Before the yacht reached her berth, a pair of anxious eyes, from the chamber window of the cottage, had discovered the dingy old boat towing at her stern. The mother's heart almost failed her, as her imagination pictured some dreadful calamity that had happened to her boys. Filled with dreadful forebodings, she seized her shawl and bonnet, and hastened to the landing, in the rear of Captain Littleton's house. They were bringing home the boat in which her boys had gone out, and she feared that one or both of them had been lost. She tried to believe that the yacht had overtaken them, and that Captain Littleton had invited them on board; but her fears were stronger than her hopes.

When she reached the landing place, she saw that the gunwale of the old boat was stove, and her heart sank within her. There were several persons at the landing, and she told them what she feared. One of them took a skiff and rowed out to the yacht. Paul and John were both in the cabin, and when the messenger came alongside, the captain called them on deck. Seeing Mrs. Duncan on the sh.o.r.e, they got into their boat, and soon joined her.

"I never was so glad to see you before in my life!" exclaimed the delighted mother, clasping them both to her bosom. "Why, Paul, you are as wet as a drowned rat! You have been overboard; I know you have!"

"That's so, mother; but I didn't upset nor fall overboard. I went over of my own free will."

"Yes, he did, mother," interrupted John. "Carrie Littleton was knocked overboard by the boom, the Flyaway's boat got swamped, and she drifted to leeward, and we came about, and bore down on her, and Paul dived after her, and I worked the boat, and we hauled her in, and took her on board the Flyaway--didn't we, Paul?" and John sputtered as though his own mouth had been full of salt water.

"We did," replied Paul.

"You will catch your death a-cold, Paul. Do come home now."

"I must take the boat round."

One of the bystanders, all of whom had listened with eager interest to the particulars of the accident, volunteered to perform this service for him; and Paul, shivering with cold, ran home, followed by his mother and John.

"Where is Paul Duncan?" demanded Captain Littleton, after the doctor had ordered his daughter to be carried ash.o.r.e.

"Gone, half an hour ago, sir," replied Captain Gordon.

"G.o.d bless him!" fervently e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the grateful father; and he proceeded to give directions for the removal of Carrie.

CHAPTER IX.

PAUL BECOMES SKIPPER OF THE FAWN.

The heroic act of Paul, in saving the life of Carrie Littleton, was the princ.i.p.al topic of conversation in Bayville for the next week. Of course it was the unanimous vote of the people that Paul was a hero, and there was some talk of giving him a complimentary dinner, and making speeches at him; but the good sense of the strong-minded men and women of the place prevailed, and he was not treated with the honors that turn the head of a third-rate politician. But everybody thought something ought to be done, and after a full week had pa.s.sed by, everybody wondered that Captain Littleton did not do something; that he did not make Paul a present of a gold medal, or give him a check for a hundred dollars. The gossips could not find out that he had done anything more than thank Paul, with tears of grat.i.tude in his eyes, for the n.o.ble service he had rendered him. The captain had the reputation of being a very liberal man, but the glory of his good name seemed to be rapidly pa.s.sing away.

Paul attended to his business as usual, and seemed to give but little heed to the compliments that were showered upon him. When any one spoke to him about his gallant deed, he tried to turn it off, declared he had only done his duty, as sentimental heroes generally do, and he did not think he had done any very great thing, after all. But notwithstanding all this seeming indifference, Paul was proud of the act that had made him famous. He was conscious that he had done a n.o.ble deed; and his own heart a.s.sured him he deserved the praise which was so liberally bestowed upon him.

Above all, he was grateful for the opportunity of serving Captain Littleton, who had been so kind to him and to his mother. He was happy in the thought of having saved that darling child from a watery grave, and he had given the fond father a good reason for being his friend as long as he lived. Paul never thought of any reward; he hoped Captain Littleton would not give him anything, for that would deprive him of one half the satisfaction the act had afforded him.

Another week pa.s.sed by, and still, to the astonishment and disgust of the gossips of Bayville, Captain Littleton took no further notice of Paul's heroic deed. Mrs. Green, who was Mrs. Duncan's nearest neighbor, ventured to suggest that the captain was a mean man, and she wouldn't have thought it of him.

"What would you have him do?" asked Paul, to whom Captain Littleton's reputation was as dear as that of his mother, or even of his dead father.

"What would I have him do?" repeated the old lady. "Why, he ought to give you a hundred dollar bill, all for your own. At least he ought to give you fifty."

"I don't want anything, Mrs. Green," said Paul stoutly.

"That's nothing to do with it. He could just offer it--couldn't he? He is a rich man, and a hundred dollars is no more to him than a hundred cents to me. It is downright mean, there."

"I don't think so, marm. Captain Littleton has done everything he could for mother and for me, and I'm sure I was glad to have a chance to do something for him."

"That may be; but it don't look well for a rich man like him to let you save his little daughter from drowning, and then only say thank'ee for it."

"I think it does, Mrs. Green, and I hope he will let the matter rest just where it is."

"There is no danger now but what he will. If he ever meant to do anything for you, he would have done it before now."

"I am perfectly contented, marm, and I only wish the neighbors were as easy about it as I am."

"It ain't none of the neighbors' business, I know," added Mrs. Green, a little tartly; "but I can't look on and see such meanness without speaking of it. It don't make no difference who I say it to, neither; I had just as lief say it to Captain Littleton, as say it to you and your mother. That is just what I think, and I may just as well speak it as think it."

It was a remarkable fact, under the circ.u.mstances, that Mrs. Green never did give Captain Littleton the benefit of her opinion on this subject.

Perhaps she wronged him by her silence, thus denying him the practical advantage of her criticism for the direction of his future life. But Paul never liked Mrs. Green so well after this, for she had spoken ill of him whom he honored and esteemed.

Our young fisherman, apparently unmoved by the honors that cl.u.s.tered around his name, pursued his humble avocation with pride and pleasure--with pride, because he had been successful by his own unaided exertions; with pleasure, because he was actually relieving his mother from the entire burden of supporting the family. Since the rescue of Carrie, perch, tom-cod, flounders, and tautog had been in greater demand than ever, for many of the rich people bought fish, even when they did not want them, just for the sake of patronizing the young hero; and the poor people ate fish oftener than they would if their admiration for the little fish merchant had been less.

The long summer vacation had commenced, and the boys were let loose from school for six weeks. John felt as though he had been emanc.i.p.ated from a dreadful drudgery. He could scarcely repress his exuberant joy, as he carried home his books on the last day of the term. Paul reproved him for his dislike of school, and told him he might see the day when he would appreciate the advantages of a good education.

"I don't dislike school," growled John, though it was a good-natured growl.

"Yes you do; you hate school," added Paul. "If you did not, you would not be so glad to get away from it."

"'Not that I love Caesar less, but I love Rome more,'" replied John, laughing.

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Paul, amused at the att.i.tude into which his brother threw himself as he uttered the quotation.

"Not that I love school less, but I love fishing more; that's the idea,"

replied John.

"I hope you will get enough of it in six weeks, then."

"I hope so, but I don't believe I shall. At any rate, I'm going every day, and I'm going to be first mate of the Blowout."

"The what?"

"The Blowout; that's what I have christened the old boat."

"That's a very beautiful name."

"And she's a very beautiful boat," laughed John. "I wish you had a better one."

"So do I; perhaps I may have, one of these days."

"Somebody's got a new one, Paul," added John.

"There is one moored off Mercantile Point. Did you see her?"

"No; whose is she?"

"I don't know; I saw her come up the bay as I came home from school.