Peggy Stewart, Navy Girl, at Home Part 23

"Take the helm again, little skipper," ordered Captain Boynton. "Your Daddy is just dying to have you but modesty forbids him to even look a hint of it."

"May I really?" asked Peggy.

"Get busy," and Peggy laughed delightedly as she took the wheel from the c.o.xswain who handed it over with:

"Now I'll take a lesson from a man-o-war's la.s.sie."

Shortie, Happy and Wheedles had now gone aft to "be luxurious" they said, for wicker chairs there invited relaxation and the ladies were more than comfortable. Ralph, Durand and Jean had gone forward to the wheel to watch the little pilot's work, Durand's expressive face full of admiration for this young girl who had grown to be his good comrade.

Durand was not a "fusser," but he admired Peggy Stewart more than any girl he had ever known, and the friendship held no element of silly sentimentality.

How bonny they both looked, and how strikingly alike. Could there, after all, have been any kindred drop of blood in their ancestry? It did not seem possible, yet how COULD two people look so alike and not have some kinship to account for it?

Peggy was not conscious of Durand's close scrutiny. She was too intent upon taking the Frolic back to the Griswold's dock without being stove in, for in the homeward rush of the sightseers, there seemed a very good chance of such a disaster.

Nevertheless, there always seems to be a special Providence watching over fools, and to judge by the manner in which some of those launches were being handled, that same Providence had all it could handle that afternoon.

They had gone about half the distance, and Peggy was having all she wanted to do to keep clear of one particularly erratic navigator, her face betokening her contempt for the wooden-headed youth at the helm.

The badly handled launch was about thirty feet long, and carrying a heavier load than was entirely safe. She was yawing about erratically, now this way, now that.

"Well, that gink at the helm is a mess and no mistake," was Durand's scornful comment. "What the mischief is he trying to do with that tub anyhow?"

"Wreck it, ruin a better one, and drown his pa.s.sengers, I reckon,"

answered Peggy.

"And look at that little child. Haven't they any better sense than to let her clamber up on that rail?" exclaimed Polly, for just as the launch in question was executing some of its wildest stunts, a little girl, probably six years of age, had scrambled up astern and was trying to reach over and dabble her hands in the water.

"They must be seven kinds of fools," cried Durand. "Say, Peggy, there's going to be trouble there if they don't watch out."

But Peggy had already grown wise to the folly--yes, rank heedlessness-- on board the other launch. If any one had the guardianship of that child she was certainly not alive to the duty.

"I'm going to slow down a trifle and drop a little astern," she said quietly to Durand. "Don't say a word to any one else but stand by in case that baby falls overboard; they are not taking any more notice of her than if she didn't belong to them. I never knew anything so outrageous. What sort of people can they be, any way?"

"Fool people," was Durand's terse rejoinder and his remark seemed well merited, for the three ladies on board were chatteringly oblivious of the child's peril, and the men were not displaying any greater degree of sense.

Peggy kept her launch about a hundred feet astern. They had pa.s.sed the bridge and were nearing the broader reaches of the river where ferry boats were crossing to and fro, and the larger excursion boats which had brought throngs of sightseers to New London were making the navigation of the stream a problem for even more experienced hands, much less the callow youth who was putting up a bluff at steering the "wash tub," as Ralph called it.

The older people in the Frolic were not aware of what was happening up ahead. The race was ended, they had been tinder a pretty high stress of excitement for some time, and were glad to settle down comfortably and leave the homeward trip to Peggy and the c.o.xswain who was close at hand.

Never a thought of disaster entered their minds.

Then it came like a flash of lightning:

There was a child's pathetic cry of terror; a woman's wild, hysterical shriek and shouts of horror from the near-by craft.

In an instant Durand was out of his white service jacket, his shoes were kicked off and before a wholesome pulse could beat ten he was overside, shouting to Peggy as he took the plunge:

"Follow close!"

"I'm after you," was the ringing answer.

"Heaven save us!" cried Captain Stewart, springing to his feet, while the others started from their chairs.

"Trust him. He is all right, Daddy. I've seen him do this sort of thing before," called Peggy, keeping her head and handling her launch in a manner to bring cheers from the other boats also rushing to the rescue.

It was only the work of a moment for Durand swimming as he could swim, and the next second he had grasped the child and was making for the Frolic, clear-headed enough to doubt the chance of aid being rendered by the people on the launch from which the child had fallen, but absolutely sure of Peggy's cooperation, for he had tested it under similar conditions once before when a couple of inexperienced plebes had been capsized from a canoe on the Severn, and Peggy, who had been out in her sailboat at the time, had sped to their rescue. A boat-hook was promptly held out to the swimmer and he and his burden were both safe on board the Frolic a moment later, neither much the worse for their dip, though the child was screaming with terror, answering screams from one of the women in the other launch indicating that she had some claim to the unfortunate one.

"She's all right. Not a hair harmed. Keep cool and we'll come alongside," ordered Captain Stewart. "Not the least harm done in the world."

But the woman continued to shriek and rave until Mrs. Harold said:

"I would like to shake her soundly. If she had been paying any attention to the child the accident never could have happened."

The dripping baby was transferred to her mother, Captain Harold had clapped Durand on the back and cried: "Boy, you're a trump of the first water," and the rest of the party were telling Peggy that she was "a brick" and "a first-cla.s.s sport," and "a darling," according to the vocabulary or s.e.x of the individual, when the second feminine occupant of the launch which had been the cause of all the excitement, electrified every one on the Frolic by exclaiming:

"Why, Neil! Neil Stewart! Is it possible after all these years? Don't you know me? Don't you know Katherine? Peyton's wife!"

For a moment Neil Stewart looked nonplussed. His only brother had married years before. Neil had attended the wedding, meeting the bride then, and only twice afterward, for his brother had died two years after his marriage and Neil had never since laid eyes upon Peyton's wife. If the truth must be told he had not been eager to, for she was not the type of woman who attracted him in the least. Yet here she was before him. By this time the launches had been run up to one of the docks upon the West sh.o.r.e of the Thames. Naturally, both consolation for the emotional mother of the child as well as introductions were now in order, Mrs. Harold and Captain Stewart offering their services. These, however, were declined, but Mrs. Peyton Stewart embraced the opportunity to rhapsodize over "that darling child who had handled the launch with such marvelous skill and been instrumental in saving sweet little Clare's life." Durand, drying off in the launch, seemed to be quite out of her consideration in the scheme of things, for which Durand was duly thankful, for he had taken one of his swift, inexplicable aversions to her. But Madam continued to gash over poor Peggy until that modest little girl was well-nigh beside herself.

"And to think you are right here and I have not been aware of it. Oh, I must know that darling child of whose existence I have actually been ignorant. I shall never, never cease to reproach myself."

Neil Stewart did not inquire upon what score, but as soon as it could be done with any semblance of grace, bade his undesirable relative farewell, promising to "give himself the pleasure of calling the following day."

"And be sure _I_ shall not lose sight of THAT darling girl again," Mrs.

Peyton Stewart a.s.sured him.

"I'm betting my hat she won't either," was Durand's comment to Wheedles, "and I'd also bet there's trouble in store for Peggy Stewart if THAT femme once gets her clutches on her. Ugh! She's a piece of work.

"A rotten, bad piece, I'd call it," answered Wheedles under his breath.

When Mr. and Mrs. Harold, Captain Stewart and Peggy returned to the launch one might have thought that they, instead of Durand, had been plunged overboard. They seemed dazed, and the run across to the Griswold dock was less joyous than the earlier portion of the day had been.

CHAPTER XVII

SHADOWS CAST BEFORE

Captain Boynton as host entertained the launch party at dinner at the Griswold that evening, and later all attended the dance given in honor of the winning crew.

Many of the Yale and Harvard men were old friends of the midshipmen, having been to Annapolis a number of times either to witness or partic.i.p.ate in some form of athletics. So old friendships were renewed, and new ones made, though, in some way Peggy and Polly felt less at home with the college men than with "our boys," as they both called all from Annapolis, notwithstanding the fact that "our boys" were in some instances the seniors of the college men. But the Academy life is peculiar in that respect, and tends to extremes. Where the collegian from the very beginning of his career is permitted to go and come almost at will, and as a result of that freedom of action attains a liberty which, alack, has been known to degenerate into license, the midshipman must conform to the strictest discipline, his outgoings limited, with the exception of one month out of the twelve, to the environs of a little, undeveloped town, and with every single hour of the twenty-four accounted for. Yet, on the other hand he must at once shoulder responsibilities which would make the average collegian think twice before he bound himself to a.s.sume them.

And the result is an exceptional development: they are boys at heart, but men in their ability to face an issue. Ready to frolic, have "a rough house," and set things humming at the slightest provocation, but equal to meet a crisis when one must be met and--with very rare exceptions--gentlemen in word and deed.

Peggy's and Polly's chums during the winter just past had been chosen from the best in the Academy, and it was no wonder they drew very sharp, very critical comparisons when brought in touch with other lads. In Peggy's case it was all a novelty, though Polly had known boys all her life.