IT is a very easy thing for four boys to make up their minds to get four canoes and to go on a canoe cruise, but it is not always so easy to carry out such a project—as Charley Smith, Tom Schuyler, Harry Wilson, and Joe Sharpe discovered.
Canoes cost money; and though some canoes cost more than others, it is impossible to buy a new wooden canoe of an approved model for less than seventy-five dollars. Four canoes, at seventy-five dollars each, would cost altogether three hundred dollars. As the entire amount of pocket-money in the possession of the boys was only seven dollars and thirteen cents, it was clear that they were not precisely in a position to buy canoes.
There was Harry’s uncle, who had already furnished his nephew and his young comrades first with a row-boat, and then with a sail-boat. Even a benevolent uncle deserves some mercy, and the boys agreed that it would never do to ask Uncle John to spend three hundred dollars in canoes for them. “The most we can ask of him,” said Charley Smith, “is to let us sell the Ghost and use the money to help pay for canoes.”
Now, the Ghost, in which the boys had made a cruise along the south shore of Long Island, was a very nice sail-boat, but it was improbable that any one would be found who would be willing to give more than two hundred dollars for her. There would still be a hundred dollars wanting, and the prospect of finding that sum seemed very small.
“If we could only have stayed on that water-logged brig and brought her into port we should have made lots of money,” said Tom. “The captain of the schooner that towed us home went back with a steamer and brought the brig in yesterday. Suppose we go and look at her once more?”
While cruising in the Ghost the boys had found an abandoned brig, which they had tried to sail into New York harbor, but they had been compelled to give up the task, and to hand her over to the captain of a schooner which towed the partly disabled Ghost into port. They all thought they would like to see the brig again, so they went down to Burling Slip, where she was lying, and went on board her.
The captain of the schooner met the boys on the dock. He was in excellent spirits, for the brig was loaded with valuable South American timber, and he was sure of receiving as much as ten thousand dollars from her owners. He knew very well that, while the boys had no legal right to any of the money, they had worked hard in trying to save the brig, and had been the means of putting her in his way. He happened to be an honest, generous man, and he felt very rich; so he insisted on making each of the boys a present.
The present was sealed up in an envelope, which he gave to Charley Smith, telling him not to look at its contents until after dinner—the boys having mentioned that they were all to take dinner together at Uncle John’s house. Charley put the envelope rather carelessly in his pocket; but when it was opened it was found to contain four new one-hundred-dollar bills.
It need hardly be said that the boys were delighted. They showed the money to Uncle John, who told them that they had fairly earned it, and need feel no hesitation about accepting it. They had now money enough to buy canoes, and to pay the expenses of a canoe cruise. Mr. Schuyler, Mr. Sharpe, and Charley’s guardian were consulted, and at Uncle John’s request gave their consent to the canoeing scheme. The first great difficulty in the way was thus entirely removed.
“I don’t know much about canoes,” remarked Uncle John, when the boys asked his advice as to what kind of canoes they should get, “but I know the commodore of a canoe club. You had better go and see him, and follow his advice. I’ll give you a letter of introduction to him.”
No time was lost in finding the commodore, and Charley Smith explained to him that four young canoeists would like to know what was the very best kind of canoe for them to get.
The Commodore, who, in spite of his magnificent title, wasn’t in the least alarming, laughed, and said, “That is a question that I’ve made up my mind never to try to answer. But I’ll give you the names of four canoeists, each of whom uses a different variety of canoe. You go and see them, listen to what they say, believe it all, and then come back and see me, and we’ll come to a decision.” He then wrote four notes of introduction, gave them to the boys, and sent them away.
The first canoeist to whom the boys were referred received them with great kindness, and told them that it was fortunate they had come to him. “The canoe that you want,” said he, “is the ‘Rice Lake’ canoe, and if you had gone to somebody else, and he had persuaded you to buy ‘Rob Roy’ canoes or ‘Shadows,’ you would have made a great mistake. The ‘Rice Lake’ canoe is nearly flat-bottomed, and so stiff that there is no danger that you will capsize her. She paddles easily, and sails faster than any other canoe. She is roomy, and you can carry about twice as much in her as you can carry in a ‘Rob Roy.’ She has no keel, so that you can run rapids easily in her, and she is built in a peculiar way that makes it impossible for her to leak. Don’t think for a moment of getting any other canoe, for if you do you will never cease to regret it.”
He was such a pleasant, frank gentleman, and was so evidently earnest in what he said, that the boys at once decided to get ‘Rice Lake’ canoes. They did not think it worth while to make any farther inquiries; but, as they had three other notes of introduction with them, Tom Schuyler said that it would hardly do to throw them away. So they went to see the next canoeist, though without the least expectation that he would say anything that would alter their decision.
Canoeist No. 2 was as polite and enthusiastic as canoeist No. 1. “So you boys want to get canoes, do you?” said he. “Well, there is only one canoe for you to get, and that is the ‘Shadow.’ She paddles easily, and sails faster than any other canoe. She’s not a flat-bottomed skiff, like the ‘Rice Laker,’ that will spill you whenever a squall strikes her, but she has good bearings, and you can’t capsize her unless you try hard. Then, she is decked all over, and you can sleep in her at night, and keep dry even in a thunder-storm; her water-tight compartments have hatches in them, so that you can stow blankets and things in them that you want to keep dry; and she has a keel, so that when you run rapids, and she strikes on a rock, she will strike on her keel instead of her planks. It isn’t worth while for you to look at any other canoe, for there is no canoe except the ‘Shadow’ that is worth having.”
“You don’t think much of the ‘Rice Lake’ canoe, then?” asked Harry.
“Why, she isn’t a civilized canoe at all,” replied the canoeist. “She is nothing but a heavy, wooden copy of the Indian birch. She hasn’t any deck, she hasn’t any water-tight compartments, and she hasn’t any keel. Whatever else you do, don’t get a ‘Rice Laker.’”
The boys thanked the advocate of the “Shadow,” and when they found themselves in the street again they wondered which of the two canoeists could be right, for each directly contradicted the other, and each seemed to be perfectly sincere. They reconsidered their decision to buy “Rice Lake” canoes, and looked forward with interest to their meeting with canoeist No. 3.
That gentleman was just as pleasant as the other two, but he did not agree with a single thing that they had said. “There are several different models of canoes,” he remarked, “but that is simply because there are ignorant people in the world. Mr. Macgregor, the father of canoeing, always uses a ‘Rob Roy’ canoe, and no man who has once been in a good ‘Rob Roy’ will ever get into any other canoe. The ‘Rob Roy’ paddles like a feather, and will outsail any other canoe. She weighs twenty pounds less than those great, lumbering canal-boats, the ‘Shadow’ and the ‘Rice Laker,’ and it don’t break your back to paddle her or to carry her round a dam. She is decked over, but her deck isn’t all cut up with hatches. There’s plenty of room to sleep in her, and her water-tight compartments are what they pretend to be—not a couple of leaky boxes stuffed full of blankets.”
“We have been advised,” began Charley, “to get ‘Shadows’ or ‘Rice’—”
“Don’t you do it,” interrupted the canoeist. “It’s lucky for you that you came to see me. It is a perfect shame for people to try to induce you to waste your money on worthless canoes. Mind you get ‘Rob Roys,’ and nothing else. Other canoes don’t deserve the name. They are schooners, or scows, or canal-boats, but the ‘Rob Roy’ is a genuine canoe.”
“Now for the last canoeist on the list!” exclaimed Harry as the boys left the office of canoeist No. 3. “I wonder what sort of a canoe he uses?”
“I’m glad there is only one more of them for us to see,” said Joe. “The Commodore told us to believe all they said, and I’m trying my best to do it, but it’s the hardest job I ever tried.”
The fourth canoeist was, on the whole, the most courteous and amiable of the four. He begged his young friends to pay no attention to those who recommended wooden canoes, no matter what model they might be. “Canvas,” said he, “is the only thing that a canoe should be built of. It is light and strong, and if you knock a hole in it you can mend it in five minutes. If you want to spend a great deal of money and own a yacht that is too small to sail in with comfort and too clumsy to be paddled, buy a wooden canoe; but if you really want to cruise, you will, of course, get canvas canoes.”
“We have been advised to get ‘Rice Lakers,’ ‘Shadows,’ and ‘Rob Roys,’” said Tom, “and we did not know until now that there was such a thing as a canvas canoe.”
“It is very sad,” replied the canoeist, “that people should take pleasure in giving such advice. They must know better. However, the subject is a painful one, and we won’t discuss it. Take my advice, my dear boys, and get canvas canoes. All the really good canoeists in the country would say the same thing to you.”
“We must try,” said Joe, as the boys walked back to the Commodore’s office, “to believe that the ‘Rice Laker,’ the ‘Shadow,’ the ‘Rob Roy,’ and the canvas canoe is the best one ever built. It seems to me something like believing that four and one are just the same. Perhaps you fellows can do it, but I’m not strong enough to believe as much as that all at one time.”
The Commodore smiled when the boys entered his office for the second time and said, “Well, of course you’ve found out what is the best canoe, and know just what you want to buy?”
“We’ve seen four men,” replied Harry, “and each one says that the canoe that he recommends is the only good one, and that all the others are good for nothing.”
“I might have sent you to four other men, and they would have told you of four other canoes, each of which is the best in existence. But perhaps you have already heard enough to make up your minds.”
“We’re farther from making up our minds than ever,” said Harry. “I do wish you would tell us what kind of canoe is really the best.”
“The truth is,” said the Commodore, “that there isn’t much to choose among the different models of canoes, and you’ll find that every canoeist is honestly certain that he has the best one. Now, I won’t undertake to select canoes for you, though I will suggest that a light ‘Rob Roy’ would probably be a good choice for the smallest of you boys. Why don’t you try all four of the canoes that have just been recommended to you? Then, if you cruise together, you can perhaps find out if any one of them is really better than the others. I will give you the names of three or four builders, all of whom build good, strong boats.”
This advice pleased the boys, and they resolved to accept it. That evening they all met at Harry’s home and decided what canoes they would get. Harry determined to get a “Shadow,” Tom a “Rice Laker,” Charley a canvas canoe, and Joe a “Rob Roy;” and the next morning orders for the four canoes were mailed to the builders whom the Commodore had recommended.