CHAPTER XVIII A CLEARING SKY AND A FRESH START

At prayers that night, the talk turned naturally enough on Law Number 10,--“A Scout is Brave.”

“There are very few men,” said the Chairman, “and perhaps fewer boys, who do not suffer from fear of some sort at one time or another. If they let the fear get the best of them without making any effort to overcome it, they become cowards, and their weakness goes on increasing and tends to weaken them in everything they undertake to do. A thoroughgoing coward is the most untrustworthy kind of man possible; and, at the same time, the most to be pitied, for he has no refuge from his fear, and must continue to suffer till he has faced and overcome it. It does not matter what we are afraid of, so long as we give in to fear; and, if one terror is removed from the outside, another is likely to take its place at any time. I want you boys to understand this: that nothing in the world is more frightful than to be under the control of selfish fear; and, when we have the habit of controlling our fear, nothing in the world is unendurable, and nothing in the world need be terrifying.

“Some people are born with certain special kinds of fear, like the fear of water or of fire, and such things are no more their fault than the color of their eyes or hair; but it is very decidedly their fault if they do not work and learn to overcome them. It is the greatest mistake to imagine that they cannot be controlled and entirely conquered. I have had a good talk with Brown this evening, and he understands that the panic he was in while swimming was in itself a contemptible thing, but he does not propose to let it control him. Panic, or uncontrolled fear, is very selfish; and, in this case, Brown sees that he might have drowned Smith as well as himself if his hold hadn’t been broken. He understands that his own life would not be worth saving if this weakness should continue to master him, and of course he will make it his particular business to get the best of it.

“Lots of boys have been through hard fights with themselves about such matters, and there is not one of us here to-night who has not some weak spot over which he must keep a careful watch for the sake of his honor,--his obligation to duty and to God.”

“Please, sir,” said a small voice from the back row, “the first time I went over the masthead, I was so scared I thought I never should get down again; but the next time it went better, and the next time after that I didn’t mind it at all.”

The Chairman recognized in the speaker one of the younger scouts; and, before he could make any reply, Brown piped up from the other side of the deck:

“That’s the same as me, sir, only Dick Gray, he helped me over the worst of it. Now I had just as lief go over as eat my dinner.”

“That’s well,” replied the Chairman. “What you’ve got to do from now on is to learn to like the water--and the deep water--as much as you like going over the masthead.”

The weather was somewhat uncertain when they turned into their bunks that night, and, at about half-past one the next morning, Mr. Miller climbed up on deck very quietly, to find out what the prospects were for sailing around the Cape. The wind seemed to have veered to the northwest and blew cool in his face as he looked up to the sky. There appeared to be no clouds in any direction, and the stars were shining brightly wherever the sky could be seen. He did not see the anchor watch at first, although the rough log was in its place near the binnacle light on the cabin house. He walked forward, thinking that the watch might be for the moment in the jib netting; but, as he turned around to come aft again, he noticed the small figure of a boy in a watch cap coming down the fore rigging. He recognized Dick Gray as the latter stepped on to the deck and saluted.

“What were you doing up aloft, Dick?” asked Mr. Miller.

“Looking at the stars, sir. You can’t see them so well from the deck, on account of the spars and rigging.”

“Have you got the log all written up?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Dick, “and she’s heading just about north, the same direction that I was looking.”

“What were you trying to make out?” They spoke with subdued voices so as not to disturb the sleepers.

“Well, sir, I was trying to make out the great wheel turning around the Pole-star; that is, I was trying to see it turn, but the water’s so unsteady that it’s hard work telling whether you can see it turn or not.”

Now Mr. Miller was very much interested in the stars, and was fond of coming up on deck at night to take a look at the heavens now and then, and so the question Dick had raised was one that interested him quite as much as it did Dick.

After he had thought for a few minutes he finally said:

“It _is_ a difficult thing to observe unless you have some fixed and conspicuous object in the landscape to watch the turning stars go past. If we could stay here all night, though, or even for three or four hours, we would easily notice the change in their positions. But our night watches aren’t arranged for the study of astronomy; it’s too bad, isn’t it?”

“I was thinking, sir, if I could make a little rough chart of the principal northern stars as they are now, it might be interesting to compare their positions with the way they look in the early evening.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Mr. Miller cordially, “have you anything to draw a circle with?”

“No, I haven’t up here, sir.”

“Well, here’s a fifty-cent piece, and you go aft and make your chart while I keep my eyes and ears open toward the water for you.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Dick, and ran aft with the fifty-cent piece. First he drew the circle and then made two lines crossing each other through the center at right angles. The whole circle represented the course of the stars in twenty-four hours, and each quarter, of course, would represent six hours. He made just a dot for the North Star, close to the center, and then placed the Great Dipper, with its pointers, in the right position at one extremity of the circle, and “Cassiopeia”, in the shape of a “W”, nearly opposite to it, on the other side, in this way:

“Now,” thought he, “if I get a chance to-night before prayers, I’ll make another sketch then. That’ll be about eighteen or nineteen hours from now, and they ought to have turned about three-quarters of the way round the circle by that time.” He then took a look at his watch, and found he had three minutes to wait before ringing four bells at two o’clock; so he returned the silver coin to Mr. Miller and took his station near the bell, watch in hand.

Meantime Mr. Miller went below, and Dick slipped down the berth deck ladder to call his successor, who happened to be Tom Sheffield. They came on deck together and Tom rubbed his eyes sleepily.

“See,” said Dick, as he turned to go down the ladder to his bunk, “if you want to look at something nice, when you’ve got through with the log, just crawl up the fore-rigging to the crosstrees and look around. So long!”

Next morning the wind was blowing moderately from the northwest, the sky was bright and clear, but there was quite a heavy sea rolling from the effects of the storm. Everything was favorable to an early start, and the weather was especially good for getting around the Cape, for no seamen like to pass anywhere near Pollock Rip and the other rocks on the eastern side in thick or foggy weather. After they were out of the harbor, and had passed Long Point Light, they beat up against the wind for a couple of hours till they got about three miles outside of Race Point, where the sheets were slackened and the ship ran free. It was not altogether a comfortable motion for the green hands; for, as they were running with the wind, they did not feel the breeze in their faces, and a fresh breeze in your face is a great thing for seasickness; but the air, such as it was, was cool and clear, and the ship was all alive with the rolling motion of the waves. The wind held in about the same direction pretty much all day; and, having made a particularly early start, by four o’clock in the afternoon they were off the southeast corner of the Cape.

They had set sail at four o’clock that morning, and Clarence Ellsworth was on watch with his section until after breakfast. From eight o’clock till noon, Ronald Jones--the new “B. M.”--came on; but, much to Mr. Miller’s disappointment, he did not seem to be doing any better, so that even his messenger was tardy with the ship’s bell.

The westerly wind seemed to put a keen edge on all the appetites aboard, and at dinner the conversation was quite as lively as the knives and forks.

Jones’s section sat at the end of the table opposite the Chief “B. M.” and, during a comparative lull in the general noise and clatter, Jones’s voice was heard saying, in a domineering tone:

“Didn’t you hear what I told you? I told you to eat up that piece of fish,--the _whole_ of it.”

The general attention was arrested by the sound of this unusual command, and another boy’s voice was heard to answer:

“It’s a second help, Ronald, and I got too much; I can’t help that.”

Jones’s voice grew more angry, and he did not seem to realize that the whole company were listening to his remarks.

“I don’t care whether it’s your second help or your twenty-second. You do what I say, or I’ll put you on report!”

There was no answer to this remark excepting the fact that the order was not obeyed, as the signal was given to leave the table before the remaining quantity of fish could be consumed; and, in accordance with his threat, Jones reported the matter to Jack Perkins--as Chief “B. M.”--immediately after dinner.

“It’s too bad,” said Mr. Wentworth, when Jack brought the matter to him. “I’m afraid that’s another bad mark against Jones. He’s too slack with his orders about work, and he’s over-keen about trifles and his personal authority. It takes more common sense than that to make a good petty officer.”

During the afternoon they passed Chatham on their starboard side, and hauled in the sheets off Monomoy Island to make the passage through Pollock Rip Slue and then past Shovelful and Handkerchief lightships. Just as they were finally heading directly for Vineyard Haven, the lookout cried: “Ship ahoy!”

“Where away?” called the voice of the Captain, who was at the wheel.

“Straight ahead, sir,” was the answer of the lookout.

“Can you make her out?”

“Seems like a rowboat full of people!” was the answer.

The Captain called the mate to the wheel and sent the messenger for his glasses, then he went forward himself and made a careful examination of the little dot on the water to which the lookout had called his attention. The glass revealed the fact that there was a small mast in the boat, although she carried no sail, at which a flag was flying upside down, evidently as a signal of distress. Meantime the Chairman and Mr. Miller had come up and joined the Captain in the bow, and it was decided to keep the vessel right on her course until they reached the boat ahead of them.

“They must have had to abandon their ship somewhere outside,” remarked the Chairman, “and, when the wind changed after the storm, they had to row against it to make for shore.”

“Yes,” answered the Captain, who still had the glasses up to his eyes. “I caught a glimpse of an oar just then, in the sunlight, but they can’t have more than two, and it’s a long pull they have ahead of them in a rough sea, with a load like that.”

“I suppose they are making for Nantucket, but that must be fourteen miles off, and they couldn’t possibly get there before nightfall.”

So they talked back and forth until gradually they began to make out more and more distinctly the details in and about the boat and its crew.

Chippie was standing near by as the conversation between the Chairman and the Captain took place. He immediately ran off to find Tom and Dick and tell them the news, which spread like wildfire all over the ship; and it was as much as the boys on watch could do to attend to their regular duties without stopping frequently to peer at the little boat in the distance ahead of them.