by Oliver Optic
Miss Grace Montague had not added to her other accomplishments that of swimming, which would have been a very useful attainment to one of such strong aquatic tastes and tendencies. She could not swim, and she did not attempt to do so. She only floundered and flounced about in the water, struggling madly and purposelessly in the waves. Our hero went deep down into the depths of the little bay, and when he rose he saw Miss Grace borne by the waves towards the wall of rocks. If she was not drowned, she would be mangled to death against the rocks. He struck out for her, and in a moment she was in his arms, or, rather, in one of his arms, for he threw only his left around her, in such a manner as to confine her hands in his grasp. With his head above the water, he swam towards the open bay, fearing the rocks more than the waves.
With his heavy burden he found it impossible to make any headway against the waves, which drove him fiercely towards the rocks. Grace struggled violently, and this added to the difficulty of saving her. He buffeted the waves till his strength seemed to be all gone, and he feared that he should be obliged to abandon the poor girl to her fate. But the screams of Mrs. Montague on the rock above induced him to renew the struggle with new vigor; but his feet touched the wall of rocks behind him. He rose and fell with the waves, but still he held his charge firmly under his arm.
CHAPTER X.
GRACE MONTAGUE.
Little Bobtail was not making any headway with his burden. The waves threw him back until his feet touched the wall of rocks. He had struggled and labored, and Miss Grace had struggled and labored, as if intent upon defeating his beneficent efforts, until his strength was nearly exhausted. But he treated himself as he did a boat in heavy weather; he kept his head to the sea, well knowing that if he got into the trough, the waves would roll him over, and render him helpless. When his feet touched the rock, he "shoved off" vigorously. Fortunately for him, the young lady in his grasp was even more exhausted than he was, and by this time she was content to keep reasonably quiet. Bobtail only endeavored to keep her head out of the water, which he was not always able to do when the great waves surged in upon him. He no longer attempted to make any headway, but by occasionally pushing his feet against the rocks he saved himself from being disabled against them.
One of the gentlemen on the island had shouted to the boatmen to pull around to the little bay. The sailors, thrilled by the screams of Mrs. Montague, were straining every muscle, and their oars bent like reeds before their vigorous strokes. The other boat, with Colonel Montague in the stern-sheets, was also hastening to the spot, the half frantic father urging the men forward with wild gestures. On the rock above, the party watched the struggling swimmer as he bravely supported his helpless burden.
Two of the ladies held the agonized mother, to prevent her from leaping over the cliff. The gentlemen were shouting to the men in the boat to hasten their speed, for there was nothing else they could do. Bobtail saw the boat, and heard the rapid thumps of the oars in the rowlocks. The sight and the sound inspired him with new courage. He had ceased to struggle any more than was necessary to keep his distance from the rock.
"Hold on a few seconds more," shouted one of the gentlemen on the rock above.
Bobtail tried to speak, but he could not, though he felt that for a short time longer he was master of the situation.
"Way enough!" said one of the men in the boat. "Toss him an oar, Bill."
The stroke oarsman threw one of his oars to Bobtail, who grasped it, and supported himself with it.
"Back her," said the man in the bow, as he reached forward, and seized one of Miss Grace's arms, while the other man kept the boat in position with his oars.
The stout sailor lifted the young lady into the boat, and Bobtail laid hold of the bow with his released hand. A shout of joy rose from the rock when Grace was safely drawn into the boat.
"Back her!" gasped Little Bobtail, still clinging to the bow with one hand, while he held the oar with the other.
Grace was exhausted and panting violently, but she was not insensible. She was even able to sit up; and when the boat had backed clear of the rocks, she was placed on the velvet cushions at the stern. In another moment the second boat dashed alongside, and Colonel Montague leaped into the stern-sheets, and folded his daughter in his arms. He wiped the salt water from her face, and did all he could to improve her situation.
"Pull for the yacht!" said he, nervously.
All this time Bobtail had been clinging to the bow of the barge, recovering his breath. The sailor assisted him into the boat, and he dropped down into the fore-sheets, breathing heavily from exhaustion. The stroke-oarsman picked up his oar, and the two men pulled with all their might for the yacht, while the other boat went around to the landing-place on Blank Island to bring off the party there.
"How do you feel, Grace?" asked Colonel Montague, as he laid his daughter's head upon his breast.
"Better, father," she replied, faintly. "I'm cold."
"Give way, lively, my lads," added the colonel, to whom minutes seemed like hours.
When the barge came alongside the accommodation-steps, Colonel Montague bore Grace in his arms to the deck of the Penobscot.
"Let me sit down here in the sun, father," said she.
"But you must remove your wet clothes."
"Not yet. Let me rest a few moments. I shall be all well in a little while."
"What's the matter, Edward?" asked the Hon. Mr. Montague, who had remained on board of the Penobscot, being too old to scramble about the rocks.
"I have been overboard, grandfather," replied Grace, with a faint smile; and it was evident that her condition was rapidly improving.
"Overboard, child!" exclaimed the old gentleman. "How did it happen?"
"I don't know. I was not with her," replied the colonel. "But where is that boy?"
"That boy" has just come on deck, and had seated himself in the waist. He had recovered his wind, and was now nearly as good as new. He felt that he had done a big thing, and he wondered that no one said anything to him. The boat that brought him to the yacht had gone for the party which had been left on the island; and no one but the colonel knew anything about the part he had borne in the affair. But he was not long neglected, for the instant Colonel Montague thought of him he hastened to the waist, and with tears in his eyes, grasped him by the hand. Doubtless he betrayed more emotion than the occasion seemed to warrant—emotion which was not all gratitude.
"My lad, you have done me a service which I can never forget," said he, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"It's all right, sir. I feel better than if I hadn't done it," replied Bobtail.
"But come aft, and see Grace," added the colonel.
"No, sir, I think I won't bother her now. She must feel pretty bad after the ducking she got."
Just at this moment the barge from Blank Island dashed up to the steps. Mrs. Montague was a demonstrative woman, and she had not even yet ceased to scream.
"O, where is she? where is she, Edward?" cried the poor mother, as she rose in the stern of the boat.
"Here I am, mother," exclaimed Grace, hastening to the rail on the quarter-deck. "I am not drowned or hurt."
Mrs. Montague was assisted up the steps, and in another moment she was sobbing over her child in her arms. While this scene was transpiring on the quarter-deck, the rest of the party went to Little Bobtail, and took him by the hand, as they expressed their admiration of his heroic conduct.
"That wan't anything," replied Bobtail. "I have dived off that rock twenty times before."
"But Grace would have drowned if you hadn't done it."
"Well, I don't know. I suppose, if I hadn't gone for her, some of the rest of you would."
"I don't know about that," said one of them, shaking his head. "I might have gone into the water, but I couldn't have done much."
Mrs. Montague hurried Grace into the cabin as soon as the violence of her emotions had in a measure subsided.
"But I haven't seen Captain Bobtail yet," said the
daughter.
"You shall see him; but you must take off your wet clothes first," replied her mother.
"Not yet, mother. I must see him this instant. Tell him to come down here."
"I'll go for him," said Emily Walker, as she rushed up the companion-way.
Perhaps Miss Walker was more sentimental than Miss Montague; at any rate, she flew to the spot where Bobtail was seated, threw her arms around his neck, and actually kissed him before he had a chance to repel the assault, if he desired to do so.
"What a dear, good fellow you are!" exclaimed she. "But you must come right down into the cabin this instant. Grace wants to see you."
"I'm all wet, and I guess I won't go down now," replied Bobtail, blushing like a red cabbage in the dews of the morning.
"But you must come. Grace is dying to see you;" and Miss Walker took him by the arm, and tugged at it till she dragged him to his feet.
"I don't like to go down into the cabin. I haven't got my coat and shoes yet."
"Never mind your coat, Mr. Bobtail. Grace won't change her wet clothes till she sees you."
Of course Miss Walker carried the day, and Little Bobtail was dragged into the cabin. Grace seized him by both hands, and warmly expressed her gratitude. Emily wondered that she did not kiss him. If he had saved her, she would have kissed him twenty times. Mrs. Montague pressed his hand, and thanked him over and over again. Then Colonel Montague took his hand again, and expressed himself even more fully than before. The Hon. Mr. Montague followed him, and every lady and gentleman of the party took him by the hand, and said something exceedingly handsome; and Bobtail began to think they were overdoing it.
"But come, my lad; you are in your wet clothes, while we are talking to you," interposed the colonel. "You must have a dry suit."
"Never mind me, sir. I'm used to it," laughed Bobtail.
"You will catch cold."
"Catch a weasel asleep! I don't catch cold."
Colonel Montague insisted, and the sailing-master lent him a shirt and a pair of trousers twice too big for him, and Bobtail put himself inside of them. His bobtail coat and shoes, which had been brought from the island, were dry, and he was in presentable condition. Grace soon appeared, her hair nicely dried and dressed anew, wearing a white dress and a blue sacque. She looked very pretty; but Bobtail thought that Emily Walker was the prettier of the two. By this time dinner was ready, and the skipper of the Skylark was invited to dine in the cabin. He did not exactly like the idea, for he felt that he was not sufficiently posted in the ways of genteel society to sit at the table with such grand people.
"I'll take my grub with the hands forward, sir," said he, laughing. "I shall feel more at home with them."
"But we shall not feel at home without you, my lad," replied Colonel Montague. "Besides, when everybody gets cooled off, we want to talk over the affair on the island, for I haven't even heard how Grace happened to be in the water."
The owner of the Penobscot would not "let him up," as Bobtail expressed it when he told his mother the story, and he was placed at the table between Grace and Emily Walker. Chowder was served first. Bobtail kept his "weather eye" open to see how the rest of the party did, and adjusted his conduct by theirs. He wondered what "those towels were stuck into the tumblers for;" but when little Miss Walker unrolled her napkin, and placed it in her lap, and the gentlemen of the party did the same, he followed their example.
"Now, Grace, tell me how you got overboard," said Colonel Montague, when the soup plates were removed.
Mrs. Montague shuddered, for the scene was too terrible to be recalled with anything but anguish.
"Captain Bobtail had just told Emily and me a story about an Indian girl who jumped off that same cliff; but I didn't believe a word of it," Grace began. "I stood up on a stone near the edge, and swung my arms, for I was thinking just how the Indian girl looked, if she really did jump off that cliff. Just then mother screamed, and frightened me. I started back; but the stone I was standing on rolled over, and threw me forward, so that I went down into the water head first."
"I thought the child was going to jump overboard," added Mrs. Montague, with a strong tremor passing through her frame.
The details of the affair were repeated, and then all eyes were directed at Little Bobtail, who was more concerned about the propriety of his conduct at the table than about his deeds at Blank Island; but probably, if he had fed himself with his knife, his admiring friends would cheerfully have forgiven him. He found it more difficult to transfer mashed potato from his plate to his mouth with the silver fork than it was to dive off that cliff into the sea. When the pastry came on, it was absolutely appalling to think of eating custard pie with a fork, and he would rather have undertaken the feat of swimming around Blank Island.
"You know I always shovel in custard pie with my knife," said he, afterwards, in telling his mother about it; "but everybody else used a fork, and so I had to."
But Bobtail magnified the trials and tribulations of that grand dinner in the cabin of the Penobscot, for, by keeping his "weather eye" open, he hardly sinned against any of the proprieties of polite society, and some of the ladies even remarked how well he behaved for a poor boy. The dinner was finished at last, and "it was a tip-top dinner, too," for besides chowder and fried fish, there were roast beef and roast chicken, boiled salmon, puddings, pies, and ice-cream. Perhaps Bobtail ate too much for strict gentility, but he excused himself by declaring that not only the stewards, but all the party, "kept making him eat more of the fixins."
"When I got through that dinner, mother," said he, "I was just like a foot-ball blown up for a game; and if the captain's trousers that I wore hadn't been a mile too big for me, I couldn't have put myself outside of half that feed."
After the dinner, which Bobtail will remember as long as he lives, the party went on deck. Grace was as bright and fresh as ever. She and Emily walked up and down the deck. The young skipper went forward to talk with the crew, for he did not wish them to think that he was putting on airs because he "took his grub in the cabin." The men congratulated him on his good fortune, and assured him he had made a rich and powerful friend, and that he would get a pile of money by the operation. Bobtail thought that a hundred dollars was "a pile of money," and, if any one claimed the Skylark, this sum would enable him to purchase a better boat than Prince's old tub. But he did not think much about this matter; in fact, he was gazing at Miss Grace and Miss Emily, as they walked so gracefully on the deck. He was not sentimental, romantic, or very visionary; but these two young ladies were so pretty, and so elegant, and so finely dressed, that he could not help looking at them; besides, they were as sociable now as he could wish. Bobtail joined them in their promenade on the deck, and was admitted to the privilege with distinguished consideration.
"I should like to have you take a sail with me in the Skylark," said he.
"O, I should like to go ever so much," replied Miss Walker.
"And if you get overboard, I will pull you out."
"I don't mean to get overboard, if I can help it," laughed the little miss, though, from her conversation with Grace, one would have thought she considered it rather a nice thing, if she could only be rescued by a young gentleman.
"You must sail up to Belfast, Captain Bobtail, and come to our house," added Grace. "I have lots of things to show you. We have ever so many boats; and you may ride my pony."
"Thank you, Miss Montague. You are very kind; but you know I'm not one of the grand folks, and I shouldn't know how to behave myself in your fine parlors."
"Pooh! You behave just as well as any of the young men that come to our house," said Grace, pouting her lips. "You are just as good as any of them, and a great deal better than most of them. I hope you will come, Captain Bobtail; I shall be so glad to see you!"
The order was given to get up the anchor, and Bobtail sprang to take a hand in the operation. In a few moments the Penobscot was standing over towards Camden; and the hero of the day began to regret th
at he must so soon lose his pleasant companions. About five o'clock she landed her passengers at the Portland Wharf, and Monkey came off from the Skylark for Bobtail.
"Little Bobtail, you have rendered me a service to-day which you can neither understand nor appreciate, and I shall never forget it," said Colonel Montague, as he took the boy's hand. "I shall see you again before long. I am going away in the yacht next week for a long cruise; but we shall meet again, and I hope in the end that you will not be sorry for your noble conduct to-day."
"I'm not sorry for it, sir. I've had a tip-top time to-day, and I'm much obliged to you for taking me with you," replied Bobtail, unable to comprehend the whole of the grateful father's speech.
"It is fortunate you were with us. We might have been weeping over our lost child, instead of rejoicing, as we do now."
"O, some other fellow would have gone in for her if I hadn't."
"Perhaps not; for not many have the nerve to dive off a high cliff into the sea, as you did. Be that as it may, my gratitude to you is none the less. If you want a friend, if you have any trouble about that boat, or anything else, send for me, for I would cross the continent to serve you."
"Thank you, sir. I don't know that I am likely to have any trouble about the Skylark, for if the owner comes, he can have her."
"And then you will have no boat?"
"No, sir. I shall be out of a boat, sure; and I should like to live in one all the time."
"If you lose her before I return, write a letter to me at Belfast, and it will be forwarded if I have gone. Now, good by, my lad."
