CHAPTER XXIII THE FOUR SQUARE CLUB

At prayers the talk turned on fighting, and Brown got a little mixed as to how you could be friendly and fight at the same time.

“A fellow told me to-day, sir,” said he, “that being friendly helps your grit. I don’t see how you can fight without grit, nor how you can fight and be friendly at the same time.”

“That does seem funny,” answered the Chairman, “but haven’t you ever noticed, when fellows are fighting, that the fellow who gets mad and excited is apt to get the worst of it?”

“Well, I never thought of it, but maybe that’s so,” replied Brown.

“You bet it’s so!” exclaimed Chippie Smith. “It’s as bad as losing your wind, sir! You begin to hit wild--I know that’s right, Billy!”

“Of course it is our sacred duty to fight at certain times,” went on the Chairman. “For instance, our ‘Duty to Our Country’ requires it in time of war, just as ‘Our Duty to God’ requires us, in addition, to fight against temptation every day of our lives. But, in both these cases, we are fighting _for_ something as well as _against_ something, and we are friendly with the something we are fighting for,--whether it is our country and the folks at home, or whether it is the strong and clean man within ourselves. When you are fighting with a big, friendly feeling in your heart, you can’t feel mean and hateful, even to a mean and hateful enemy. You will hate the meanness, but that will only make you sorry for the poor devil who is under the control of his own weakness; you will keep a clear mind and a steady hand, and you will be able to give good, strong blows,--straight from the shoulder. If you get the worst of it, you’ll do your best to come up smiling; and, if you punish the other fellow, you will shake hands with him right away.”

“It’s the spirit you fight with, isn’t it, sir?” suggested Mr. Miller.

“Yes,” answered the Chairman, “when a man has conquered his own bad temper or anger, he becomes able to fight in a generous spirit; and that is probably what your friend meant, Brown, when he said that being friendly helped you to be brave. You see it helps you to keep your mind quiet, and so to keep your judgment true and your balance even.”

“My balance! Yes--that’s right,” thought Billy to himself, with eagerness, thinking of what Ellsworth had been saying just a little while before.

They reached their old anchorage at Hull at about ten o’clock that evening, and the night watch went on duty every hour from then on. Most of the boys below were so fast asleep that they did not hear the rattle of the chain; but there was one who lay awake for some time after, and that was Billy Brown.

The most important of the anchor watches is from four to five in the morning, because all the lights have to be put out at sunrise, in addition to making out the log and the other duties. It so happened that Dick Gray came on at four o’clock, and Tom Sheffield at five. After putting out the lights and looking around for a while in the early morning light, Dick sat down behind the binnacle to write up the log. Just as he had finished his task, he heard a slight splashing sound in the water; and, by the time he had got amidships, he noticed a boy’s head swimming away from the ship’s side.

He was so surprised, that--for the moment--he did not know what to do; and, as he was trying to make up his mind, he saw the boy turn over and float upon his back, with his face toward the ship. He at once recognized Brown and remembered the talk they had had the evening before.

“Gee! the little beggar is testing himself!” thought Dick. “He seems to be getting along all right. He’s doing just what I told him to, and will soon make himself feel at home in the water.”

Billy didn’t stay on his back long, but went on toward a catboat that was moored about fifty yards away from the ship. As Dick stood watching, the boy’s head disappeared behind her bow and then reappeared again around her stern; and, to Dick’s great satisfaction, he saw that Billy was heading back toward the ship. But he seemed to like his little manœuvre of rolling on to his back, for he repeated it several times on the home stretch.

“He doesn’t seem to have thought how he is going to get back over the side,” continued Dick, soliloquizing; “I guess I’d better put the side-ladder down for him.”

Dick was so absorbed in watching the swimmer that he almost forgot to ring the ship’s bell at five o’clock; and, just as he was doing it, Tom crawled sleepily out of the companionway and joined him.

“What do you s’pose, Tom,” said Dick eagerly, but in a low voice, “there’s Billy Brown got into the water, unbeknownst to any one, five minutes ago, and has swum round that boat there, fifty yards off, and is swimming back again--rolling over on his back every now and then, like an old sea-dog, to take a nap. What do you suppose has got into him?”

“Dunno,” said Tom, rubbing his eyes. “Is he the fellow that nearly drowned Chip the other day in a funk?”

“Sure,” replied Dick, decidedly, “that very same. Something must have oiled his works inside.”

“It beats me,” said Tom, and walked off to look at the log.

When Billy got near the ship he noticed the side-ladder and gave Dick a grin which showed that he appreciated the help. He climbed up all dripping and was for grabbing Dick round the waist in his eagerness to give vent to his feelings, not only of gratitude for the ladder, but of relief at the result of his self-imposed test.

“Keep your slimy flippers off me, you porpoise!” said Dick and grinned back at him with sympathy and pleasure.

“Well, you’re a good ’un,” said Brown. “I should have been in a fix if it hadn’t been for the side-ladder. I never thought of how I was going to get back.”

“Get below, now, as quickly as you can,” said Dick, “or maybe the anchor watch will put you on report.”

“Don’t say a word,” said Bill; “I got special permission from the old man last night!”

He then dripped down the companionway to his bunk and managed to escape attention, while Dick went forward and got a mop to wipe up the pool at the spot where they had been talking.

After the regular morning duties were over, the officers met in the cabin to hand in their marks in the different branches of instruction during the cruise. Then the boys were called down, one at a time, to submit to a final test, and it was three hours before they were all through their examinations. The total result was that eleven boys had passed for the rating of Ordinary Seaman, five for Able Seaman, and half a dozen had received commendations in different subjects,--including three in advanced swimming.

Special quarters were held immediately after dinner, and the ratings and commendations given out as a result of the examination.

The sails were then set for the last time, all hands called to the windlass, the anchor weighed, and the _Bright Wing_ quietly dropped down the harbor to her berth in the Navy Yard.

But, before she got there, an important matter was settled by the members of the Triangle Club, who held their meeting in the jib netting. It was Tom who called the meeting to order, and Dick explained the important change he had noticed early that morning in Billy Brown.

“I tell you what, boys,” said he, “it’s no joke for a fellow to break up a habit like that, and I’m dead certain that Billy has made a good start. He’ll make a fine swimmer before long, and he’s shown a lot of grit. I vote we make him a member.”

Tom objected at first, as he hadn’t known Billy particularly well; but, when he realized the struggle that the boy had been through, he heartily gave his consent.

The only difficulty was how to fit a fourth member into the “triangle”; and finally Dick proposed that they should change the name and call it the “Four Square Club.” He then pulled a book out of his pocket; and on the fly-leaf drew the following device:

Billy was immediately informed of his unanimous election and accepted the honor with surprise and delight.

“You’ll have to go through your initiation when we get home!” said Chippie with a grin.

Then came a final “sweep down, fore and aft” to clean up the deck; and, after the sails had all been carefully furled and the gear stowed away, the last good-bys were said and the “Four Square Club” left the dock for the station and took the train to Northbridge together. Dick went along as far as East Northbridge--one station nearer--and the last thing he said was:

“Remember the meeting on Wednesday, boys, and we’ll put Bill through the initiation. Gee!” said he, looking out of the window as the train slowed up, “I’ll be blowed if that isn’t Dad out there now, come to fetch me, with the little mare!”

Every member of the Club turned to gaze at Dick’s father, and watched Dick sling his sea-bag into the back of the open buggy. Then, as he lightly took his seat, the mare, who had been prancing a little, gave a slight spring forward, and they were off.

“Did you notice,” said Tom to the other fellows, “how he gave the mare her head? No hauling and tugging at her mouth!”

“_You bet_ I did!” answered Bill.