Four Afoot: Being the Adventures of the Big Four on the Highway

  CHAPTER XIX

  TELLS OF A VOYAGE AND A SHIPWRECK

  They awoke shortly before seven, aching and chilled and stiff, to findthe sun pouring in through the windows of the hut.

  “He’s gone,” said Bob.

  “Who?” asked Nelson sleepily.

  “Our hobo friend.”

  Sure enough, the corner was empty. Nelson felt quickly for the money,found it intact, and glanced about.

  “Well, he hasn’t taken anything.”

  “He kept his word, poor chap,” said Dan.

  “He did take one thing, though,” said Bob dryly, kicking over therubbish at the end of the room.

  “What?” they demanded anxiously.

  “The bottle.”

  They left the hut as soon as the packs were tied up, and retraced theirsteps to the railroad track. On every hand were signs of the storm’sravages. The sides of the old gravel pit were rutted deeply, and layersof sand and pebbles overlay the turf. Even the track had suffered inplaces, and a quarter of a mile toward Beach Neck they came across asection gang patching up a washout. By half-past seven they were seatedat a table in the dining room of the little hotel eating like woodchoppers. Through the windows beside them Great Peconic Bay glistenedin the morning sunlight.

  “There’s one good thing about missing your supper,” said Tom, his mouthfull of oatmeal, “and that is that it gives you a dandy appetite forbreakfast.”

  They did sixteen miles that day over fairly good roads and through aninteresting country. It was a fresh, brisk day with just enough warmthin the sunshine. They skirted picturesque inlets, and crossed bridgesover tiny coves in which fishing boats and other craft lay hauled upamid the beach grass. In the late afternoon they reached Sag Harbor,found a hotel, visited the post office, got their mail, and ate ahearty supper. Bedtime arrived early that evening, for none of them hadrested very much the night before, and they were pretty sleepy. Bobmanaged to write a letter, but the others begged off until morning.

  A good ten hours of sleep left them feeling “fine and dandy,” to quoteDan, and after breakfast and letter writing had been attended to theyset out to see the town. They found plenty to interest them, and ifthis were an instructive narrative I should tell you some of thethings they saw. But as it isn’t, I’m going to leave them alone untildinner time.

  After that meal had been disposed of with hearty good will, they packedtheir knapsacks again, and set about crossing to the north shore. Tomwas for stopping at Shelter Island, but it was already the sixteenth ofthe month, and it behooved them to turn their faces homeward if theywere to report at their schools on time. They learned that the regularferry would take them to Greenport or Orient, but those places were toofar east. So they studied the situation with the aid of a map in theoffice of the hotel.

  “What we want to do,” said Bob, “is to get to Southold or Peconic. Thatwill save us six or eight miles over Greenport.”

  “Well,” suggested Dan, “we’ve got plenty of money now, so let’s getsome one to sail us over. Or what’s the matter with sailing straightdown the bay all the way to this place here; what’s the name of it?Jamesport?”

  “It would take all night,” answered Bob. “It must be a good sixteenmiles, and with this breeze----”

  “Don’t you worry about the breeze,” said Nelson. “There’s going to bemore of it pretty soon. But, considering the fact that we’re supposedto be on a walking trip, Dan, sailing sixteen miles of the way sounds abit funny.”

  “What was the place you said, Bob?” Tom asked.

  “I said Southold or Peconic, Peconic for choice because it’s fartherwest. If we’re going to get back to New York on the twentieth as weagreed, we’ve got to cover ground during the next few days, and everymile counts. You see we’ve lost three days since we started. We wantto stop back at Barrington to see Jerry, and I think we’d ought to getthere about Tuesday noon. Then Wednesday morning we can go on to ColdSpring, or wherever that steamboat line starts from, and take the boatto New York.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Dan. “Let’s ask Whiskers, the clerk, about asailboat.”

  The gentleman so disrespectfully alluded to by Dan had rather hazyideas on the subject of boat hiring, but finally advised them to “takethe straight road down to the Point and ask about.”

  Maybe they got off the straight road; at any rate they never found“the Point.” Instead they came out on the side of a little cove wherea ramshackle boathouse, a thirty-foot sloop at anchor, and a few boatshauled up on the beach were the principal objects in sight. But as theydrew nearer there came a sound of hammering from the shanty, and whenthey reached the door they found it inhabited by a man and a boy. Theman looked like a fisherman, and the boy--well, the boy looked like aninny. But, perhaps, that was largely because from the time the Fourdarkened the door until they went out he held his mouth open everymoment.

  “How do you do?” said Bob. “We want to get across to Peconic thisafternoon. There are four of us and we’ll pay a fair price. Can youtake us over?”

  The man looked up momentarily from the lobster pot he was mending andshook his head.

  “No, I guess not,” he replied calmly.

  Bob waited, but apparently nothing more was forthcoming.

  “It would be worth two dollars to us,” he hazarded.

  “’Twould be worth three to me,” answered the man.

  “Well, call it three,” said Bob.

  “Or maybe four,” continued the other as though Bob had not spoken. Bobglanced doubtfully at the others, who nodded.

  “We’ll pay four, although it seems a good deal.”

  “Southold, you said?” asked the fisherman.

  “No, Peconic.”

  “Oh, Peconic, eh?” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Now, that’sdifferent bait. You see, the wind’s sorter bad for a trip over toPeconic.”

  “We’ll risk the wind,” answered Nelson.

  “Yes, but it’s gettin’ to look pret-ty squally, an’ I don’t b’lieve I’dwant to risk the boat.”

  There was a whispered consultation, and finally Bob said: “Now, lookhere, we’ve got to get across, and you might as well take us as anyoneelse. We’ll pay you five dollars.”

  “I couldn’t go myself,” answered the man. “But my boy here can go if hewants to. Want to take these gentlemen across, Will?”

  The boy, his mouth still open, nodded silently.

  “All right. You better hurry, ’cause there’s goin’ to be a bit of ablow toward night. You go along with him an’ he’ll sail you across.”

  “Thank you,” answered Bob. “Shall I pay you now?”

  “Not till you gets the goods, sir,” was the answer. “When you gets toPeconic landing you give the money to Will; an’ tell him not to loseit; though I rather guess he will, just the same.”

  They started out, but the fisherman called them back.

  “How much were you going to give him?” he asked.

  Bob sighed despairingly.

  “Five dollars. That was the agreement.”

  “Don’t you do it. Give him three; that’s all it’s worth.”

  “Oh, I understood you to say----”

  “I said three or _maybe_ four. Well, it’s three. That suit you?”

  “Yes, indeed. Much obliged.”

  “You’re welcome. An’ say!”

  “Yes,” answered Bob, pausing again.

  “That boy o’ mine’s about the forgetfulest you ever saw. If youcapsize, just remind him to swim, will you? Like as not he wouldn’tthink of it till it was too late.”

  Bob agreed laughingly, and the fisherman turned back gravely to hiswork. When they got to the little pier, Will was awaiting them in therowboat. They piled in and were rowed out to the sloop. Once on board,Will showed to better advantage. He closed his mouth and looked almostintelligent, although Nelson confided to Bob that if it came on a blowhe thought the best thing to do would be to pitch Will overboard andsail themselves. Will cast off the mooring,
hoisted the mainsail withNelson’s assistance, and they drifted out of the cove. Once aroundthe point of the land, the breeze filled the sail and they movedmore briskly. Will put up the jib then, and the boys made themselvescomfortable. Dan and Nelson stretched themselves out in the lee of thesail, and Bob and Tom remained in the little cockpit, the former tryingto engage Will in conversation. But Will was not brilliant at that,and his replies to the other’s questions consisted invariably of “No,”“Yes,” and “I guess so.”

  There was a fair, if somewhat fluky, breeze out of the south, and afterthey had crept through the narrows between the mainland and ShelterIsland it was a matter of short tacking. The sun had gone in under thelight clouds, and Nelson cast frequent glances about them.

  “What are you looking for?” asked Dan lazily.

  “Squalls,” was the answer. “And we’ll get them before long unless I’mmistaken.”

  “Can’t cut much ice in here, can they?”

  “I don’t know, but I should think they might kick up quite a fuss.”

  “Oh, well, we’ve got land all around us,” said Dan.

  “Yes, that’s the trouble. There isn’t room enough to turn around inwithout hitting something. And as for that idiot there at the tiller, Iwouldn’t trust him to drive a canal boat.”

  “Oh, let her blow,” said Dan. “Maybe it’ll blow us down to Jamestown.”

  “If those clouds over there in the northeast mean anything,” answeredNelson, “we’re more likely to get blown back toward Beach Neck.”

  “Well,” laughed the other, “we don’t have to pay unless he gets us toPeconic. Think of the saving!”

  There was a long spit of sand stretching out from the mainland, and asthe boom swung over and they headed into the dying breeze the boat’snose pointed straight for the end of it. Nelson glanced back. Over nearthe Shelter Island shore the sea was ruffled with cat’s-paws. Here,however, the last breath of air seemed to have died out.

  “Say, you’d better bring her around to starboard,” he shouted. “Thatlooks mighty like a squall back there.”

  Will looked over his shoulder uneasily and shoved the helm over. Atthat moment the first breath of wind from the new quarter struck them,and the sloop heeled over until Dan had to grab at the mast to keepfrom rolling off. The next instant the sheet paid out, and the slooprighted. Then came a burst of wind that sent Dan and Nelson down to thecockpit, and took the sloop through the water at a lively clip. Theywere free of the sand spit now, and again the helm went over, and theboat pointed for the channel between the spit and the north shore.

  “Maybe we’d better reef some,” said Will questioningly.

  “I know blamed well we had,” muttered Nelson, as he climbed out ofthe cockpit and set to work. “Lend a hand, Dan!” he called. They tooktwo reefs in the mainsail, not without difficulty, and crawled back.It was getting darker now, and there were ugly pale-green streaks onthe water. But with the wind almost astern and the channel dead ahead,there was no need of present worry. The squall was not a heavy one, andmight soon blow over. If it didn’t they would have difficulty, Nelsonwas certain, in getting into Peconic. Presently they were past the endof the sand spit, and Nelson, for one, breathed easier. The boy at thehelm eased her off a little, and then swung her around into the wind.At the same instant a terrific gust of wind struck them, the sloop felloff, the mainsail swung out to starboard, and Nelson made a leap at thetiller.

  “Give me that thing, you idiot!” he muttered. “Let go your jib unlessyou want to have us all in the water!”

  The boy was plainly rattled and somewhat scared, but he managed to obey.

  “Now lower away on that mainsail,” continued Nelson. “I don’t know muchabout this old tub, and I’m not going to take any chances. We’ll trybare poles while this lasts!”

  The wind was roaring around them now, and the sloop was heeling overunder the force of it. Dan and Bob lent assistance, and in a trice themainsail was down and secured. The sloop found her keel again. “Now putup that jib again,” said Nelson. “I guess we’d better keep her headedright, though I’m blest if I know where she’s going!”

  “Here comes the rain!” cried Tom, and the next moment they got it.Ponchos were hurriedly donned, and Barry, shivering and frightened,crept under the seat. The shores were suddenly blotted from sight inthe whirling gray mists. The sloop scudded along through the leapingwaves at breathless pace. Nelson called to Will.

  “Here, you take this tiller,” he said. “You know a heap more about thisbay than I do.”

  But the boy only shook his head.

  “What?” demanded Nelson angrily.

  “I don’t know where we are,” muttered the other.

  “Well, do you think I do? You take hold here or we’ll pitch youoverboard.”

  Will crept back and took the tiller, his face white with fright.

  “Hold her where she is,” said Nelson. “Where was that land the lasttime you saw it, Dan?”

  “About over there,” answered Dan, pointing.

  “That’s what I think. Starboard a little, Will! That’ll do; hold herso! We’ll keep her into the wind as much as we can. I wonder whetherthat old jib is doing us any good. Wish I knew more about sailboats.If this was a launch, I could manage her. Keep your eyes open, youfellows. We may strike Brooklyn or Jersey City any old moment.”

  The worst of the rain passed, but the wind held on fiercely. Now andthen, or so they thought, they caught glimpses of the land to thesoutheast of them, apparently about two miles distant.

  “One thing’s certain,” said Nelson presently. “We won’t see Peconicto-night. We must be two or three miles past that place already. Isn’tthere an island down ahead somewhere?” he asked of Will.

  “Yes, sir, Robin’s Island.”

  “How far from here, do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, what do you think? I didn’t suppose you knew.”

  “Maybe four or five miles.”

  “That’s good,” said Nelson. “Maybe the storm will die out before we getto it. I’d hate to be arrested for knocking the paint off an island.”

  “Very careless of Robin to leave his old island around like this,” saidDan, in a pathetic attempt to be merry.

  “What’s that noise?” asked Tom.

  They listened, and,

  “Them’s waves!” cried Will. “We’re runnin’ aground!”

  “Hard aport!” cried Nelson. Will obeyed, and Nelson seized the jibsheet. Slowly, prancing and rolling, the sloop’s head came around. Thesound of surf was plainly to be heard.

  “It’s that blamed old island!” growled Dan. Nelson nodded, his eyes onthe boat. She began to draw away on her new tack, but it was slow work.At times the surf sounded almost beside them, at times it became faintand distant, as the wind lulled or increased. Two or three minutespassed during which the Four, standing and peering through the rainwith straining eyes, waited the outcome. Then, suddenly, the boat’shead swirled around, Tom and Dan were thrown into a heap against theside of the cockpit, and the water streamed in over the washboard.Barry yelped with terror, and Will joined him.

  “Suddenly the boat’s head swirled around.”]

  “She’s goin’ over!” he cried. “She’s sinkin’!”

  “Cut it out!” thundered Nelson. “Get back there! Take that tiller! Whatdid you leave it for?”

  “I--I forgot!” whined Will.

  “Forgot! Great Scott! I’d like to--to-- Hard over now! Port, you idiot,port!”

  But the water was shoaling every instant and, try as he might, Nelsoncould not get the boat’s head about. The sound of the pounding surfincreased, and the water about them leaped and dashed. The sloop wasblown, tossing and rolling, on through a maelstrom of angry whitewaters.

  “Get that jib down, Dan!” called Nelson, and, clutching and swaying,struggled to the bow. Down came the fluttering, whipping canvas, and,with a heave, Nelson sent the anchor over. The sloop drifted side onfor a sp
ace, and then pointed her nose to the tempest.

  “Is it holding?” called Bob.

  “No,” answered Nelson. “I didn’t think it would. Get ready to take tothe water if you have to, fellows. We can make the beach all right.I can see it, now and then, dead ahead there. Maybe, though, we canmanage to stick on here.”

  For a minute longer the sloop drifted on, tossed about on the leapingwaves, then there was a jar, her bow swung around, and she listed tostarboard. The waves flattened themselves against her upturned side,and drenched the occupants.

  “She’s aground at the stern,” said Nelson quietly. “I guess we’ll haveto get out of this. And we might as well do it now as later. We can’tget much wetter. Here, you, get up out of that and swim!”

  “I can’t!” whined Will. He was huddled in a corner of the cockpit,white and trembling.

  “Can’t swim!” echoed Dan incredulously. “Well, if that isn’t the limit!”

  “Kick that coil of rope over here,” said Nelson, ducking from a wavethat came washing over them. Dan obeyed. Nelson passed the end aroundWill, under his arms, and knotted it. “When I tell you to jump, youjump; understand?”

  There was no answer, and Nelson waited for none.

  “I’ll race you ashore, Dan,” he cried.

  “All right! Coming, Bob? Coming, Tom?”

  “You bu-bu-bet!” answered Tom. Bob, who held Barry in his arms, nodded.

  “Think Barry can make it, Dan?” he asked.

  “I’ll take him,” said Dan. “I hate to leave my coat and shoes behind,though.”

  “We’ll have to,” said Nelson. “Wait! I saw a cod line here somewhere,didn’t I?”

  “Here it is,” answered Tom.

  “Good! We’ll make a bundle of the clothes, lash ’em together well, andmaybe we can get ’em ashore.”

  So they did it, stumbling and gasping under the assault of the wavesthat broke against the boat and dashed across, drenching them from headto feet. Finally all was ready.

  “Here goes,” said Nelson, climbing out of the cockpit and balancinghimself for an instant on the sloping, heaving deck. Then he leapedfar out into the water. Dan was after him in the instant. Bob threwthe bundle of clothes out, for the other end of the line was fastenedaround Nelson’s waist. Then Tom followed. Bob caught a glimpse ofBarry’s wet head and frightened eyes as Dan arose to the surface andstruck out for the shore. Bob knotted about him the rope to which Willwas lashed, and turned to the boy.

  “When I call for you to jump, you jump,” he said. “You needn’t beafraid; we’ll haul you in all right.”

  Will looked at him silently with wide, terror-stricken eyes, andmade no answer. Twenty yards away three dark objects appeared anddisappeared in the green-and-white ferment. Bob climbed to the rail andleaped. The waves tried their best to smother him when he came up tothe surface, but he fought for breath, and the rest was not difficult.Wind and tide set strongly toward the land, and he could not havehelped going there had he tried. It seemed scarcely a minute before hefelt the beach under him, and was tossed, gasping and struggling in awhite smother, into the arms of Dan, who had waded out toward him. Heclimbed to his feet, and unknotted the rope.

  “Now, all together,” he said. “Jump!”

  The boat was an indistinct blur, some two hundred yards out, and asthey shouted they strained their eyes for sight of the fisherman’sboy. But they couldn’t see surely, and after an instant they pulledvigorously on the rope. It came fast.

  “He must be swimming,” said Tom.

  “Swimming!” answered Nelson in angry disgust. “The fool has untied theline!”