CHAPTER
III.
SUMNER RECEIVES A SECOND OFFER.
FOR a few minutes Sumner Rankin's peril was most
imminent. He was almost within reach of the drifting
canoe, which he had been watching too closely to take
note of any other object, when he became conscious of
the clumsy, wood-laden schooner rushing down on him
before the squall. She was manned by a crew of two
Negroes, and by the manner in which she yawed, heading
one moment this way and the next another, he saw that
they had but little control of her movements. In vain
did he shout to them to look out. His voice was lost
in the shriek of the wind, and they did not hear him.
He tried to cross their bows, and might have succeeded
in so doing, but at that moment their mainsail gybed
over with a crash, and the heavy craft, looking as
large as a man-of-war in comparison with his
cockleshell, headed directly for him. With the next
send of the sea the canvas canoe was crushed beneath
the ponderous bows, and blotted from existence as
though it had been a drifting leaf.
As Sumner saw the black mass towering above him,
and before it could descend, he rose to his feet, and
taking a straight header, dived deep into the angry
waters. When he again came to the surface he was
swimming in the foaming wake of the schooner, and
drifting down towards him from the windward was the
beautiful cedar canoe which was the cause of all the
trouble, and which he had passed in his effort to save
his own from destruction. A few strokes took him to
her, and with a feeling of devout thankfulness he
clutched her gunwale.
Worth Manton, or any other inexperienced canoeman,
would have attempted to climb up over the bow or
stern, and, sitting astride the slippery deck, to work
his way into the cockpit. Such an attempt would have
been almost certain to roll the light craft over and
fill her with water, in which case she would become
wholly unmanageable. But Sumner knew better than to do
such a thing. He had practiced capsizing so often in
his crank canvas canoe that to get into this
comparatively broad-beamed and stable craft was the
easiest kind of a performance. Seizing hold of the
coaming directly amidship, he placed his left hand on
the side of the cockpit nearest him, and reaching far
over, grasped the other side with his right. Then
kicking in the, water behind him until his body lay
nearly flat on its surface, and bearing as much weight
as possible on his right hand, he drew himself
squarely across the cockpit, and in another moment was
seated ill it, without having shipped a drop of water
over the coaming.
There was no paddle in the canoe, and though she
rode the waves like a cork, she was entirely at the
mercy of the wind and tide. Although the squall was
passing, the darkness of night was rapidly shutting
out all familiar objects, and Sumner was on the point
of resigning himself to a night of aimless drifting,
with an interesting uncertainty as to when he should
be picked up, when a distant shout, that sounded
exceedingly like his own name, was borne to his ears.
He sent back an answering cry, the shout was repeated,
and a few minutes later the shadowy form of the
Psyche, with Mr. Manton wielding a
double-bladed paddle, shot out of the darkness.
"I never was so glad to find any one in my
life!" exclaimed the newcomer. "We were afraid that
clumsy schooner had run you down. I tell you what,
boy, the last ten minutes have been the most
anxious I ever passed, and I wouldn't go through
with them again for all the canoes in the world.
But what has become of your own boat?"
"She has gone to the bottom, like many a good
ship before her," replied Sumner; "and it wasn't
the fault of those lubbers on the schooner that I
didn't go with her. Have you an extra paddle with
you ?"
"No; I neglected to bring one, and I shall have
to take you in tow."
They had already drifted down past the fort that
commands the harbor from the southwest point of the
island, and as they could not hope to make their way
back against wind and tide, they were compelled to
work in behind it, and make a landing on the south
beach a mile or more from where they started. Here Mr.
Manton remained in charge of the canoes, while Sumner
ran home to announce his own safety, obtain a change
of clothing and another paddle.
He found his mother and Worth in a terrible state
of anxiety concerning him; but he made so light of his
recent adventure that it was not until after the
canoes were brought safely back, an hour later, that
they learned the full extent of his recent peril.
This incident seemed to cement a firm friendship
between Sumner and the Mantons, and while the former
stubbornly refused to accept the recompense for his
lost canoe that Mr. Manton tried to force upon him,
declaring that it was only his own carelessness in not
keeping a sharper lookout, the latter made up his mind
that, in spite of his pride, the boy must and should
be rewarded in some way for what he had done.
The following week was busily and happily spent in
making new sails for the two canoes, re-rigging them,
and in teaching Worth how to manage his. It struck
Sumner as a little curious that, even after the new
sails were made, Mr. Manton was always too busy to go
out on these practice trips with his nephew, and
invariably asked him to take the Psyche and act as
instructor in his place. Of course he could not refuse
to do this, nor did he have the slightest inclination
to do so; for what boy who loved boats would not have
jumped at the chance of sailing that dainty craft? How
Sumner did appreciate her speed and seaworthy
qualities! He raced with every sponger and fisherman
in the harbor, and caused their eyes to open with
amazement at the ease with which he beat them. How
fond he became of the canoe that bore him to so many
victories! How, with all his heart, he did wish he
were going in her on the cruise up the reef, for which
such extensive preparations were being made! Much as
he wished this, however, he was very careful not to
express the wish to any person except his mother, to
whom he always confided all his hopes, fears, and
plans. After his refusal of Mr. Manton's offer to
accompany them as guide, he would not for anything
have let that gentleman know how eagerly he longed to
have the offer repeated in such form that his pride
would allow him to accept it. Still, as he had no
canoe now, it would be impossible for him to go, and
there was no use in thinking of it.
So he tried to make the most of his present
opportunities, and gain all the pleasure that they
held. Nor did he neglect Worth, but instructed him so
thoroughly in the art of canoe handling, that at the
end of a week the boy was as much at home in his canoe
as he had ever been on a yacht.
One day, as the two beautiful craft, with their
perfect setting lateen sails, were glancing in and out
among the anchored sponge fleet on the north side of
the island, like white-winged sea birds, a young
sponger, named Rust Norris, called out from one of the
boats,
"Say, Sumner, come here a minute, will
yer?"
As the latter sailed alongside and asked what he
wanted, the sponger answered:
"I want to try that fancy trick of yourn.
Let me take her a few minutes, will yer?"
"No," replied Sumner; "I can't, because she
isn't mine to lend. Besides, as you are not
accustomed to this style of craft, you couldn't
sail her, anyhow; and you'd upset before you had
gone a length."
"Oh, I would, would I? Well, I'll bet I can sail
anything you can, or any other landlubber that
thinks he knows it all because his daddy belonged
to the navy."
Then, as Sumner, with a flushed face, but
disdaining any reply, sheered off and sailed away, he
added,
"I'd jest naturally hate myself if I was
as mean as you be, Sumner Rankin, and I won't
forget your disobligingness in a hurry, neither!"
In the mean time Mr. Manton had studied Sumner's
character carefully, and the more he did so the more
he was pleased with the boy. He found him to be proud
and high-tempered, but also manly, straightforward,
and honest to a fault, as well as prompt to act in
emergencies, self-reliant, and a thorough sailor. In
the course of several conversations with the boy's
mother he learned much of Sumner's past history and of
his dreams for the future. To her he finally confided
a plan, formed on the day that Sumner saved Worth's
canoe at the expense of his own, and after some
discussion won her assent to it.
It was nothing more nor less than that Sumner
should take his place on the proposed cruise up the
reef, and act the part of guide, companion, and friend
to the younger canoeman.
"I shall not for a second time be guilty
of the mistake of trying to hire you to take this
cruise," said Mr. Manton, smiling, as he unfolded
this plan to Sumner; "but I ask you to do it as a
favor to both me and Worth. Indeed, it will be a
great favor to me," he added, hastily, as he saw an
expression of doubt on the lad's face; "for I
really ought to be in New York at this very minute,
attending to some important business, which I was
only willing to neglect in case Worth could not
take this trip without me. Now, however, I am
confident that he will be safer with you than he
would be with me alone, and if you will take my
canoe and accompany him to Cape Florida, where I
shall try to meet you about the first of April, you
will place me under an obligation. Will you do
it?"
CHAPTER IV.
TEACHING A THIEF A LESSON.
WAS there ever such a chance to do the very thing
he most longed to do offered a boy before? Sumner did
not believe there ever had been, and with a quick
glance at his mother's smiling face, in which he read
her assent to the plan, he answered:
"I don't know how to thank you, sir, for
making me such a splendid offer, and not only will
I gladly accept it, but I promise to do everything
in my power to make Worth have a good time, and see
that no harm befalls him. But I wish you were going
too. I hate to think of taking your place and
depriving you of all the pleasure of the trip."
"My dear boy," replied Mr. Manton, "you must not
look at it in that way, for, as I said before, you
will be doing me a real favor in taking my place. I
am more of a yachtsman than a canoeman anyway, and
I look forward with fully as much pleasure to
cruising down the Indian River from St. Augustine
in the yacht that my brother proposes to charter,
and meeting you at Cape Florida, -- as I should to
running up the reef in a canoe. There is one more
thing, however. I must insist upon your sailing
your own canoe, for I make it a rule never to lend
my boats to any one, and you will have enough
responsibility in looking after Worth, without
having the added one of caring for another person's
canoe. So, from this moment the Psyche, and
all that she contains is yours."
"Oh, Mr. Manton!"
"That will do. Not another word," laughed the
young man. "I am as obstinate as a mule when I have
once made up my mind to a thing, and so there is
nothing for you to do but take the canoe, and make
the best use you can of her."
Sumner's protests against this generosity were but
feeble ones, and were quickly disposed of by Mr.
Manton, who simply refused to listen to them. He cut
them short by saying,
"Now that this matter is settled, and
everything is in readiness for a start, I propose
that you get off in the morning, for I want to take
tomorrow night's steamer for Tampa."
That night, after everybody had gone to bed and the
house was still, Sumner lay wide awake, thinking over
the good fortune that had befallen him. At length he
could not resist the temptation of getting up, partly
dressing himself, and slipping out for a look at his
canoe, his very own! the most beautiful craft lie had
ever seen, and such a one as in his wildest dreams he
had never hoped to possess.
The two canoes had been drawn up on the grass not
far from. the water's edge, and covered with some bits
of old canvas. Although it was a moonlit night, the
moon was occasionally obscured by drifting clouds, and
when Sumner left the house everything was in shadow
from this cause. He moved very quietly, for he did not
wish any one to know of the weakness that led him to
look at something with which he was already familiar,
merely because it had acquired the new interest of
possession.
To his amazement, when he reached the place where
the canoes had been left, he could find but one of
them. In vain did he lift the canvas that had covered
them both, and look hurriedly about the little yard.
One of them was certainly gone, and no trace of it
remained. As the boy stood irresolute, wondering what
he ought to do, he was startled by a slight splash in
the water. At the same moment the cloud passed from
the face of the moon, and by the light thus afforded
Sumner saw the figure of a man seated in the missing
canoe, and cautiously paddling from the shore.
Without an instant's hesitation he slid the
remaining canoe over the grass and into the water,
sprang into it, seized a paddle, and started in
pursuit. Of course the paddler in the first canoe
might be one of the Mantons, but Sumner did not
believe it was either of them. He thought it more than
likely that the stranger was some one who only desired
to try the canoe, but it might be a thief. At any
rate, the boy determined to discover who he was, and
what he meant by his stealthy performance before they
were many minutes older.
The stranger did not realize that he was pursued
until Sumner had shoved off from shore, and was urging
his own craft forward with vigorous strokes of his
double-bladed paddle. When, by a glance over his
shoulder, he discovered this, he redoubled his efforts
to escape, and by his clumsy splashings proved himself
a novice in the art of paddling. Still he made fair
headway, and it was not until they were several
hundred yards from shore that Sumner overtook him.
Here was anchored an immense mooring buoy, with a
round, slightly conical top, having in its center a
great iron ring. It did not rise more than a foot from
the surface of the water, and in trying to watch
Sumner, the occupant of the leading canoe did not
notice it until his light craft struck it a glancing
blow, and very nearly upset. The next instant an
effort to recover his equilibrium had precipitated the
fellow into the water, and as Sumner shot past him he
was wildly clutching at the buoy, with desperate
efforts to gain its upper surface.
Satisfied that he could not drown so long as he
clung to the buoy, Sumner first picked up the drifting
canoe. With it in tow he returned to the buoy on which
the recent fugitive was now sitting, clinging tightly
to the iron ring, and presenting a comical picture of
misery.
"Don't leave me here," Sumner!" he cried,
in an imploring tone, in which the boy at once
recognized the voice of Rust Norris. "I didn't mean
no harm. I only just wanted to try the trick, and I
meant to put her back again where I found her.
Honest I did!"
"Well, I don't know," replied Sumner, who could
not help laughing at the other's plight, in spite
of his anger at him for taking the canoe without
leave, and his suspicion that it would not have
been returned so promptly as Rust claimed it would.
"You look quite as comfortable as you deserve to
be; besides, you will have a nice quiet chance out
here to learn the lesson that it is better to leave
other people's property alone than to take it
without permission. So, on the whole, I think I
will leave you where you are for a while. I did
think of having you arrested for stealing, but I
guess this will do just as
well."
HE RETURNED TO THE BUOY, ON WHICH THE
RECENT FUGITIVE WAS NOW SITTING.
