by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER XIII.
THE LIGHTHOUSE.
During the month of May, the members of the two clubs continued to spendmany of their leisure hours on the lake; but my young friends must notsuppose that life was to them a continuous holiday; and, because thesebooks are devoted chiefly to their doings on the water, that boating wasthe only, or the principal business that occupied them. They had theirschool duties to perform, their errands to do, wood to split, yards tosweep; in short, they had to do just like other boys. A portion ofWednesday and Saturday afternoon, and of their other holidays, was givento these aquatic sports; so that they were really on the lake but asmall part of the time. Probably, if they had spent all their leisure inthe boats, the exercise would have lost its attractions, besidesinterfering very much with their home and school affairs. Pleasures, tobe enjoyed, should be partaken of in moderation. Boys get sick of mostsports in a short time, because they indulge in them too freely.
Nothing specially worthy of note occurred in either club till near theend of the month of May. The intimacy between Charles Hardy and TimBunker was observed to increase, though no one had any suspicion of thesecret which had cemented the bond of their union.
The lost purse was the property of Mr. Walker. At a subsequent visit toRippleton, he had mentioned his loss, but he had no idea where he haddropped it. Tim congratulated his still unwilling confederate on thesuccess of his villainy. Mr. Walker did not even know whether he hadlost his money in the town or not; so, of course, he had no suspicion ofthem.
"You are a first-rate fellow, Charley, but you are too chickenish byhalf," said Tim Bunker.
"I don't feel right about it, and I wish I had given up the purse when Ifound it."
"Pooh!"
"I meant to do so."
"I know you did. You were just fool enough to do such a thing. If ithadn't been for me, you would have done it."
"O, I wish I had!"
"Don't be a fool, Charley."
"I would give the world to feel as I felt before I did this thing."
"Don't think any more about it."
"I can't help thinking. It worries me nights."
"Go to sleep then."
"I can't. What would Frank say if he knew it?"
"Humph! Frank again!"
"They would turn me out of the club."
"You are no worse than any of the rest of them."
"They wouldn't steal," replied Charles, warmly.
"Don't you believe it. If I should tell all I know about some of them,they wouldn't be safe where they are, let me tell you."
"What do you know, Tim?"
"I don't choose to tell."
Charles found some satisfaction in this indefinite accusation; but itwas not enough to quiet his troubled conscience. Life seemed differentto him since he had stolen the purse--he had not got far enough inwickedness yet to believe that it was _not_ stolen. He felt guilty, andhis sense of guilt followed him wherever he went. He could not shake itoff. Everybody seemed to look reproachfully at him. He avoided hiscompanions in the club when not on duty with them. He began to hateFrank Sedley, though he could not tell the reason. William Bright, whowas now the coxswain, Frank's term having expired, was a very strictdisciplinarian, and the guilty boy had grown very impatient ofrestraint. He was surly and ill-natured when the coxswain rebuked him,even in the kindest tones. Everything went wrong with him, for the wormwas gnawing at his heart.
"Won't you tell _me_, Tim?" asked he, in reply to Tim's remark.
"Not now, Charley; one of these days you shall know all about it."
"I am afraid we shall both get turned out of the club."
"No we shan't; if we do---- But no matter.'
"What would you do, Tim?"
"Never mind now, Charley. I have a plan in my head. Captain Sedley toldme the other day if I didn't behave better I should be turned out."
"Then you will be."
"I don't care if I am. If they turn me out, they will make a mistake;that's all."
There was something mysterious in the words of the Bunker which excitedthe curiosity of Charles. He could not help wondering what he would do.Tim had so much resolution he was sure it was not an idle boast.
"I know what I am about," continued Tim, with a wise look.
"Captain Sedley says you still associate with your old companions,"added Charles.
"What if I do?"
"That would be ground enough for turning you out."
"Would it? They are better fellows than you long faces, and you will sayso when you know them," replied Tim, speaking as though it were asettled fact that he would know them by and by.
This conversation occurred one Wednesday afternoon, as the two boys wereon their way to the boat-house. On their arrival, Tim was informed byCaptain Sedley, who was apparently there for that purpose, that he wasexpelled from the club. It was sudden and unexpected, and had been doneby the director without any action on the part of the club.
"What for?" asked Tim, in surly tones.
"I find that you still associate with your old companions, which issufficient proof that you don't mean to reform," answered the director.
"I don't care," growled Tim, as he turned on his heel and walked out ofthe hall.
Charles Hardy was then called aside by Captain Sedley, who kindlypointed out to him the danger he incurred in associating with such a boyas Tim.
"I would not have kept company with him if he had not been a member ofthe club," replied Charles.
"He was admitted to the club on the supposition that he intended to be abetter boy."
"I was opposed to admitting him," answered Charles, rather sulkily.
"I was very willing the boy should have a fair chance to reform; butwhen it became apparent that he did not mean to do better, I could nolonger permit him to endanger the moral welfare of the club. We havebeen satisfied for some time; and most of the boys, after giving him afair trial, avoided him as much as possible when they saw what he meant.But you have been growing more and more intimate with him every day.Why, it was only last night that he was seen with some twenty or thirtyof his old companions. They seemed to be in consultation aboutsomething. Perhaps you were with them."
"No, sir; I was not."
"I am glad you were not. I caution you to avoid them."
"I will, sir," replied Charles, meekly; and he meant what he said.
"I am glad to hear you say so: I was afraid you had known too much ofTim Bunker," said the director, as he walked towards his house.
Charles entered the hall, and took his seat.
"Those in favor of admitting Samuel Preston to the club will signifyit," said William, as soon as he was in his place.
Eleven hands were raised, and the new member, who stood by the windowwaiting the result, was declared to be admitted. The constitution wasthen read to him, and he signed it; after which the club embarked for anexcursion up to the strait, where they had agreed to meet the Butterfly.
The particular object of this visit was to erect a lighthouse on CurtisIsland, a small, rocky place, separated from the main shore by "CalrowStrait," which the readers of "The Boat Club" will remember. Thenavigation of this portion of the lake was considered very difficult,especially through the narrow passage, and it was thought to beabsolutely necessary to have a lighthouse, mauger the fact that theboats always sailed by day. But as neither craft was insured, it wasnecessary to use extraordinary precautions!
A working party of half a dozen was detailed from each boat, consistingof the stoutest boys, who were landed upon the island. Materials wereimmediately gathered and the foundation laid. The structure was to be asimple round tower, as high as the patience of the workmen would permitthem to build it.
In a short time all the rocks on the island had been used up, and thelighthouse was only two feet high; but this contingency had beenanticipated, and provisions made for supplying more stone. A large rockwas attached to the long painter of the Butterfly, and she was moored ata safe distance from the
island, while her remaining crew weretransferred to the Zephyr.
A rude raft, which had been provided by Tony, was towed to the shore,where an abundance of rocks were to be had. It was their intention toload it with "lighthouse material," and tow it to the island. Itrequired all their skill to accomplish this object, for the raft was amost ungainly thing to manage. The Zephyr was so long that they couldnot row round so as to bring the raft alongside the bank, and when theyattempted to push it in, the paint, and even the planks of the boat,were endangered.
"Can't get it in--can we?" said Charles Hardy, after severalunsuccessful attempts.
"There is no such word as fail," replied William. "Bring me the longpainter."
The coxswain unfastened the tow line of the raft, and tied the painterto it.
"Bowman, stand by with the boat-hook, ready to land."
"Ay, ay!"
"Now, pull steady; be careful she does not grind on the rocks; easy,there. Four of you jump ashore."
The four forward rowers obeyed the command.
"Now pass this line ashore, and let them pull in on the raft," continuedWilliam.
"Hurrah! there she is!" shouted Frank. "That was done handsomely!"
"We could have done it before, if we had only thought of it," repliedWilliam, laughing. "Now put out the fenders, and haul the boat alongsidethe raft."
Four more of the boys were sent on shore to help roll down the rocks,and two were ordered upon the raft to place them. A great deal of hardwork was done in a very short time; but, as it was play, no one mindedit, as probably some of them would if the labor had been for any usefulpurpose. In due time the raft was loaded with all it would carry, andthe boys were ordered into the boat again.
The raft proved to be a very obstinate sailer. After a deal of hardtugging at the oars, they succeeded in getting it under a tolerableheadway; but the tow line was not properly attached, and it "heeledover" so as to be in danger of "spilling" its load into the lake.Prudence and good management, however, on the part of the coxswain,conveyed it in safety to the island, and its freight soon became "partand parcel" of the lighthouse.
Two or three loads more were brought, after the lesson of experienceobtained in getting the first, with but comparatively little difficulty;and at six o'clock the tower received its capstone at a height of sixfeet from the ground, and twelve from the water.
The lighthouse was then inaugurated by a volley of cheers. A hollowpumpkin of last year's growth, containing a lighted candle, was placedupon the apex; and then the boats departed for home. At eight o'clock,when the darkness had gathered upon the lake, they saw the light fromtheir homes, and had the satisfaction of knowing that the light-keeperwas watchful of the safety of vessels in those waters.
As Charles Hardy passed through the grove on his way home, after theclub separated, he met Tim Bunker, who was apparently awaiting hiscoming.
