Burt Standish - Frank Merriwell's Athletes - or, The Boys Who Won

“A rush is required in this case, or Lord Stanford will get too much the start of me.”

Frank finished giving Barney instructions during the ride, and before the bank was reached, the Irish lad knew exactly what was expected of him.

When the bank was reached, Frank and Chandler got out. Frank gave the driver the promised money, and added something to pay him for taking Barney to the hotel.

This was done without waste of time, and then Merriwell led the way into the bank.

Business in the bank was soon concluded, and when Frank again reached the pier at the foot of Taylor Street, having in his pocket a paper that showed he had paid one thousand dollars for the yacht Greyhound , seven boys were there to greet him.

Jack Diamond started in to grumble, but Frank cut him short.

“Not a word!” he said, sharply. “All who wish to go with me without question are welcome; any who do not wish to do so are at liberty to remain behind.”

As he spoke he was eagerly looking for Lord Stanford’s yacht, which was gone from its place of anchorage. An expression of great satisfaction, of positive joy, escaped his lips when he saw far out toward the Golden Gate a sloop-rigged craft that he believed was the Englishman’s boat.

“Thank goodness the breeze has fallen!” he muttered. “She has not been able to get out of the harbor.”

Three minutes later Frank had bargained with a boatman to set the whole party on board the Greyhound .

This was not necessary, however, for he discovered the small boat beside the pier, Chandler having come off in it.

However, as the bargain was made, the man took off all but three of the boys. Frank, Bart and Barney used the small boat.

Frank was wondering at the non-appearance of the former owner of the yacht, as Chandler had stated he would be on hand to see if there was any of his personal property on the Greyhound that he wished to take away.

“I can’t wait for him,” Merry decided. “It was odd he did not keep with me. As I had a little business to look after, and was in a rush, I presume he did not care to chase me around, and he thought I would not be able to get here as soon as this.”

Immediately they were on board, Frank set each one at some task, and put them on the jump.

“Do you see that small white yacht that is trying to beat out past the point?” he asked.

“Yah,” nodded Hans, “we seen dot.”

“Yah!” exclaimed Frank, whose spirits were rising now they were on board the Greyhound and Lord Stanford had not been able to get out of sight and give them the slip. “What do you mean by addressing the captain in that manner, sir? Yah! Who ever heard of a sailor saying ‘yah’ to his superior officer! You should say, ‘Ay, ay, sir.’”

“Vale, I dinks me I said dot der next times, Vrankie.”

“‘Vrankie,’” shouted Merriwell. “Who ever heard anything like that? Think of a common sailor addressing the captain of a vessel by his front name! Have a little more respect, young man!” he suddenly thundered, as if greatly enraged. “If you are not careful, you shall be placed in irons and thrown into the hold!”

Hans gasped for breath and began to tremble.

“Dunder und blitzens!” he murmured. “Vat vos der madder mit dot poy! Uf dis been der vay he done as soon as we get der vater on, der next time I took a sail mit him I vas goin’ to sday ad home. Yah!”

Frank pointed out Lord Stanford’s yacht to the boys, and told them that he did not wish to lose sight of it.

He set Toots and Hans to hoisting the anchor, while Harry, Bart and Jack shook out the sails.

The jib was run up first, and then the mainsail was hoisted, Barney, who was a skillful sailor, having taken the helm.

Strange to say, it seemed as if the wind had been waiting for them to make sail, for it arose promptly and filled the sails so that the Greyhound soon bore away on the starboard tack.

Out beyond the point the Fox , Lord Stanford’s yacht, had felt the wind first, and was already tacking close under the northern shore.

Frank went aft and stood near Barney, while he watched the actions of the Greyhound with no little anxiety.

He had no idea what sort of a boat he had purchased, and he could see that the Englishman’s yacht had a rakish, saucy look, as if it might be able to show him a clean pair of heels in a fair breeze.

Under Frank’s directions, the sails were trimmed and the Greyhound close hauled, as he wished to see how near he could run to the wind without falling off.

Although the wind was unfavorable, as it was not steady, coming in gusts now and then, Frank waited till fair headway had been obtained, and then had Barney luff till the course was close into the wind, which was held long enough to convince him that the Greyhound did not jibe easily.

“Good!” he exclaimed, with satisfaction. “I was afraid she might prove cranky. Hold her as close as you can, Barney, and not let her yaw. I believe she is a dandy against the wind. If she proves all right before the wind, we’ll give Lord Stanford a hot little run of it.”

After a while Frank went below to examine the interior of the yacht. He found it very comfortable and well furnished with all necessities and not a few luxuries.

“She’s a little boat,” he said; “but she’s a peach! There won’t be any room to spare on board, but we’ll manage to get along somehow. It is plain she was built for not more than five or six, and there are eight of us.”

Bart Hodge came down.

“By Jove!” he said, dropping on a cushioned seat, “I am feeling better, don’t you know. I hated to sail for Honolulu, and now we’ll soon be so far from San Francisco that there’ll not be much danger of arrest. I want to stick by you, Merry.”

“And I hope we’ll be able to hang together, old fellow,” assured Frank. “You have been beating about for yourself far too long.”

“I know it – I can see it now. It’s lucky you turned up just as you did, for I was going to the dogs.”

Frank examined the wardrobe, and a cry of satisfaction came from him.

“Look here!” he exclaimed. “Here are a number of yachting suits. Perhaps we can dig out suits for all of us.”

They overhauled the clothing, and Frank and Bart soon found suits which fitted them very well. In fact, Merriwell was so well built that he obtained a splendid fit, and remarkably handsome he appeared in the cap, short jacket and light trousers of a yachtsman.

“We are strictly in it,” he smiled, surveying Bart. “I’ll go on deck and send the others down for suits, while you remain here and assist them in the selections. I want to keep my eye on Lord Stanford, anyway.”

So Frank ascended the companion way, and soon took Barney’s place at the helm, sending him and Bruce below.

The boys were much surprised to see Merriwell appear in a yachting suit, and he explained that he had purchased everything on board the Greyhound , which included the suits in the wardrobe, as they plainly were not all Chandler’s personal property, having been designed for men of different build.

“Vale, uf dot don’d peat der pand!” muttered the Dutch boy. “Uf dere peen a suit der lot in dot vill fit me, I vill show der poys vat a dandy sailors der Dutch makes. Yaw!”

Barney soon returned to the deck, having found a very good fit, but he said Bruce was having more difficulty.

“Begorra! there wur a fat mon on borrud, an’ he’s lift a suit thot will fit this Dutch chase,” grinned the Irish lad.

“Why you don’d drop id callin’ me dot names, Barney!” cried Hans. “I don’t like dot, you pet!”