Frank, the Young Naturalist Part 15

Frank, of course, made no reply; and, in a moment more, the hack was out of sight.

They soon reached the wharf, in front of the house, and Frank helped Julia out, and, after making his boat fast, started toward the house, and entered the room where their visitors were seated.

His aunt's greeting was cold and distant, and she acted as if her every motion had been thoroughly studied. James's acknowledgment was scarcely more than agreeable. To Frank's inquiry, "How do you do, sir?" he replied,

"Oh, I'm bully, thank you, old beeswax. Not you the cod I twigged[A]

navigating that scow up the creek?"

[Footnote A: Saw.]

Frank acknowledged himself to be the person, and James continued,

"I suppose she's the champion yacht, isn't she?"

"Yes," answered Frank, "she is. There's no boat about the village that can beat her."

"Ah, possibly; but, after all, you had better tell that to the marines. I've seen too much of the world to have a country chap stuff me, now I tell you, old beeswax."

We will not particularize upon James's visit. It will suffice to relate one or two incidents that will ill.u.s.trate his character.

A day or two after his arrival, he discovered the schooner standing on Frank's bureau, and he could not be contented until he should see "how she carried herself in the water," and Frank, reluctantly, carried it down to the creek and set it afloat.

For a few moments James seemed to have forgotten his evil propensities, and they amused themselves by sailing the schooner from one side of the creek to the other. But he very soon grew tired of this "lame, unexciting sport," as he called it, and, gathering up an armful of stones, he began to throw them into the water near the boat, shouting,

"Storm on the Atlantic! See her rock!"

"Please don't, James," urged Frank; "I'm afraid you will hit the schooner."

"No fear of that," answered James, confidently, still continuing to throw the stones; "I can come within a hair's-breadth of her, and not touch her. Now, see."

And, before Frank could speak, away flew a large stone, with great force, and, cras.h.i.+ng through the mainsail of the little vessel, broke both masts and the bowsprit short off.

"There," exclaimed Frank, "I was afraid you would do that."

James did not appear to be in the least sorry for it, but he skipped up the bank, shouting, in an insulting tone,

"There's your boat, old beeswax. When do you expect her in port?"

Frank did not answer, but drew what remained of the schooner to the sh.o.r.e, and, taking it under his arm, started for his shop, saying,

"Now, that's a nice cousin for a fellow to have. I'll do my best to treat him respectfully while he stays, but I shall not be sorry when the time comes to bid him good-by."

And that time was not far distant. James often complained to his mother that Frank was a "low-minded, mean fellow," and urged an immediate departure. His mother always yielded to his requests, or rather _demands_, no matter how unreasonable they might be; and they had scarcely made a visit of a week, when they announced their intention of leaving Lawrence by the "next boat."

On the day previous to their departure, Mrs. Nelson had occasion to send Frank to the village for some groceries, and, as a favorable wind was blowing, he decided to go in his boat. But, before starting, he managed to slip away from James long enough to write a few lines to Archie, urging him to come immediately.

Frank intended to start off without James's knowledge; but the uneasy fellow was always on the look-out, and, seeing his cousin going rapidly down the walk, with a basket on each arm, and his dog--which, like his master, had not much affection for James--he shouted,

"Hallo, old beeswax, where are you bound for?"

"For the village," answered Frank.

"Are you going to take the tow-path?"

"The tow-path! I don't know what you mean."

"Are you going to ride shanks' horses?"

"I don't understand that, either."

"Oh, you are a ba.s.s-wood man, indeed," said James, with a taunting laugh. "Are you going to _walk_? Do you think you can comprehend me now?"

"Yes," answered Frank, "I can understand you when you talk English.

No, I am not going to walk."

"Then I'll go with you, if you will leave that dog at home."

"I don't see what objections you can have to his company. He always goes with me."

"I suppose you think more of him than you do of your relations; but I'm going with you, at any rate."

And he quickened his pace to overtake Frank.

While his cousin was hoisting the sails, James deliberately seated himself in the stern of the boat, and took hold of the tiller.

"Do you understand managing a sail-boat?" inquired Frank, as he stood ready to cast off the painter.

"If any one else had asked me that question," answered James, with an air of injured dignity, "I should have considered it an insult. Of course I _do_."

"All right, then," said Frank, as he pushed the boat from the wharf.

"Go ahead. We shall be obliged to tack a good many times, going down but we can sail back like a book, and--"

"Oh, you teach your grandmother, will you?" interrupted James. "I've sailed more boats than you ever saw."

Frank, at first, did not doubt the truth of this a.s.sertion, for James lived in a seaport town, and had had ample opportunity to learn how to manage a yacht; but they had not made twenty feet from the wharf, when he made up his mind that his cousin had never before attempted to act as skipper.

Instead of keeping as close as possible to the wind, as he should have done, he turned the boat's head first one way and then another, and, of course, made no headway at all.

"I never saw such a tub as this," said James, at length; "I can't make her mind her helm."

Just at this moment a strong gust of wind filled the sails, and, as James was not seaman enough to "luff" or "let go the sheet," the Speedwell same very near capsizing. As she righted, the wind again filled the sails, and the boat was driven with great speed toward the sh.o.r.e. Frank had barely time to pull up the center-board before her bows ran high upon the bank, and the sheet was roughly jerked from James's hand, and flapped loudly against the mast.

"There," said Frank, turning to his cousin, who sat, pale with terror, "I guess it's a long time since you attempted to sail a boat; you seem to have forgotten how, I tell you," he continued as he noticed James's trepidation, "if I hadn't pulled up that center-board just as I did, we should have been obliged to swim for it."

"I can't swim," said James, in a weak voice.

"Then you would have been in a fix," said Frank. "Now, let me see if I can have any better luck."

James very willingly seated himself on one of the middle thwarts, and Frank pushed the boat from the sh.o.r.e, and took hold of the tiller, and, under his skillful management, the Speedwell flew through the water like a duck.