CHAPTER XII ANOTHER MEETING OF THE CLUB

During the evening recreation hour, when everybody was on deck, Tom, Chippie, and Dick had a quiet talk below, sitting on Tom’s locker. Each one of the three felt the urgent need of their getting together and talking over, with the utmost frankness, everything that had happened since the morning of the baseball game at Hull; but now that they were sitting alone face to face, there did not seem so very much to say after all, because of their talk on the way back from Salem and Dick’s manly confession before all the boys.

“I’m glad you came out with it all, this morning, Dick,” said Tom. “It must have hurt to have all the fellows know about it, and there was nothing to force you to tell except your honor.”

“Yes,” chimed in Chippie, “you might have covered it up and taken the commendation, and no one would have been any the wiser!”

“Yep,” retorted Dick, with a grim look, “but how do you think I would have felt? Don’t you suppose that dirty trick I played at Hull would have gnawed inside of me? I don’t suppose you fellows know how much it hurts--when you have a right to know better. If it hadn’t been for our talk on the way back from Salem, and the cat, and all that they brought up to me about honor and the scout law, maybe I might have forgotten the Hull business--for the time, anyway; but I’m mighty glad I didn’t. Say, boys,” said he, with a sudden gleam of animation, “it’s like when you’ve eaten something that goes against you; you can’t get right till you’ve thrown it up!”

“To-morrow is Sunday,” said Tom, “and we expect to drop anchor in Northbridge to-night. All hands are going ashore to church in the morning, and there’s liberty in the afternoon. What do you fellows say to a meeting of the Club on Duck Island?”

“A-1!” answered Dick.

“Bet your life!” exclaimed Chippie, “I’d like to hear that story over again about ‘After you, pilot’, and the fellow that went down the manhole. I say, Tom, I think we ought to write that out and keep it in a secret and safe place in the shack. I’m thinking we may like to remind ourselves of that story once in a while. You see this time it was Dick that made a break, and I guess it was because he forgot all about his oath in the excitement of the game. But maybe next time it would be you or me, Tom, that would be tempted in some such way. We might as well be prepared for the worst, and then the enemy can never catch us asleep.”

“You’re a good one, Chip,” cried Dick, and gave his comrade a thump on the back. “That makes me feel that we’re working together, and that the Club is a real live thing. Before you said that, I had a sneaking feeling that nobody could be as bad as I was, and that makes a fellow feel kind of washed out and discouraged.”

“Now it’s time to go on deck, for the fellows will be coming down to prayers in a few minutes,” said Tom. “We’ll write that story out carefully with ink in the shack to-morrow afternoon”; and, as they approached the companionway, Chippie gave Dick a shove up ahead of them and whispered in his ear: “After you, pilot!”

There were only a few minutes to wait on deck before prayers, and Dick felt relieved and refreshed, first, because the load of unacknowledged guilt had rolled off him and had seemed to sink to the bottom of the sea; and secondly, because he felt the respect and sympathy of his brothers-in-arms. Dick Number 1 was in the saddle, and ready for action.

They came to anchor at Northbridge at about nine o’clock that evening, and the next morning all hands landed and went to church. The Northbridge boys then joined their families for dinner, while the others returned on board and landed again in the afternoon to take a hike through the surrounding country. Tom, Dick, and Chippie met, according to their agreement, at the shack on Duck Island at four o’clock.

“You call the meeting to order, Tom,” said Chippie, “that’s your business; and, as Dick’s brother was the one who told us the story, I vote Dick had better tell it to us the best he knows how, only slowly--and I’ll write it down, and you can tell us when you think we’re off the track.”

“Chip’s a pretty good manager, eh, Dick?” said Tom. “Here he orders me to call the meeting to order and then goes on and tries to run it himself! What do you think of that, sonny?”

“All right, Tom, it’s your show,” said Chippie, “only for goodness’ sake, begin.”

“This meeting will now come to order,” said Tom solemnly. “Does everybody agree to what Chippie has said? If so, get your pen and paper ready, Chip, and you, Dick, begin the story.”

There was a pause, and then Dick asked: “What was the name of the ship?”

“_Tecumseh_,” said Tom.

“Write that down, Chip,” said Dick, “the name of the ship was _Tecumseh_”; and then he went on with the facts of the story, helped along by suggestions from Tom and Chippie. It took them quite a long time to get through, but finally they came to the last sentence: “And so Captain Craven gave up his life to do his duty as a good scout, and to keep his oath and law; and so, to remind them of his brave and courteous act, the officers of the Navy have the custom of saying, ‘After you, pilot’ when one of them steps back to make way for another; and also, because we want to be reminded of his brave and courteous act and faithfulness to his oath and law, we--the members of the Triangle Club of Duck Island--have written out this story to read once in a while, and have taken ‘After you, Pilot’ as our motto.”

“I move,” cried Chippie, “that we adopt this as the charter of the Club.”

“What’s a charter?” asked Dick.

“It means what the Club’s about,” said Chippie quickly.

“Well, if that’s so,” answered Dick, “I think there ought to be something else in the Charter.”

“What’s that?” asked the others eagerly.

“Why, what we said in the beginning, when we first read the story, that each one of us pledges himself to do his best, first, to keep the law himself as well as he can, and then to help the others to do the same thing; and--not only that--but each one will tell any other, when he sees him sliding off, the way you talked to me coming back from Salem.”

Dick’s motion was unanimously agreed to, and then all three stood up and took hold of hands to confirm their pledge, thus also forming the triangle which was the symbol of the Club. They then all three solemnly signed the document, affixing their scout signs: