At half-past one the members of the embryo boat club were on the beach.  Those who were not informed before their arrival of the nature of the “time” in store for them were in ecstasies when they beheld the beautiful boat reposing so lightly and gracefully on the tranquil bosom of the clear lake.  None of them had ever seen such a fairy bark before, and it more than realized their idea of the airy and graceful craft of which they had read and thought.

Uncle Ben had not arrived yet; but he had evidently been there during the forenoon, for the boat had been taken from her moorings, and was now secured by a line attached to a stake driven in the sand.

The boys, as a matter of course, were very impatient to take their first lesson in rowing, and to skim over the glassy lake in the splendid barge before them.

“Where is Uncle Ben?” asked Charles, hardly able to control his impatience.

“He will be here soon; it is not two o’clock yet,” answered Frank.

“Don’t be in a hurry, Charley,” added Tony, who had seated himself upon the sand, and considering the exciting circumstances of the day, demeaned himself like a philosopher.

“I am so anxious to get a peep at the inside of her,” replied Charles, as he took hold of the line that held the boat, and pulled her towards the shore.  “Don’t you think he will be here before two o’clock?”

“I don’t know.  I wouldn’t touch her, Charley,” said Frank.

“See how she shoots ahead!  I scarcely pulled at all on the line.”

The light bark, under the impulse of Charles’s gentle pull, darted to the shore, throwing her sharp bow entirely out of the water.

“Don’t, Charley; you will scrape the paint from her keel on the sand,” interposed Frank.  “She is built very lightly, and my father says she cost him four hundred dollars.”

“I won’t hurt her.  Just twig the cushioned seats in the stern, and see all the brass work round the sides!  My eyes, how it shines!” exclaimed Charles, holding up both hands with delight.

“Just see the oars!” added Fred Harper.

“And there are the flags rolled up in the stern,” said another boy.

“Won’t we have a glorious time!” continued Charles, as he placed one foot on the bow of the boat.

“Don’t get in, Charley; that isn’t fair,” interposed Tony Weston.

“It won’t do any harm;” and Charles stepped into the boat.

Half a dozen other boys, carried away by the excitement of the moment, followed his example, and jumped in after him.  Charles led the way to the stern of the boat, walking over the seats, or, to speak technically, the “thwarts.”

The light boat, which had been drawn far out of the water, and which now rested her keel upon the bottom, having no support upon the sides, rolling over on her gunnel, and tumbled the boys into the lake.

“There!  Now see what you have done!” cried Tony, springing up, and pushing the boat away from the shore.

“Avast, there!  What are you about?” exclaimed Uncle Ben, hobbling down to the beach as fast as his legs would carry him.

“You are too bad, Charley!” said Frank.  “You will spoil all our fun by your impatience.”

“I didn’t think she would upset so easily,” replied Charles.

“You ought not to have meddled with her.”

“That you hadn’t, youngster,” said Uncle Ben.  “Don’t you know a boat can’t stand alone when the keel is on the sand?”

The old sailor spoke pretty sternly, and Charles was abashed by his reproof.

“Forgive me, Uncle Ben; I didn’t mean any harm.”

“I know you didn’t, Charley; but you must be careful always.  Live and larn,” replied Uncle Ben, mollified by the penitence of the boy.

“She won’t tip over again, will she?” asked Frank.

“Not if you handle her right; run over to that rock in the grove, where the water is deep, and I will bring her over.”

Uncle Ben unfastened the line, and wading out a little way into the lake, jumped in, and rowed over to the rock.

“Now, my lads, you must do everything in order.  We don’t want any hurrying and tumbling about.  When you get into the boat, step easy, and keep quiet in your places,” said Uncle Ben, as he brought the boat alongside the rock.  “Fend off, there!  Don’t let her rub!”

Tony, who was by far the coolest and most reliable boy of the party, took hold of the boat, and prevented her from striking the rock.

“Now, Tony, you shall be bow oarsman; that is, you shall pull the foremost oar.  You may get in first, and take that boat-hook forward.  Stop, no more of you yet; keep perfectly cool!”

Tony obeyed, and took his station in the bow with the boat-hook in his hand.

“Now hook on the rock with it, and keep her steady.  There, that will do,” continued Uncle Ben, taking another boat-hook and steadying the stern.  “Now, one at a time, and each of you take one of the seats.”

The boys were so impatient that they could not wait to get in as the old sailor directed; and all huddled in together, to the imminent peril of their lives and the boat.

“Avast! that won’t do!  Back, all of you!” roared Uncle Ben, provoked by their awkwardness.  “Now, Frank, call them by name, one at a time, and let each take his place before you call another.”

This plan worked better.  Uncle Ben was a firm advocate of discipline, and insisted on having everything done in “shipshape order,” as he styled it.  He had been in the United States Navy, and was familiar with its discipline.  The boys were all seated; and finding that their hurry and impatience only retarded their progress, they learned to keep still, and wait till the old sailor told them what to do.

They had all seated themselves on one side of the boat, and the consequence was it nearly tipped her over.

“Now, my lads, trim ship.  You are all over on the starboard side,” said Uncle Ben, as he pushed the boat away from the rock.

The boys, in their eagerness to render prompt obedience, all passed over to the opposite ends of the thwarts, and the boat instantly careened upon the other side.

“Avast there!  Now stop a bit,” continued the old sailor.  “I am going to number you all.  I don’t know your names, all of you; so just mind the figgers.  Tony, you are number one; say it.”

“One,” shouted Tony, with a pleasant laugh.

“The boy on the next seat.”

“Two.”

“Stop a bit; we have got one too many.  One of you must be coxswain.  Cap’n Sedley says you must choose him by vote.  Who shall be your coxswain, boys?”

“Frank Sedley,” shouted all the boys together.

“Good! it is a unanimous vote,” said Uncle Ben.  “You desarve the honor, Frank; take a seat in the starn-sheets.  Next boy, number.”

“Three.”

“Next.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

The boys all numbered, with the exception of Frank Sedley, who was not to pull an oar.

“Now, my lads, remember your numbers-don’t touch the oars yet.  You have got a good deal to larn fust,” continued Uncle Ben.

“We shall be good scholars,” said Charles.

“I hope you will.  Now, Tony, take your place on the starboard side, opposite the row-lock over to port.”

Tony, at a venture, seated himself on the forward thwart.

“Avast! that’s the larboard side.”

“But, Uncle Ben, we don’t know the meaning of those words,” added Frank.

“No more you don’t,” answered Uncle Ben, hitching up his trousers and laughing good-naturedly.  “You can larn, though, if you pay ’tention.”

“We will try.”

“This side, then,”-and the old sailor laid his hand upon the right-hand side of the boat, looking towards the bow,-“this is the starboard side.”

“The right-hand side is the starboard side,” repeated several of the boys.

“Number five,” said Uncle Ben, calling upon Charles Hardy, “which is the starboard side?”

“This,” replied Charles, pointing to his right.

“No, ’tain’t.”

“But you said the right-hand side.”

“No, I didn’t; I said this side,” replied the old sailor, laughing at the boy’s perplexity.  “It is the right-hand side lookin’ for’ad.  Do you understand it now?”

“We do,” shouted the boys together.

“Now, who can tell me which is the larboard side?”

“The left looking forward,” replied several.

“Good, my hearties; and larboard and port mean the same thing.  ‘Port’ is more used now nor larboard.”

“We all understand it,” said Charles Hardy.

“You’ll forget it, ten to one, before to-morrow.”

“No, we won’t.”

“Now, Tony, take the starboard side.  That’s it.  Number two, the port side.  That’s right.  Number three, the starboard.”

The boys had grown more tractable, and Uncle Ben succeeded in getting them all in their proper places.  The boat thus trimmed sat even on the water, and the boys were delighted with this change in her position.  Most of them were wholly unaccustomed to boats, and the one-sided posture gave them a sensation of uneasiness; but while they saw Uncle Ben and some of the others feeling so secure, they did not like to acknowledge their timidity.

“When you take the oars-not yet-don’t be in a hurry.  Do everything calmly,” said Uncle Ben.  “You’ll never larn anything if you don’t go to work shipshape.”

“But what shall I do?” asked Frank.  “There are only twelve oars.”

“Seat yourself square in the starn, my boy.”

Frank obeyed, and Uncle Ben shipped the rudder.  Instead of a tiller, there was a short piece of wood, elegantly carved and gilded, which extended crossways with the boat.  At each end of it was fastened a line, by means of which the rudder was moved.

“Take the tiller-ropes, Frank, and keep quiet till we get ready to give way,” said Uncle Ben, as he seated himself by the side of the young coxswain.

“We are all ready,” interposed Charles Hardy, by way of hurrying the old sailor’s movements.

The old man was not to be hurried; and when he saw what an excitement the boys were in, he made them sit still, and not speak a word for two minutes.