Part 1 (2/2)
”It's just as safe there as 'twould be on your back, squire,” added the skipper.
”There's six thousand dollars in the pocket of that coat,” said the bank director, with a gasp of apprehension. ”Where's my coat?”
demanded he.
”There it is,” replied Lawry Wilford, pointing to the garment under the rail. ”We had a flaw of wind just now, and it came pretty near being blowed overboard.”
”Gracious!” exclaimed Mr. Randall, as he clutched the coat. ”I'm too careless to live! There's six thousand dollars in a pocket of that coat.”
”Six thousand dollars!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Lawry, whose ideas of such a sum of money were very indefinite. ”I should say you ought not to let it lie round loose in this way.”
”I'm very careless; but the money is safe,” continued the director.
”Stand by, Captain John!” suddenly shouted Lawry, with tremendous energy, as he put the helm down. The squall was coming up the lake in the track of the _Missisque_; a dull, roaring sound was heard astern; and all the mountain peaks had disappeared, closed in by the dense volume of black clouds. The episode of the bank director's coat had distracted the attention of the young pilot for a moment, and he had not observed the rapid swoop of the squall, as it bore down upon the sloop. He leaped over the piles of lumber to the forecastle, and had cast loose the peak-halyard, when Captain John tumbled up the companionway in time to see that he had lingered too long over the green-apple pie, and that one piece would have been better for his vessel, if not for him.
”Let go the throat-halyard!” roared he. ”Down with the mainsail!
down with the mainsail!”
Lawry did not need any prompting to do his duty; but before he could let go the throat-halyard, the squall was upon the sloop. Mr. Randall had seized hold of the rail, and was crouching beneath the bulwark, expecting to go to the bottom of the lake, for he was too much excited to make a comparison of the specific gravities of pine boards and fresh water, and therefore did not realize that lumber would float, and not sink.
The squall did its work in an instant; and before the bank director had fairly begun to tremble, the rotten mainsail of the _Missisque_ was blown into ribbons, and the ”flapping flitters”
were streaming in the air. Piece after piece was detached from the bolt-rope, and disappeared in the heavy atmosphere. The sloop, in obedience to her helm, came about, and was now headed down the lake.
The rain began to fall in torrents, and Mr. Randall was as uncomfortable as the director of a country bank could be.
”Go below, sir!” shouted Captain John to the unhappy man.
”Is it safe?” asked Mr. Randall.
”Safe enough.”
”Won't she sink?”
”Sink? no; she can't sink,” replied the skipper. ”The wu'st on't's over now.”
The fury of the squall was spent in a moment, and then the fury of Captain John began to gather, as he saw the remnants of the sail flapping at the gaff and the boom. The _Missisque_ and her cargo were safe, and not a single one of the precious lives of her crew had been sacrificed; but the skipper was as dissatisfied as the skipper of a lake sloop could be; more so, probably, than if the vessel had gone to the bottom, and left him clinging for life to a lone spar on the angry waters, for men are often more reasonable under great than under small misfortunes.
”Why didn't you let go that throat-halyard?” said he, as he walked forward to where the young pilot stood.
”I did,” replied Lawry quietly.
”You did! What was the use of lettin' it go after the squall had split the sail? Why didn't you do it sooner?”
”I did it as soon as I saw the squall coming down on us.”
”Why didn't you see it before then?” growled Captain John.
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