Harper's Round Table, December 8, 1896

THE THREE-CORNERED BOAT.

"It goes through the water like a wedge," said Pete. "Old Captain Kroom had it made for himself. That's why it's so wide."

It was "so wide" only at the stern, and it narrowed to a blunt edge at the prow. All of its lines were pretty nearly straight. Its bottom was as flat as a floor. At its forward end it was decked over for about two and a half feet. It was a bit of deck that might serve for a seat, but in the middle of it was a round hole, and from this there stood up a straight stick nine feet high.

"There's a pretty long boom for that mast," said Pete. "When the sail's on it's a kind of cat-boat. Old Kroom won't row a stroke if he can help it."

"Well," said Sam, "I guess I wouldn't, either. But won't it tip over with a sail?"

"No, sirree," replied Pete, confidently. "It needn't ever tip over. Why, if you know how to sail a boat, you won't let yourself be upset."

"Boys," roared a deep husky voice behind them, "what are you doing with my boat?"

They both whirled around instantly.

"We weren't touching it, Captain Kroom," said Pete. "I met him up in the village, and he wants to go fishing. He says his name is Sam Williams. We've bought some clams and some sand-worms."

"Both of you get right in," commanded Captain Kroom. "I guess he's a city fellow. We'll show him some fishing. Pete, put in that pail of live bait. They're prime minnows. Sam, take the sail and boom and lay them forward, ready for me. Jump, now! the tide's turning. If we don't get right out across the bay we won't catch a bite."

"Sam," said Pete, as his companion seemed to hesitate, "pitch in. He knows fish."

The two boys were not so much unlike in their height and age, but there was hardly any other resemblance between them. Sam had no need to tell anybody that he did not belong on that shore. He was too nobbily dressed, his dark hair was too smooth, and his hands were too white. There was some healthy sunburn on his face, but it was nothing to the tan on Pete's. Besides, Pete was red-headed, and had a full supply of freckles. What was more, his rig, from his straw hat that turned up in front, down to his bare feet, was as unlike as could be to Sam's neatly fitting navy blue. Nevertheless, they were a bright-looking pair, and Sam stepped ahead quickly enough, after his momentary flush of rebellion at being "ordered around."

The fact was that old Captain Kroom was "bossy." It was his boat, to be sure, but he stood there and looked in all directions, as if he owned the bay, if not also the sand-bar on the further side of it, and the Atlantic Ocean beyond that.

He was a very large man, and very heavy. The three-cornered boat hardly seemed to feel the weight of Pete and Sam when they went into it with the bait and fishing-tackle and the other things. It rocked, of course, but it was steady enough, as if it were accustomed to boys, and did not mind having them on board. When, however, Captain Kroom finished his observations of the sea and the sky, and very deliberately put one foot into the boat at the stern, that end began to go down.

"Hold hard, boys," he said; "I'm a-comin'. Steady, now."

His other foot came in, and he at once sat down upon the stern seat; but at the same moment Sam, at the prow, felt as if he and the mast and sail were going up.

"Boys," said Captain Kroom, "I'm glad you're here. Keep well forrard, and it'll kind o' trim the boat. Pete, you and Sam can 'tend to the sail. Cast her loose from the wharf. Give her her head."

"Sam," said Pete, "let the sail swing right out. You and I'll have to row till we get out of the creek."

"No, you won't--not with this breeze," growled the Captain. "Give me the ropes. We'll dance right along."

"He knows how to handle a boat, Sam," said Pete. "He can get out all there is in her."

Right at the shore of the mainland there was a kind of small shut-in harbor. It had a rickety old wharf, at which the boat had been fastened. Other boats were there, hitched a little way out from the wharf. Some of them were pretty good sized sailing-boats. Straight across the harbor, the patch of open water in front of the wharf, was a wide reach of rushes, and among them wound the narrow crooked ribbon of water that Pete called "the creek." Outside were the dancing waves of the bay, and there was bright sunshine everywhere.

If it was all a kind of every-day affair to Pete, it was not so to his friend, and Sam's eyes were glistening with excitement. "Ain't I glad I met you!" seemed to almost burst from him; but Pete's reply was uttered in a very matter-of-fact tone.

"You'd better be glad that Captain Kroom came. We wanted a boat, too, but it's the best kind of luck to have a man that knows fish. I've known lots of fellows like you come out here to fish, and that didn't catch a thing."

"Up with her!" shouted the Captain, and in a moment the sail was full.

In spite of the two boys forward, the boat was inclined to lift its nose, but away it went slipping into the creek, and making swift headway along the crooks and turns among the rushes.

The steering and the management of the sail were all in the hands of the old fisherman. It almost seemed as if the wind must be, too. There was enough of that, and the boat went this way, that way, so far as Sam could see, with very little regard to the direction the breeze came from. He said so to Pete.

"Guess so," replied the 'longshore boy. "He knows his boat. So long as a wind isn't dead ahead, he doesn't care. But he hates oars. So do I."

There the oars lay, along the sides of the boat, two of them; but an oar stands for work, and Sam was quite willing to let the sail work for him. He was now sitting forward of the middle of the boat, looking ahead, but every now and then he glanced back at Mr. Kroom. He looked all the bigger and heavier for being in a boat and because he weighed it down. It occurred to Sam that it probably would not tip over so easily with so much human ballast to steady it.

"Queerest kind of beard," he said to himself. "His mustaches are awful."

Not that the beard was so very long, but it was stiff-haired and curling, and it stuck out on all sides. Below his chin it came down in a great gray bunch. That and his gray mustache and his jutting eyebrows and the deep wrinkles across his forehead gave him a fierce look. It grew worse every time he gave an order. His hands, too, were large, hairy, and looked as if they had been stained like old mahogany. It was not by any means a shallow boat, and it was not short, but it was not exactly like anything else that Sam was familiar with, and he said so to Pete.

"Of course it isn't," said Pete. "He'll go out to sea in it, where nobody else'd dare to. But he knows the sea. He's been everywhere."

"Out, boys! We're out o' the creek!" shouted Captain Kroom, as if it excited him to get clear of the rushes. "Hurrah! Troll, both of you! Get out your lines! I won't fish; I'll sail. Quick!"

Sam felt as if something in Kroom's voice took hold of him and set him going, it was so tremendously bossy.

"He's a captain," thought Sam. "He's been a ship-captain, and he's used to ordering sailors. Guess they jumped."

That was what Pete had done, for he had the basket of tackle on his side of the boat. She was dashing along now, right out into the bay, and she rode the waves capitally. The sail swung away out and the boat leaned over, but for all Sam could see, the stern with Captain Kroom in it sat almost square on the water. No boat bends in the middle, but it had that look.

"She's going!" exclaimed Pete. "Tell you what, Sam, the Elephant can outsail some of the fastest boats along shore. She's a ripper!"

"Out with your lines!" growled the Captain of the Elephant. "You won't catch anything, but I like to see the lines out. No bluefish in the bay, unless they came in last night."

Sam evidently felt very much as Captain Kroom did about having the trolling-lines out, but Pete seemed entirely willing to let his city acquaintance have the first line that was ready. Both of them had already said enough to let Captain Kroom know that Sam's city relatives were boarding at a sea-side hotel a mile or so up the coast, and that he had visited the village that morning for the first time. There he had met Pete, and they had agreed to go fishing together.

"Humph!" said Captain Kroom. "I always had to pick my crews anyhow I could. Made sailors of 'em, though, after we got afloat."

The boys heard him, but Pete was making no haste with his line. He remarked to Sam,