Nan Sherwood at Lakeview Hall Part 16

CHAPTER XIII

A SEPTEMBER SQUALL

It was a still, hazy September afternoon, so warm that the frost that had helped to open the chestnut burrs that very morning seemed to have been an hallucination. The lake was as calm as a millpond; but Lake Huron is notoriously treacherous.

Henry, the boatkeeper at Lakeview Hall, was not as weatherwise as he should have been. He had allowed a number of boats to be taken out that afternoon without warning the girls to beware of squalls.

Not that such warning would have been taken seriously by many of the girls, for a fairer day in the seeming had not appeared on the calendar.

Nan and Bess decided to go out in one of the double canoes.

The chums from Tillbury did not own a boat. Several of the older girls did, and Bess had already written home for a motor boat.

"I'll tease dad for a motor boat first," she confided to Nan. "Of course he won't hear to _that_. So I'll try to get a sailboat--what do they call 'em?--a _cat_, with an auxiliary engine. And he won't listen to that, either."

"Why ask for something you know you can't have?" asked the wondering Nan.

"Goodness! don't you see?" exclaimed Bess, exasperated at such lack of understanding. "Why, if I ask for something big, dad will compromise in the end, and probably give me just what I originally expected to have.

'Aim high' is my motto. Oh, we'll get a nice canoe, at the least, or a cedar boat with a portable engine and propeller."

This way of getting what one wished rather shocked Nan, who always asked pointblank for what she wanted, but was usually wise enough not to think too much about what she knew she could not have.

"That's an awfully roundabout way of getting what you desire," she suggested to Bess.

"Oh! you don't know my father. Mother has to do the same. He has plenty of money, but sometimes he hates to give it up. I can tease almost anything out of him."

"Hush, Bess! Suppose anybody else should hear you?" Nan suggested.

"Well, it's true," said careless Bess. "There's that Linda Riggs going down with Gracie Mason to the dock. I bet Walter is coming in his _Bargain Rush_ for Grace, and Linda will get invited. I'd just love to have a motor boat, Nan, just to get ahead of Linda. She can't have one, I heard Cora say, because her father is afraid of them."

"None of the girls own motor boats," Nan said, calmly. "The canoe is all right."

They were in the canoe and had put up the little leg-o'-mutton sail, before Walter Mason's _Bargain Rush_ came out around Lighthouse Point, from the inlet, and chugged over to the school dock where Walter's sister was waiting.

"Walter is just devoted to Grace," Nan said. "I think he is a dreadfully nice boy."

"Better keep your opinion to yourself," laughed Bess. "Linda thinks she about owns him. You see, he's the only boy available about the school and Linda has always been used to having the best of everything."

"So have you," laughed Nan, roguishly.

"But not in boys!" cried Bess. "Billy is enough. If they are all like that brother of mine----"

"You know Walter isn't," said Nan.

"Goodness! No! Walter Mason is as meek as Moses! As meek as his own sister. And I think Gracie is the most milk-and-watery girl I ever saw."

"She's timid, I know," began Nan, but her chum interrupted quickly:

"Oh, yes! You'll find a good word to say for her, Nan. You always champion the cause of the weak and afflicted. Every sore-eyed kitten you saw on the street at Tillbury used to appeal to you."

"Oh, bosh!" exclaimed Nan. "You make me out a whole lot worse than I am."

The canoe suddenly dipped sideways and Bess squealed as a splash of water came inboard. "Sit down! you're rocking the boat!" she sang.

"That was a flaw of wind. Guess we'll have to watch out. Don't tie the sheet to that cleat, Bess."

"'Sheet'? Oh! you mean this rope. I never can remember nautical names.

But I've got to hitch the thing, Nan. I want to wash my hands. And this water ought to be got out. There's a big sponge in the bow-locker.

There! I got that right, didn't I? 'Bow locker.'"

Nan was steering with a paddle and could not give her full attention to the sail. The sea was choppy and it took some effort to keep the head of the canoe properly pointed.

Nan was bare-headed, but Bess wore a rubber bathing cap. Nan's braids snapped about her shoulders when the boisterous wind swooped down upon them. Farther out upon the lake white-caps appeared.

"I guess we'd better not go very far to-day," Nan said cautiously.

"There go Walter and those girls!" Bess cried. "Yes! Linda is aboard.

What did I tell you?"

"Well, they can get back more quickly than _we_ can," Nan said seriously.

"Oh, let's go a little farther. I like it when the canoe tumbles about,"

declared reckless Bess.

Nan knew that if the wind held at its present point it would be more aid to them in running back than while they were on this present tack, so she did not insist upon turning about immediately. What she did not know was, that the recurrent flaws in the wind foretold a sudden change in its direction.

There were plenty of other pleasure boats about them at first; and as Bess pointed out, Walter Mason's _Bargain Rush_ had pa.s.sed the canoe, going out. What the two chums did not notice, however, was that these other boats, including the _Bargain Rush_, soon made for the sh.o.r.e.

The fishing boats from Freeling were driving in toward the inlet, too.

Wise boatmen saw the promise of "dirty weather." Not so Nan and Bess.

The tang of the spray on their lips, the wind blowing their braids and freshening the roses in their cheeks, the caress of it on their bare arms and necks, the excitement of sitting in the pitching canoe--all delighted and charmed the girls.

They were soon far from all other boats, the canoe was scuttling over the choppy waves like a quail running to cover, the bellying sail actually hiding from their eyes the threatening clouds that were piling up in the east and south.

Suddenly the wind died. Their sail hung flabbily from the pole. Nan began to look anxiously about.

"If we have to paddle clear back to the boathouse," she began, when Bess suddenly gasped:

"Oh, Nan! Look there!"

Nan gazed as her chum pointed "sou'east." A ma.s.s of slate-colored clouds seemed to reach from the apex of the heavenly arch to the lead-colored water. Along the lower edge of this curtain of cloud ran a white line, like the bared teeth of a wolf!

Nan was for the moment speechless. She had never seen such alarming clouds. She and Bess had yet to see a storm on the Great Lakes. Nothing like this approach of wind and rain had ever been imagined by the two girls.

Out of the clouds came a low moaning--the voice of the rising wind.

Soon, too, the swish of falling rain, which was beating the surface of the water to foam as it advanced, was also audible.

"Oh! what shall we do?" moaned Bess.