CHAPTER
I.
IN THE FAR SOUTH.
"REALLY, mother, it doesn't seem as though
I could stand it ally longer! Life in this place
isn't worth living, especially when it's a life of
poverty, and what people call 'genteel poverty,' as
ours is. Our struggle is for bare existence, and
there doesn't seem to be any future to it. If you'd
only let me go to New York, I'm sure I could do
something there that was worth the doing, but I
can't do anything here, and I'd almost rather die
than live here any longer!"
With this Sumner Rankin flung himself into a chair,
and his flushed face was as heavily clouded as though
life held nothing of hope or happiness for him.
"Why, my dear boy," exclaimed his mother,
standing beside him and smoothing his tumbled brown
curls with her cool hands, "what is the matter? I
never knew you to speak so bitterly before."
Mrs. Rankin still looked so young and pretty that
she might almost be taken for an elder sister of the
handsome, seventeen-year-old boy over whom she now
bent so tenderly. To the casual observer the Rankins'
home was a very pleasant one. It was a pretty,
broad-verandaed cottage nestled in the shadows of a
clump of towering coconut palms, on the far southern
island of Key West. It stood on the outskirts of the
town, and so close to the beach that the warm waters
of the Mexican Gulf rippling on the coral rocks behind
it made a ceaseless melody for its inmates. Jasmine
vines clambered over it, glossy-leaved myrtles, a
hedge of night-blooming cereus and other sweet-scented
tropical shrubs perfumed the air about it.
Through these, looking out from the shaded coolness
of the verandas, the eye caught fascinating glimpses
of blue waters with white sails constantly passing,
and stately men-of-war swinging idly at their
moorings. It looked an ideal home; but even in this
tropical Eden there was one very large serpent,
besides several that were smaller though almost
equally annoying. The big one was poverty, and it held
the Rankins in its dread embrace as though with no
intention of relaxing it. Mrs. Rankin was the widow of
a naval officer who had been stationed at Key West a
few years before. He had sent his wife and only child
north to escape a dreadful summer of yellow fever,
while he had stayed and died at his post. Shortly
before his death Commander Rankin, believing that Key
West property was about to increase rapidly in value,
had invested all that he had in the little
jasmine-clad cottage, expecting to be able to sell it
at a handsome profit when his term of service at that
station should expire.
Thus it was all that remained to his family, and to
this haven Mrs. Rankin, sad-eyed and well-nigh
broken-hearted, had returned with her boy. The fever
had caused real estate to become of so little value
that there was no chance of selling the cottage; so
they were forced to live in it, and the widow eked out
her scanty pension by letting such rooms as she could
spare to lodgers. During the pleasant winter season
she rarely had difficulty in filling them, but through
the long, hot summer months desirable lodgers were few
and far between, and the poverty serpent enfolded them
closely.
One of the lesser serpents against which the
Rankins had to contend was the lack of congenial
society; for, with the exception of a few government
employees and those whose business compels them to
live there, the population of Key West is composed of
spongers and wreckers, Cuban and Negro cigar makers.
Another was the lack of good schools, and the worst of
all was the lack of suitable business openings for
Sumner, or "Summer," as his Chinese nurse had called
him when he was a baby, and as he had been called ever
since on account of his bright face and sunny
disposition. He would have loved dearly to go through
the Naval Academy and follow the profession that had
been his father's, but the Rankins had no political
influence, and without that there was no chance. He
could not go into a cigar factory, and though his
boyish love of adventure had led him to take several
trips on sponging vessels, it was not the business for
a gentleman.
Born in China, the boy had, with his mother,
followed his naval father to many of the principal
ports of the world. Both his father and mother had
devoted all their spare time to his education, and
thus he was well informed in many branches of which
the average boy knows little or nothing. He loved the
sea and everything connected with it. From his
babyhood he had played with and sailed boats; now
there was no better sailor in Key West than he, nor
one more at home among the reefs of those southern
waters. He knew the secrets of boatbuilding from keel
to truck, and from stem to stern, while his favorite
employment was the whittling out of models, the
drawing of sail plans, and the designing of yachts.
But nobody wanted yachts in Key West, nor did its
sailors care to have improved models for their fishing
boats or sponge vessels.
So Sumner was considered a dreamer, and people said
he ought to be doing something besides whittling and
idling about home. The boy thought so himself, but
what to do and how to set about it were problems the
attempted solution of which caused him many an unhappy
hour. On the perfect winter day that he had come home
in such a despairing frame of mind, his own life had
just been presented in vivid contrast to that of
another boy who seemed to have the very things that
Sumner most longed for. He had been down to the wharf
to see the Olivette, the West Indian fast mail steamer
from Tampa, come in. There he had been particularly
attracted by a boy somewhat younger than himself,
standing with a gentleman, whom Sumner supposed to be
his father, on the afterdeck. As the steamer neared
the wharf this boy amused himself by flinging silver
coins into the water for the fun of seeing little
Negroes dive after them.
"Only think, mother!" exclaimed Sumner in
relating this incident, "he threw money away as I
would so many pebbles, and didn't seem to value it
any more. Just imagine a boy having money to waste
like that! And some of those little rascals who
dived for it made more in a few minutes than I have
to spend in months."
"But, Sumner," said Mrs. Rankin, gravely, "I
hope your unhappiness does not arise from jealousy
of another's prosperity?"
"Yes, it does, mother," replied the boy,
honestly; "though it isn't only because he could
throw money away; it is because he has the very
thing that I would rather have than anything else
in the world -- the prettiest, daintiest, cedar
sailing canoe that ever was built. I never saw one
before, but I've read of them, and studied their
plans until I know all about them. She is as
different from my old canvas thing as a scow is
from a yacht."
"But you thought your canvas canoe very nearly
perfect when you built her."
"I know I did, but I have learned better since
then, and now it seems as though I should never
care to look at it again." Yet this same despised
canvas canoe, which Sumner had built himself the
year before without ever having seen one, had been
considered both by himself and his friends a
masterpiece of naval construction, and he had
cruised in her ever since with great
satisfaction.
"You have yet to learn, dear, that it is ever so
much harder to be satisfied with the things we have
than to obtain those for which we long, no matter
how far beyond our reach they may seem," said Mrs.
Rankin, gently.
"I suppose it is, mother, and I know it is
horrid to come to you with my miserable
complainings; but I wish I had never seen those
canoes -- for there were two of them just alike --
and I wish wealthy people wouldn't come to Key West
with such things. They don't do us any good, and
only make us feel our poverty the more keenly. Why,
there they are now! Turning in here too! What can
they want with us, I wonder? I won't see them at
any rate. I've no more use for wealthy snobs than
they have for me."
So saying, Sumner left the room by a rear door, and
the steps of the approaching visitors sounded on the
front veranda.
CHAPTER II.
THREE CANOES, AND THE FATE OF ONE.
As Sumner's mother opened the door, she saw that
the gentleman who, politely lifting his hat, asked if
she were Mrs. Rankin, was too young to be the father
of the boy by his side.
"May I introduce myself as Mr. Tracy
Manton, of New York?" he said, when she had
answered his question in the affirmative; "and my
nephew, Master Worth Manton? We have called to see
if we can engage rooms here for a week or so. We
will take our meals at the hotel; but we have two
canoes that we propose fitting out here for a
cruise up the reef, and we want to find a place
close to the water where we can keep them in
safety, and at the same time be near them. Mr.
Merrill advised us to come here, and it looks as
though this were exactly the place of which we are
in search. So if you can accommodate us we shall
esteem it a great favor."
With the remembrance of Sumner's last words, Mrs.
Rankin hesitated a moment before replying; whereupon
Mr. Manton added
"I trust you are not going to refuse us,
for I have set my heart on coming here, and will
gladly pay full hotel rates for the accommodation."
"If my vacant rooms suit you I shall be pleased
to let you have them at my regular rate, which is
all they are worth," answered the widow, quietly,
as she reflected on the poverty which would not
allow even a mother's feelings to interfere with
honorable breadwinning.
"Will you step in and look at them?"
"We are in luck, my boy, and our little
expedition has begun most prosperously," said Mr.
Tracy Manton an hour later, as he and his nephew
sat in one of the two pretty backrooms that they
had engaged, surrounded by their belongings, and
looking out on the sparkling waters of the
Gulf.
On the grass of the palm-shaded back yard, and in
plain sight from the windows, lay the two canoes that
had so excited Sumner's admiration and envy. They were
indeed beauties as they lay there divested of their
burlap wrappings, and that they were fresh from the
builder's hands was shown by their unscratched varnish
and gleaming metal fittings. They were fifteen feet
long by thirty inches wide amidships, were provided
with folding metal centerboards, metal drop rudders,
foot- and hand-steering gear, watertight compartments
fore and aft, and were decked, with the exception of
their roomy cockpits. These were surrounded by stout
oak coamings three inches high, sharp-pointed, and
flaring outward at the forward ends, but cut down so
as to be flush with the deck aft. Beside them lay the
confused mass of paddles, sails, spars, canoe tents,
rubber aprons, cushions, and cordage, that completed
their equipment. They were simply perfect in every
detail, and the most beautiful things Sumner Rankin
had ever set his eyes upon. At least he thought so,
as, returning from a long tramp on which he had tried
to walk off his unhappiness, he found them lying. in
the yard. In spite of his surprise at seeing them
there, and a return of his unwelcome feeling of envy,
he could not help stopping to ad. mire them and study
their details.
"Hello!" exclaimed Mr. Manton, again
looking from his window. "There's a chap down there
staring his eyes out at our boats. I shouldn't
wonder if he were our landlady's son -- the one,
you know, we were advised to engage as a guide. You
wait here while I run down and find out."
So Worth waited and watched from the window to note
the result of his uncle's negotiations.
At a first glance one would have said that Worth
Manton was an effeminate boy, with a pale face, blue
eyes, and fair hair. If, however, the observer looked
long enough to note the square chin, the occasional
compression of the thin lips, and flash of the eyes,
he might form a different opinion. He was the son of
Guy Manton, the great Wall Street operator who had
made a fortune out of western railroads, and he had
all his. life been accustomed to lavish luxury. He was
rather delicate, and it was largely on his account
that his parents had decided to spend a winter at St.
Augustine. The boy had taken but slight interest in
the gaieties of the Ponce de Leon, nor had he gained
.any benefit from the chill rainstorms driven in from
the ocean by the east winds of midwinter. The doctor
had advised his going farther south; and when his
uncle Tracy proposed that they make a canoe trip up
the, great Florida Reef, which lies off the most
southerly coast of the United States, Worth had
eagerly seconded the proposition, and had finally won
the reluctant consent of his parents. He knew nothing
of canoeing, nor did his uncle know much more; but the
latter was a good yachtsman, and Worth had had some
experience of the same kind, so they felt confident
they could manage. They intended to devote some time
to studying their craft, and learning their
possibilities in the waters about Key West; so two
canoes, completely equipped, were ordered from the
builder by telegraph. Worth's father promised to
charter a yacht, sail down the coast in it, and meet
them at Cape Florida about the first of April, and the
two would-be canoemen started for Key West full of
pleasant anticipations.
Sumner Rankin started at being asked if that were
his name, for he had not heard Mr. Manton's step on
the grass behind him, and answered rather curtly that
it was.
"Well," said the young man, plunging into
business at once, as was his habit, "I have been
told that you are a first-class sailor, as well as
a good reef pilot. My nephew and I are going to
cruise up the reef, and I should like to engage
your services as boatman and guide. I am willing to
pay -- "
"It makes no difference what you are willing to
pay," interrupted Sumner, with flushed cheeks and
flashing eyes.
"My services as boatman are not for hire at any
price."
With this assertion of his pride, or, as he
imagined, of his independence, the boy turned and
walked into the house.
"Whew!" whistled Mr. Manton, gazing after
the retreating form in amazement. "There's a bit of
dynamite for you! Pride and poverty mixed in equal
parts do make a most powerful explosive. However, I
haven't forgotten my own days of poverty, and can
fully appreciate the boy's feelings. I'll try him
on a different tack as soon as this little squall
has blown over. He and his mother must be different
from the majority of the people down here, for they
are the first we have met who don't seem to want to
make money out of us."
Mr. Tracy Manton had no idea of giving up his
purpose of engaging Sumner to accompany them on their
trip, for he was the kind of a man who wins his way by
sticking to whatever plan be has decided upon, in
which respect his nephew Worth strongly resembled him.
So the next time he met the lad, which was in the
afternoon of the following day, he held out his hand
and said:
"I beg your pardon for my unintentional
rudeness of yesterday, and my forgetfulness of the
fact that a gentleman is such, no matter where he
is found. Now, I want you to forgive me, forget my
offense, and do me a favor. I can't make head or
tail of our sails, and they don't seem tome right
somehow. If you will come and look at them I shall
be greatly obliged."
By this time Sumner was so heartily ashamed of his
conduct of the day before that he was only too glad to
accept this overture of friendship, and a few minutes
later the two were busily discussing the sails of the
Cupid and Psyche, as the Mantons' canoes
were named. The spars were much heavier than they need
be, while the sails were of the ill-shaped,
unserviceable pattern generally furnished by canoe
builders, and these defects were quickly detected by
Sumner's experienced eye. When he pointed them out to
Mr. Manton, the latter readily comprehended them, but
was at a loss how to make the improvements that were
evidently demanded.
In order to explain more thoroughly the idea that
he wished to convey, Sumner dragged out his own canvas
canoe, stepped her masts, and hoisted her sails. They
were of a most ingenious and effective lateen pattern,
such as Mr. Manton had never before seen.
"Where did you get hold of that idea " he
asked, after studying them carefully a few moments.
"It is a capital one."
"I got it partly from an Arab dhow that I once
saw off Madagascar, and partly from the feluccas at
Civita Vecchia."
"Madagascar and the Mediterranean!" repeated Mr.
Manton, in astonishment. "If you have visited both
of those places you must have traveled
extensively."
"Yes," answered Sumner, quietly, but with a
twinkle of amusement in his eye. "The son of a
naval officer who attempts to follow his father
about the world is apt to see a good bit of it
before he gets through."
Mr. Manton, who had known nothing of Sumner's
history, no longer wondered that he had been offended
at being taken for a boatman whose services could be
hired. He was, however, too wise to make further
mention of the subject, and merely said,
"Then you have had a splendid chance to
study sails." And again turning to the subject
under consideration, he asked, "Would you be
willing to help us cut out some for our canoes
after your models."
Sumner answered that he would not only be willing
but glad to lend every aid in his power towards
properly equipping the two canoes for their trip.
In the mean time the sun had set, and the sky was
black with an approaching squall that caused them to
watch with some uneasiness for Worth's return. He had
gone out in one of the canoes, an hour before, for a
paddle, and had not since been seen. Just as the storm
broke he appeared around a point and headed towards
the little landing place near which they were
standing. As his course lay directly in the teeth of
the wind, his struggle was long and hard. They watched
him anxiously, and more than once Sumner offered to go
to the boy's assistance; but his uncle said he wished
Worth to learn self-reliance more than anything else,
and this was too good a lesson to be spoiled. Finally
the young paddler conquered, and, reaching the landing
place in safety, sprang ashore. He was either too
exhausted or too careless to properly secure his
canoe, and as he stepped from it a spiteful gust of
wind struck it full on the side. In another moment it
was beyond reach and drifting rapidly out to sea.
Both the Mantons were confused by the suddenness of
the mishap. Before they could form any plan for the
recovery of the runaway, Sumner had shoved his own
canvas canoe into the water, jumped aboard, and was
dashing away in pursuit of the truant. He was almost
within reach of his prize, and his tiny sail was
almost indistinguishable amid the blackness of the
squall, when the watchers on shore were horrified to
see another and much larger sail come rushing down,
dead before the wind, directly towards it. Then the
tiny canoe sail disappeared; and as the larger one
seemed to sweep over the spot where it had been, the
Mantons gazed at each other with faces that betokened
the dread they dared not put into
words.
WITH THE NEXT SEND OF THE SEA THE CANVAS CANOE
WAS CRUSHED BENEATH THE PONDEROUS BOWS.
