PHEBE CHRISTENS THE KNOCKABOUT
Mr. Whitney was prompt the next morning, and the trip across was made
in record time, the little _Urnove_ doing a good twelve miles an
hour. On the way Toby told about the ferry line, and Mr. Whitney was
interested and sympathetic. “Better give it a fair trial before you
decide that you’re beaten,” he advised. “Holding on is a wonderful
thing, my boy. I know, for I’ve tried it. If I’d given up every time
I seemed to have been beaten I’d be――well, I guess I’d be back at
the bench where I started. Lots of times I wanted to let go, but
didn’t, and won through just holding on. Remember the story of the two
flies――or was it frogs?――that fell in the pan of milk? One gave up and
drowned――couldn’t have been a frog, I guess!――and the other kept on
swimming and churned the milk into butter and climbed out! You’d better
keep on swimming a bit longer, T. Tucker!”
Mr. Whitney refused to compromise on the price of the fare. Toby,
conferring with Arnold, had decided that a dollar would be about right
for passage one way and a dollar and a half for the round trip. But the
passenger insisted on sticking to the agreement. “If I go over with
you on a regularly scheduled sailing,” he said, smiling, “I’ll pay the
regular ferry price, but if it’s a special trip you’ll have to take a
dollar and a half each way. Sorry to have to refuse you, son!”
Toby grinned. “It doesn’t seem quite fair, though. When will you be
coming back, sir?”
“Let me see, now. When’s the last regular sailing?”
“Four-thirty, sir, from this side.”
“Too early. How about five-fifteen or five-thirty? Can you come over
for me then?”
“Oh, yes, sir. Only, of course, if you could get the four-thirty it
would be cheaper.”
“T. Tucker, I can do enough work in that hour to make up the
difference!” Mr. Whitney’s eyes twinkled. “There are two kinds of
economy, my boy, good and bad. When you lose twenty dollars to save one
it’s bad. Five-thirty, then!”
Arnold was waiting at the town landing when the _Urnove_ nosed up to it
again, a good twenty minutes before nine. He was all excitement. “Say,
Toby, what do you think? There was a man down here a bit ago asking
about the ferry! He――he wanted to know what boat ran over there and I
showed him the _Frolic_. He said he’d be back.”
Toby laughed. “That means we’ll have to run the _Frolic_ then. He might
not go if we asked him into this tub! Are you――do you think he will
come back?”
“Yes, he said he was just going up to the store and would be back
before nine. I tried to get him to stay, but he edged off.”
“Well, then we’ll tie this old lady up and use the _Frolic_. Got plenty
of gas?”
“Full up! Gee, Toby, I hope he comes back!”
“So do I,” agreed Toby.
And he did! He came shuffling down the gangplank at five minutes to
nine, carrying so many bundles that Toby wondered whether he ought to
charge him freight! No one else appeared and the _Frolic_ cast off and
headed for Johnstown. The passenger seemed greatly delighted with the
_Frolic_ and the method of transportation, and vowed he was going to
tell his neighbors about them. “I generally come over here a couple
of times a month,” he explained. “I traded a horse last winter to Job
Trasker, the feller that has the store up near the church, and I’m
takin’ it out in groceries and things. I’m right pleased to get over
and back this way, boys, because it used to take me most half the day
to make the trip by train. I ain’t got any horse now, so I can’t drive
over. Why, I had to get up close to five o’clock this mornin’ to get
the early train and be back by ten!”
“The next time,” said Toby, “you could take the nine-thirty ferry from
Johnstown and get the eleven o’clock back, I guess. You’d have more
than an hour in Greenhaven.”
“That’s what I’ll do. I ain’t so fond of pilin’ out o’ bed at five
o’clock as I used to be. I’m getting on now.”
Perhaps he was, but he didn’t look it, for he was straight and tall and
wiry, and, save for the wrinkles on his leathery face and the grizzled
hair above, he might have been mistaken for a man of not over fifty.
But he owned proudly to seventy-one! “Sensible livin’ did it,” he
declared. “Plenty o’ work in the fresh air, good victuals and not too
much of ’em, and bed every night at nine o’clock.”
Arnold said he didn’t think he’d like the last feature, which set Mr.
Griscom――Artemus Griscom was his whole name, he told them――off on a
homily regarding the benefits of “early to bed and early to rise”
that brought them to the landing. Toby bade Mr. Griscom good-by with
sentiments of gratitude, and the old gentleman went off assuring them
that he had had “a right nice ride in your boat.”
No one appeared to go back on the _Frolic_, although they watched
the road anxiously until the last moment. But Mr. Griscom had, as it
proved, broken the ice, for two passengers were on hand for the eleven
o’clock trip, a lady and a little girl of about eight. Toby was so
pleased that he readily acceded to the lady’s request that the little
girl be charged only half-price! “That’s what I pay on the railroad
for her,” she explained, “and on the trolley I don’t pay anything,
but I guess you wouldn’t want to carry her for nothing,” she added
apologetically. Toby acknowledged that he wouldn’t and declared himself
satisfied with half-fare. The lady was rather nervous during the trip,
but the child had a fine time and would undoubtedly have been over the
side into the water if Arnold hadn’t detailed himself to restrain her
antics!
There were no more passengers that day, but Toby was encouraged. “We
took in a dollar and a quarter,” he said, “and if we did that every day
it would be――it would be seven dollars and a half a week! And then
there’s the three dollars from Mr. Whitney!”
“It’s too bad he doesn’t have to go across every day,” said Phebe, who
had joined the boys on the wharf in time for the final trip. “I should
think he’d need to.”
“You might suggest it to him,” laughed Toby as he prepared to return
to Johnstown to keep his five-thirty appointment. “You get in and come
over with me, and you can tell him about it on the way back.”
But Phebe shook her head, and she and Arnold got into the _Frolic_, and
the two launches raced out of the harbor and half-way across the bay.
But Toby’s little boat was no match for the _Frolic_, and after a while
the white launch came around, Phebe and Arnold waving their hands as
they passed the _Urnove_ on their way back. Mr. Whitney was waiting at
the landing, and as he seated himself in the boat he took his hat off
and laid it beside him. “It’s been a hot day, T. Tucker,” he said with
a sigh. “Take all the time you want going back. This breeze is fine!”
So Toby not only let the engine idle but stood straight across to the
Head and then turned back along the shore, lengthening the trip, to Mr.
Whitney’s pleasure and his own satisfaction, for he felt that he was
coming nearer to earning that three dollars! “I ought to pay more this
time,” said the passenger, as he disembarked at the town float. “You
didn’t bargain to take me on a pleasure cruise!”
But Toby smiled and said that part was a present, and Mr. Whitney went
off to find a carriage to take him over to the railroad after arranging
for another trip to Johnstown on Monday morning. Toby chugged across
the cove and tied up at the home dock and then hurried to supper,
jingling the coins in his pocket in time to the tune he was whistling.
Four dollars and a quarter! Toby had visions of opulence! And, better
still, he had visions of Yardley Hall School!
The next day he realized that he should have added the words “Weather
permitting” to his notice, for there was a south-east gale blowing and,
although Toby would willingly have made the trip if necessary, he knew
that no one would think of trusting themselves to the launch today. He
begrudged the possible loss of income, but was well enough satisfied
to stay on land. It rained at times, but never enough to flatten out
the waves that piled themselves up outside the harbor. Arnold came over
on foot after dinner, clothed in oilskins, and they spent the rest of
the day watching Long Tim put the first coat of paint on the _Aydee_,
now almost ready to take the water, and in putting away most of a pan
of fudge which Phebe made. They also tried to add to Mr. Murphy’s
education, but with no success. The parrot was in a most unreceptive
mood today and only eyed them morosely from his perch. Arnold’s
attempts to make him say “Toby is a chump” met with no response except
sober winks.
The gale held most of Sunday, but Monday was fair again, the wind
having shifted around to the west over night. Mr. Whitney went over
to Johnstown at eight and returned again at two-thirty. Toby brought
his first passenger from the other side on that trip, a wizened little
man who explained that Art Griscom had told him about the ferry.
Apparently, like the stranger at the funeral, he “only just went for
the ride,” for after getting to Greenhaven he remained safely in the
launch and went back in it at four, paying his seventy-five cents quite
enthusiastically and promising to come again soon and bring his wife
with him.
But no one else took advantage of the ferry that day, and Toby began
to have doubts again. On Tuesday, however, business looked up with a
vengeance, for Arnold had been talking of the ferry to his friends
at the Head, and at nine o’clock the _Frolic_ set sail with eight
passengers, most of them members of the ball team. Frank Lamson was
with them, and Frank, just at first, was inclined to be stand-offish
with Toby. But by the time that last game had been talked over and
threshed out, and George Dodson and Tracey Gay and Arnold had declared
that Toby’s trick had been no more than they deserved, and others had
agreed, amity was restored, and Frank thawed out. The crowd explored
Johnstown and returned again at eleven-thirty and Toby pocketed the
munificent sum of six dollars!
That, as it proved, was the turning point. From that time on the
success of the ferry line was never in doubt. You couldn’t have
called its success phenomenal, for there were plenty of days when
two passengers were all that patronized the launch, and when, as
infrequently happened, a storm kicked up the waters of the bay there
weren’t any! But at the end of a fortnight of operation Toby discovered
that he had actually averaged the four passengers a day that, when
planning the project, had seemed quite fabulous. Now, though, he was
far less satisfied with that scanty number and set his heart on seeing
it doubled. He never did, but there was a gradual increase of patronage
as the summer advanced and folks learned that they could visit the
neighboring town quickly, comfortably and safely. There is no denying
that many a passenger viewed Toby doubtfully on the first trip, but
never afterward, for the boy, in spite of his youthfulness, could
manage a motorboat as well as any man in Greenhaven. Arnold usually
made the trips with his chum, but now and then, as the novelty wore
off, he “turned up missing.” The _Frolic_ was used only infrequently
for the reason that Toby held himself to strict account for gasoline
and oil and it was something of a bother measuring out pints and ounces
to replace what had been used.
Meanwhile the ball games between Towners and Spaniards went on and
the boys from the Head at last achieved a victory, defeating the team
captained by Billy Conners by the, to them, satisfactory score of 12
to 4. After that, in the four contests that occurred, the two teams
split even. But it was an ironical circumstance that the particular
one of those later contests in which Arnold took part, playing his old
position at second base, was the one in which the Spaniards were most
conclusively worsted! After it was over Arnold confided to Toby that he
guessed he would stick to being a ferryman!
However, he didn’t, because at about that time the _Aydee_ was
launched with much pomp and ceremony and Arnold bought himself a very
nautical outfit of white duck and whistled “A Life on the Ocean Wave,”
much out of tune but with a fine persistence!
The launching took place bright and early one Friday morning. Long Tim
declared that “a boat launched on a Friday would never have no luck,”
but Arnold was too impatient to wait another day. Phebe, standing on a
board――it lacked an hour of high tide and the mud at the foot of the
little railway was particularly soft and black and clinging――broke a
bottle of spring water against the bow and declaimed “I christen thee
_Aydee_!” Whereupon Mr. Tucker eased on the tackle, the knockabout slid
down the ways, and, amidst the cheers of Toby and Arnold and Long Tim
and Shorty, floated out on the cove. The reason that Phebe didn’t join
her voice with the others in exultant acclaim was that the _Aydee_, on
its way to the water, had impolitely pushed against her and for the
ensuing minute she was very busy waving the neck of a broken bottle,
adorned with a light blue hair ribbon, in an effort to maintain her
balance on the plank.
The rest of that day and all of the next was devoted to stepping the
mast and adjusting the rigging. And then Long Tim got busy with his
paint-pots again, and so it was Monday before the proud skipper could
slip his mooring and put to sea on the trial trip.