Mrs. Dusenall was down in the after-cabin making herself more busy than useful. Instead of leaving everything to the steward, the good woman was unpacking several baskets which had found their way aft by mistake. In a very clean locker devoted solely to charts she stowed away five or six pies, wedging them, thoughtfully, with a sweet melon to keep them quiet.

Then she found that the seats at the side could be raised, and here she placed a number of articles where they stood a good chance of slipping under the floor and never being seen again. Fortunately for the party, her pride in her work led her to point out what she had done to the steward, who, speechless with dismay, hastily removed everything eatable from her reach.

As the anchor left its weedy bed, the bra.s.s carronade split the air in salute to the club and the blue ensign dipped also, while the headsail clanked and rattled up the stay. There was n.o.body at the club house, but the ladies thought that the ceremony of departure was effective.

Jack was at the wheel as she paid off on the starboard tack toward the eastern channel, and Geoffrey and others were slacking off the main-sheet when Rankin heard himself called by Jack, who said hurriedly:

"Morry, will you let go that lee-backstay?"

Maurice and Margaret left it immediately and stood aside. Jack forgot, in the hurry of starting, that Rankin knew nothing of sailing, and called louder to him again, pointing to the particular rope: "Let go that lee-backstay."

"Who's touching your lee-backstay?" cried Morry indignantly.

The boom was now pressing strongly on the stay, while Jack, seeing his mistake, leaned over and showed Rankin what to do. He at once cast off the rope from the cleat, and, there being a great strain on it, the end of it when loosed flew through his fingers so fast that it felt as if red hot.

"Holy Moses!" cried he, blowing on his fingers, "that rope must have been lying on the stove." He examined the rope again, and remarked that it was quite cool now. The pretended innocence of the little man was deceiving. The Honorable Marcus Travers Head, one of the rich intended victims of the Dusenalls, leaned over to Jack and asked who and what Rankin was.

"He's an original--that's what he is," said Jack, with some pride in his friend, although Rankin's by-play was really very old.

"What! ain't he soft?" inquired the Hon. M. T., with surprise.

"About as soft as that bra.s.s cleat," said Jack shortly. "I say, old Emptyhead, you just keep your eye open when he's around and you'll learn something."

There was a murmur of "Ba-a Jeuve!" and the honorable gentleman regarded Rankin in a new light.

The Ideal was a sloop of more than ordinary size, drawing about eight feet of water without the small center-board, which she hardly required for ordinary sailing. Her accommodations were excellent, and her internal fittings were elegant, without being so wildly expensive as in some of the American yachts. Her comparatively small draught of water enabled her to enter the shallow ports on the lakes, and yet she was modeled somewhat like a deep-draught boat, having some of her ballast bolted to her keel, like the English yachts. Her cruising canvas was bent on short spars, which relieved the crew in working her, but, even with this reduction, her spread of canvas was very large, so that her pa.s.sage across the bay toward the lake was one of short duration.

To Margaret and Maurice the spirited start which they made was one of unalloyed delight. For two such fresh souls "delight" is quite the proper word. They crossed over to the weather side and sat on the bulwarks, where they could command a view of the whole boat. It was a treat for all hands to see their bright faces watching the man aloft cast loose the working gaff-topsail. When they heard his voice in the sky calling out "Hoist away," Morry waved his hand with _abandon_ and called out also "Hoist away," as if he would hoist away and overboard every care he knew of, and when the booming voice aloft cried "Sheet home," it was as good as five dollars to see Margaret echo the word with commanding gesture--only she called it "Sea foam," which made the sailors turn their quids and snicker quietly among themselves. But when the huge cream-colored jib-topsail went creaking musically up from the bowsprit-end, filling and bellying and thundering away to leeward, and growing larger and larger as it climbed to the topmast head, their admiration knew no bounds. As the sail was trimmed down, they felt the good ship get her "second wind," as it were, for the rush out of the bay. It was as if sixteen galloping horses had been suddenly harnessed to the boat, and Margaret fairly clapped her hands. Maurice called to Jack approvingly:

"You said you would make her dance."

"She's going like a scalded pup," cried Jack poetically in reply, and he held her down to it with the wheel, tenderly but firmly, as he thereby felt the boat's pulse. When they came to the eastern channel Jack eased her up so close to the end of the pier that Maurice involuntarily retreated from the bulwarks for fear she would hit the corner. The jib-topsail commenced to thunder as the yacht came nearer the wind, but this was soon silenced, and half a dozen men on the main-sheet flattened in the after-canvas as she pa.s.sed between the crib-work at the sides of the channel in a way that gave one a fair opportunity for judging her speed.

A moment more and the Ideal was surging along the lake swells, as if she intended to arrive "on time" at any place they pointed her for. The main-sheet was paid out as Jack bore away to take the compa.s.s course for Cobourg. This put the yacht nearly dead before the wind, and the pace seemed to moderate. Charlie Dusenall then came on deck, after settling his dunnage below and getting into his sailing clothes. Charlie had been "making a night of it" previous to starting, and felt this morning indisposed to exert himself. Jack and he had cruised together in all weathers, and they were both good enough sailors to dispense with pig-headed sailing-masters. Jack had sailed everything, from a birch-bark canoe to a schooner of two hundred tons, and had never lost his liking for a good deal of hard work on board a boat. As for his garb, an old flannel shirt and trousers that greased masts could not spoil were all that either he or Charlie ever wore. These, with the yachting shoes, broad Scotch bonnet, belt, and sheath-knife, were found sufficient, without any finical white jackets and blue anchors, and, if not so fresh as they might have been, these garments certainly looked like business.

Before young Dusenall put his head up the companion-way he knew exactly where the boat was by noticing her motions while below. There was something of the "old salt" in the way he understood how the yacht was running without coming on deck to find out. Generally he could wake up at night and tell you how the boat was sailing, and almost what canvas she was carrying, without getting out of his berth. These things had become a sort of second nature.

He was yawning as he hauled on a stout chain and dragged up from his trousers pocket a silver watch about the size of a mud-turtle. Then he looked at the wake through the long following waves and glanced rapidly over the western horizon while he counted with his finger upon the face of the enormous timepiece. "We will have to do better than this," he said, after making a calculation, "if we wish to dance at the Arlington to-night."

"They are just getting the spinnaker on deck," said Jack, nodding toward the bows. "As you say, it won't do her any harm. This breeze will flatten out at sundown, and walloping about in a dead calm all night is no fun."

"What a time they take to get a sail set!" said Charlie impatiently, as he looked at the sailors for a few moments. "I have a good mind to ask some of you fellows to go forward and show them how."

"Oh, never mind," said Jack, "We are not racing, and hurrying them only makes them sulky."

But Charlie's nerves were a little irritable to-day, and he swung himself on deck and went forward. A long boom was lowered out over the side and properly guyed; then a long line of sail, tied in stops, went up and up to the topmast-head; the foot of it was hauled out to the end of the boom; then there was a pull on a rope, and, as the wind broke away the stops, hundreds of yards of sail spread out as if by magic to the breeze, filling away forward like a huge three-cornered balloon, the foot of which almost swept the surface of the water.

"Look at that for a sail, Nina," said Jack. "Now you'll see her git right up and git."

When Jack was talking about yachts or sailing it was next to impossible for him to speak in anything but a jargon of energetic slang and metaphor picked up among the sailors, who, in their turn, picked up all they could while ash.o.r.e. He seemed to take a pleasure in throwing the English grammar overboard. His heart warmed to sailors. He was fond of their oddities and forcible unpolished similes; and when he sometimes sought their society for a while, he was well received. When a man in good clothes begins to talk sailing grammatically to lake-sailors they seem to feel that he is not, as far as they can see, in any way up to the mark. His want of accuracy in sailing vernacular attaches to his whole character.

If Jack intended to say that the spinnaker would make the Ideal go fast, he was right. She was traveling down the lake almost as fast as she would go in a race with the same breeze. A long thin line of fine white bubbles extending back over the tops of several blue waves showed where her keel had divided the water and rubbed it into white powder as she pa.s.sed. Jack had no time for continued conversation now. He had to watch his compa.s.s and the sails, the wind, and the land. He did not wish the wake behind the vessel to look like a snake-fence from bad steering, and to get either of the sails aback, while under such a pressure, would be a pretty kettle of fish. He was enjoying himself. Some good Samaritan handed him a pipe filled and lighted, and with his leg slung comfortably over the shaft of the wheel, his pipe going, Nina in front of him, and all his friends around him, he felt that the moment could hardly be improved.

Some time after the buildings of Toronto had dwindled away to nothing, and the thin spire of St. James's Cathedral had become a memory, the steward announced that luncheon was ready. One of the hands relieved Jack at the wheel, and all went below except Mrs. Dusenall, who was left lying among cushions and pillows arranged comfortably on deck, where she preferred to remain, as she was feeling the motion of the boat.

Luncheon was a movable feast on the Ideal--as liable to be shifted about as the hands of a wayward clock. The cabin was prettily decorated with flowers, and the table, weighted so as to remain always horizontal, was covered with snowy linen and delicate gla.s.s, while a small conceit full of cut flowers faced each of the guests. The steward and stewardess buzzed about with bottles and plates, and any appet.i.te that could not have been tempted must have been in a bad way. The absence of that apology for a chaperon, who was trying to enjoy the breezes overhead, gave the repast an informality which the primness of the Misses Dusenall soon failed to check, although at first their precise intonations and carefully copied English accent did something to restrain undue hilarity on the part of those who did not know them well.

The idea of being able to entertain in this style gave the Misses Dusenall an inflation which at first showed itself in a conversation and manner touchingly English. The average English maiden, though by nature sufficiently insular in manner and speech, is taught to be more so. The result is that among strangers she rarely seems quite certain of herself, as if anxious lest she should wreck herself on a slip of the tongue or the sounding of a false note. Her prudish manners and her perfect knowledge of what not to say often suggest Swift's definition of "a nice man." One trembles to think what effect the emanc.i.p.ation of marriage will have upon some of these wildly innocent creatures. In Canada, and especially in the United States, we are thankful to take some things for granted, without the advertis.e.m.e.nt of a manner which seems to say: "I am so awfully pure and carefully brought up, don't you know."

The Misses Dusenall on this occasion soon found themselves in a minority (not the minority of Matthew Arnold), and before leaving the table they adopted some of that more genial manner and speech which, if slightly faulty, we are satisfied to consider as "good enough for the colonies."

Maurice seemed to expand as the English fog gradually lifted. The aged appearance that anxiety was giving him had disappeared. Amid the chatter going on, in which it was difficult to get an innings, Jack Cresswell seized a bottle of claret and called out that he proposed a toast.

"What? toasts at such an informal luncheon as this, Jack?" exclaimed Propriety, with the accent somewhat worn off.

"What's the odds as long as you're happy and the 'rosy' is close at hand?" said Jack. "Besides, this is a case of necessity--"

"I propose that we have a series of toasts," interrupted Charlie; who was beginning to feel himself again. "With all their necessary subdivisions," added Rankin, in his incisive little voice, which could always make itself heard.

"There you are again, Rankin," cried Jack. "I proposed a toast with Rankin two days ago, ladies, and, as I live by bread, he subdivided it sixteen times."

Dusenall was calling for a bottle of Seltzer water.

"Never mind your soda," commanded Jack. "Soda can't do justice to this toast. I propose this toast because I regard it as one of absolute necessity--"

"They all are," called Maurice.

"Gentlemen, I must protest against my learned friend's interrup--"

"Go on, Jack. Don't protest. Propose. I am getting thirsty," cried Hampstead's voice among a number of others.

"Well, gentlemen, am I to proceed or not? Have I the floor, or not?"

"That's just what he said after those sixteen horns," said Rankin, addressing the party confidentially. "Only, then he did not 'have the floor,' the floor had him."

His absurdity increased the hubbub, as Jack rapped on the table to command attention.

"The toast I am about to propose is one of absolute neces--"

"Oh, my!" groaned Rankin, "give me something in the mean time." He grasped a bottle, as if in desperation. "All right, now. Go on, Jack.

Don't mind me."

The orator went on, smiling:

"It is, as I think I have said before, one of absolute--"

Here the disturbance threatened to put an end to the proposed toast.