THE CLUBS AT FORT POINT.

The Yacht Club fleet was already at anchor off Fort Point when the Dorcas Club and the Ocean-Born arrived. The yachtmen, who were on shore waiting for the young ladies, assisted them to land, and then, taking their boats out of the water, conveyed them to a barn appropriated to their use. The Ocean-Born came to anchor in deep water, and all hands landed except Martin Roach, who was to attend to the engine, and join the party at a later hour. The Monogram, though she had kept at a respectful distance after the admonition of Captain Patterdale, now came in, and running up to the wharf, landed Mr. McGusher, who seemed to be determined to take part in the festivities of the trip, in spite of all the snubbing that could be administered to him.

As soon as the entire party had gathered on the wharf, and in the pretty grove which bordered the river,--for the boats entered the river when they rounded Fort Point,--the young ladies and the young gentlemen began to wonder what was to be done. No one seemed to know what they were to do, or why they had landed at this delightful spot. It was certainly very pleasant; but then it was half past one, a time somewhat later, in this provincial locality, than most of them had been in the habit of attending to the ceremony of dinner, which, in the present instance, after a trip of ten miles on the salt water, was likely to be something more than a mere form.

“Are we to have no dinner?” asked Kate Bilder, at whose side Ben Lunder had placed himself as soon as he stepped upon the wharf.

“Really, Miss Bilder, I don’t know what the arrangements are,” replied Ben, shrugging his shoulders.

“I am hungry as a wolf!” protested Kate.

“Hungry as a lamb! _I_ am as hungry as a wolf. Let us have the similies properly placed.”

“Do you mean by that you are any hungrier than I am?”

“I can’t say as to that; but I haven’t tasted a mouthful of food since I ate my breakfast; and it is now half past one in the afternoon,” added Ben.

“Your sufferings can be no greater than mine. I have eaten nothing since breakfast. I supposed we should dine in the cabins of the yachts.”

“Behold, there is a great mystery somewhere! The high and mighty commander of the Ocean-Born intended to invite all the ladies of the Dorcas Club to dine in the cabin of the steamer. He had gathered great stores of ambrosia, and such ethereal ‘feed,’ for the occasion, and was about to issue his sovereign mandate to the cook, when the puissant managing agent of the expedition interposed with a veto. It cannot be that Captain Patterdale, who has a human stomach in his corporation, has doomed us to an afternoon of famine.”

“If he has, I shall rebel, and buy some cookies at a shop, if I can find one,” pouted Kate.

“But shops are not hopeful in such a place as this; and we can do better: we will invade the pantry of the Ocean-Born, where the ethereal provender is stowed.”

“What’s that?” asked Kate, as a band of music, concealed in the grove, suddenly struck up an enlivening air.

“There’s music in the air,” replied Ben.

“All the yachtmen, ahoy!” shouted Sam Rodman, the captain of the fleet.

“Ay, ay!” responded the several crews, as they gathered in an open space near the wharf.

“By order of the commodore, you will form a procession by crews,” added Rodman.

“A procession!” exclaimed Ben. “That’s a prodigious formality.”

“The Dorcas Club will form by clubs,” said Minnie Darling, the president.

“Dear me! we must wear a straight jacket, too,” laughed Kate.

Each yacht had a crew of four, besides the captains; and each had been strictly limited to this number, so that the members of the Dorcas Club could be accommodated, if occasion should require. The crews formed, with the captains in front of them. Rodman placed the commodore, the vice commodore, the secretary, and the treasurer at the head of the procession. Three yacht crews came next, who were followed by the five divisions of the Dorcas Club, and the rear was brought up by the other three yacht clubs.

“The officers and crew of the Ocean-Born seem to be left out in the cold,” said Ben Lunder, when the formidable preparations for the march were so far completed.

“Not at all,” replied Sam Rodman. “The Ocean-Borns will form a guard of honor for the Dorcas Club. Only six of you seem to be present, and three of you will walk on each side of the young ladies.”

“Thanks, magnanimous captain of the fleet, for putting us in the sugar bowl,” added Ben.

The B. B. Band, which had been mysteriously sent forward in the morning boat, was placed at the head of the procession. Commodore Montague gave the order to march, and the line moved up the gentle slope and through the grove, towards the hotel, which stands on a considerable bluff, with the waters of the bay on one side, and those of the river on the other.

Mr. McGusher witnessed all the proceedings with about the same feeling that a hungry cur looks through the cruel pickets of a fence which separates him from the sleek house-dog feeding upon the well-covered beef bones from a lavish table. Mr. McGusher was conscious of his merits, if no one else was. He knew he could shine in such a company as that which marched like a pageant before him. He could bring to it the graces and brilliancy of the metropolis of the nation. He could fascinate those young ladies with his speech. He could charm those young ladies with his conversation, so that the fairest daughter of the richest and proudest nabob of that Down East City would gladly own his sway. But he had not been invited to join the excursion. He was acquainted only with Kate Bilder; and that miserable Ben Lunder was always near her; even his position in the “guard of honor” was abreast of her. She could introduce him to all the young ladies, and open the gates of paradise to him--and happily to them.

He followed the procession to the hotel, keeping step to the music; but, alas! his heart was not allowed to beat in unison with those of the members of the Dorcas Club. With eight hundred dollars in his pocket,--he had been compelled to pay for two days in advance for the Monogram,--he was a beggar for the smiles of that bevy of beautiful beings.

The procession marched into the great hall of the hotel, the band playing the grand _finale_ of a grand march, and then into the parlors assigned for the use of the party. At the door stood Captain Patterdale and Dr. Darling, like two great ogres at the entrance of an enchanted palace. But the long-lost was so infatuated by this time, that he was superior to any fear of ogres, giants, or dragons; and with easy assurance he stepped up to this gate of paradise. He was about to enter, when the ogres placed themselves in his way.

“This parlor is private,” said Captain Patterdale.

“I beg yaw pawdon; but I wish to speak to Miss Bildaw,” replied Mr. McGusher.

“If you wish to see any of this party, send your card to her by one of the waiters; that’s the proper way in genteel society,” answered the remorseless ogre.

Of course Mr. McGusher was perfectly familiar with the ways of genteel society. He went to the office, wrote his name on a card, and sent it to Kate by a servant. Then he wrote his name on the register of the hotel.

“I desiaw the best wooms in the house,” said he, magnificently.

“We are quite full to-day, on account of the party which has just arrived,” replied the gentlemanly clerk, who did not seem to be very much impressed by the young man’s magnificence. “We have nothing left, short of the upper floor, except a suite of rooms on the second floor.”

“Vewy well, saw,” added the guest, with a nod and a graceful wave of his right hand. “That will ansaw my pawpose.”

“It is a large parlor with a bedroom attached, suitable for two persons, and we have to charge fourteen dollars a day for the suite, with board,” continued the clerk, who doubtless believed that these terms would settle the question.

“I didn’t ask the pwice. I don’t object to that. It seems quite weasonable,” added Mr. McGusher, with an expression of sovereign contempt on his classic features.

“The lady says she is engaged just now, and cannot see you,” said the waiter, who had carried the card to Miss Bilder. “She says she will endeavor to see you this afternoon.”

“Vewy well,” replied the long-lost, biting his classic lip.

“Have you any baggage, Mr. McGusher?” asked the clerk.

“Baggage! Do you mean to insult me?” demanded the swell, who doubtless knew the rule that “guests without baggage are required to pay in advance.”

“Certainly not, sir,” replied the clerk, obsequiously; for by this time he deemed it possible that the airy guest might be the simple scion of some New York nabob.

“Take out one day in advance,” said Mr. McGusher, selecting a hundred-dollar bill from the notes in his wallet, and tossing it upon the counter with the air of a wounded lord.

“I beg your pardon; you quite misunderstood me,” added the clerk. “I only wished to send your baggage to your rooms.”

“My baggage is on bawd of my steamaw--the Monogwam, at the whawf. Oblige me by sending a pawtaw faw it,” said Mr. McGusher, restoring the hundred-dollar bill to his wallet, satisfied with showing that he had plenty of money.

“The porter shall bring it up at once.”

“And now I want some dinnaw,” continued the long-lost.

“We dine at one; but we will get some dinner for you.”

“Nevaw mind, I will dine with the pawty that just came.”

“That is a private party,” answered the clerk, firmly.

At that moment Mr. McGusher happened to turn his head, and saw Captain Patterdale talking with his old friend Monroe, who had “shadowed” him in Bangor.

“Aw, my deaw Monwoe, I’m delighted to see you!” exclaimed the long-lost, rushing in between the two gentlemen, and breaking up their conversation.

In spite of the shade we cast on Mr. McGusher’s good breeding in doing so, we cannot help saying that there is no more flagrant violation of the rules of politeness, in social or business intercourse, than to break in upon the conversation of two or more persons, be they ladies or gentlemen, or both. Better wait an hour, any time, than do it, except in a case of life and death; and then it should be commenced with an apology.

Mr. Monroe, evidently, was not so much delighted. His function as a “shadow” had ceased; and the New York swell was not just the person he would choose as an associate at a sea-side resort; but he took the offered hand of the long-lost, and greeted him rather coldly.

“Dine with us Monroe--won’t you?” said Patterdale, as he turned to leave.

“I dined an hour ago, and am hardly in condition to do it again,” laughed Monroe.

“Ask him if you may invite a fwiend,” said Mr. McGusher, in a low tone.

“Come in and see us, whether you dine or not,” added the captain, as he returned from the office.

“Thank you; perhaps I may,” replied Monroe.

“Why don’t you ask him if you may bwing in a fwiend, my deaw Monwoe?” added Mr. McGusher, rather impatiently; for though the Belfasters, through prejudice, failed to recognize his merits, certainly Monroe could not be so blind.

“I don’t think I care to invite a friend. Those are all young people, and I am afraid I should not feel quite at home among them,” replied Monroe. “Besides, I have something else to think of. I came over here from Bucksport this morning, intending to remain a couple of days; but there is no room short of the attic for me.”

“My deaw fellaw, come to my wooms. I have the best suite in the house, and you shall share them with me,” interposed the long-lost, with enthusiasm. “But I wish to dine with that pawty. I have had no dinnaw yet. I desiaw to make the acquaintance of those young ladies.”

“Very well. Go to your room, McGusher. I will speak to Captain Patterdale; and if I find I can get you an invitation, I will call for you in five minutes at your room.”

“If you say yaw fwiend, you can’t leave him, and all that sawt of thing, it will be all wight.”

“I will see what can be done.”

Mr. McGusher went to his rooms, and Monroe to the parlor, where Captain Patterdale had joined his party. He alluded to his “friend from New York,” but he did so with a sort of smile, which seemed to nullify all he said, and reduce his suggestion to a mere form. Captain Patterdale objected to inviting the gentleman from New York; and, strange as it may seem, Monroe did not press the matter. In fact, he behaved like a very cold and indifferent friend. And when the managing agent of the excursion party actually declined to invite the would-be guest to the dinner, Monroe selfishly sat down to the table with the merry party himself, without taking the trouble to inform his friend from New York of the result of his mission.

The feast was very creditable to the hotel, and fortunately the quantity, as well as the quality, was equal to the emergency, for, perhaps, a hungrier company never surrounded a table than the members of the two clubs and the crew of the Ocean-Born. The B. B. Band played, on the veranda, during the dinner, and, though the party was supposed to be private, the guests of the hotel, and everybody else who chose to do so, could look in at the open windows upon the festive scene. Among the spectators who availed themselves of this privilege was Mr. McGusher; but “he was not happy.” He had waited in his rooms for Monroe till his patience was exhausted; and then, with the belief that his friend was treacherous and shabby, he had joined the throng of lookers on. His wounded sensibilities were not healed when he saw Monroe gaily chatting with the young ladies of the Dorcas Club.

When the animal wants of the company had been fully satisfied, Commodore Montague rapped upon the table, and having secured the attention of the diners, introduced Captain Patterdale as the host of the occasion. The captain rose and stated that he had taken the liberty to provide the present entertainment, and others which were to follow, in honor of the officers and crew of the Ocean-Born. He could never express, either by words or deeds, the obligations he was under to the people of the gallant steamer. He should not attempt to do so; and he was content forever to owe a debt of gratitude to such noble and generous friends. But he would not dampen the festivities of the young people by thrusting the soberness and dignity of age upon them in his own person, and should therefore request Commodore Montague to preside at the table instead of himself.

After the applause had subsided, Commodore Montague made a little speech. He was sure that no one was younger in heart and feeling than the esteemed gentleman to whom they were indebted for the pleasures of the present occasion. He fully sympathized with their liberal host in his high appreciation of the conduct of the officers and crew of the Ocean-Born, who had behaved like noble and generous sailors, as they were. Every member of both clubs should feel that he was personally indebted to them for the service rendered to their companions in distress; and he trusted that all would remember the conduct of the noble deliverers of the shipwrecked party in the Sea Foam. The tables trembled and the glasses rattled under the applause which followed; and Captain Neil Brandon rose to reply; but it was some time before the demonstration of favor which greeted him would permit his voice to be heard. Neil replied in a very brief and proper speech, in which he disparaged his own humble efforts to serve the party in distress, and warmly expressed his gratitude for the princely entertainment at which the officers and crew of the Ocean-Born were the honored guests.

Dr. Darling was called upon, and after he had expressed his personal obligations to the guests of the occasion, he invited all the company to participate in certain festivities at the Bangor House, on their arrival at their destination.

“This is to be a jolly time--isn’t it, Miss Bilder?” said Ben Lunder, who had a seat by the side of Kate.

“I should think it was. I had no idea we were to do things so grandly; but then, Mr. Lunder, we might all have been at the bottom of the sea at this time, if you in the steamer had not taken pity upon us. There, Ned Patterdale is going to make a speech.”

Ned spoke very well, though, like most young men when they make off-hand speeches, conned for two or three hours in advance, he was a little stilted, exaggerated, and flowery in his remarks.

“Mr. Commodore, and ladies and gentlemen,” he said, in conclusion, “I beg the privilege of proposing a toast: The old salt: Pickled in the briny ocean, he will keep till the end of time as the inpersonation of what is noble, heroic, daring, and unselfish.”

“Mr. Commodore, it is quite impossible,” shouted Ben Lunder, springing to his feet, and upsetting his chair, and tipping over several glasses in front of him, in his eagerness.

“I beg the gentleman’s pardon,” interposed Commodore Montague; “but I must remind him that certain formalities are necessary on these occasions, and that upon me devolves the very pleasant duty of introducing Mr. Bounding Billow Ben Lunder, as the representative of the crew of the steamer Ocean-Born, of Philadelphia.”

“Mr. Commodore, I beg your pardon for my unseemly impetuosity; but when the old salt is alluded to in speech, toast, or song, I am there,” continued Ben; “and I respectfully submit that I am known so well to this company in connection with this briny appellation, as to need no formal introduction.”

“No, no!” laughed the yachtman.

“Thank you, gentlemen; you know how it is yourselves. I am an old salt, called upon to speak for that saline institution without any--without any--any--(Ben took from his breast pocket a paper, which he unfolded, glancing nervously at the writing upon it) preparation; I find my stomach--my stomach--no--(and Ben took the paper from his pocket and glanced at it) my heart--I find my heart too full for utterance. I am not the first old salt to whom the attention of the people has been directed. There was another old salt, sir, first in war, first in--first in--in--(consulting the paper) peace--first in peace, and first in the arts of seamanship and navigation. Proudly I point to that first old salt in the history of--the history of--of (the paper) the United States. You know him well, Mr. Commodore. His name was George--George--his name was George--George (the paper) Washington--George Washington. He stood at the helm of the ship of--the ship of--of--(the paper) state; the ship of state, Mr. Commodore. In other words, sir, he took his trick at the wheel. He navigated that ship as no other man could navigate her, sir. He knew when to take a reef in the skysail-boom! He knew when to top up the flukes of the main-royal mudhook! He knew just how much the foreto’-bobbin-stay would bear, and he didn’t burst it! He sailed that ship of state with the jib-stay fast to the bowline-hitch, with the jib-tack swelling in the breeze, and the sky-scrapers hauled taut on the weather staysail sheets! He kept her head south-east by no’th, and the grand old craft bowled along like a white cloud through the azure of the canopy below--Below? (the paper) above him; the canopy above him, Mr. Commodore; or like the ship of the desert over the burning sands of the Straits of Magellan!”

At this point of the speech there was an interruption. Mr. McGusher, who, seated on a window-stool, had been gazing with longing eyes upon the party at the table, swung his legs into the room, and dropped upon the floor. Not heeding the piles of dishes there, he came down upon them with a grand smash, which for the moment checked Ben’s eloquence.