Part 7 (2/2)
Some of the races were so-called ”hurdle races,” in which the racer went through a variety of performances, swimming a few hundred yards, then getting into his canoe, paddling it for a certain distance, and in returning, upsetting it, righting it again and paddling to sh.o.r.e.
These last man[oe]uvres caused great fun and excitement. The party in the steam launch had a number of acquaintances at the camp, and Kate was soon discovered by various youths in parti-colored flannels, who gathered around her for a chat in the intervals of the races; Hugh being eager to hear all he could concerning the art of paddling, which he had been practising on every available opportunity during his stay among the islands. The afternoon flew swiftly by, and, when tea-time came, the yacht party had invitations to tea in several tents, and distributed themselves accordingly. After tea, a visiting band discoursed music as the evening shades grew on; and then came the great sight of the evening.
Suddenly the cl.u.s.ters of tents gleamed out like brilliant constellations amid the dark foliage, while the canoes, which had been formed into a long snake-like coil were decked from stem to stern with flambeaux and Chinese lanterns, some of these being curiously arranged so as to imitate the forms of animals. The swan was the favorite design, and the most easily managed, but there were elephants, camels and other still more curious imitations. At short intervals, rockets and Roman candles went up with a rush and roar, and some Greek fire on the beach threw a rich roseate light over the wonderful scene. The steam-yacht darted about hither and thither, the better to command the whole view. Hugh and Flora were enchanted, and declared that they could almost imagine themselves in a gondola in Venice, so brilliant was the effect of the procession of illuminated boats, and the _cordon_ of lights which studded the sombre background of the island.
As the fiery serpent began to coil and uncoil itself on the dark river, while the rockets sparkled against the sky, and the moon--partially obscured--threw fitful gleams between slow-moving clouds upon the distant islands, it seemed more like a transformation scene on the stage than one of actual reality, the contrast of the blaze of artificial light with the calm serenity of the moonbeams being singularly striking.
But our friends had had a long day of it, and were beginning to feel its fatiguing effects, so that no one felt inclined to object when Mr.
Leslie gave the order for departing, and, in a few minutes, they found themselves far away from the brilliant scene, steaming quietly through lonely channels where the moonlit waves broke softly on pebbly sh.o.r.es, under dark overhanging boughs of hemlock and pine.
May awoke next morning with the regretful thought that it was her last day at Sumach Lodge. It was mainly devoted to farewell visits to all the favorite haunts which would remain graven on her mind--at least for years to come. In the afternoon Mr. Winthrop announced that he must go to Gananoque in order to telegraph to New York, for he had been recently talking--to May's inward consternation--of joining their party on the trip to the Saguenay. She felt sure it would spoil Hugh's pleasure, at any rate. But Kate showed no desire to veto the plan; on the contrary, May had misgivings that her cousin had no objection to it. Their good-natured host at once ordered the steam-yacht for Mr.
Winthrop, and a few of the guests willingly accompanied them, including Flora, who lost no opportunity of gliding about in that delightful little vessel,--Kate and May preferring not to lose an hour of their now short stay on the island. One of her youthful admirers, however, the youth who owned the ”b.u.t.terfly sailboat,” coaxed Kate to take a last short sail with him in the invitingly freshening breeze.
No one noticed, however, that the sky had gradually clouded over and become grey instead of blue, while, despite the breeze, the air had grown very sultry. Hugh noticed it at last from the quiet nook where he sat reading, and came slowly back towards the house, where he found May reclining in a hammock on the veranda, professedly reading, but in reality half asleep, while Mrs. Sandford, close by, was complacently nodding over her knitting.
”Where are all the rest of you?” he inquired; ”the place seems deserted!”
May explained that Flora had gone with the party in the steam-yacht, while most of the boys had gone off with their boats to the other end of the island for a swim, and that Kate had gone out with d.i.c.k Morris in his ”b.u.t.terfly sailboat.”
”I hope they haven't gone far,” he said. ”We are going to have a tremendous storm. I'll go and signal them back.”
May sprang out of her hammock and looked about her, while Mrs.
Sandford got into a flurry of alarm at once. Certainly the sky had a rather alarming appearance. A great black cloud had swept down from the southwest, flanked by another that seemed to extend over the whole river in two great curves or scollops of dark slate color, edged with a strange light bluish gray that had a lurid and terrible effect. The river, usually so softly blue, had darkened in the distance to an inky blackness, while somewhat nearer it a.s.sumed an angry grey. As yet the stretch of water in front of the island seemed comparatively calm, but, two or three miles away, sails were flying at full speed before a strong gale. The squall was evidently coming up fast, and the ”b.u.t.terfly sailboat” was some distance out and would certainly feel it very soon. The steam-yacht was swiftly approaching the pier from a different direction.
Hugh said not a word, but began to unmoor the lightest of the only two skiffs that lay at the landing, to which they had hurried, while May watched the sailboat through an opera-gla.s.s.
”The squall has caught it now!” she said, as Hugh was busy with the boat. ”Oh, I'm afraid it is upsetting!”
”_What!_” exclaimed Hugh, anxiously watching the little craft as the sail dipped lower, and lower, and lower, and finally lay flat on the waves. Hugh in the meantime had hastily pulled off his boots and jumped into the skiff, and now threw his watch into May's hands, seized the oars and pushed out in hot haste. Meantime the steam-yacht had arrived at the pier, a little way off, and Mr. Winthrop, coming up, took in the situation at a glance. He almost s.n.a.t.c.hed the opera-gla.s.s from May, looked through it, and then rushed out on the landing-stage, from which Hugh's boat was swiftly receding.
”Stop!” he shouted, ”and let _me_ go, too!” The voice scarcely seemed like Mr. Winthrop's usually suave and even tones. It had a ring not only of anxiety, but of pa.s.sion and command. But it had no effect on Hugh. He only shook his head as he called out, ”No time to delay!” and rowed on, at a pace that frightened May, into the teeth of the waves, which were now das.h.i.+ng themselves into snowy wreaths of foam, while the trees were las.h.i.+ng their branches about, as if in agony. Meantime she had caught up the opera-gla.s.s which Mr. Winthrop had thrown down, and could see that the boat had partially righted itself, and that Kate and her young cavalier were clinging to its side, helplessly drifting before the wind. Mrs. Sandford, who had now reached the landing, stood crying and wringing her hands in a way that intensified May's own terror.
Meantime Mr. Winthrop had hurriedly looked round for the only skiff left, which was a heavy and awkward one, but seldom used. He did not hesitate, however, but jumped in and made what speed he could towards the craft in distress, towards which Hugh by this time was half-way out. May breathlessly watched him as he rapidly covered the remaining distance. Then she could see him help Kate from her perilous hold into the skiff, and the young man into the sailboat, which the efforts of the two men had soon righted, after which Hugh rapidly rowed back, leaving to poor Mr. Winthrop, who was following, the comparatively uninteresting task of picking up the floating oars and other traps which had been cast adrift in the upset, and of towing the unlucky mariner and his boat back to the island.
As all the boys had by this time returned, half a dozen hands were outstretched to draw the skiff ash.o.r.e and help out the pale but laughing Kate, with her dripping garments clinging about her feet.
Mrs. Leslie took possession of her at once, and she and Mrs. Sandford hurried her up to the house to be put to bed and dosed with hot brandy and every other restorative that her ingenuity could devise, while Hugh also came in for a large share of her anxiety, as well as of her pharmacopeia.
Meantime poor d.i.c.k Morris had managed, with Mr. Winthrop's a.s.sistance, to get his water-logged boat back to sh.o.r.e, somewhat crestfallen as well as wet, under the heavy downpour of rain which followed the squall. d.i.c.k came in for his share of the coddling, but Mr. Winthrop became invisible for an hour or two, and it was only after all were gathered round the tea-table that he reappeared, looking paler and graver than they had ever yet seen him. Kate was, of course, still under orders to remain in bed for the rest of the evening, but Hugh disclaimed any need for such precautions, and had evidently by no means lost _his_ appet.i.te, at least. He greeted Mr. Winthrop pleasantly, as usual, saying apologetically: ”I was sorry I couldn't wait for you, Winthrop, but I saw there was no time to be lost.”
”Oh, it was of no consequence; you were quite right,” he replied coolly, but very curtly, and May inwardly wondered why it was that people always said things were ”of no consequence,” just when they evidently cared most.
The incident seemed to have cast a damper--figuratively as well as literally--over the last evening among the islands. The squall had gone down as rapidly as it had come up, and the rain cleared off by degrees; but the sunset cast only a few golden gleams through the parting clouds, and the moonlight was fitful and disappointing; and it seemed to May that the sadness of the parting colored the external scene as well as her own feelings.
It had been arranged that the steam launch should take them all across to Clayton, to catch the river steamboat there about seven A. M., thus necessitating a very early start. It was an exquisite August morning, very like the first one after their arrival, but there was little time to enjoy its charming pictures. An early breakfast was hurried over by the time the little yacht blew her whistle for departure, and, before any one could realize that the moment for departure had come, the travellers had pa.s.sed through an avalanche of good-byes, and were steaming swiftly away from the enchanted island, as May then thought it, and will always continue to dream of it hereafter.
Kate treated Mr. Winthrop very coolly during the sail across, as May observed, and this inconsistent young woman began forthwith to feel sorry for him, especially when he announced, with apparent indifference, that he should have to say good-bye to them all at Clayton, as he feared, from the news he had received the previous day, that he should not be able to rejoin them at Quebec, as he had hoped to do. May thought that Kate looked somewhat startled, but she said little, and they parted with cool civility. And as they left him behind, with a sense of something unsatisfactory about it, Mr.
Winthrop seemed to have left more of a blank in the little party than might have been expected from his short stay among them. Hugh missed his clear-cut criticism and incisive talk. May felt as if she ought to be glad that this rival of Hugh's--as she regarded him--was out of the way, and yet she was conscious of a feeling of regret that surprised herself. For, after all, undoubtedly Mr. Winthrop had been very pleasant and courteous, and it certainly was not _his_ fault that he had not had the honor of rescuing Kate. And now they were fairly embarked on the steamer, which turned out to be their old friend, the _Corsican_, and were soon rapidly losing sight of the charming ”Admiralty Group,”--the fairyland amid which she had, for the past ten days, enjoyed so delightful a resting-place.
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