Chapter 19

NARRATES A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE

The fog held close until just before sunset, although there were times when the three on the Vagabond could make out the shore quite distinctly and thereby gained a very fair notion of where they lay. When the mist finally disappeared inland they found their notion to be correct. The launch lay some hundred yards from shore to the east of the river’s mouth. Just how they had managed to reach the position it was hard to say, although Nelson’s idea was that they had become both actually and metaphorically turned around when the launch had gone aground and had subsequently, instead of running upstream, crossed it diagonally and passed out toward the east.

It was a long day. The Vagabond rolled sleepily from side to side in the slow swells and seemed very bored and weary. The boys played cards for a while after luncheon, but, as Dan remarked, there wasn’t a decent game that three could play. So they threw down the cards in disgust and went to writing letters. But, somehow, inspiration didn’t come very well, and finally Nelson gave up the attempt in despair and went out to the engine room and “fiddled with the engine”; the expression is Dan’s. Nelson could always manage to spend an hour or so quite contentedly with wrenches and pliers, oil cans and emery cloth and a nice big bunch of cotton waste. Just what he accomplished this afternoon I can’t say; but he killed fully an hour.

In the meanwhile both Bob and Dan had taken to their bunks and had succeeded in getting to sleep. And so it was Nelson who discovered that the fog was lifting when, his “fiddling” completed, he put his head out of the door to toss a bunch of very dirty waste overboard. As the easiest way to awaken the sleepers he gave a long blast on the whistle. The effect was almost magical. Dan jumped clear out of the bunk and landed very wide-awake in the middle of the floor. Bob managed to escape with a bump on the side of his head. After recovering themselves they descended wrathfully on Nelson, demanding explanations. Nelson, wedged in a corner between the engine and the ice box, explained and was permitted to adjust his rumpled attire. Whereupon all went out to the dripping cockpit and watched the land appear slowly before them out of the gray void. It was like watching the development of a negative in the dark-room. At first there was a blank expanse of gray. Then a shadow appeared, dark and formless. Then a bit of the low-lying shore stood out boldly, its colors still blurred by the dissolving mist. And presently the sun appeared in the west, a hazy orange disk at the end of a funnel of orange light. And then, in an instant, the fog was nowhere to be seen save that here and there on an inland hillside a wisp of gray, like a floating veil, hung entangled amidst trees or bowlders. And with the returning sunlight came a brisk breeze from the south that stirred the oily surface of the water into tawny ripples that began to lap cheerfully against the hull of the Vagabond. Dan started to whistle blithely.

A few minutes later the launch was speeding back across the bar, bound for the little cove where they had left Tom. That young gentleman’s fate had not greatly bothered his friends, although there had been throughout the day much idle speculation as to his probable whereabouts. Tom could look after himself, said Dan, and the others agreed. But when they reached the cove and the little beach with the blackened embers disfiguring the clean gravel and saw no Tommy they were at once surprised and disappointed. Bob was even inclined to be indignant.

“Where the dickens has he gone to?” he asked. “He might have known we’d be back for him as soon as the fog cleared away.”

“Well, I suppose we could hardly expect him to spend the day here waiting for us,” said Nelson. “Probably he found a house where he could get dry and have something to eat. As we can’t see any from here maybe he had to go quite a ways. We’ll wait a while and see if he doesn’t turn up.”

“Bet you he’s asleep in the best bed in the house,” laughed Dan. “We’ll be lucky if he turns up before to-morrow noon. Tommy’s just as likely as not to sleep the clock around if there’s nobody there to wake him up!”

“I suppose,” said Bob, “we might as well have something to eat while we wait.” But Dan demurred.

“No, let’s go back to New London and get a good feed. We’ll wait until six-thirty and if he doesn’t show up by that time—Say, maybe he’s gone back to New London himself!”

“I’ll bet he has,” Nelson agreed. “Let’s go and see.”

So they returned up the broad twilit stream and made their former berth near the ferry slip. A hasty toilet followed and then they hurried up the street to the hotel. But no Tommy awaited them. The clerk assured them that no one answering to the description which they gave had been seen that day. Nor did the register show Tom’s elegant handwriting. But after the first moment of disappointment they comforted themselves with the assurance that the missing member of the crew was quite safe somewhere, and went in to dinner. Nor did anxiety over Tom’s fate interfere with their appetites.

Up until bedtime they expected at any moment to see Tom stumble down the steps, and when, at half-past nine, lights went out it was unanimously decided to leave the hatch unlocked in case he should turn up during the night. Once, along toward morning, Bob was dimly aware of some one moving about the cabin.

“That you, Tommy?” he asked sleepily.

But if there was any answer he didn’t hear it, for he fell asleep again immediately. In the morning, in the act of yawning and stretching his arms over his head, he recollected the noise in the night and looked inquiringly at Tom’s bunk. But it hadn’t been slept in. Bob puzzled over this fact for a moment. Then——

“Where’s Tom?” he asked.

“How the dickens do I know?” asked Dan, sitting up in his berth.

“Didn’t he come back last night? I heard some one and I thought sure it was Tommy.”

“That was me,” said Nelson, opening his eyes. “You asked if it was Tommy and I said No. I was closing the ports. The wind and rain were just drowning me out.”

“Rain!” exclaimed Bob and Dan simultaneously. Then——

“Gee, what a storm!” muttered Dan, as he subsided after a glance through the nearest port. “I see where we stay in New London for a day or two.”

“Well,” said Bob philosophically, “it’s better to be here than tied up in some little old cove along the Sound. We can go ashore, at least.”

“That’s so,” agreed Dan. “And maybe there’ll be another show at the theater.”

During the night a heavy gale from the southwest had sprung up and now the rain was beating fiercely against the cabin sides and playing a tattoo on the roof. There was a stiff wind behind it and the waves were running high. Under the double assault the Vagabond was heaving at her lines and grinding dismally against the pier. Nelson, pulled on his oilskins and hurried out to see that the fenders were in place. In a minute he was back, wet and glistening.

“It’s a peach of a storm, all right,” he said, shedding his oilskins. “The old sailors along the Cape used to tell us that a storm from the southeast was good for three days and one from the southwest was soon over. But it doesn’t look like it now.”

It was so dark in the cabin that when Bob brought the breakfast to the table it was necessary to light the lamps in order to distinguish the scrambled eggs from the hashed brown potatoes. But it was very jolly to sit there with the fragrant steam from the coffee cup curling up past their noses and hear the rain rattle and sweep against the boat and see it go trickling down the port lights. Barry sat on the edge of a bunk and stared solicitously at Dan every time the latter raised his fork to his mouth. Dan would never feed him at table, but all of the others did so whenever they thought they would be undetected. Bob believed he saw a chance to transfer a half a slice of bread and butter from his plate to Barry’s mouth, but Dan interposed a quick hand and the bread went flying across the cabin to land face downward on Tom’s pillow.

“If Tommy was here,” laughed Nelson, “I know what he’d say.”

“‘Hope you ch-ch-ch-choke!’” mimicked Nelson. “Barry can have it now, can’t he, Dan?” he continued, as he rescued the bread and wiped the worst of the grease from the pillowcase with his napkin.

“After we’re through,” said Dan inexorably.

“Hard-hearted brute!” said Bob. “Why don’t you change masters, Barry? I’d be dre’ful good to you!”

“Wonder if Tommy’s getting any breakfast,” observed Nelson thoughtfully.

“Of course he is,” answered Dan, buttering another piece of bread. “Why, look at the time! He’s had two or three breakfasts by this!”

“It’s funny, though, that he doesn’t turn up,” said Bob. “If we don’t find him to-day I think we ought to do something.”

“What?” asked Dan disconcertingly.

“Advertise in the Lost and Found column of the local paper,” suggested Nelson.

“We ought to go back and look for him,” said Bob.

“But we did look,” Nelson expostulated. “If he wasn’t there last night it isn’t likely he’d be there to-day.”

“He might have gone somewhere and spent the day,” said Bob. “Then maybe he’d expect us to come back to the cove for him this morning.”

“Well, he isn’t likely to wait for us long in this storm,” commented Dan. “And we couldn’t get down there very well, anyhow. I hope he’s keeping dry and warm, wherever he is, but I do think he was a silly ass to get lost again. This is the third time since we got together.”

“Second,” said Bob.

“Third. Don’t you remember how we lost him in Boston the day we bought things for the boat? And found him sitting in the cockpit eating caramels when we reached the wharf?”

“That’s so,” laughed Nelson. “If we were detectives all we’d have to do would be to go to the candy stores and describe him.”

“Wherever he is,” said Bob, “I suppose he doesn’t know whether we’ve returned to New London or gone on to New Haven or somewhere else.”

“All he has to do is to go back to the place we left him,” said Dan. “And if he ever does come back I vote we forbid him to leave the boat alone. We’ll never get anywhere if we have to stop all along the way and look for him.”

“Well,” said Nelson, “we’ll go up to the hotel again after a while and leave word for him in case he comes there to inquire.”

“It would be just like him to jump a train and go home to Chicago,” observed Dan.

“Don’t believe he has money enough,” Nelson replied.

“He probably didn’t have any with him,” said Bob. “He had his ducks on, didn’t he?”

“No, he wore that old gray suit of his,” Dan answered. “But I guess you’re right about the money. I doubt if he had a cent.”

“Well, he’ll manage all right,” said Nelson cheerfully. “He has plenty of cheek, you know. If he doesn’t show up by afternoon we’d better go and have a look for him just as soon as the weather will let us. We’ll run back to the cove and go ashore. He’s probably in some farm-house around there.”

Just before noon they wandered up the wharf and across the tracks to the station, for want of anything more exciting to do, and stood on the platform for a while watching the trains come and go. Finally Bob said:

“Come on, fellows; if I stay here any longer I’ll just have to get on a train and go somewhere!”

“That’s what I’m going to do,” said Dan resolutely. “I’m going to New York.”

“What?” exclaimed the others.

“I might as well. We can’t get out of here before to-morrow and I can be at home by three, spend the night and get back here by nine or ten to-morrow. Do you fellows mind?”

“Of course not,” answered Nelson.

“You see, I haven’t seen the folks since the Spring recess,” said Dan. “And I’m only three hours from New York, and——”

“Guess I’ll take a run up to Portland,” said Bob with a smile.

“And I’ll go with you as far as Boston,” said Nelson.

“If you really rather I wouldn’t go—” began Dan.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Nelson. “We don’t mind. Go ahead. It’s a good scheme. But mind you don’t forget to come back!”

“Not likely! I’ll be here to-morrow forenoon. Come on over to the boat and help me put some things in a bag. There’s a train in about twelve minutes.”

A quarter of an hour later only Bob and Barry and Nelson remained. They had seen Dan off on the Bay State Limited and were on their way to the hotel for luncheon, the skirts of their oilskins wrapping around their legs and impeding progress at every gust of the wind that tore up the street. They weren’t particularly hungry, but the hotel promised more excitement than the launch on a day like this. After luncheon they went to the writing room and wrote letters to everyone they could think of, Bob supplementing the letters with a number of souvenir post cards. They killed three hours quite easily and went back to the Vagabond at four o’clock. The rain had slackened considerably, but the wind still blew hard and gustily. The dark, leaden clouds which closed down upon the world showed no signs of breaking. They spent the rest of the afternoon as best they might, each rather dispirited and decidedly bored. At half-past five Bob went out and bought supplies for the larder and cooked dinner aboard when he returned. Neither he nor Nelson was very hungry and the meal was rather a silent one. After the things were cleared up they tried to read, but even that didn’t satisfy their restlessness, and when, at a little before nine, Bob wandered out to look at the weather and came back with the information that the moon was almost through the clouds and that the rain had ceased entirely and to the proposal that they take a walk Nelson assented eagerly. They got back into their oilskins and thick shoes, locked the door behind them and started out.

“Gee,” said Nelson, “I feel as though I could walk a hundred miles!”

“So do I,” answered Bob. “My legs feel positively rusty. Let’s have a good long tramp. I’m not the least bit sleepy.”

“Nor am I. Which way shall we go?”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s turn down here. It’s no more muddy than any other street, I guess.” So they left the main street behind, turning to the left onto a dimly lighted road which led southward. Overhead the moon gleamed fitfully from between masses of somber clouds. The rain had ceased and the air felt warmer than it had all day. They struck out lustily, splashing through unseen puddles and leaving the town behind them in a jiffy.

“This is something like,” grunted Bob, as he recovered himself from a stumble over a tree root.

“Yes,” Nelson laughed. “If you don’t break your neck, there’s nothing like walking, after all. Remember the dandy times we had last summer.”

“Well, we’ve had pretty good times this summer, too, so far,” replied Bob. “Only, I wish Tommy would show up. I’m beginning to get worried about him. If he doesn’t come back to-morrow we ought to write to his folks, or telegraph, maybe, and see if he’s with them.”

“Oh, tommyrot!” said Nelson. “He wouldn’t go home. Besides, he didn’t have money enough. He’s around somewhere having a good time. I dare say he thinks he’ll get back at us for running away from him.”

“Maybe, but how does he know we won’t go off without him?”

“Well, he knows that he wouldn’t if he was in our place, and doesn’t expect us to.”

“I suppose that’s it. Hello!”

“What?”

“Rain.”

“That’s so. And our friend the moon has retired again. Say, how far from town do you suppose we are?”

“Two miles and a half, maybe.”

“More like three and a half, I’ll bet! Shall we turn back?”

“I suppose so, but I’m not nearly walked out. Maybe it’ll stop raining again in a minute. If there was some place we could go out of the drip for a while——”

“There’s a light over there.”

“Yes, but it’s a half mile away,” answered Bob. “And blest if I know how we’d get to it. Let’s keep on for a bit. It isn’t raining very hard. Besides, we can’t get much wet.”

So they went on, quickening their pace and watching each side of the road for shelter. A minute later the rain began in earnest.

“Aren’t we a couple of idiots?” laughed Nelson.

“Oh, I don’t know; this is more fun than being cooped up in that little old cabin back there. My, but it is coming down some, isn’t it? What’s that ahead there? A house?”

They broke into a run and headed for the dark object in question. It proved to be a tumble-down shed standing back from the road some five or six yards. It was unlighted and their groping hands encountered only a hasp and padlock.

“Locked,” grunted Bob.

“Not a bit of it,” answered Nelson, lifting the padlock out of the staple. “They knew we were coming.” They pulled one of the folding doors open and slipped inside. “Who’s got a match?” Nelson asked.

“I guess I’ve got some somewhere,” answered Bob. “Yes, here we are.”

In the tiny light they saw that the building had at one time been a blacksmith’s shop. The forge and bellows stood in front of them and the floor was littered here and there with old iron. That the roof was not in the best of repair was evidenced by the numerous puddles on the floor.

“How many matches have you got?” asked Nelson as the light flickered out.

“Three or four. Why?”

“Don’t light any more yet,” was the reply. “I saw a piece of paper over in the corner there. If it’s dry maybe we can have a fire and be comfortable.” Nelson crossed the floor, stumbling over discarded wagon tires and old bits of iron, and finally found what he was after. The prize, several sheets of newspaper, was quite dry, and he found his way back to the forge with it. “Now let’s have a light, Bob,” he said. “And we’ll see if we can find some splinters or something.” Luck again favored them, for a piece of soft pine board was leaning against the side of the forge, and while the match held out Nelson whittled diligently with his knife. Afterwards, in the darkness, he gathered paper and whittlings together in the center of the old fire bed, found some likely feeling bits of charcoal and coke and demanded another match.

“Aye, aye, sir,” answered Bob. Then, “Thunder!” he exclaimed.

He had scratched it on a damp place and the head had rubbed off without lighting.

“Was that the last?” Nelson asked anxiously.

“No, one more. You’d better do it, Nel.” And Bob handed the precious match over to him.

“If this goes out, too—!” muttered Nelson.

“What’s the matter?” asked Bob presently.

“The blamed thing hasn’t any head on it,” answered Nelson disgustedly. “I’ve scraped it and scraped it and—oh, pshaw, it’s a toothpick!”

“Hang!” remarked Bob feelingly.

“And just when I had a fire all ready! Look through your pockets again, Bob. Maybe you’ll find another.” There was a minute of silence during which each searched from pocket to pocket, broken finally by an exultant exclamation from Bob.

“Here’s a piece of one!” he cried. “And it’s the business end, too. Who’s going to scratch it?”

“Me,” answered Nelson. “I know where the paper is. Hand it over. All right. Now here goes!”

The match lighted and Nelson quickly tucked it under the edge of the paper. There was a breathless moment and then success was assured. The paper was in flames and the splinters were crackling merrily. Nelson seized knife and wood again and frantically split off long pieces to feed the flames.

“See if you can’t find some more wood, Bob,” he said. “Here, light one of these pieces and look around.”

Armed with the small torch Bob explored.

“Fine!” he exclaimed presently from a distant corner of the shed. “Here’s a whole box. Part of it’s kind of damp, but I guess the rest will burn.”

He brought it over and knocked it to pieces and soon there was a generous fire flaring up from the old forge. Nelson seized the bellows and found that they still worked, though somewhat wheezily. “Sounds as though it had the asthma,” he said. Presently the coke caught, too, and when they could leave the fire they rummaged the place from end to end, finding enough fuel of various sorts to last them all night if necessary. A gunny sack in a corner held a few quarts of charcoal, there was a loose beam which came away readily under Bob’s persuasion, and a small box which had once held horse shoe nails was discovered under one of the windows where it had done duty as a cupboard. They took off their oilskins and wet shoes, placing the latter near the flames where they soon began to steam prodigiously.

“Wish we had something to sit on,” lamented Nelson.

“That’s easy,” Bob answered. “Here’s this old anvil over here. If we can get it to the fire it will do finely.”

After several minutes of the hardest sort of work they managed to edge it over to the forge. Then they sat down on it, very close together of necessity, and puffed and blew like a couple of porpoises.

“How long are we going to stay here?” asked Nelson, tossing another piece of wood on the flames.

“I don’t know. Until it holds up a bit, I suppose. Listen to it now, will you?”

The rain was pouring down on the roof like a hundred waterspouts.

“We could sleep here if we had to,” said Nelson.

“I suppose so,” Bob answered dubiously, “but I guess I’m a little bit like Tommy; I have a weakness for mattresses and bedding. If——”

He broke off suddenly and together they turned toward the door which was squeaking back on its rusty hinges. In the opening there appeared a dark form which, while they stared blankly upon it, shuffled into the shed and closed the door behind it.