Two officers were chosen in each band to command the squads. Tim was shrewd enough to know that the more offices he created, the more friends he would insure—members who would stand by him in trial and difficulty. In Charles's band, one of these offices was given to the turbulent Barney; his fidelity was thus secured, and past differences reconciled.

"Now, Charley, my crew shall put up one tent, and yours the other."

"Very well," replied Charles, who derived a certain feeling of security from the organization which had just been completed, and he began to feel more at home.

The stakes were driven down, and the poles placed upon the forks; but sewing the cloth together for the covering was found to be so tedious a job that it was abandoned. The strips were drawn over the frame of the tent, and fastened by driving pins through it into the ground. Then it was found that there was only cloth enough to cover one tent. Tim's calculations had been defective.

"Here's a pretty fix," said Tim.

"I have it," replied Charles. "Come with me, Barney, and we will have the best tent of the two."

Charles led the way to the Sylph, and getting on board of her by the aid of one of the boats, they proceeded to unbend her sails.

"Bravo! Charley," said Barney. "That's a good idea; but why can't some of us sleep in this bit of a cuddy house?"

"So we can. Here is Uncle Ben's boat cloak, which will make a first-rate bed. Don't say a word about it, though, and you and I can have it all to ourselves."

The sails were carried ashore, and were ample covering for the tent. Dry leaves, which covered the ground, were then gathered up and put inside for their bed.

"Now, Tim, they are finished, and for one, I begin to feel sleepy," said Charles.

"We can't all sleep, you know," added the prudent chief.

"Why not?"

"We must set a watch."

"I am too sleepy to watch," said Charles, with a long gape. "The clock has just struck one."

"You needn't watch, you are the second in command."

"I see," replied Charles, standing upon his dignity.

"There are four watches, and each must do duty two hours a night. Who shall keep the first watch?"

"I will," said Barney.

"Good! You must keep the fire going, and have an eye to both sides of the island."

"Ay, ay."

"And you must go down to the boats every time the clock strikes, to see if they are all right. If they should get adrift, you know, our game would be up."

"I'll see to it."

"At three o'clock, you must call the watch that is to relieve you."

"Who will that be?"

"I," volunteered the three other officers of the watches, in concert.

"Ben, you shall relieve him. If anything happens, call me."

Tim and his followers then retired to their tent, and buried themselves in the leaves. Charles ordered those of his band who were not on duty to "turn in;" saying that he wanted to warm his feet. The Rovers were so fatigued by their unusual labors that they soon fell asleep, and Charles then repaired to the little cabin of the Sylph. Arranging the cloak for his bed, he wrapped himself up in his great-coat and lay down.

Fatigued as he was, he could not go to sleep. The novelty of his situation, and the guilt, now that the excitement was over, which oppressed his conscience, banished that rest his exhausted frame required. He heard the village clock strike two and three; and then he rose, unable to endure the reproaches of his own heart.

"What a fool I am!" he exclaimed to himself; and a flood of tears came to his relief. "To desert my warm bed, my happy home, the friendship of my club, for such a set of fellows as this! O, how I wish I had not come!"

Leaving the cabin, he seated himself in the stern sheets of the boat. The bright stars had disappeared, and the sky was veiled in deep black clouds. The wind blew very fresh from the north-east, and he was certain that a severe storm was approaching. He wept bitterly when he thought of the gloomy prospect.

He had repented his folly, and would have given the world to get away from the island. Ah, a lucky thought! He could escape! The Rovers were all asleep; the fresh breeze would soon drive the Sylph to the land, and he could return home, and perhaps not be missed. It was an easy thing; and without further reflection, he unfastened the cable, and dropped it overboard.

The Sylph immediately commenced drifting away from the island. Taking the helm, he put her before the wind, and was gratified to observe that she made very good headway.

The clock struck four, and he heard the footsteps of the watch upon the shore.

"Boat adrift!" shouted Ben, who was the officer of the watch.

The words were repeated several times, and in a few moments he heard Tim's voice summoning his crew. Then the Butterfly dashed down upon him, and his hopes died within him. But he had the presence of mind to crawl back again to the cabin; and when Tim came onboard, he had the appearance of being sound asleep, so that the chief did not suspect his treachery.



CHAPTER XVII.

THE ESCAPE.

Monday was a cold, dreary, disagreeable day. The wind continued northeast; a fine, drizzly rain was falling, and a thick fog had settled over the lake, which effectually concealed the camp of the Rovers from the main shore.

An excursion had been planned for the day by the two boat clubs; but the weather was so unpropitious that it was abandoned. About nine o'clock, however, the members of the clubs began to assemble at their halls in search of such recreation as could be found indoors.

Frank opened the Zephyr's boat-house as usual, and great was his dismay when he discovered that the boat was not in its berth. Calling Uncle Ben from the stable, he announced to him the astounding intelligence that the Zephyr had been stolen!

"What does it mean, Uncle Ben?" he asked, in deep anxiety.

"I can't tell you, Frank; only, as you say, it has been stolen. It couldn't have broken adrift."

"Of course not; and one of the windows is open."

"That accounts for it," replied Uncle Ben, as he walked down the boat-house and looked out upon the lake. "I will take the Sylph and hunt it up."

"Let me go with you, Uncle Ben."

"My eyes! but the Sylph is gone too!" exclaimed the veteran, as he perceived the moorings afloat where she usually lay.

"Strange, isn't it?"

Uncle Ben scratched his head, and did not know what to make of it.

"Here comes Tony, running with all his might," continued Frank. "What's the matter, Tony?"

"Somebody has stolen the Butterfly!" gasped Tony, out of breath."

"And the Zephyr and the Sylph!"

Several of the members of the club now arrived, and the matter was thoroughly discussed.

"Who do you suppose stole them!" said Frank.

"Who? why, Tim Bunker of course," replied Fred.

"But he must have had some help."

"Perhaps not; he has done it to be revenged, because your father turned him out of the club."

"Very likely."

"May be he'll smash them up," suggested William Bright.

"Have you seen anything of Charles this morning?" asked Mr. Hardy, entering the boat-house at this moment.

"No, sir."

"He did not sleep at home last night."

The Zephyrs looked at each other with astonishment, and most of them, probably, connected him with the disappearance of the boats. His intimacy with Tim Bunker created a great many painful misgivings, especially when Mr. Hardy told them that his son had played truant on Saturday; and one of the boys had heard of his being seen with Tim on that day. Various other facts were elicited, which threw additional light upon the loss of the boats. Mr. Hardy was in great distress. It was clear that his son had wandered farther from the path of truth than he had ever suspected.

Frank had gone up to the house to inform his father of the loss of the boats, and Captain Sedley soon joined the party. He sympathized deeply with Mr. Hardy, and was satisfied that his son could not be far off. It was impossible to search the lake, as there were no boats for the purpose.

As nothing could be done at present on the lake, Captain Sedley ordered his horse, with the intention of driving round it in search of the fugitive and of the boats. Mr. Hardy was invited to go with him.

On their arrival at Rippleton they found that Tim Bunker was missing, as well as a great many other boys. They continued to examine the shores of the lake till they reached Joe Braman's house, on the north side.

Captain Sedley inquired for his boat; and Joe, after trying to evade the truth, confessed that he had let it to Tim for a week, but did not know where he had gone with it. They were sure then that the boys were engaged in some mad enterprise: and at about eleven o'clock the two gentlemen reached home, without having obtained any intelligence of Charles.

"Have you discovered anything, Ben?" asked Captain Sedley.

"Yes, sir; I heard voices in the direction of Center Island."

"They are there, then," replied Captain Sedley, as he repaired to the boat-house.

About one o'clock the fog lifted, and revealed to the astonished party the camp of the Rovers. A large fire burned near the two tents, around which the boys were gathered, for the weather was so inclement as to render Tim's enterprise anything but romantic.

The Sylph, the two club boats, and Joe Braman's "gondola" lay near the shore, apparently uninjured.

"This is a mad frolic," said Captain Sedley; "but we may be thankful it is no worse."

"My boy in company with such young scoundrels!" added Mr. Hardy, bitterly.

"He is sick of them and the adventure I will warrant."

"I hope so."

"Charles never did like Tim Bunker," suggested Frank.

"What is to be done?" asked Mr. Hardy.

"We can do nothing; they have all the boats. They have managed well, and we are helpless."

"Can't we build a raft, father?" added Frank.

"If we did, they would take to the boats and keep out of our way. Go to the house, Frank, and bring me the spy-glass. We will examine them a little more closely."

"They'll get enough on't afore to-morrow," said Uncle Ben.

"It will cure them of camping out."

"Tim said, the last time he was with us, that we ought to camp out," added William.

"The best way is to let them have it out till they are sick on't," continued Uncle Ben. "It won't hurt 'em; they won't get the scurvy."

Captain Sedley took the glass on Frank's return, and examined the camp. By its aid he obtained a very correct idea of their encampment. The Rovers were at dinner, and he recognized Charles Hardy and several of his companions. The glass was taken by several of the party; and, after this examination, even Mr. Hardy concluded that it was best to make a merit of necessity, and let the foolish boys have out their frolic.

Soon after, the Rovers took to the boats, and pulled up the lake. Then, the anxious party on shore discovered that Charles was in command of the Zephyr. With the help of the spy-glass, they were able to form a very correct idea of the state of feeling on board the boats. There was a great deal of quarreling in both; and, after they had been out half an hour, a regular fight occurred in the Zephyr.

About five o'clock they returned to the island, and before dark it began to rain. All the evening a great fire blazed on the island; but the frail tents of the Rovers must have been entirely inadequate to protect them from the severity of the weather.

At nine o'clock the Zephyrs, who had spent the evening in the hall, went home, leaving Uncle Ben, who had been deputed by Captain Sedley to watch the Rovers, still gazing through his night-glass at the camp-fires on the island. Soon after, discordant cries were wafted over the waters, and it was plain to the veteran that there was "trouble in the camp." The sounds seemed to indicate that a fight was in progress. After a time, however, all was quiet again, and the old sailor sought his bed.

During the night it cleared off, and Tuesday was a bright, pleasant day. It was found in the morning that one of the tents had been moved away from the other. About nine o'clock all the Rovers gathered on the beach; but they were divided into two parties, and there seemed to be a violent dispute between them. One of the parties, as they attempted to get into the Zephyr, was assaulted by the other, and a fight ensued, in which neither gained a victory. Then a parley, and each party took one of the boats and pulled away from the island. It was observed that Charles was no longer the coxswain. He seemed to have lost the favor of his companions, and several of them were seen to kick and strike him.

The boats went in different directions—the Zephyr pulling towards Rippleton. When her crew observed the party who were watching them from the shore, they commenced cheering lustily, and the coxswain, out of bravado, steered towards them.

"Who is he?" asked Frank.

"It is Barney Ropes," replied Tony. "He is as big a rascal as there is out of jail."

"Here they come."

"Suppose we give them a volley of stones," suggested Fred Harper.

"No!" said Frank, firmly.

The boat was pulling parallel with the shore, and not more than ten rods from it. The Rovers yelled, and indulged freely in coarse and abusive language, as they approached. Charles Hardy, with averted face, was pulling the forward oar; but not one of his former companions hailed him. They pitied him; they were sure, when they saw his sad countenance, that he was suffering intensely.

Suddenly Charles dropped his oar, and stood up.

"See! Tim Bunker!" shouted he, pointing to the opposite side of the lake.

All the crew turned their eyes that way, and Charles, seizing his opportunity, sprang with a long leap into the water.

The act was so sudden that the crew could not, for a moment, recover from their astonishment, and Charles struck out lustily for the shore.

"After him!" shouted Barney; and his companions bent upon their oars.

But their excitement threw them into confusion, they lost the stroke, and Barney was such a bungler himself that he could not get the boat about.

"Bravo, Charley!" shouted the Zephyrs.

"Let him go," said Barney, when he realized that the fugitive was beyond his reach; and, rallying his crew, he retreated towards the island.

"Hurrah, Charley! You are safe," said Tony, as he waded into the water to help him ashore.

Charles was so much exhausted when he reached the land that he could not speak. Captain Sedley, who had observed the occurrence from his library window, hastened down to the beach.

The penitent Zephyr, in his agony, threw himself on his knees before him, and in piteous, broken accents besought his pardon. Captain Sedley was deeply moved, and they all realized that "the way of the transgressor is hard."

The sufferer was kindly conveyed to his home by Captain Sedley, and his father and mother were too glad at his return to reproach him for his conduct. When he had changed his clothes, and his emotion had in some degree subsided, he confessed his errors, and solemnly promised never to wander from the right path again. And he was in earnest; he felt all he said in the depths of his soul. He had suffered intensely during his transgression; and his friends were satisfied that he had not sinned from the love of sin. He had been led away by Tim Bunker, and bitter had been the consequences of his error. He had been punished enough,—the sin had been its own punishment,—and his father and his club freely forgave him. He was not a hardened boy, and it was probable that his experience with the Rovers would prove a more salutary correction than any penalty that could be inflicted.

From Charles all the particulars of the "frolic" were obtained. After his unsuccessful attempt to escape in the Sylph, Tim had compelled him to stay in his tent; and, worn out with fatigue and suffering, he had slept till nearly nine o'clock. He had passed the day in a state bordering upon misery. At night a dispute had occurred, ending in a fight, in which his lieutenant, Barney, had led on the Zephyr party. The result was a separation, and Charles, deprived of Tim's aid, could no longer sustain himself. Barney usurped his command, and treated him in a most shameful manner.

Oh, how bitterly did he repent his folly and wickedness! When they were about to embark, he attempted to go over to Tim's party. Barney resented the attempt, and another fight ensued. Then he was kicked into the boat, for his chief could not spare so able an oarsman.

His mental anguish was so great that he could no longer endure it; and, in desperation, he had made his escape, as we have narrated. His case was a hopeful one, and his father cheerfully remitted to Mr. Walker the amount contained in the lost purse, with the mortifying confession of his son's guilt.



CHAPTER XVIII.

WRECK OF THE BUTTERFLY.

The next day Mr. Walker arrived at Rippleton himself. The noble-hearted gentleman seemed to be in unusually good spirits, and the boys noticed that he and Captain Sedley often exchanged significant glances. They were all satisfied that something was about to happen, but they could not imagine what.

Frank and Tony had been requested to invite their friends to assemble at Zephyr Hall at nine o'clock, on Wednesday morning; so that when Mr. Walker entered the hall with Captain Sedley, the whole school, to the number of over seventy, were gathered there.

Charles Hardy was there with the rest; but he seemed to be a different boy. He had lost that forwardness which had often rendered him a disagreeable companion. He had been forgiven; Mr. Walker had spoken to him very kindly, and all his friends treated him as though nothing had happened; but for all this, he could not feel right. His sufferings were not yet ended; repentance will not banish at once the remembrance of former sin and error. There was a deep feeling of commiseration manifested towards him by his associates. He was to them the returned prodigal, and they would fain have killed the fatted calf in honor of his happy restoration.

The Zephyrs and the Butterflies wore their uniforms, and Mr. Walker was so excited that all the boys were sure a good time was before them; though, as the boats had not yet been recovered, they were at a loss to determine the nature of the sports to which they had been invited.

The Rovers still maintained themselves on the island. The rupture between Tim and Barney had evidently been healed; for both parties seemed to mingle as though nothing had occurred to mar their harmonious action.

The boys at the boat-house were not kept long in suspense in relation to their day's sport. Captain Sedley formed them into a procession, when all had arrived, and, after appointing Fred Harper chief marshal, directed them to march down to Rippleton, cross the river, and halt upon the other side till he came.

When they reached the place they found Uncle Ben there, and soon after were joined by Captain Sedley and Mr. Walker.

"Follow us," said the former, as he led the way down to a little inlet of the lake, whose waters were nearly enclosed by the land.

"Hurrah!" shouted Fred Harper, suddenly, when he obtained a view of the inlet, and the cry was taken up by the whole party.

"The fleet! The fleet!" was passed from mouth to mouth; and unable to control their excitement, they broke their ranks and ran with all their might down to the water's side.

Resting gracefully, like so many swans, on the bright waters of the inlet, lay five beautiful club boats. They were of different sizes, and fore and aft floated their flags to the gentle breeze.

I will not attempt to describe the wild delight of the boys when they beheld the splendid boats. The bright vision of a fleet, which they had so cheerfully abandoned to be enabled to do a good and generous deed, was realized. Here was the fleet, far surpassing in grandeur their most magnificent ideal.

Five boats! And the Zephyr and the Butterfly would make seven!

"You have done this!" exclaimed Frank, as Mr. Walker approached.

"Your father and I together did it. Now, boys, if you will form a ring we will explain."

"Three cheers for Mr. Walker first," suggested Tony.

They were given, and three more for Captain Sedley.

"My lads, I heard all about your giving up the fleet to help Mr. Munroe out of trouble. It was noble—heroic, and I have since taken pains to inform myself as to the manner in which you conducted yourself after the brave sacrifice. As far as I can learn, not a regret has been expressed at the mode in which your money was applied. Here is your reward," and he pointed to the boats. "They are the gift of Captain Sedley and myself. I am sorry that these Rovers have taken your other boats; but it enables us to observe the difference between good boys and bad boys. Nay, Master Hardy, you need not blush; for, though you have erred, you have behaved heroically; you risked your life to escape from them; you are forgiven."

This speech was received with shouts of applause, and Charles Hardy stepped forward with tears in his eyes to thank the kind gentleman for his generosity towards him.

"Now, boys," said Captain Sedley, "we are going to recover the lost boats."

"Hurrah!" shouted all the boys.

"Two of these boats, you perceive, carry twelve oars each. The crew of the Zephyr will man the Bluebird."

The Zephyrs obeyed the order.

"The crew of the Butterfly will man the Rainbow," continued Captain Sedley.

The Butterflies seated themselves in the new boat.

"This is merely a temporary arrangement, and when we get the other boats, we shall organize anew. We want practised oarsmen for our present service. While we are absent, Uncle Ben will instruct the rest of the boys in rowing."

Captain Sedley and Mr. Walker then seated themselves in the stern sheets of the Bluebird.

"Now pull for Center Island," said the former. "Tony, you will follow us."

The two boats darted out of the inlet, leaving Uncle Ben in charge of the "recruits."

The Lily and the Dart were eight-oar boats, while the Dip carried only four, and was designed as a "tender" for the fleet. Uncle Ben assigned places to the boys, though there were about thirty left after the oars were all manned. After an hour's drilling, he got the crews so they could work together, and the boats were then employed in conveying the rest of the party over to the boat-house. The others in their turn were instructed and before noon Uncle Ben had rendered them tolerably proficient in the art of rowing.

When the Bluebird reached Center Island, Tim had just embarked in the Butterfly, and Barney was preparing to do the same in the Zephyr. The Rovers were utterly confounded at this unexpected invasion of their domain, and hastily retreated from the beach.

William Bright, who was the coxswain of the Bluebird, ran her alongside the Zephyr, and took her in tow. In like manner they took possession of the Sylph and the "gondola," leaving the Rovers "alone in their glory," with no means of escaping from the island. With the three boats in tow, they pulled for the beach.

"Now for the Butterfly," said Captain Sedley, as he placed the Sylph in charge of Uncle Ben, and directed William Bright to steer up the lake.

Away dashed the Bluebird. The excited crew had observed the Butterfly about a mile off, pulling towards the river. Tim Bunker, at this safe distance, had paused to observe the movements of the invaders. He was as much confounded as Barney had been, and seemed to be at a loss what to do; but when he saw the Bluebird headed towards him, he ordered his crew to pull for the river.

"Steady, boys," said Captain Sedley, when they had approached within a quarter of a mile of the chase. "Probably they will run her ashore and leave her."

But Tim did not mean to do anything of the kind, and was running the Butterfly directly for the river.

"They will dash her in pieces, I fear," continued the director, when he perceived Tim's intention. "Pull slowly—put her about, and perhaps they will return."

The Bluebird came round; but Tim dashed madly on, heedless of the rocks.

"She strikes!" exclaimed Mr. Walker.

"Round again—quick!" added Captain Sedley. "They will all be drowned! She fills! There they go!"

The Butterfly had stove a hole in her bow; in an instant she was filled with water, and, careening over, threw her crew into the lake, where they were struggling for life.

"Your boat is stove, Tony," said Captain Sedley to the coxswain of the Butterfly, who had exchanged places with Fred Harper, for the chase.

"Never mind the boat; save the boys!" replied Tony.

"Bravo! my little hero!" exclaimed Mr. Walker.

In a few moments the Bluebird reached the scene of the disaster. The Butterfly was so light that she did not sink; and most of the Rovers were supporting themselves by holding on at her gunwale. Tim and two or three more had swum ashore, and one would have been drowned, if assistance had not reached him when it did.

The discomfited Rovers were rescued from their perilous situation, and after a severe reprimand, were landed at the nearest shore. Tim made his escape; but probably none of them have since felt any inclination to imitate the freebooters.

The Butterfly was towed down to her house, and taken out of the water. It was found that two of her planks had been stove, and that the damage could be easily repaired. Mr. Walker proposed sending to Boston for a boat-builder; but Captain Sedley was sure that Uncle Ben, with the assistance of the wheelwright, could repair her quite as well.

The Bluebird then returned to the beach, and the boys were dismissed till three o'clock. The situation of the Rovers on the island was next discussed by Captain Sedley and Mr. Walker, and it was decided that, as Tim had escaped, it was not expedient to punish his companions, who were less guilty. So Uncle Ben, with Frank and Tony, was sent off to bring them ashore. Barney and his band were glad enough to get off. They freely acknowledged that they had had enough of "camping out." It was not what they anticipated. Nearly all of them had taken severe colds, and since the rain on Monday night, which had spoiled their provisions, they had been nearly starved. Barney declared that they meant to return the boats that night, and if Captain Sedley would "let them off" this time, they would never do such a thing again. Like Charles, they had been punished enough, and with some good advice they were permitted to depart. How they made peace with their parents I cannot say; but probably many of them "had to take it." As for Tim Bunker, he did not show his face in Rippleton again, but made his way to Boston, where he shipped in a vessel bound for the East Indies; and everybody in town was glad to get rid of him.

Thus ended the famous "camping out" of the Rovers. It was a very pleasant and romantic thing to think about; but the reality was sufficient to effect a radical cure, and convince them that "yellow-covered books" did not tell the truth.

At three o'clock the boys reassembled, and the crews were organized and officers selected. By a unanimous vote, Frank Sedley was chosen commodore of the fleet. The next morning the Butterfly was repaired, and the squadron made its first voyage round the lake.

But as the rest of the week was occupied in drilling, and the maneuvers were necessarily imperfect, I pass over the time till the August vacation, when the fleet made a grand excursion up Rippleton River.



CHAPTER XIX.

THE CRUISE OF THE FLEET.

The school year was ended; and it was remarked that the school had never been in a more flourishing condition. The boys, stimulated by the boat organizations, had made remarkable progress, and parents and committee sympathized with them in the pleasant anticipations of the coming vacation.

Since his defection in June, the conduct of Charles Hardy had been in the highest degree satisfactory. His character seemed to be radically changed. He did not "put on airs," nor aspire to high places. His pride had been lowered, and he was modest and gentle; therefore my young friends will not be surprised to learn that his associates had rewarded his endeavors to do well by electing him coxswain of the Zephyr.

On the morning of the day appointed for the grand excursion, the squadron, as it formed in line opposite Captain Sedley's house, consisted of the following boats, manned and commanded as below:—

Zephyr, 12 oars, (bearing the broad pennant of Commodore Sedley,) Charles Hardy. Butterfly, 12 oars, Paul Munroe. Bluebird, 12 " Fred Harper. Rainbow, 12 " William Bright. Lily, 8 " Henry Brown. Dart, 8 " Dick Chester. Dip, 4 " (tender,) Tony Weston.

My young readers need not be indignant at finding so brave and skilful an officer as Tony Weston in command of the little Dip, deeming it an insignificant position for him to occupy; for the tender was to be detailed on special duty, and the appointment was a marked compliment to his skill and judgment.

The system of signals established for the use of the fleet was very simple, and consisted of plain flags of red, white, blue, yellow, green, orange, and purple, each color being a distinct order. The discipline of the fleet was of a mongrel character, composed of naval and military tactics. When the squadron sailed in compact order verbal commands were given; and when the boats were too far apart for the word to be heard, signals were used. But these details will be better understood as the squadron proceeds on its voyage.

The boats were ranged in line, side by side, with the Zephyr on the right, the Butterfly on the left, and the Dip in the middle, each with its gay flags floating to the breeze. All the oars were in-board, and the clubs were waiting for the commodore's orders.

On board the Zephyr, a longer staff than she had formerly used was erected, on which, half way up, was placed her fly, and at the top the broad pennant—of blue, covered with silver stars. On this pole the signals were hoisted, when the pennant had to be lowered for the time.

All eyes were directed to the commodore, who was standing up in the stern sheets of the flag boat.

"Ready!" said he, in a voice loud enough to be heard the whole length of the line; and every boy grasped his oar.

"Up!"

It was a beautiful sight to observe the precision with which the oars were erected. A company of soldiers could not have handled their muskets with more unanimity.

"Down!" and in like manner the oars dropped into the water.

Those who have observed the manner in which a military officer gives his orders have discovered the secret of this pleasing concord of action. Commands consist, except in a series, of two words; and dwelling for an instant on the first keeps all in a state of readiness to act the instant the second is given. Frank had studied the matter while witnessing the evolutions of the Rippleton Guards, and he had adopted the plan in the club. When the captain said "shoulder," the men knew what was coming; and at the word "arms," the evolution was performed. So with "present—arms!" "file—right!" "left—wheel!" etc.; and to these observations he was indebted for the proficiency of his club, and of the fleet.

"Ready—pull!" he continued.

The stroke was very slow, and each coxswain was obliged to keep his boat in line with the others, the flag boat regulating their speed.

When the squadron had reached the upper part of the lake, the pennant was dropped, and up went a red flag.

"Cease—rowing!" said all the coxswains, except the Zephyr's.

Then the red flag was lowered, and a blue one was hoisted.

"In single line," the coxswain of the Bluebird, which was next to the Zephyr, interpreted the signal, and his boat followed the flag.

The others came into the line in proper order, and the squadron passed entirely round the lake.

"Cease—rowing!" exclaimed the coxswains, in concert, as the red flag again appeared.

Up went a green flag, and the line was formed; then a yellow, to form in sections of two. In this order the squadron pulled down the lake again, to the widest part, where various fanciful evolutions were performed—which it would be impossible to describe on paper. One of them was rowing in a circle round the Dip; another was two circles of three boats each, pulling in opposite directions. Then the boats were sent off in six different ways, forming a hexagon, with the tender in the center; after which they all came together so that their stems touched each other, in the shape of a star.

"Now, boys, we are ready for the voyage up Rippleton River," said Commodore Sedley. "I need not tell you that the utmost caution must be used. Watch the flags closely, and every coxswain be very prudent."

"Ay, ay!"

"Tony will lead in the Dip, and each boat will place a man in the bow to look out for buoys, which he will place over rocks and shoals."

"Ay, ay," answered the coxswains.

"Now, Tony, you may go up and mark off the rocks at the mouth of the river."

The little Dip, which had a picked crew for the occasion, darted away up the lake, leaving the rest of the fleet to follow.

"Form a line!" shouted Frank, and the boats backed out from their positions, and in a moment had obeyed the order.

"Ready—pull;" and the fleet moved slowly and grandly up the lake.

The boys were in high spirits. There was something inspiring in the operations of the squadron that would have moved a more steady mind than that of a boy of twelve. Every moment was a revelation of the power that dwelt in them, of the beauty of order, of the grace of harmonious action. As in the great world, a single intractable spirit might have produced a heap of confusion, and it was the purpose of the organization to bring each into harmony with the whole.

The fleet reached the mouth of the river. Tony had placed buoys on the dangerous rocks each side of the channel, so that the boats, by approaching it in the right direction, could easily pass through in safety.

The Dip had been provided with a large number of these buoys. They were pieces of board, part of them painted red, and part blue, with a line and weight attached to each. Near the dangerous rock or shoal one of these buoys was to be located, which would be kept in place by the weight. The coxswains had written instructions from the commodore to keep red ones on the starboard side, and blue on the port side, going up the river, and vice versa coming down.

The Zephyr took position near the rocks to see that every boat approached the channel in the right direction, as, if they did not, they would be sure to strike. By these extraordinary precautions, the fleet passed through in safety, and three stunning cheers announced that the passage had been effected.

"Here we are, Charley," said Frank, as the Zephyr pulled ahead of the other boats.

"All safe, thanks to the skill and prudence of our commodore," replied Charles; and the reader will be struck with the modesty of his language.

"Where is Tony? I don't see him."

"Round the bend, I guess; but here are his buoys all along."

"Signal man, hoist the blue," continued the commodore; and the fleet followed in single line.

"Here's the bridge; I fancy Tony knows the soundings here," said Charles.

"Ay, there is the rock on which Mr. Walker's chaise hung. It is almost out of water, now."

"Did you hear what Mr. Walker said when some one asked him why he did not sue the town?"

"No; what was it?"

"He said it was the luckiest day of his life when he pitched off the bridge."

"Indeed!"

"He has thought so much better of humanity since, and it introduced him to Tony Weston, whom he calls a hero in embryo."

"Mr. Walker is a nice man—a whole-souled man."

"That he is! How many men would have done for us what he did? And I, in particular, have reason to be grateful to him," said Charles, with a sigh. "I shall never forget him and your father, wherever my lot is cast."

"That is manly of you, Charley. But I am sure they have been abundantly rewarded by your devotion to duty since."

"I have tried to do right."

"You have done well; everybody says so."

"I cannot soon forget what a fool I was to believe Tim's wicked lies. I suppose I wanted to believe them, or I should not."

"It is a great pity we ever let Tim into the club; but we meant right; we meant to reform him. Where do you suppose he is now?"

"Somewhere near the Cape of Good Hope."

"My father thinks he has got enough of the sea by this time."

"I dare say. Didn't you ever feel a desire to go to sea, Frank?"

"No; not lately."

"Nor I; Tim Bunker lent me the Red Corsair of the Caribbean Sea, just before that scrape, and I thought then that I should like to take a voyage."

"My father will not let me read such books; and since he has told me what they are, and what their influence is, I don't want to read them."

"There's Tony, with the red flag hoisted."

The red flag had been agreed upon as the signal to stop the fleet, when the navigation was very hazardous, or impracticable.

"Cease—rowing!" said Charles.

Frank ordered his signal man to hoist the red in the flag boat.

"Can't we go any farther than this?" asked Charles.

"I don't know; we are not more than a mile above the bridge."

"Here comes the Dip."

"Well, Tony, what's the matter?" said the commodore, as the tender approached.

"I haven't found a clear channel yet. The bed of the river is covered with rocks," replied Tony, as the Dip came alongside the Zephyr.

"Then we must call this the head of navigation," added Frank, with a laugh, though he was not a little disappointed to find the cruise up so soon.

"Perhaps not; there is water enough, but the twelve-oar boats are so long they can hardly dodge the rocks. The Lily and the Dart can get through very well."

"Have you sounded clear across?"

"I haven't had time to examine very thoroughly yet. If you let the boats lay off I will look farther."

"Very well; I will go with you in the Dart," replied the commodore, as he ordered up a white and a blue flag, which was the signal for the Dart to close up.

The signal was obeyed, and Frank followed the Dip. After half an hour's search, a clear channel was found close to the land; so close that the oars could not be used, and a party was sent on shore to drag them through with ropes.

The line was formed again, and the squadron slowly followed the Dip as she examined the river. For the next mile there were no obstructions.

"Twelve o'clock!" shouted Fred Harper from the Bluebird.

"Dinner time, then," replied Frank. "Here is a beautiful grove, and we will land and dine. Hoist the orange"—the signal to land.



CHAPTER XX.

THE HOSPITALITIES OF OAKLAWN.

The boys all had remarkably good appetites, and therefore dinner was no unimportant event in the experience of the day. Somehow, boys contrive to be hungry at almost all times of the day, even without the stimulus of pulling three hours at an oar. There was something, too, in the circumstance of dining in a beautiful grove, on the bank of the river, with their boats floating near them, which rendered the occasion peculiarly pleasant—which made their cold meat, doughnuts, and apple pie taste much better than usual.

But the adventure was not yet completed. The head waters of navigation had not been reached, and their love of exploring did not permit them to spend any unnecessary time over the meal. Tony and his oarsmen had reported themselves at the grove, and after "bolting" their dinner, had resumed their occupation; and the boys perceived the Dip half a mile up the river before they were ready to start.

"All aboard!" said Frank; and the crews, hastily gathering up their tin pails, and their baskets, tumbled into the boats.

The Zephyr led off, followed by the other boats of the squadron.

"I see no buoys ahead," said Frank, after they had advanced some distance. "The navigation must be unobstructed."

"It looks like deep water," answered Charles.

"And Tony's crew are pulling very hard; they are going faster than we do."

"He is trying to gain time against he reaches a bad place. There he goes round the bend. Were you ever up here before, Frank?"

"I have been to Oaklawn, which is about four miles from Rippleton. Of course I never came up the river."

"Wouldn't it be fine if we could get up to Oaklawn?"

"Perhaps we can."

"This is smooth work," continued Frank. "Can't we give a little variety to the excursion?"

"What?"

"Hoist the yellow, signalman," replied the commodore. "We will pull a while in sections of two, and sing some songs."

Obedient to the signal, the boats of the fleet came into the order prescribed, and the boys waked up the hills and the woods with the earnestness of their song. It was a beautiful and cheering sight to see them gliding over the clear waters, while their voices mingled with those of the songsters which nature had given to the hillside and the forest. Their hearts were glad, and in beautiful unison with the scene around them.

"Rapids!" exclaimed Frank, when the boat reached the bend. "Up with the blue!"

"Steady!" added Charles. "Pull slowly."

"Tony has been very busy," continued Frank, pointing to the buoys, that speckled the waters. I am afraid the cruise is about up."

"Tony has passed the rapids. You know steamboats go down the rapids on the St. Lawrence River."

"Ah, there is Oaklawn," said Frank, pointing to the spire of a church in the distance. "We cannot go much farther, I know."

"We have made nearly four miles."

What the commodore had styled "rapids" were not a very formidable difficulty. Near one bank was a ledge of rocks, over which the waters dashed with considerable energy; but though there was the same descent on the other side, no obstruction appeared to check them from attempting the passage. Tony had accomplished it, and had left no warning to deter them.

"Shall we go through, Frank?"

"Ay; bend on sharp, and she will leap up like a fawn. Now for it!"

The Zephyrs applied all their strength to the oars, and the boat darted up the rapids with no other detriment than taking in two or three pailfuls of water.

The rest of the fleet followed, with the exception of the Lily, without accident; and she, not having sufficient headway, was carried down again. By the skill of her coxswain, however, she was saved from damage, and her second attempt was successful.

The navigation was again tolerably safe, and for half a mile they proceeded on their way without interruption.

"There's a bridge," said Charles, pointing ahead.

"And there is the Dip, with the red hoisted. Tony seems to have given it up. He has made fast to the bridge."

On the shore was a crowd of men and boys, who were holding a parley with the pilot of the expedition; but when they saw the squadron approaching they seemed petrified with astonishment. The boys thrust their hands deep in their trousers' pockets, and with mouths wide open stared in speechless wonder. The arrival of Columbus on the shores of the new world could not have been more astounding to the natives than was the coming of the Wood Lake squadron to the boys of Oaklawn.

"Sheer off, Charley, to the port side of the river, and we will come into line. The river is wide enough here, I believe. Up with the green!"

On dashed the boats in the rear till they came into the line. The river widened into a kind of pond; but the line stretched clear across it—making a very imposing appearance.

"Slowly; cease—rowing!" continued Frank. "Ready—up!" and the sixty-eight oars of the fleet glittered in the sunshine before the astonished Oaklawners, who were gathered in great numbers on the shore and bridge.

"Well, Tony, the cruise is up," said Frank, when the Dip came into line.

"Yes," replied the pilot, pointing under the bridge, where the river dashed its foaming waters down a long reach of half-exposed rocks. "We can't get over those."

"No; and we may as well land and take a look at Oaklawn. Hoist the orange. Ready—down!"

Each boat landed its crew at a convenient place, and they were then marshaled into a procession. They were formed in sections of four, each crew preceded by its coxswain, with one of the flags on each side of him. The commodore marched at the head of the company, and in this order they proceeded through the principal street of the village. Of course their appearance excited a great deal of wonder, and not a little admiration. Several of the principal citizens, unwilling that their guests should depart unwelcomed, got up an impromptu reception, and the clubs were invited to the Town Hall, where some very pretty speeches were made by the chairman of the Selectmen, of the School Committee, the representative to the General Court, and other distinguished individuals; to whom the commodore replied with a great deal of dignity and self-possession.

While the speeches were proceeding, the ladies were not idle; and the boys were next invited to a collation on the green; after which they marched back to the river and re-embarked. Three times three cheers were given for the people of Oaklawn, and the word was given to pull for home.

The boys of the village were not so ready to part with them, and some twenty of them followed the boats, on the bank of the river.

"I say, Frank, these folks were very kind to us," Charles remarked.

"They were, indeed."

"And the boys seem to enjoy it."

"I suppose not many of them ever saw our boats before."

"Suppose we take them in; they will be very willing to walk home, say from the grove where we dined, for the sake of the sail."

"Good! I didn't think of that before. Up with the orange!"

The boats landed, and the astonished Oaklawn boys were distributed among them. They seemed to regard the favor as an unexpected condescension, and their delight knew no bounds. As Little Paul expressed it, "they were tickled half to death"; and when they reached the grove it was a sad and bitter disappointment for them to get out and go home.

"I was thinking of something," said Charles, a little while after they had landed their passengers.

"What was it, Charley?" replied the commodore.

"That we might invite the boys of Oaklawn to spend a day with us on the lake."

"Capital!"

"We could give them a picnic on Center Island."

"We will do it; and now that we know the river we can easily come up as far as the grove after them."

"Or up to the rapids; there is no danger this side of them."

This plan was discussed in all its details, and everything was agreed upon by the time they reached the lake. The passage down the river had been much quicker than the upward trip, and before sunset the boats were all housed, and the clubs had separated.

On the following week the courtesies of the club were extended to the boys of Oaklawn, as arranged by the commodore, and a very fine time they had of it. Their guests, numbering over forty, were entertained in every conceivable manner—the day's sports concluding with a grand race, in which all the boats were entered, and in which the Butterfly won the honors.

A new program was made up every week during the vacation. Lighthouses were built, channels surveyed, shores charted; indeed, everything which the ingenuity of the boys could devise was brought forward to add fresh interest to the sports of the lake.

And thus the season passed away, and winter came again. The fleet was laid up, and the useful and pleasant recreations of the club rooms were substituted for the active excitement of boating. Lectures were given, essays were read, debates held, every week; and the progress of the boys out of school, as well as within, was highly satisfactory to all concerned.



CHAPTER XXI.

CONCLUSION.

I suppose, as the present volume completes the history of the Boat Club, that my young readers will wish to know something of the subsequent fortunes of the prominent characters of the association. It gives me pleasure to say that not one of them has been recreant to his opportunities, or abandoned his high standard of character; that the moral, mental, and physical discipline of the organization has proved salutary in the highest degree. The members of the boat clubs are now active members of society. Each is pulling an oar, or steering his bark, on the great ocean of life. Some are in humble spheres, as in the little Dip; others are in more extended fields, as in the majestic twelve-oar boats.

Frank Sedley is a lawyer. His father has gone to enjoy his reward in the world beyond the grave; and Frank, who was married a year ago to Mary Weston, resides in the mansion by the lake. His brilliant talents and unspotted integrity have elevated him to a respectable position, for one so young, in the legal profession; and there is no doubt but that he will arrive at eminence in due time.

Uncle Ben is still alive, and continues to dwell at the mansion of the Sedleys. The boats are still in being, and are manned by the boys belonging to the school—under the direction of the veteran.

Tony Weston is a merchant. At the age of seventeen he was taken into the counting-room of Mr. Walker, and at twenty-one admitted as an equal partner. The man is what the boy was—noble, generous, kind.

Strange as it may seem, only one boy of the whole number has become a sailor. Fred Harper went to sea when he left school, and was recently appointed master of a fine clipper ship, bound for India. Little Paul is a journeyman carpenter. He is in a humble sphere, but none the less respected on that account. His father, who recovered his health, paid the notes he had made to the clubs. The money was applied to the purchase of books and a philosophical apparatus, which rendered the winter evenings of the clubs still more attractive.

'Squire Chase "worked out his destiny" in Rippleton, and finally was so thoroughly despised that he found it convenient to leave the place. Perhaps my readers will be a little surprised when I tell them that Charles Hardy is a minister of the gospel. He was recently settled in a small town in Connecticut. The boat club changed his character,—purged it of the evil and confirmed the good,—and he is now a humble and devoted laborer in the vineyard of the Master.

Wood Lake is still beautiful, and the remembrances of former days are still lovingly cherished by Frank and Tony, who reside on its banks. The Zephyr and Butterfly, though somewhat battered and worm-eaten, are occasionally seen, near the close of the day, with a lady and gentleman in the stern sheets of each. The youthful crews are happier than usual, for one bears the ex-commodore and lady, and the other the hero of Rippleton Bridge and his lady.

THE END.