Capwell Wyckoff - The Mercer Boys' Cruise in the Lassie (Capwell Wyckoff) (Literary Thoughts Edition)

Another meal was eaten under conditions similar to those of the breakfast, and the sail continued. The day was dark and the sky threatening, and Don thought seriously of running inshore and tying up at a dock until the blow was over. Late in the afternoon they decided to swim.

“Want to go in for a real swim?” Jim asked Terry.

Terry looked toward the shore. “Where is a beach?” he asked.

“Jim doesn’t mean at a beach,” Don supplied. “He means to go swimming from the boat. Like to try it?”

“With the waves running like that?” Terry demanded.

“Sure thing. It will be the best swim you ever had.”

Terry was not sure, but as the Mercer boys got into their trunks he slowly followed, secretly appalled at the size of the waves that broke against the side of the sloop. Don was first to go over. Poised for an instant on the cabin roof, he suddenly launched out into a splendid curving dive. Right into the heart of a wave he went, to reappear some yards away, puffing.

“Oh, boy!” he called. “Get in, it’s great.”

Jim followed his brother, and Terry, whose swimming had been confined to quiet water all his life, hesitated for a few minutes before he made his plunge. Then, standing on the stern, he shot himself forward into a smother of gray-green water, instantly shooting below a small, churning mountain. An instant later he came to the surface, bobbing up and down on the waves.

Don swam to him. “How do you like it, kid?”

“It’s great stuff,” Terry gasped. “There certainly is plenty of room to swim in!”

Under these conditions the boys only swam for fifteen minutes, keeping close to the sloop. When they were once more clad in dry clothes they felt invigorated and healthy as they never had before. Supper, consisting of beans and potatoes and some peaches, tasted very good to them.

As evening came on the sea became rougher and rougher, and the brothers agreed to anchor somewhere in port for the night. They were now out of sight of the mainland, and Jim proposed that they run back to the coast. But Don, who was looking intently across the starboard bow, called his attention to a long low black mass just visible above the waves.

“Isn’t that Mystery Island?” Don asked.

Jim looked and then went down the companionway steps, to unfold the marine map and look at it closely. Presently his head appeared above the combing.

“That’s it, all right. Not thinking of anchoring near there, are you?”

Don nodded. “Yes, I am. It is a whole lot nearer the boat than the main shore is. I don’t see why we can’t run in and heave to.”

“The place hasn’t got a very good reputation, Don!”

“Nonsense, Jim. Most of the tales you hear about Mystery Island are false to begin with, and besides, I’m not afraid of a lot of old legends. I guess we can find a good cove there to anchor in until this storm blows over. Spin the motor, will you?”

Jim spun the flywheel and the Lassie, under Don’s guiding hand at the tiller, turned her nose to the low island in the distance. Terry turned to Don.

“What is all this business about Mystery Island, skipper?”

“Oh, just a collection of idle stories, mostly. It was supposed to have been the hiding place for pirates once, and for smugglers later on. I guess most of it is all foolishness, but people around this part of the country have a habit of saying, ‘Keep away from Mystery Island.’ Personally, I don’t believe there is a thing the matter with the place at all.”

It took them less than an hour to reach Mystery Island, and they found a fine cove to anchor in. It was now too dark to see the island clearly or to make out any details of it. After sitting around and talking over old school days for some time, the boys turned in and went to sleep.

A loose pan rattled around the top of the sink, annoying Jim as he tried to sleep. Finally, completely disgusted, he got up and captured the utensil, placing it firmly in a small closet.

“Should have done that in the first place,” he murmured, moving about in the darkness.

The rolling of the sea had abated somewhat, and Jim looked out of an open porthole. Close to them lay the black island, and Jim wondered idly what secrets it did contain. Then, uttering an exclamation, he looked intently out of the porthole.

Don stirred uneasily in his bunk. “Coming to bed, Jim?” he inquired.

“Sometime, yes. But come here, Don.”

Terry, awakened by the whispering, joined Don and Jim at the porthole and looked toward the island. On a sort of bluff, fronting the cove, a lantern was flickering in the breeze. Although they could not see clearly, they could nevertheless make out the outline of a man back of the lantern.

“Somebody standing there and looking us over,” Jim whispered.

“Wonder who he is?” Don asked.

“Mighty strange that he should come out on the shore on a night like this to look at the sloop,” muttered Terry.

For two or three minutes longer the man stood perfectly still, evidently looking toward the sloop, although the boys could not make out his face. Then, swinging the light as he walked, the mysterious watcher passed along the bluff and out of sight.

“There goes our reception committee,” chuckled Don.

“All I hope is that it is the right kind of a reception committee,” grumbled Jim. Don sought his blankets. “I guess it’s OK. Maybe they don’t have many boats stop here, and the sight is a novelty. Well, we won’t worry over it. I’m dead tired.”

When the boys woke up in the morning they found that most of the storm had subsided, but the day was anything but fair. The sky was gray and overcast, and the sea rose and fell in short, choppy billows. The wind, however, had gone down altogether, and that made a big difference.

Before dressing the three boys stepped out on deck and dove overboard into the stinging water that tumbled alongside the sloop. After this invigorating swim they enjoyed a wholesome breakfast, eaten out on the deck under the leaden sky.

“Sure does seem good to eat without having your plate run up and down hill every second,” Terry affirmed.

“It seems good to get out of the heat of the cabin,” Don said.

Jim showed a perspiring face above the companionway. “That goes for everybody but the cook,” he observed. “I will admit, though, that getting breakfast today has been easier than it was before.”

They ate slowly, not being pressed in any way for time. “Looks like an idle day,” Don ventured.

“I agree with you there,” his brother answered. “Until it clears up we won’t want to sail on, and so it looks as though today might be a trifle dull. But we’ll get through it somehow.”

“There will be plenty to do.” Don looked off toward the island, to where the top of a long house showed through the trees. “I know what I’m going to do. See that house?”

“I see it,” Terry replied. “Thinking of renting it for the summer?”

“No,” Don retorted. “But I saw smoke coming from a chimney on it this morning, and I’m going up there. They may have some fresh eggs, and if so, we want them. I’ll row over in the dinghy and take a trip to the house.”

“How about that man we saw last night with the lantern?” asked Jim.

“What about him?”

“I just didn’t like the looks of things, that is all. I’m wondering why anyone should take the trouble to come out on a bluff at three o’clock or thereabouts in the morning and look at us so long. It doesn’t look right to me.”