After Charles Hardy had joined the “Rovers” band, which was composed of the original Bunkers, with others whom Tim had collected together, his conscience proved less troublesome.  The first wrong step taken, the second follows with less compunction, and so on, till the moral sense is completely blunted.

At the meeting he was informed by Tim that he had been admitted to the society on account of his knowledge of boats.  They could not get along without such a fellow; and he was accordingly appointed “master of marine,” and second in command to Tim himself.  These honors and compliments reconciled him to the society of the Rovers, and he began to exhibit his energy of purpose in directing the details of the next week’s operations.

Saturday was appointed as the day for stocking the island with provisions and other necessaries, ready for the reception of the entire party on Sunday night.  Tim and Charles were to attend to this duty in person.

“Meet me at eight o’clock in the morning over by Joe Braman’s landing, Charley, and-”

“But school keeps; I can’t go till afternoon.”

“And then the Zephyrs will see what we are about.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Yes you can; can’t you ’hook Jack’?”

“I dare not.”

“Humph!  You are an idiot!  Tell the fellows to-morrow that you are going over to your uncle’s, and they will tell the master.”

Charles consented, after some argument.

“I will get Joe’s boat, and we can pull off to the island and get the money.”

“Where will you buy the things?”

“We must go down to Rippleton.  You must get some, and I will get some.  We will buy them at different stores, so no one will know but what they are for the folks.”

“And the tent?”

“We will get a piece of cotton cloth for that, and some needles and thread.  Leave all that to me.  Now, be on hand in season.”

“One thing, Tim:  I may be seen in Rippleton.”

“No matter if you are.  Bluff ’em off if they say anything.”

The Rovers were to “rendezvous”-Tim had found this word in the “Adventures of the Bold Buccaneer”-at nine o’clock on Sunday evening at the wood.  The arrangements were all completed, and the band dispersed.

On Saturday Charles was true to his appointment, and met Tim on the north side of the lake.  The money was procured, and the provisions were safely deposited in the boat.  It is true, Charles was so much embarrassed that he well-nigh betrayed the existence of the plot to the shopkeepers; and he was very glad when this part of the business was done.

Then a new difficulty presented itself.  Suppose the Zephyrs should visit Center Island that afternoon and discover the stores!  They had not thought of this before, and the risk was too great to be incurred.  They decided to conceal their stores on the main shore till night, and then carry them off.  A convenient place was found for this purpose, and the articles were landed.

They then repaired to the island to mature their plans.

“Now, where shall we pitch the tent?” asked Charles, when they landed.

“On the high ground near the beach.”

“We have no poles.  Here is the May-pole; that will do for one.”

“We can’t pitch the tent, soldier fashion.  We must drive down four forked stakes; then put poles on the forks, and cover the whole with cloth.”

“But where are the stakes and the poles?”

“We can cut them in the woods.  We will get Joe Braman’s ax, and do it this forenoon.”

“Suppose they should make a raft, and come off to us?” suggested Charles.

“We have two fast boats, and can easily keep out of their way,” replied Tim.  “If they want to fight we can beat them off.”

Charles did not approve of fighting, and thought it would be bad policy.  Tim was tolerably tractable now that he was having his own way, and was not very strenuous in support of his own pugnacious views.  When their plans were fully digested they left the island to prepare the stakes.  Before noon they separated, and the truant returned home about the usual time.

That afternoon he joined the Zephyrs in an excursion up the lake, and another lighthouse was erected in the vicinity of a dangerous reef.

“What shall we do next week?” asked Charles, as they were returning home.

“We are going up the river,” replied Frank.  “My father has consented to it.”

“Has he?  That will be first rate.”

“And so has George Weston.”

Charles relapsed into deep thought.  He was thinking how much better he could enjoy himself with good boys than with such fellows as the Rovers; for, though he was “master of marine” among them, he could not help acknowledging to himself that they were not pleasant companions.  They used profane and vulgar language; were always disposed to quarrel.  Disputes which were settled peaceably in the clubs were decided by a fight among the Rovers; and the ambitious “master” had many misgivings as to his ability to control them.  Tim could manage them very well; for, if one was turbulent, he struck him and knocked him down; and Charles had not the brute courage to do this.

“What are you thinking about, Charley?” asked Frank, pleasantly.

“Nothing,” replied Charles, promptly, as he tried to laugh.

“You act rather queerly this afternoon; just as though you had something on your mind.”

“O, no; nothing of the kind.”

“I hope you don’t regret the expulsion of Tim Bunker.”

“Certainly not.”

Charles tried to be gay after that; but he could not.  There was a weight upon his soul which bore him down, and he felt like a criminal in the presence of his companions.  He was glad when the club landed, and the members separated-glad to get away from them, for their happy, innocent faces were a constant reproach to him.

Sunday was a day of rest; but every moment of it was burdened with a sin against God and against himself.  Every moment that he delayed to repent was plunging him deeper and deeper in error and crime.  Strangely enough, the minister preached a sermon about the Prodigal Son; and the vivid picture he drew of the return of the erring wanderer so deeply affected the youthful delinquent that he fully resolved to do his duty, and expose the Rovers’ scheme.

The money had been spent in part; but, if they sent him to jail, it would be better than to continue in wickedness.  Then he thought what Captain Sedley would say to him; that the club would despise him; and that he would not be permitted to join the sports of the coming week-to say nothing of being put in prison.

But his duty was plain, and he had resolved to do it.  He had decided to suffer the penalty of his transgression, whatever it might be, and get back again into the right path as soon as he could.

Happy would it have been for him had he done so.  On his way home from church he unfortunately met Tim Bunker, who had evidently placed himself in his way to confirm his fidelity to the Rovers.

Tim saw that he was meditating something dangerous to the success of his scheme.  Charles was cold and distant.  He appeared to have lost his enthusiasm.

“If you play us false, it will be all up with you,” said Tim, in a low, determined tone.  “I can prove that you stole the purse.  That’s all.”

It was enough to overthrow all Charles’s good resolution.  His fickle mind, his shallow principle, gave way.  Stifling his convictions of duty, and silencing the “still small voice,” he went home:  and there was no joy in heaven over the returning prodigal.

“Charles,” said his father, sternly, as he entered the house, “you were not at school yesterday!”

“I got late, and did not like to go,” whined he.

“Where were you?”

“Down at the village.”

“Go to your room, and don’t leave it without permission.”

Charles obeyed.  The consequences of his error were already beginning to overtake him.  His father joined him soon after, and talked to him very severely.  He was really alarmed, for Captain Sedley had given him a hint concerning his son’s intimacy with Tim Bunker.

Charles was not permitted to leave his room that afternoon, and his supper was sent up to him; but his mother brought it, and consoled him in his troubles-promising to prevent his father from punishing him any more.

“Now, go to bed, Charley; never do so again, and it will be all right to-morrow,” said the weak mother, as she took her leave.

But Charles did not go to bed.  The family retired early; and, taking his great-coat on his arm, he stole noiselessly out of the house.  At nine o’clock he was at the rendezvous of the Rovers.

It was not deemed prudent to put their plans in execution till a later hour; and the band dispersed, with instructions to meet again in an hour at Flat Rock, where the boats would be in readiness to take them off to the island.

Tim and Charles, with four others, immediately repaired to the place where Joe Braman’s boat, which had been hired for the enterprise, was concealed.  Seating themselves in it, they waited till the hour had expired, and then, with muffled oars, pulled up to the Butterfly’s house.

The doors which opened out upon the lake were not fastened, and an entrance was readily effected.  The boat was loosed, pushed out into the lake without noise, and towed down to the Zephyr’s house.  But here the doors were found to be fastened; and one of the boys had to enter by a window, and draw the bolt.  The boat was then secured without difficulty.

“Now, Charley, you get into the Zephyr with two fellows, and tow the Sylph off,” said Tim, in a whisper.

“Shan’t I get my crew first?”

“Just as you like.”

Charles and his two companions got into the Zephyr and worked her down to the rock, where he received his crew.  It was found then that some of the Rovers had not yet made their appearance, so that there were only ten boys to each boat.

Although the success of the criminal undertaking required the utmost caution, Charles found his command were disposed to be very boisterous, and all his efforts would hardly keep them quiet.  After some trouble he got away from the shore; but his crew, from the want of discipline, were utterly incapable of pulling in concert.  They had not taken three strokes before they were all in confusion-tumbling off the thwarts, knocking each other in the back, and each swearing at and abusing his companions.

“Hold your jaw, there!” called Tim Bunker, in a low tone, from the Butterfly.

“Cease rowing!” said Charles.

But they would not “cease rowing,” and the prospect was that a general fight would soon ensue in spite of all the coxswain’s efforts to restore order.  At last Tim came alongside, and rapping two or three of the turbulent Rovers over the head with a boathook, he succeeded in quieting them.

After several attempts Charles got them so they could pull without knocking each other out of the boat; but he was heartily disgusted with his crew, and would gladly have escaped from them, even if Rippleton Jail had yawned to receive him.  After half a dozen trials he placed the Zephyr alongside the Sylph, let go her moorings, and took her in tow.  The Rovers then pulled for the island; but the passage thither was long and difficult.