Peggy Stewart, Navy Girl, at Home Part 25

CHAPTER XVIII

YOU'VE SPOILED THEIR TEA PARTY

So absolutely confident of winning were the people, officers, midshipmen and crew on board the Chicago that they had made all their plans for the elaborate tea and dance to be given on board the ship of the winning crew.

Boatloads of Jackies had been sent ash.o.r.e for evergreens, and a force of men had been put to work decorating the quarter-deck, the wardroom and the steerage until the ship presented a wonderful picture. The dance was to be held on the quarter-deck of the ship of the victorious crew immediately after the race, so the preparations were elaborate and hopes more than sanguine. Already the Chicago's officers mentally pictured the gay gathering upon her tastefully decorated decks; saw the handsomely gowned chaperones and the daintily clad girls in all the bravery of summer gowns dancing to the strains of the ship's band. Oh, it was the prettiest mental vision imaginable!

And on the old Olympia? That stately veteran of Manila Bay upon whose bridge his loyal, devoted admirers had outlined in bra.s.s-headed nails the very spot where Commodore Dewey's feet had rested as he spoke the memorable words:

"When you are ready you may fire, Gridley."

And the Olympia's personnel? The admiral of the fleet, the captain and the officers straight down to the very stokers? Well, THEY had an idea of what the Olympia's men were worth when it came to the scratch and a few things were privately moving forward which might have made the Chicago's personnel sit up and take notice had they found time to do so.

There were no EVERGREENS brought over the side, it is true, but launches had been darting to and fro with systematic regularity, and each time they came from New London significant-looking boxes, important junior officers, and odd freight came, too, but no one was the wiser. Not only were awnings spread fore and aft, but they were hung in such a way that pa.s.sing craft, however curious the occupants, could not see what might be taking place on board.

But with five bells came a revelation. A steady line of launches put off to the sh.o.r.e, some to the east, some to the west, to return with a gay freight, and as they came up the starboard gangway the festive femininity broke into rapturous exclamations, for on every side were roses! Red roses, white roses, pink roses, pale yellow roses, begged, bought or--hush!--from every farmhouse within a radius of five miles, and every nook and corner of the deck was made snug and attractive with bunting, or rug-covered--well, if not chairs, improvised seats which served the purpose equally well and from which "the get-away" could be clearly seen, the course being a triangular one, starting on the port side of the Olympia and ending on the starboard bow. The Chicago, with all her bravery, lacked the position held by the Olympia.

Captain Stewart's party were the guests of the Olympia and had come aboard early.

Peggy and Polly were wild with excitement. At least Polly was; Peggy took her pleasures with less demonstration.

The cutter crews were already in their boats and ready to pull out to the starter's launch which bobbed gaily within easy range of the quarter-deck.

Peggy and Polly hung over the rail calling cheery farewells to Durand and Lowell and telling the others that they would never forgive them if they did not win the trophy.

"Win! Win! Fill up that tin cup right now and have it ready to hand over when we come back the proud victors of the day, for we'll be thirsty and you can just bet we're going to come back in that fascinating guise-- winners, we mean. What? Let those lobsters from the 'Chi' beat us out?

Not on your life! You just watch us play with them, and pull all around them," shouted Lowell as the cutter shoved off at the c.o.xswain's word.

Meanwhile the Chicago's cutter had taken. her berth and was ready for the send-off from the committee's launch.

Now a cutter race is no holiday pastime but a long pull and a strong pull from start to finish, for a cutter weighs something over and above a racing sh.e.l.l, to say nothing of her lines being designed for service in stress rather than for a holiday fete. Add to the weight of the boat herself her freight of twelve men, and all pretty husky fellows, and you've got some pulling ahead in order to push that boat through a given distance of water.

If all the civil world had been on the alert during the previous day's contest, certainly all the little Navy world a.s.sembled at New London was on the alert that afternoon. The decks of the Chicago and Olympia were crowded with friends. The ships' launches were darting about like distracted water-bugs, and innumerable "sh.o.r.e boats" were bringing guests from every direction.

Presently, however, the course was cleared, the signals given and the heavy oars took the water as only "man-o-war's men's" oars ever take it: as though one brain controlled the actions of the entire crew.

The start was pretty even, the huge sweeps dipping into the water simultaneously and cleanly. Then the Chicago's men began to pull slowly away from the Olympia's, the c.o.xswain right at the outset hitting up the stroke faster than the Olympia's c.o.xswain considered good judgment so early in the race, for that triangle had three sides, as is the rule of triangles, and each side presented a pretty good distance.

But the people on the Chicago were cheering and yelling like bedlamites, pleased to the very limit to see their men putting up such a showing, and confident of their ability to hold it to the finish. They did not pause to reason that they had begun at a stroke which meant just a degree more endurance than most men are equal to, but they were sanguine that their ship was to hold a function in their honor.

Just astern the Chicago's boat the Olympia's c.o.xswain was keeping up his steady "Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!" which sent the boat boiling through the water as though propelled by a gasoline engine. The Olympia's men were holding their own if not breaking a record.

"Hold her steady. Keep the stroke. We won't try to set the Thames afire --not YET," were the coach's significant words from his launch.

Lowell nodded quick understanding but kept his steady weight against the oar which was setting the stroke for the men behind him, and Durand's eyes hardly left the sway and swing of that splendid broad back just in front of him as on they rushed to the first flag-boat, making the turn of the triangle just a length astern of the Chicago's men, and amidst the cries of:

"Hit it up, Olympia! Overhaul 'em! Pull down that lead!" from the launch following, in which several officers were yelling like Comanches.

"Takes better men. You didn't know how to pick 'em," were the taunting cries from the Chicago's launch on their starboard beam.

"Wait till they round the next stake-boat. They're only playing with you now."

"Playing OUT? They've got to do better than this to overhaul US. We are rowing some," were the laughing answers.

"Now we'll play for fair. Hit her up to thirty-six," was the order of the Olympia's c.o.xswain, and the oars flashed response to the order, the cutter seeming to fly.

There was a quick exclamation from the c.o.xswain of the Chicago's cutter, a sharp command, and the stroke jumped to thirty-eight which sent the boat boiling forward. Another command on the Olympia's as the second stake boat was neared and the Olympia's crew was holding it at forty, a slip to tell, and the boats rounded the second stake-boat bows even.

Then came the home stretch; the last telling, racking effort of the two- mile triangle. The Chicago was still pulling a splendid thirty-eight as they swept by the stake-boat, but once the turn was made oars flashed up to forty-two, for the Olympia's nose had forged half a length ahead after that turn.

Meantime pandemonium had cut loose in the launches as well as on board the ships, and if yelling, hooting, or calls through megaphones could put power into a stroke, certainly no inspiration was wanting.

Half the last stretch was covered, the lads rowing in splendid form when the Chicago's men started in to break the record and their launch went mad as they spurted to forty-six to overhaul their rival's lead. But a forty-six stroke is just a trifle more than can be held in a heavy cutter with twelve, fourteen and sixteen-foot oars weighing many pounds each; it simply could not be held.

"Give 'em forty-two for a finish, fellows," bawled the Olympia's c.o.xswain through his megaphone, literally pro bono publico. And forty- two did the trick, for forty-six could not be held, and the Olympia's cutter swept past the stake-boat a length in the lead, while Captain Boynton on the bridge beside the admiral of the fleet fairly jumped up and down.

Alas, and alack for the dance on board the Chicago and the tea to be served to her admiring guests!

One of the conditions of that tea and dance was victory with a capital V for the hosts.

"Bring 'em aboard! Bring 'em aboard! Pa.s.s the order," rumbled the admiral.

"Just as they are!" questioned Boynton, not quite sure that he understood aright.

"Yes! Yes! Bring 'em aboard!"

"What will the ladies say?" gasped Boynton. "These rowing togs are rather sketchy."

"Hang their clothes! Get 'em some. Pa.s.s the word, man. Bring them up the STARBOARD GANGWAY. Bring 'em up, I say, and get down there to welcome them! They own the ship and everything on board!"

Boynton lost no time in pa.s.sing the word and hurrying down to greet the winning crew and it seemed as though the whole personnel of the old Olympia had gone stark mad.

But to see and hear was to obey and the Olympia's lads, clad in raiment conspicuous princ.i.p.ally for its limitations, came piling up the sacred starboard gangway to be met by Captain Boynton who grasped each hand in turn as he shouted:

"You're a bunch worth while! You spoiled their tea party! You busted up their dance, confound you, you scamps! You did 'em up in shape and WE'RE the whole show! Now go below and get fit to be seen, then come back and let the ladies feed you and make fools of you, for they'll DO it all right."

And they were fed! They were ready to be. A pull over such a course means an appet.i.te, but whether these level-headed chaps were made fools of is open to question.

It was long after dark before that frolic ended, and the ships were a fairy spectacle of electric lights, the band's strains floating across the water as light feet tripped to the inspiring strains of waltz or two-step.

That was one of the happiest afternoons and evenings Peggy and Polly had ever known, and so pa.s.sed many another, for Neil Stewart meant that month to be a memorable one for Peggy, little guessing how soon a less happy one would dawn for her, or how unwittingly he had laid the train for it.

For two weeks there were lawn fetes at Navy Bungalow, long auto trips through the beautiful surrounding country and the delightfully cosy family gatherings which all so loved.

After Gail's graduation Mrs. Howland returned bringing that golden- haired la.s.sie with her, Snap and Constance coming too.

Gail's introduction to the circle was a funny one: