Chapter 8

THE SECOND LESSON

It was hard work for the boys to confine their attention to their studies during the next few days; but Frank Sedley made a severe struggle to do so, and succeeded very well. Perhaps he accomplished as much or more by his efforts to induce his companions not to be carried away by the fascinations of boating as by the efforts of his own will. It was plain enough that his father would not permit the Zephyr to interfere with the studies of the boys, and he represented this danger very strongly to his friends. They all did their best to keep their minds fixed upon the lessons, and they made a reasonable success of their efforts. But they were all looking forward to Saturday afternoon with eager anticipations; and when it came, they were at the flat rock which served as a landing-place half an hour before the appointed time.

The Zephyr was there; and so was Uncle Ben, who gave them all a pleasant greeting, and made quite a long speech about the necessity of keeping cool, and not spoiling the practice of the club, as they called it, though it had not yet been organized, by their foolish hurry and impatience. They all promised to be as cool as Nelson at Trafalgar; and no doubt they all intended to keep their promise, but the fascination of working the new boat sometimes proved to be too much for them.

"Where are the flags, Uncle Ben? We haven't put them up yet," said Frank.

"Here they are, my boy," replied the old sailor, taking them from the cushioned seat in the stern-sheets. "The blue silk one, with silver stars around the letter 'Z,' goes in the bow. You'll find a place for it there, Tony, and you may put it up. Here is the American flag, and it goes in the starn. You will find a place for it, Frank; put it there."

The two boys inserted the end of each staff in the socket prepared for it, and the breeze spread out the flags to the great delight of the juvenile boatmen. They made the boat look very gay and jaunty, and seemed to give the finishing glory to the beautiful craft. The boys wanted to get into the boat, but Uncle Ben would not permit one of them to do so; everything must be done in shipshape order.

"Now, Frank, you'll take your place in the starn-sheets, and call off the numbers," said the instructor. "Don't jump, boys, like you was goin' to ketch a rabbit, but like you was goin' to the grocery store for half a pound of tea."

"We will make a funeral gait of it," added Fred Harper.

"Don't you do so; walk nateral, like a Christian, and don't hurry a bit," said the old sailor. "If you are in such a flurry as you were yesterday, I cal'late to go ashore with you, and let you cool off for three days. If you can't keep cool, you can't do nothin'."

"We'll make a funeral of it, Uncle Ben," said Joseph Barton.

"We don't want no funeral on't. Jest be nateral; that's all. We're goin' through all you larned the other day; and I want you to do it jest as you study your lessons in school. Call off the numbers, Frank."

"One;" and Tony Weston took his place.

"Two;" and Ned Graham took his seat.

All the numbers were called, and all the crew were then in their places. Ben had a card in his hand on which Fred Harper had written the name of every boy against his number, so that the old sailor could learn whom he had in the boat.

"Now, youngsters, look on your thwarts, and you will find a cross on 'em, a small chalk-mark. Stand up, and you will see 'em."

They all obeyed the direction; and they did it very quietly.

"Good, boys! You did that very well, and none of you didn't fall overboard. You see the chalk-marks; and they are not in the middle of the thwart, but half-way between the middle and the gunwale. Set down on the mark. That's it; well done. You are put over nearer one side than the other to give you a better purchase on your oars. You are toler'ble cool now, and act more like human critters than you did t'other day, and we are ready to go to work. Mind what I said about the bow and stroke oarsmen. Go on, Frank."

"Stand by!" said the coxswain.

"That means 'Ready!' as the sojers use the word," Uncle Ben explained. "Here at the landing, you know just what's comin' next. Go on, Frank."

"Ready! Up oars!" continued Frank, making a slight pause between the commands.

"Good!" said the old seaman. "The captain's monkey couldn't do it half as well as that!"

"Keep your seat, Ned Graham," said Tony in a low tone, when the other bowman was going to take his oar.

"Shove off!" Frank commanded while all the oars were still up in the air.

Tony and Fred Harper took the boat-hooks, and with the help of the ones next to them shoved the boat far away from the rock.

The two bow and the two stroke oarsmen elevated their oars, and the whole twelve were then in unison.

"Good!" almost shouted the teacher. "That was done beautiful! Go on, Frank."

"Stand by!" said Frank; though this warning command is not often used, but the coxswain wished to do all he could to keep the oarsmen cool and collected. "Let fall!"

The blades all struck the water as one, and not a single one touched the gunwale. Not one failed to ship his oar, or drop it into the rowlock.

"You all act like you had been made over since we met last," said Ben, rubbing his hands with delight.

"We have been studying up this thing, Uncle Ben," Fred Harper explained. "At recess every day we practised it together, and some one filled out what the others had forgotten. We have tried to be perfect."

"Glad to hear it, youngsters; and you have been very near perfect so far. Go on, Frank."

"Stand by! Give way together!"

This was the most difficult movement of the whole; but the boys, for this reason, had practised it the most in their thoughts, and in their dummy rehearsals, and it was done as well as the others had been, much to the surprise of Uncle Ben, who had been sure they would fail on this command. They did not fail, and caught the stroke as well as though they had been practising for a month. The boat went off at great speed; and Ben had hardly a word of fault to find with the rowing, though he corrected some of the individual movements. He permitted the crew to pull the whole length of the lake; but Frank, prompted by Ben, had slowed them down to the measured stroke of the cutter of a man-of-war.

"Stand by to lay on your oars!" said the coxswain, when the boat was approaching the mouth of the river. "Oars!"

The crew instantly levelled their oars, feathering the blades. Not one of them was permitted to touch the water. This manoeuvre was executed quite as well as the others had been, and the boys were praised without stint by the venerable instructor.

"Give way!" said Frank, always prompted by the old sailor at his side in a low tone, so that most of the oarsmen believed that the coxswain acted on his own responsibility.

"Stand by to toss!" he continued. "Toss!"

The oars all went up as one, the handles resting on the bottom of the boat.

"Let fall!" Frank proceeded with the drill, and with only a very short pause between the two commands; but the oars all dropped into the water, and were shipped with entire unity. "Give way!" he added; for the 'together' is used as a rule only when the boat starts from the shore or another craft.

"Stand by to hold water!" said Frank a little later. "Oars!"

At this command the oarsmen levelled and feathered their oars.

"Hold water!" and the boat began to slow down.

"Right here comes in another command," said Uncle Ben. "You hain't heard it before; but it is often needed to keep you from runnin' into a boat, a wharf, a rock, or anything else. The command is, 'Starn all!' When you get it, you must pull backwards. It comes arter 'Hold water!' as you are doin' now. All ready! The command, Frank."

"Stern all!" said the coxswain in vigorous tones, for this order is likely to be given in an emergency.

The boys made rather bad work of rowing backwards at first, and it was necessary for Uncle Ben to drill them for half an hour before they could do it as well as their other work. But they were attentive and patient; and at the end of the lesson they could pick up the stroke as readily as the forward movement, even when the manoeuvres were executed in a hurry, for it is generally used when there is need for haste.

"How many more things are there to learn, Uncle Ben?" asked number five, who was Charles Hardy.

The old salt removed his tarpaulin, scratched his bald head, and said only two. The boys lay on their oars, as it is called when they are levelled.

"Starboard oars--back!" said Frank. "Port oars--ahead! Give way!"

Some began to put the oars as directed in the first command, and Ben stopped them, telling them to wait for the second; and it was done over again two or three times. Of course the Zephyr whirled round like a top, and was left headed down the lake.

"The next new thing is to trail your oars, which is sometimes needed when the boat has to go through a narrow place. Sometimes trail-lines are used. They are bits of cord, say two feet long, one end made fast to the loom of the oar, and the other to the gunwale of the boat. If you let go the handle of the oar it will be dragged alongside the boat in the water; but we don't need trail-lines. To trail, the commands are, 'Stand by to trail!' and 'Trail!' At the second you will throw the loom of the oar out of the rowlock, and let it drag in the water; but you mustn't let go, or you will lose it. Now go ahead, Frank, and when the boat is making five knots give the commands to trail."

"Five knots?" repeated the coxswain.

"A knot is a sea-mile; but I mean when she is going along at fair speed."

Frank gave the orders to go ahead in proper form, and the Zephyr was soon making more than six knots an hour.

"Stand by to trail!" said the coxswain. "Trail!"

This was a simple manoeuvre, and the oarsmen did it right the first time trying; but to make sure of it, the movement was again executed.

"Come about, and go up the lake again," said Uncle Ben.

"Ship your oars! Starboard oars, back! Port oars, ahead!" Frank commanded; but no one moved an oar. "Give way!" and the boat came about, the rowers laying on their oars.

"Very well done!" exclaimed Uncle Ben.

The coxswain gave the commands, and the boat went ahead again up the lake. Near the mouth of the river was a small island, on the north side of which (the lake extending east and west) was a long, flat rock, like the one where they had embarked.

"Now, my boys, I have come to my last lesson; and it will be making a landing on that flat rock. When the coxswain is ready to stop the boat, the command is 'Way enough!' When you get it, you will cease rowing, and toss the oars without any command. Here the coxswain comes to the end of his rope, and the stroke oarsman picks it up. Fred Harper may say 'Toss!' or wave his right hand, and you will all boat your oars, or put them in place on the thwarts, in good time with him. Now try it on, Frank."

The young officer of the boat had headed her to the island as soon as it was mentioned.

"Way enough!" said he, when he thought the boat was' near enough.

The oars all went up as one, and Fred waved his hand as he deposited his oar on the thwarts in concert with the other eleven. Ben said it was well done, but might be better done, and it was repeated.

"If you were going into a boat-house, which you will soon have, or alongside another vessel, the coxswain should give the command, 'In bows!' Then the two bowmen will boat their oars, and take the boat-hook. You may give that command next time, Frank," said Uncle Ben.

The boat backed away a considerable distance from the island, and then went through the manoeuvre again. The teacher said it was perfect; and Tony fended off with the boat-hook as the boat came to the rock, and Fred stood ready to haul in the stern.

"Now, boys, you may land and rest yourselves," said the instructor.

The rowers were not tired they protested, but they went on shore. They did not stay a quarter of an hour on the island; and as soon as they had embarked, the old sailor took the American flag from the socket, and waved it above his head as soon as the boys were seated.

"Now, my lads, three cheers for the American flag. One!"

"Hurrah!"

"Two!"

"Hurrah!"

"Three!"

"Hurrah!"

"And long may it wave!" added Uncle Ben heartily, as he put the flag back in its place. "Boys, can't you sing?"

"We sing in school," replied several.

"Sing me a song, then, before we get under way."

"What shall we sing?"

"Anything you please."

"'Canadian Boat Song,'" suggested Frank.

"Ay, ay, give us that."

Fred Harper was a good singer, and started the song. The boys all joined in; and Uncle Ben was so pleased when they had finished it, that he begged them to sing it again. They cheerfully complied, and the old man listened to the repetition with the most intense delight.

"Now, boys, I will sing you a sea song."

"Hurrah! do, Uncle Ben," exclaimed Charles.

Uncle Ben's voice was somewhat cracked; but he rendered with tolerable effect the song,--

"'Twas in the good ship Rover, I sailed the world around; For twenty years and over, I ne'er touched British ground."

"Bravo, Uncle Ben. Fred Harper, can't you give us Ben Bolt and Sweet Alice? I am sure Uncle Ben will like it."

"I will try," replied Fred.

"We will join the chorus."

The song was sung, and the old sailor shed a tear over "Sweet Alice, so young and so fair."

"Here comes father in the sailboat," cried Frank, as he discovered Captain Sedley approaching in his pleasure yacht.

"Ay, beating up agin the wind."

"Can't we have a race with him?" asked Charles Hardy.

"Sartin, if you like. There is a fresh breeze springing up."

The boys waited patiently until Captain Sedley reached the spot.

"How do you like your craft, boys?" asked he, as he threw his boat up into the wind, alongside the Zephyr.

"First-rate!" they exclaimed with one voice.

"Three cheers for Captain Sedley," cried Tony Weston, taking off his cap and swinging it round above his head. "One!"

"Hurrah!"

"Two!"

"Hurrah!"

"Three!"

"Hurrah!" and the boys all clapped their hands for several moments.

Captain Sedley took off his hat, and politely returned his acknowledgments. When boys get to cheering, they hardly know where to stop; and when Fred Harper proposed three for Uncle Ben, there was a prompt and hearty response to the call.

"I'm much obleeged to you, boys, for the compliment," said the veteran, pulling off his tarpaulin.

"Now for the race," cried Charles.

Uncle Ben explained the wishes of the boys to Captain Sedley; and he readily agreed to a trial of speed, with the remark that he should expect to be beaten.

"Let me get my boat under good headway before you start," continued he, as he hauled aft his jib-sheet, and brought the boat before the wind.

The boat's crew waited till he had got nearly the eighth of a mile from them, and then, with all the forms, the Zephyr got under way. Uncle Ben had taught them to keep time in rowing by the swaying back and forth of the coxswain's body.

"Don't get excited, boys; the wind is freshening," said Uncle Ben. "Steady, now."

The Zephyr darted like an arrow through the water under the impetus of the twelve oars. Frank, in his anxiety to win the race, began to sway to and fro so rapidly that Uncle Ben was obliged to caution him several times to keep cool.

"We are overhauling him very rapidly," said he; "if you pull regular, and save your strength, you will pass him before you get half way to the beach. Steady, Frank; don't hurry them."

The boys pulled steadily; and, as the old sailor had predicted, they passed Captain Sedley's boat long before they came to the beach. As the Zephyr shot past him, a long, loud cheer burst from her crew.

"Isn't this fun!" exclaimed Charles Hardy.

"Glorious!" replied Phil Barker, who was at the next oar before him.

"What do you think the Bunkers would say if they should see us about this time?"

"Wouldn't they stare!"

"Way enough!" said Frank; and the boys ceased rowing, while the boat continued to shoot through the water with scarcely diminished velocity.

"There are the Bunkers on their raft," said Tony Weston, pointing down the lake.

All eyes were turned in the direction indicated by the speaker.

"You can pull down by them, if you like," added Uncle Ben.

"Give way!" said Frank.

The Zephyr darted down the lake, and in a few moments was within hail of the raft.

"Not a word to them," said Uncle Ben.

"Can't we cheer them once?" asked Charles.

"Yes, if you can keep good-natur'd about it."

"We can."

The club boat shot by the raft, on which the wondering Bunkers stood like so many statues.

"Way enough!" said Frank. "Now for three cheers."

They were given; but the Bunkers were too much bewildered by the appearance of the gorgeous boat, with its silken flags and bright colors, its gilded name and its graceful shape, to heed the cheers of the club.

"Give way!" said Frank; and under the direction of Uncle Ben, he managed the helm so as to make the Zephyr describe a graceful semicircle round the raft.

"Five o'clock," said the old sailor; "we must go ashore."

Frank steered for the rock, and they came alongside in due form; Tony "fended off" with the boat-hook when they reached it, and the club separated for the night, leaving the boat in charge of Uncle Ben.