With Perry on Lake Erie : $b a tale of 1812Otis, James
History
With Perry on Lake Erie : $b a tale of 1812
Otis, James
United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Juvenile fiction
“It is not strange he shows signs of fear,” I said, feeling wondrous
kind toward him just then because of the timorousness which had been in
my heart a few moments previous. “He who is adrift on the lake without
means of even so much as steering his boat, has a hard lookout ahead of
him.”
“He might at least hold his peace, knowing what we are trying to do.”
“It may be he is no sailor, and fails to understand why it is necessary
we run so far down before putting back,” I replied; and from that
moment Alec held his peace, although I understood full well by the
expression on his face that the lad’s continued appeals for help
annoyed him greatly.
Well, to make a long story short, we laid him alongside in due time,
and once our craft rubbed against the gunwale of the boat, he leaped
aboard in frantic haste, as if believing every second was precious.
As a matter of course his light craft, propelled by the impetus
which he gave her in jumping, swung off beyond our reach, and, much
as I pitied the lad, it was impossible to prevent an exclamation of
impatience because of his carelessness.
The boat was worth more dollars than I had ever been possessed of at
one time, and to send her adrift thus recklessly was an extravagance
such as I could not countenance.
“What are you about?” Alec asked, when I swung the boat around in order
to come at the skiff.
“I am counting on picking up the bateau. There is no reason why she
should be allowed to go adrift when we may as well tow her into Presque
Isle. A craft like that won’t hold our boat back a half a mile in an
hour.”
“You didn’t set out for the purpose of making a dollar,” Alec said,
speaking more sharply than I had ever heard him. “We have no right
to waste time, and that same I would say even though yonder skiff was
worth ten times what she will fetch.”
Involuntarily I allowed our boat to swing around into the wind once
more, surprised as well as pained by his tone, and until we were on our
course again I gave no heed to the passenger who had so unceremoniously
come aboard.
Alec, understanding that he had spoken roughly, said in a soothing
tone, such as no lad, however angry, could withstand:--
“It was not in my mind to say aught to offend, Dicky; but knowing how
important it is that we perform our mission, any delay, however slight,
seems criminal.”
My anger fled on the instant, and after one regretful glance at the
bateau now so far astern, I held out my hand to him in token that I
bore no ill-will, after which, following the direction of his gaze, I
looked at the stranger.
He was a slight, weakly lad, with eyes such as would cause one to
trust in him; but a certain timid way that told he had been delicately
reared--a lad toward whom one’s sympathy went out before he asked it.
“How came you adrift in a bateau?” and Alec looked at him searchingly
as he spoke.
“The English soldiers, who last night sailed toward the American shore,
left me to drown or starve.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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