Part 9 (2/2)
CHAPTER V.
A GOLDEN WEDDING.
Hitherto they had been a most decorous crew, but the next morning something in the air seemed to cause a general overflow of spirits, and they went up the river like a party of children on a merry-making.
Sylvia decorated herself with garlands till she looked like a mermaid; Mark, as skipper, issued his orders with the true Marblehead tw.a.n.g; Moor kept up a fire of pun-provoking raillery; Warwick sung like a jovial giant; while the Kelpie danced over the water as if inspired with the universal gayety, and the very ripples seemed to laugh as they hurried by.
”Mark, there is a boat coming up behind us with three gentlemen in it, who evidently intend to pa.s.s us with a great display of skill. Of course you won't let it,” said Sylvia, welcoming the prospect of a race.
Her brother looked over his shoulder, took a critical survey, and nodded approvingly.
”They are worth a lesson, and shall have it. Easy, now, till they pa.s.s; then hard all, and give them a specimen of high art.”
A sudden lull ensued on board the Kelpie while the blue s.h.i.+rts approached, caught, and pa.s.sed with a great display of science, as Sylvia had prophesied, and as good an imitation of the demeanor of experienced watermen as could be a.s.sumed by a trio of studious youths not yet out of their teens. As the foam of their wake broke against the other boat's side, Mark hailed them--
”Good morning, gentlemen! We'll wait for you above there, at the bend.”
”All serene,” returned the rival helmsman, with a bow in honor of Sylvia, while the other two caused a perceptible increase in the speed of the ”Juanita,” whose sentimental name was not at all in keeping with its rakish appearance.
”Short-sighted infants, to waste their wind in that style; but they pull well for their years,” observed Mark, paternally, as he waited till the others had gained sufficient advantage to make the race a more equal one. ”Now, then!” he whispered a moment after; and, as if suddenly endowed with life, the Kelpie shot away with the smooth speed given by strength and skill. Sylvia watched both boats, yearning to take an oar herself, yet full of admiration for the well-trained rowers, whose swift strokes set the river in a foam and made the moment one of pleasure and excitement. The blue s.h.i.+rts did their best against compet.i.tors who had rowed in many crafts and many waters. They kept the advantage till near the bend, then Mark's crew lent their reserved strength to a final effort, and bending to their oars with a will, gained steadily, till, with a triumphant stroke, they swept far ahead, and with oars at rest waited in magnanimous silence till the Juanita came up, gracefully confessing her defeat by a good-humored cheer from her panting crew.
For a moment the two boats floated side by side, while the young men interchanged compliments and jokes, for a river is a highway where all travellers may salute each other, and college boys are ”Hail fellow!
well met” with all the world.
Sylvia sat watching the lads, and one among them struck her fancy. The helmsman who had bowed to her was slight and swarthy, with Southern eyes, vivacious manners, and a singularly melodious voice. A Spaniard, she thought, and pleased herself with this picturesque figure till a traitorous smile about the young man's mouth betrayed that he was not unconscious of her regard. She colored as she met the glance of mingled mirth and admiration that he gave her, and hastily began to pull off the weedy decorations which she had forgotten. But she paused presently, for she heard a surprised voice exclaim--
”Why, Warwick! is that you or your ghost?”
Looking up Sylvia saw Adam lift the hat he had pulled over his brows, and take a slender brown hand extended over the boat-side with something like reluctance, as he answered the question in Spanish. A short conversation ensued, in which the dark stranger seemed to ask innumerable questions, Warwick to give curt replies, and the names Gabriel and Ottila to occur with familiar frequency. Sylvia knew nothing of the language, but received an impression that Warwick was not overjoyed at the meeting; that the youth was both pleased and perplexed by finding him there; and that neither parted with much regret as the distance slowly widened between the boats, and with a farewell salute parted company, each taking a different branch of the river, which divided just there.
For the first time Warwick allowed Mark to take his place at the oar, and sat looking into the clear depths below as if some scene lay there which other eyes could not discover.
”Who was the olive-colored party with the fine eyes and foreign accent?”
asked Mark, lazily rowing.
”Gabriel Andre.”
”Is he an Italian?”
”No; a Cuban.”
”I forgot you had tried that mixture of Spain and Alabama. How was it?”
”As such climates always are to me,--intoxicating to-day, enervating to-morrow.”
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