handle her, and you have made a mess of the whole thing," continued the mutineer.

"Perhaps you think you can sail her up to the wharf?" added Tom, with a withering sneer.

"I know I could before she got aground."

"No, you couldn't! What's the use of talking? You couldn't do it, for no boat will go where the wind won't take 'em. I'll bet two cents against a leather cabbage you can't do it!" continued Tom, who seemed suddenly to have recovered his usual tone.

"Of course I can't now that the boat is aground, with her bottom buried in the mud."

"We can shove her out of this in two minutes, and then I will give you a chance to see what you can do," added Tom, who thought this was a good way of getting out of the scrape without confessing his own incompetency.

"All right; we will help you," replied Ash, who felt that he was gaining his point. "I will sail the boat to the wharf if you will make me captain, for I can't handle the sloop unless I have full power."

"All right; you shall be captain till we get to the wharf," replied Tom.

"Throw the painter ashore, and perhaps we can pull her off," continued Ash.

Sam and he manned the line; and while those on board pushed with the oars and boat-hook, they dragged the Goldwing into deep water, for only her bow was in the mud. Ash and Sam returned to the boat.

With an oar the new skipper swung the boat about, and filled the sail on the port tack. Greatly to the surprise of Tom, the Goldwing started off on her new course at a lively rate, and a moment later was in the lake, and headed for the wharf.