Rod of the Lone Patrol Part 9

"How d'ye like it?" the captain asked, delighted at Rod's interest.

"Great!" and the boy stepped cautiously forward, as if afraid that the white sails were wings; to bear the wonderful thing away. "Who made it?" he whispered.

"Oh, some fool."

"You?"

"What! d'ye call me a fool?" the captain roared, looking so fierce that Rod shrank back a step.

"No, no, no. I didn't mean that. I only, I only----"

"I know, lad, I know," and the captain laughed heartily. "Ye didn't mean any harm. Yes, I made her years ago fer another boy. She's been lyin' here a long time, and so t'other day I got her down, cleaned her up, and put on new sails, thinkin' that perhaps ye might like her."

"What! For me?" Rod asked in surprise.

"Sure, if ye'd like to have her."

Would Rod like to have her? His eyes sparkled, and his hands trembled with excitement as he examined his treasure. What a wonder it was.

"What's her name?" he asked.

"The _Flyin' Queen_, after the schooner I lost."

"Will she sail?"

"Y'bet. Let's launch her."

From the window Mrs. Britt watched the two as they walked down to the sh.o.r.e. She recalled the day, over twenty years ago, when another little lad had trotted as eagerly as Rod by the captain's side, and it was to sail a small boat, too. Her eyes grew misty as her thoughts went back to that scene. But mingled with this sadness was a feeling of thankfulness that her husband had taken such a strong liking to Rod.

Not since Jimmy left had he done such a thing, and she was hopeful that this child would unconsciously change him back to the genial big-hearted man he was when she married him.

Rod was delighted with the _Flying Queen_, and wading in the water to his knees, he sailed her along the sh.o.r.e. The captain had a pickerel net to look after, which kept him busy for some time. But he missed scarcely anything that Rod was doing, and he was greatly pleased at the boy's delight.

"Pull her ash.o.r.e now, lad," he at length ordered, "and let's go fer a sail."

"What, in the _Roaring Bess_?" Rod eagerly asked, as he glanced toward the yacht fretting gently at her anchor a short distance away.

"Sure thing. Dinner won't be ready fer an hour, so we'll take a spin around fer awhile."

Rod could hardly believe his senses. How often he had looked upon the _Roaring Bess_ from the respectable distance of the main road. To have a sail in her had been his one great ambition. While lying in bed he had often imagined himself skimming over the water, with the sail, big and white, bending above him. Now his dream had really come true, and here he was at last sitting by Captain Josh's side, watching him as he headed the boat upstream. A gentle breeze was drifting in from westward, sufficient to fill the sail and send the _Roaring Bess_ speeding over the water. A deep sigh escaped Rod's lips.

"Hey, what's wrong?" the captain cried. "Gittin' tired, and want to go home?"

"Oh, no, no," was the emphatic reply. "I sighed because I am so happy."

"H'm. That's it, eh? I thought people generally whistled or laughed when they are happy."

"Is that what you do, Captain Josh, when you're happy?"

"Me? I'm never happy."

"Why, I'd be happy all the time if I had a boat like this."

"Ye would? Well, take the tiller, then, while I fill me pipe."

A new thrill of joy swept through Rod's entire being as he clutched the wooden handle and moved it to left or right as the captain ordered.

Never did any commander in charge of the largest vessel feel greater pride than did the young helmsman. His face glowed, and his eyes sparkled with excitement, while the breeze tossed his wavy hair.

Captain Josh watched him out of the corner of his eye as he puffed away at his short-stemmed pipe.

"Ye'll make a good sailor some day, lad," he remarked. "Ye've got the eye fer sich business."

"That's what I'm going to be," was the reply. "I'll be a captain, and have a big s.h.i.+p of my own. I'm going to call her the _Roaring Bess_, and I'll take you along with me."

"I'd like to go well enough," and the old man's gaze wandered off into s.p.a.ce, "but I guess my sailin' days'll be over by that time. But here we are back home again. Betsey'll be waitin' dinner fer us."

And what a dinner that was! Rod remembered it long afterwards, and how Mrs. Britt sat there smiling upon him, and urging him to have "just one more piece of pie, and another cruller." Never before had he felt so important. He was the guest being treated with such respect. When holding the tiller that morning he had longed for Sammie Dunker and the rest of the boys to see him. So now, sitting near the bluff old captain and his wife, he desired the same thing. He felt quite sure that no other boy in the whole parish had been so honoured, and if his schoolmates ever heard of it, they would be sure to look upon him as a person of great importance.

When dinner was over, Captain Josh pushed back his chair, filled and lighted his pipe. Rod was surprised that he did not return thanks when they were through, as was the custom at the rectory.

"I'm very thankful for that dinner, Mrs. Josh," he remarked.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, dear," was the reply.

"Yes, I did. It was so good that I want to thank G.o.d for it. Do you mind?"

"No, certainly not," and Mrs. Britt glanced anxiously toward her husband. But when she saw the captain take his pipe out of his mouth, and bow his s.h.a.ggy head while the boy repeated the few words of thanks he had been taught, a feeling of grat.i.tude came into her heart, and her eyes became moist.

There was silence for a few minutes when Rod finished. The captain puffed at his pipe, while Mrs. Britt began to clear away the dishes.

"Kin ye swim, lad?" Captain Josh suddenly asked, in his deep gruff voice.

"No, I can't," was the somewhat nervous reply.

"Ever been in the water?"

"Oh, yes. Lots of times."

"And ye can't swim. Well, ye'll have to git over that if ye're round where I am."

"Can you swim, Captain Josh?" Rod asked.

"Ho, ho," and the old man leaned back in his chair and shook with laughter. "Kin I swim? Why, boy, I could swim before I was as old as you. When I was fifteen I could swim across the river."

"You could!" and Rod's eyes shone with admiration. "Did you ever swim across the ocean, captain?"

"Not quite, lad. Not quite that far."

"Well, then, I will some day, Captain Josh," Rod cried, as he rose to his feet, and stood erect. "When I'm a man, I'll swim across the ocean and back again before breakfast, see if I don't."