CHAPTER XVII.
HARRY’S NEW YACHT
“Luff up a bit, Harry!”
“All right, Jerry. Do you think we will make that point?”
“If the wind holds out. We are behind the rocks now, and that cuts most of the breeze off.”
“Blumpo, coil up some of that rope, will you?”
“To be suah,” returned the youth addressed.
The scene was the deck of a handsome yacht named the Whistler. She was as clean cut as a craft could be, and carried a spread of snowy white sails which would have gladdened the heart of any sea-dog to behold.
Three boys and an old man were sailing this craft. The three boys were Jerry, Harry and Blumpo. The man was Jack Broxton, the boathouse keeper.
The yacht was a new one, recently purchased by Harry Parker’s father for the use of his son and Jerry.
“Do you remember what a row we had up around this island last summer with Si Peters, Wash Crosby and the rest of the Rockpoint crowd?” mused Jerry, as the yacht swung around the north point of Hermit Island, that spot where Blumpo had so strangely found his father.
“Don’t I, though!” cried Harry. “I wonder if they are out of the reformatory yet for setting fire to the barn?”
“I heard da was,” put in Blumpo, who now attended school regularly. “Si Peters got out las’ month, an’ Wash Crosby got out six weeks ago.”
“Well, I hope they turn out better boys now,” said Harry, seriously. “I don’t see why they want to get into such trouble. A fellow can have lots of sport without doing wrong.”
“By the way, Harry, the great yacht race comes off in Long Lake in a few weeks,” said Jerry. “Why can’t we take our yacht down through the river and be on deck to see it?”
“By golly, dat would be most splendiferous!” yelled Blumpo. “De best t’ing I’ve dun heard of dis Summah!”
“I’ve thought of it,” returned Harry. He turned to the old tar. “Jack, could we take the Whistler down through Poplar River to Long Lake?”
“I reckon we could,” was the slow answer, as Jack Broxton rolled his quid from one cheek to the other. “The water is running putty high now.”
“It would be a fine trip in itself,” went on Jerry. “I’ve never sailed down the Poplar beyond Carlville.”
“Nor I,” returned Harry. “But never mind that just now. Here we are at the landing.”
“An’ heah am my father’s house,” said Blumpo.
The former hermit, now, however, a hermit no longer, came out to greet his son. In the meantime all hands lowered sail and tied up.
It was a beautiful day, and the young oarsman and Harry had come over to the island to see what they could shoot. They left Jack in charge of the yacht and Blumpo with his father, and started off with guns and game bags for the interior.
“There can’t be much game at this season of the year,” said Harry. “But we may have a little sport, and tramping in the woods does a fellow lots of good.”
“Indeed I know that,” was the quick response. “Hullo, here’s a nasty bit of bog to cross.”
“We’ll go around by yonder big tree.”
The two boys went on in a semi-circle. When the big tree mentioned was reached Jerry stepped on what he supposed was one of the twisted roots.
A second later he let out a yell which was heard down to the landing.
He sprang back so suddenly that he bumped into Harry, who was close behind, and both rolled over in the wet grass.
Ere they could rise they heard an angry hiss, and a snake darted from the tree and settled directly upon Jerry’s body!
For a moment Jerry was too paralyzed with fear to move or speak. Then as he recovered he threw off the snake and rolled away, over Harry and close to the boggy spot. Harry also turned away, but came up against a heavy mass of brush.
The snake hissed angrily. The pressure of Jerry’s foot on its head had just been sufficient to arouse its anger. It meant to strike if it could.
“Hit it with your gun!” shouted Harry.
“You hit it!” cried our hero. “Oh!”
The snake was again coming on, its long, green body quivering in the spots of sunlight which shot under the trees. There was no doubt but what it intended to fight the intruders. More than likely it had a nest of young near.
Bang!
The shot was a square one, and when the smoke from the gun cleared away it was found that the reptile’s head was completely severed from the body, which latter continued to twist about until it fell into the water of the bog hole. Jerry kicked the head in after it, out of sight.
“Let us get out of here,” he said, with a shudder. “Who knows but what we have dropped into a regular nest of snakes.”
That he was right in his surmise was soon evident, for low hissings could be heard on several sides. Without delay they sprang across the bog swamp and took to the higher ground, where they could see every foot of the way before them.
“I’ve had snakes enough to last me the rest of the summer,” soliloquized Jerry. “I hate them worse than anything else in the world. Look!”
He pointed on ahead, to where there was a tree almost loaded with game birds. At a sign from Jerry both raised their guns and fired.
There was a flutter and a whirr, and then came a number of shrill cries from the birds which were wounded. These the boys at once proceeded to put out of their misery.
“Four birds,” said Harry, as he counted the lot. “That wasn’t bad, eh?”
“You’re right, Harry. We won’t get another such shot if we tramp all day.”
“I move we get back to the yacht. We have come a good distance, and it will be more than dinner time before we can make it.”
“I am with you. We can go out hunting again this afternoon, or try our hand at fishing.”
With the birds in their bags, Jerry and Harry set out on the return to the landing.
On the way they talked over the great yacht races soon to come off, and also of the proposed trip through the Poplar River to the large lake beyond.
“It will be a dandy trip,” said Jerry, and then he added, with much spirit: “How I would like to sail on one of the yachts and help win.”
“So would I,” rejoined Harry. “It would be great sport, not to say anything of the honor.”
When the chums arrived at the boat-landing they found Blumpo and the others waiting for them. A camp fire was burning a short distance away from the log house, and over this the birds were done to a turn by the youth, while the others prepared some potatoes and coffee brought from the yacht.
Blumpo’s father considered it a great holiday to have his son with him for the time being. He asked Blumpo how he was getting along with his studies, and was pleased to learn that the youth was making fairly good progress.
After dinner it was decided to sail around to the lower end of the island and try bass fishing, for which the lake was famous.
“And then we’ll come back here and stay all night,” said Jerry to the old man.
The lines were soon cast off and the main-sail and jib set, and as soon as they caught the breeze they swung around and down the lake at a speed of several knots an hour.
“Somebody else out besides ourselves,” observed Jack Broxton, as he pointed to half a dozen sail-boats cruising around. “This year everybody has the yachting craze.”
“It’s great sport,” returned Harry. “By the way,” he went on, pointing to a large yacht coming up the lake on a long tack. “What boat is that?”
“She is called the Arrow, I don’t know who owns her,” was the old boatkeeper’s reply.
“She is coming over this way. Let us stand out a little and see who is on board.”
“Just as you say, sir.”
“Yes; I’m curious about that yacht, too,” put in Jerry.
The course of the Whistler was altered several points, and they left the vicinity of the island shore. As they drew closer to the big yacht Jerry uttered a cry of astonishment.
“By Jinks! It can’t be possible!”
“What’s up?” asked Harry, coming to his side.
“There are Si Peters and Wash Crosby on the deck of that yacht. I can see them as plain as day.”
“Our old enemies!” murmured Harry.
“Da didn’t lose no time in gittin’ togedder after da got out of de ’formatory, did da,” laughed Blumpo. “Da say de bad ones allers do stick like glue.”
“Oh, maybe they’ll be first-class chaps now,” said Jerry, who was willing to let the past be forgotten.
“Don’t you be too sure on that p’int, lads,” put in Jack Broxton. “It’s mighty hard to make anything out of a bad egg, and Si Peters and Wash Crosby are bad eggs if ever there were any.”
“Dat’s so, fo’ suah,” murmured Blumpo.
“Well, we won’t have any words with them,” said Jerry. “We’ll let bygones be bygones.”
“I would like to know where they got that yacht,” said Harry. “It can’t be possible Mr. Peters bought it for Si. When Si went to the reformatory he told father he intended to send his son to a military school and cut off his allowance.”
“Maybe Si has promised to reform. Hullo! they are coming this way!”
Jerry sprang up in alarm, for the big yacht had suddenly veered around several points and was now coming head on toward them.
“We’ll be run down!” shrieked Blumpo, in terror.
“The young fools!” muttered Jack Broxton. “Don’t they know anything about steering?”
“The big yacht is evidently one too many for them. See, there is no one aboard but Si and Wash. Two hands are not enough for such a craft.”
Nearer and nearer the two yachts came to each other.
Jack Broxton did his best to steer clear of the Arrow, but he was at a disadvantage. Soon the big yacht took away all the wind of the Whistler and she lay helpless.
“Keep off!” yelled Jerry, but the cry was unheeded.
Bang! Crash! The Arrow struck the Whistler on the bow, the long bowsprit ripping a hole in the main-sail.
Then came a smashing of woodwork and the Whistler began to sink.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE ROBBERY OF THE ROCKPOINT HOTEL
“We are lost!”
“Heaben sabe us!”
“Cling fast for your lives!”
A dozen other cries rang out, for the force of the collision was terrible.
But all clung fast and no one was thrown into the water, to be struck and perhaps instantly killed.
“What do you mean, Si Peters?” yelled Jerry. “You ran into us on purpose!”
There was no time to reply nor to say more. After the crash the two yachts drifted apart, and with a somewhat damaged bowsprit the Arrow went on her way.
As she slid by, Harry caught a glimpse of Wash Crosby holding fast to a big red valise, which had come near bounding overboard. He thought no more of it at the time, but had good reason to remember it later.
“What shall we do?” asked Jack Broxton.
“We’ve got a neat little hole in the side.”
“Can we beach her on the island?” asked Harry. “I don’t want the Whistler to go to the bottom of the lake.”
“I reckon I can manage it. Just hold that bit of canvas over the hole.”
Harry and our hero jumped to do as bidden, while Jack Broxton and Blumpo undertook to steer the yacht toward shore. The craft was becoming so water-logged that she acted clumsily, and they had their hands full.
“We is gwine down, suah!” groaned Blumpo, but as he spoke the keel grated on the sand, and a moment later she swung around hard and fast, and the danger of sinking was past.
While Jack and Blumpo lowered the sails, Harry and Jerry carried several lines ashore and tied them to the trees in such a fashion that the yacht could not pound herself, even if the wind came up.
After the sails were lowered old Jack inspected the damage done.
“I can patch the main-sail in an hour,” he said. “But that hole at the bow will take three, and I ought to have more tools than I’ve got aboard.”
“Can’t we patch things up sufficiently to take her back into Lakeview?” asked Harry.
“Maybe we can. But it would be better on account of the wind to steer for Rockpoint. She couldn’t stand the chop sea on the other course.”
“All right; we’ll steer for Rockpoint, and take her over to Dan Mason’s boatyard.”
Blumpo ran down the shore of the island to tell his father of what had happened. While he was gone the others patched up the break at the bow with some thin wood and a square of canvas, tacked on, and gave all a coating of pitch.
Half an hour later found the Whistler bound for Rockpoint. They had to sail along with great care, for fear of breaking open the patched place. Had this occurred they would all have gone to the bottom.
It was growing dusk when the harbor at Rockpoint was reached. At the dock they saw that something unusual had happened. A crowd of men were gathered about talking earnestly, and pointing up the lake.
“Whoever they were, they took a boat, I’m sure of that,” said one man.
“That’s so,” said another.
“But who were they, and where did they go?” asked a third.
“Ah, that’s for the police to find out.”
Wondering what was up, Jack Broxton and the three boys brought the Whistler around to the boatyard and turned her over to Dan Mason. The old fellow, who was a first-class man at repairing boats of all kinds, promised to have the craft in good trim by noon of the next day.
“Did you hear the news?” he asked, after their business talk was at an end.
“What news?” asked Jerry.
“About the hotel being robbed.”
“Robbed!”
“Exactly. A couple of thieves got into the safe and took a box of jewelry and four hundred dollars in cash.”
“By George! dat am a loss!” ejaculated Blumpo.
“The jewelry is said to be worth nearly one thousand dollars.”
“Have they any idea who the thieves were?”
“No, they wore handkerchiefs over their faces, with holes cut in ’em for to see. Some thinks as how they got away in one o’ the boats lying up shore.”
“How did they do the job?” questioned Jerry, with much interest.
“I didn’t hear any of the particklers, boys.”
“Come on up to the hotel and find out,” said Harry. “We haven’t got to hurry home this evening.”
Side by side Harry and the young oarsman walked to the Rockpoint Hotel, a large place, now filled to overflowing with Summer boarders.
They found every one around the resort talking over the case. Presently Harry heard somebody say that the stolen money and box of jewels had been placed by the robbers into a large red valise belonging to the proprietor of the hotel. At once he called Jerry aside.
“I know who committed this robbery,” he said.
“Who?”
“Si Peters and Wash Crosby.”
CHAPTER XIX.
THE RED VALISE
Of course Jerry was astonished at his chum’s declaration.
“How do you know this?”
“They had that red valise. I saw it.”
“Let us make a few more inquiries before we say anything,” replied Jerry, slowly. “It’s pretty bad to accuse anybody of such a crime as this.”
They asked a number of people about the robbery, but could gain no information which would directly implicate Si Peters and his crony.
“We had better keep mum for the present, Harry.”
“What, and let the robbers escape?”
“Oh, I don’t want that to happen.”
The two talked it over for awhile, and when they returned home they were much troubled. But that night word came from New York City which mystified them greatly.
A detective telegraphed he had captured two tramps who confessed to a hotel robbery on Lake Otasco.
“That settles it,” said Harry. “We were all wrong, and I am glad we said nothing.”
On the following day they rowed over to Rockpoint for the Whistler. They heard no more about the hotel robbery, and the matter almost slipped their minds. But they were destined ere long to remember the occurrence full well.
Jerry and Harry talked matters over with their parents and made plans to sail down the Poplar River to Long Lake, and go to the yacht races at once.
Jack Broxton was to accompany them. Unfortunately for Blumpo, his father was taken sick and the youth had to remain behind to attend him.
Bright and early the next day the trip was commenced.
It lasted two days and three nights, and then they found themselves out on Long Lake, a large and beautiful sheet of water.
Harry and Jerry had studied up all the newspaper reports concerning the race between the Defender, a splendid yacht from the Poplar River, and the Spray, a craft from up the lake, and they knew exactly where to go in order to see the race to the best advantage.
“I know the captain of the Defender well,” said Harry. “He and father are old friends.”
“Maybe he’ll let you on his yacht then,” said Jerry. “My, but wouldn’t that be jolly!”
“I won’t go without you,” said Harry.
“I would like to be on that yacht myself,” said old Jack Broxton, as they presently came in sight of the Defender, anchored a short distance from the starting point of the race.
“We’ll run up and I’ll hail the captain,” said Harry.
This suited everybody, and it was done. The captain of the Defender was on deck seeing to it that everything was in order for the race. He greeted Harry with a pleasant wave of his hand.
“Can we come on board and take a look around?” asked Harry.
“Yes, but you won’t have time to waste,” was the captain’s reply. “We’ve got to get down to the starting point soon.”
The Whistler was run up alongside, and Harry and Jerry leaped on board of the Defender. They shook hands with the captain, and also with Frank Lee, the captain’s nephew, a bright boy of their own age.
They were much interested in the magnificent yacht and all of her appointments, and laughed greatly when Frank Lee snatched off their caps and placed caps on them with the name of the Defender above the peaks.
“Now you fellows belong to the crew!” cried Frank Lee.
“All right, we’ll help you beat the Spray,” returned Jerry, quickly.
The captain overheard the remark and turned to Harry:
“Would you really like to remain on board during the race?”
“Indeed we would!” said Harry. “And we’ll do duty, too, same as the rest of the crew, if you’ll only keep us. You know both of us understand all about a regular yacht.”
“Well, you can stay. I am short one man, and two boys ought to more than make up for him.”
Perhaps Jerry and Harry were not delighted? They sent word to Jack Broxton, and then made themselves familiar with the great yacht, the pride of all on board.
Soon it was time to up anchor and make for the starting point. Jerry and Harry worked manfully at the ropes, and so did Frank Lee. No one is allowed to remain idle on a racing yacht. The least one can do is to rush to this side or that and thus make “ballast.”
“All ready!” came the word, and the signal was given to start, and the Defender and the Spray were off.
Presently Jerry came over to the captain, who was at the wheel.
“Can we pass the Spray?” he asked, anxiously.
“We can try, Upton,” was the reply. “Can you take the wheel for a minute. I must have a drink of water.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Jerry.
How proudly he took hold of the wheel! He was for the time being in absolute command of the Defender.
An extra breeze sprang up. They were sailing almost side by side with the Spray. Suddenly the Defender shot ahead. Our hero stuck to the wheel, while Harry and Frank Lee did their full share of work with the rest of the crew.
The Defender was ahead, but the race was not yet over.
CHAPTER XX.
THE MISHAP TO THE YACHT
The young oarsman was not allowed to remain at the wheel long. Soon the captain of the Defender came up again and took charge.
“I see we have passed the Spray,” he said. “That’s a good one for you, Upton. Now we must keep ahead.”
After turning the wheel over to the captain, Jerry moved forward to where Harry and Frank Lee were standing.
In the meanwhile the gallant yacht was cutting the water like a razor. The breeze was stiff, and they were running free before it. Soon the Spray was almost out of sight behind them.
“This Defender is a great boat,” said Harry.
With the wind on the starboard quarter the Defender and the Spray reached along for over a mile at a six knots an hour gait.
Then the wind fell off to almost a calm.
“This is no good,” observed Jerry.
“Fortunes of racing,” laughed Harry.
“I would like to see another stiff breeze.”
“We may catch more than enough before we have finished,” put in Frank Lee.
The further on the two yachts went the lighter became the wind, and each in turn ran into “soft” spots, when balloon top-sails hung up and down idly.
But no matter how the wind came the Defender got along, leaving the Spray steadily behind.
It was a triangular course, of three miles to each side, and soon the first side was sailed.
The yachts wore around the first mark flat, leaving it on the port hand.
Baby jib top-sails had been sent down before the rounding, and spinnaker poles were now ready for the balloon sail.
With booms well off to port, the Defender led the way to the second stretch.
Sharp work was done in handling the spinnaker, for just one minute after rounding this big balloon was set and pulling.
This was clever work, but the Spray sailors did fully as as well, for they had their spinnaker on just as fast.
“Great Caesar!” ejaculated our hero, suddenly, “Look!”
Ashore the sky grew black and ominous, foreboding a coming squall.
The weather certainly looked bad, and it turned out worse than it looked.
Instead of wind, rain came on, and soon all on board the yachts were soaked.
“What do you think of that, Jerry?” asked Harry.
“We’re going to catch it and no mistake,” replied the young oarsman.
All hands on board saw the coming squall and looked at the captain for orders, but none came.
The yachts, favored by a strengthening breeze, were pushed on to meet that which was sure to come, and half-way over on the third stretch it came on hard and struck the Defender.
Bang! slash! went the sails and the gallant yacht swept well over on her side.
Again all looked to the captain, but he shook his head.
“Reckon he wants to see what she can stand,” whispered Jerry.
He was right. The captain, at the wheel, held the yacht up to it, and held her true.
On and on they went, the sky growing blacker and blacker as they proceeded.
Suddenly Jerry heard a crack like a pistol shot, and looking forward saw that the standing part of the bridle to the jib had parted. The seizing pulled out and away went the sheets.
The sail snapped and cracked loudly, and in a second more it carried away the club on the clew of the jib.
“There she goes!” yelled somebody.
Hardly had he uttered these words when the big sail split in half and hung flapping in the wind.
It was now utterly useless to the racing yacht.
A new sail must be set at once, but in that high wind who would bring the old sail in?
“I’ll volunteer!” cried Jerry, as he sprang forward, and Harry and Frank Lee came close on his heels.
The crew hung back for a moment, and in that time Jerry reached the flying sail.
He caught one end just as an extra heavy puff of wind came on, and in a twinkle he was dragged half overboard.
But now Harry and Frank Lee sprang to the rescue, and then the regular crew came forward. All worked like beavers, and soon the torn sail was taken off.
Six minutes later a new sail was in place, and on went the gallant Defender as speedily as before.
She carried herself well, and nothing was lost in that blow but the jib.
In the meanwhile the Spray could not stand the strain and ran on behind with all sails reefed.
“A great yacht,” said those on the other boats. And the Defender stock went away up.
The captain praised Jerry for the quickness with which he had taken hold of the torn sail and steadied it.
“A loose sail on board a racing craft is a dangerous thing,” he said, “for there is no telling how much damage it will do.”
The squall was of short duration, not lasting over seven minutes, if as long. It gathered strength as it worked off shore, and some of the pleasure boats received the full benefit of it.
As the Defender got within two miles of the finishing line the breeze fell off.
Still the gallant craft held her own.
“The finish is in sight!” cried Jerry, presently.
He was right. A mile more and the race would be over.
Those on board of the Spray did their best to haul up to the Defender.
The effort did not avail them, for the Defender gained steadily.
At last the line was crossed.
The Defender had won the race by a lead of over half a mile, and she received a rousing reception.
Steam whistles blew their mightiest, flags waved, and the crowd on the other boats shouted themselves hoarse.
It was a great day, and one never to be forgotten.
“That settles it,” said Harry. “The Defender is the champion yacht of the club.”
It was not long after this that the Whistler ran up and took Jerry and Harry on board. Old Jack Broxton had seen the race and was greatly pleased.
The boys resolved to anchor the Whistler off the upper shore of Long Lake that night.
“We’ll leave Jack in charge and take a trip down to Harmony Beach,” suggested Harry.
This suited Jerry, and by half past six the two boys were on board the open cars on their way to the great Summer resort. They enjoyed the ride very much, especially Jerry who had never been to the beach before. They visited the hotels and had supper, and then listened to a band concert.
It was after eleven o’clock before they were ready to return to the Whistler.
As they were making their way back to the cars Jerry caught Harry by the arm.
“Look! Look!”
Harry looked, and in a crowd of people saw Wash Crosby. Not far away stood Si Peters.
Both were swaggering around as if they had plenty of money and wanted everybody to know it.
“What shall we do?” asked Harry.
“I hardly know,” replied Jerry. “I feel certain in my mind that they robbed the Rockpoint Hotel in spite of what the detectives think.”
“So do I. But we can’t prove it.”
The two boys resolved to watch Peters and Crosby and try to overhear any private talk they might have.
Peters and Crosby entered a large music hall and sat down at one of the tables.
Motioning to Harry, our hero led the way to the side of the building.
A board was off, and by standing near the opening they could hear everything Si Peters and Wash Crosby said.