Ethel Morton at Chautauqua Part 37

Ethel Blue's eyes beamed affectionately at her cousin.

"He would like it, wouldn't he?" she said, smiling back.

"Let's go to Panama Rocks, instead," suggested Ethel Brown.

"What are Panama Rocks?" inquired Mrs. Morton.

"The strangest collection of rocks you ever saw, all jumbled together and cleft into miniature canyons. They're about ten miles from here."

"Oh, Daddy would _love_ to see those," cried Ethel Blue so anxiously that no one could help laughing.

"Don't be worried, my dear. We'll save all the very nicest picnics for your father," decided Mr. Emerson. "We'll just go across the lake.

There's a place over there where we can make a fire without getting into trouble, and we can have a hot luncheon and take a swim and have a good time even if we aren't out of sight of the Miller Bell Tower."

Ethel Blue's face brightened.

"How do we get there?" she asked.

"By motor boat."

"Then can't we trail a rowboat so Roger can give me a lesson in rowing?

I shall be ashamed to tell Daddy that I haven't learned all summer."

"Good work," cried Roger. "I'll hitch a light one on behind and I'll guarantee that before you come back you'll know all you need to to pull it. You won't need anything afterwards except practice."

"And perhaps a little cold cream," commented Helen drily.

It was the following Wednesday before a time could be found that would interfere with no one's plans. On that morning the entire Morton-Emerson family, including Mary, boarded the launch, engineered by Jo Sampson, whose employers, the Springers, had been called home before the season ended. It did not take long to speed across to the other side of the lake and the party was soon near enough to the sh.o.r.e to recognize objects at which they had been looking all summer from a distance.

"Those trees aren't near the farmhouse at all! I thought they were right side of it!"

"The trees in the orchard are full grown. They seem like mere babies from the other sh.o.r.e!"

"And the barn is a long way from the house! Well, well!"

It was a glorious day with a breeze that made it no burden to carry the baskets up the slope to the shelter where the materials for making a fire were awaiting them. Jo and Roger arranged everything in places convenient for the cooks and then Jo went to the farmhouse to see if he could find fresh b.u.t.ter and sweet apples. Grandfather and Grandmother strolled off on a botanizing trip; Mary, who was to have a holiday from any kitchen duties, wandered into the woods with Helen and d.i.c.ky.

"Here's a good opportunity for you to give the Ethels their rowing lesson, Roger," suggested Mrs. Morton. "Teach them the main points before luncheon and perhaps they can do a little practicing in the afternoon."

"But you'll be all alone here," objected Roger.

"I shall be glad to be quiet here for a while. It won't be for long; some one is sure to come back in a few minutes."

So Roger and the girls went to the water's edge and the girls stood on the narrow beach while Roger untied the rowboat from the stern of the motor-boat and ran it up on the sh.o.r.e.

"You must learn to get in without being helped," he insisted, "because you'll have to do it lots of times when there isn't any one around to give you a hand. The unbreakable rule is, _Step in the middle of the boat_. If you step on the side you're going to tip it and then you'll have a picnic sure enough and perhaps two drowned pic-a-_ninnies_."

"Pic-a-nothing!" retorted Ethel Brown. "We don't care if we do upset. We can swim."

"Clothes and shoes and all? I wouldn't risk it just yet if I were you.

Now, then, right in the middle. That's it. Ethel Brown on the seat nearest the stern and Ethel Blue on the other."

Roger pushed off with a mighty shove and crept carefully down the boat, steadying himself by a hand on each girl's shoulder as he pa.s.sed. He seated himself in the stern.

"Which way are you going, goose?" he inquired fraternally of Ethel Brown. "Sit facing me. It's a funny thing a sailor's daughter doesn't know that."

"Now, Roger, if you're going to tease I'll get some one else to teach me."

"I won't tease you. Don't stand up to turn around; when you make a mistake like that, squirm around on your seat. Always keep as nearly as possible in the center of the boat. What you want to remember is never to give the boat a chance to tip."

"There are only two oars here."

"One oar apiece is enough to begin with. Put yours out on the left side of the boat, looking forward, Ethel Brown. That's the port side. Look out!" for Ethel Brown thrust out her oar with a circular sweep that would have given Roger a smart blow on the ear if he had not ducked with great agility.

"Put yours out on the starboard side, Ethel Blue," he went on when he recovered himself. "That's the right hand side as you face the direction you are going. Secretary Daniels has changed 'port' and 'starboard' in the navy to 'left' and 'right,' but you might as well learn the old terms."

"Starboard, right; port, left; starboard, right; port, left," repeated the Ethels in chorus, as Ethel Blue brought her oar into place by raising it straight in the air, a movement which brought a "Good" from Roger.

"Ethel Brown is stroke."

"Why is she?" demanded Ethel Blue.

"Because she happens to sit nearest the stern where all the other oarsmen--meaning you--can see her. The stroke oar sets the stroke for the other rowers."

"When I go fast you must go fast, Ethel Blue."

"You can't go too fast for me," returned Ethel Blue smartly. "Have I got a name?"

"You're the bow oar. Now, then, ladies, pay attention to me. Do you see that piece of wood fitting in notches nailed across the floor of the boat? That is called a stretcher and you brace your feet against it."

"Perhaps you can, but I can hardly reach it with my toes."

"Move it up to the closest notch, then. That's the idea. Now put one hand on the handle of your oar and the other hand a few inches away from it on the thick part."

"So?"

"So. You're ready now to begin to row. Push your arms forward as far as they will go and let your body go forward, too. That gives you a longer reach and a purchase on the pull back, you see. Bear down a little on the oar, enough to raise it just above the water. When you get the hang of this you can learn how to turn the blade flat so as not to catch the wind or choppy waves. That's called 'feathering'; but we won't try that now."

"When I push the handle of my oar forward the blade goes backward," said Ethel Blue.

"Correct! Observant young woman! When you've pushed it as far as you can, let it go into the water just enough to cover it--no, don't plunge it way in, Ethel Blue! Don't you see you can't pull it if you have such a ma.s.s of water resisting you? Get your oar under water, Ethel Brown. If you don't catch the water at all you 'catch a crab'--just so," he chuckled as Ethel Brown gave her oar a vigorous pull through empty air and fell backward off the seat. "Hurt yourself, old girl? Here, grab root," and he extended a helping hand.

"Get these few motions right and you have the whole groundwork of rowing," went on Roger. "Forward, dip, pull, lift; forward, dip, pull, lift; forward, dip, pull, lift. Keep that up and you have the thing done. One, two, three, four; one, two, three, four."

The new crew pulled vigorously for some distance until Roger commanded a rest.

"Pull your oar in way across the boat and push it down until the handle catches in the ribs of the opposite side," he directed, "or turn the blade toward the bow and run the handle under the seat before you. Then it won't slip out of the rowlock and sail off, leaving you to wait until somebody happens along to pick you up. You might have to wait some time."