Hope and Have Part 8

"Do go back, f.a.n.n.y," begged Kate.

"I tell you I will not. You don't know what I am going to do yet."

"What?"

"I can't stop to talk about it now. If you don't take the pail and bale out the boat, I will hoist the other sail."

"Don't, f.a.n.n.y!"

"If you will keep still, and mind what I say, I won't hoist the sail.

We go along with only these two sails just as easy as anything can be, and there isn't a bit of danger."

Kate, to avoid the greater evil, submitted to the less; and, as the Greyhound, now going very steadily under her jib and mainsail, continued on her course, she was soon freed from the water within her.

The boat went along so well that Kate gathered a little courage, and ventured to hope that they might not be drowned, after all.

"You mustn't turn her round again, Fan," said she.

"What shall we do? We shall run ash.o.r.e if I don't turn her."

"Can't we lower the sails when you turn her?"

"There is no need of that," replied f.a.n.n.y, cheerfully. "I made a little mistake before, but I understand all about it now."

"What was the mistake, Fan?"

"I didn't turn her the right way," replied the confident skipper, who had been studying up the cause of the mishap and had reasoned out the correct solution. "I shall know just how to do it next time, Kate, and you needn't be the least grain scared. See here," said she, putting the helm down, and bringing the boat round till her head was thrown up into the wind.

"Don't, f.a.n.n.y!"

"That's the way it is done," continued f.a.n.n.y, proudly. "Don't you see how easily she does it? There isn't a bit of danger now;" and she brought the boat round to her course again.

Kate was terrified at the very mention of turning the boat; but when she saw that the feat was accomplished without upsetting or even taking in any more water, her confidence was in a great measure restored.

f.a.n.n.y's exhibition of her skill produced the intended effect upon her companion, and the feminine skipper's easy and self-reliant way confirmed the impression. f.a.n.n.y had learned more about the management of a boat in that brief half hour than she had ever known before, for the consciousness that her own life and that of her pa.s.senger depended upon her skill, sharpened her perceptions and quickened her judgment to such an extent that those moments of thrilling experience became equivalent to months of plodding study when the mind is comparatively dull and heavy.

Mr. Long, the constable, evidently did not hurry himself in the investigation of f.a.n.n.y's case; for when he had satisfied himself that the wicked girl had deceived him, and had reached the Woodville pier, having first visited the school, as the shrewd girl had intended he should, the boat was not in sight; or, at least, nothing could be seen of her but the white sails, which he could not identify, and the fugitives were in no present danger on account of his movements. He did not know whether the Greyhound had gone up or down the river; and he had no boat in which to follow her.

f.a.n.n.y felt that she had won a victory, for she did not realize that success in a wicked cause is failure and defeat. She congratulated herself on the feat she had accomplished, and she was vain enough to boast to her a.s.sociate of what she had done; of her skill in managing the boat, and her shrewdness in planning the enterprise; and it is quite certain that if she had been less resolute and courageous, the expedition would have ended in failure almost at the beginning.

"But you haven't told me what you are going to do yet," said Kate, when she had sponged out the bottom of the well, dried the seats in the standing-room, and taken her place by the side of f.a.n.n.y.

"I will tell you now," replied f.a.n.n.y. "What do you suppose your father will do to you when he finds out that you played truant, and went on the river with me?" she added, apparently, but not really, avoiding the subject.

"He'll kill me!" answered Kate, with emphasis.

"No, he won't."

"I don't know what he will do, then."

"He will punish you in some way--won't he?"

"Yes. I don't know what he will do."

"Well, Kate, we must bring him to terms," added f.a.n.n.y, with the most impudent a.s.surance. "If you will mind what I say, he will not punish you at all. Will you do it?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know! Do you want to go back and be whipped like a baby, be shut up for a week, or something of that kind?"

"Of course I don't."

"And I will tell you how to get rid of all these things, and make your father as glad to see you as though you had been a good little girl all your life, and had been away on a long journey."

"How?"

"That's telling!"

"You said you would tell me."

"And so I will, if you are strong enough to bear it."

"Well, I am."

"Don't go home for a week or ten days. Your folks won't know where you are. When they find out you went with me in a boat, they will think you are drowned; and when you go back, they will be so glad to see you that they won't say a word."

It would have been impossible for a girl who had been brought up by a loving mother to conceive of such a cold-blooded and diabolical proposition. f.a.n.n.y had no mother, no father. Even the remembrance of the former had pa.s.sed from her mind; and her father, while he was living, had been away from her so much that she hardly knew him as a parent. Her antecedents, therefore, did not qualify her to comprehend the loathsome enormity of the course she proposed to her companion.

"I can't stay away from home a week, let alone ten days," replied Kate, who, bad as she was, was shocked at the proposition.

"Yes, you can."

"Where shall I stay?"

"Stay with me."

"Where will you stay?"

"We will go down to New York city."

"To New York city!"

"That's where I intend to go," replied f.a.n.n.y, coolly.

"You don't mean so, Fan?"

"Yes, I do; and I have meant it all the time."

"But you said we were going to Pennville."