The Champion was sailed by two boys.
William Johnson, her owner, sat in the stern steering, and Ben. Lake,
a quiet, odd sort of a boy, sat on one of the middle thwarts managing
the sails. As soon as she rounded the lock, Harry Butler sprang to his
feet, and, seizing a small coil of rope that lay in the boat, called
out,
"Bill! if you will catch this line, we'll tow you."
"No, I thank you," answered William. "I think we can get along very
well without any of your help."
"Yes," chimed in Ben. Lake, "and we'll catch you before you are
half-way to the island."
"We'll see about that!" shouted George, in reply.
By this time the Speedwell was fairly before the wind, the sails were
hauled taut, the boys seated themselves on the windward gunwale, and
the race began in earnest. But they soon found that it would be much
longer than they had imagined. Instead of the slow, straining motion
which they had expected, the Speedwell flew through the water like a
duck, mounting every little swell in fine style, and rolling the foam
back from her bow in great masses.
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