THE TIGHT PLACE
After that I made up my mind I wouldn’t think any more about living and
then I was satisfied, kind of. ’Cause as long as you know you’ve got to
die, what’s the difference. They could get another fellow to lead the
patrol, that’s one sure thing. Mostly I cared about my mother on account
of not being able to say good-bye to her.
All of a sudden it seemed as if there was more water around me than
before. Up to that time it was mushy, kind of, but not much water. But
now it was more like water all around me and I noticed a little bunch of
net moss near me. Maybe you don’t know what net moss is. It’s moss that
grows in swamps. Well, what do you think I saw lying on that clump of
net moss? Cracky, you’d hardly believe it, but it was a spark plug. And
it looked funny to see it there.
If you’re not a scout maybe you don’t know anything about camping, but
it’s one of our rules not to defile the woods with rubbish and Mr.
Ellsworth always told us a tomato can didn’t look right in the woods.
Well, jiminety, that spark plug sure did look funny lying on that piece
of net moss. It floated right near my shoulder and I lifted it off and,
oh, crinkums, but it made me think of Bridgeboro.
It was almost the same as if it was a fellow come to rescue me, as you
might say. It was just because it didn’t belong there, I guess. Of
course, I knew it couldn’t rescue me, but it reminded me of people and
that kind of cheered me up a little.
Then I began to think about it. I remembered what our scoutmaster said
about a fellow that’s drowning—that he can think as long as his head is
out of water. And this was like drowning, only slower. I was wondering
how that spark plug got there. It’s funny how you’ll think about little
things like that even when you’re dying.
One thing sure, no automobile ever went through there, and no motorcycle
either. Maybe a fellow in an airplane might have dropped it, or maybe—
Then, all of a sudden I began to laugh. And while I was laughing some
water flowed into my mouth. But I didn’t care, I was feeling so good. I
knew all about the whole thing now, and I felt like kicking myself only
my feet were down in all that tangle of marsh. But what cared I, yo
ho—and a couple of yee hees.
Oh, I was some wise little boy scout then, and I had a scout smile long
enough to tie in a couple of bow knots. That spark plug was thrown out
of a motor boat. I could see that the spark points were bad and somebody
threw it away because it wouldn’t work and then put in a new one. And I
knew that already the tide was beginning to come up and that pretty soon
there would be a creek here and that I could swim in it.
Cracky, you can’t scare me when it’s a question of swimming, for I
wasn’t brought up in a bath tub. Many’s the time I swam across Black
Lake. Water’s all right, but swamps—_good night_!
Maybe if you don’t live near meadow lands you won’t understand how it
was. But when the tide rises twice every twenty-four hours (you learn
that in the Fourth Grade), it makes creeks through the meadows and
marshes. Some of them are deep enough for small motor boats even, only
you’ve got to be careful not to stay up one of them too long or you’ll
get stuck till the next day. One time that happened to Ed Sanders that
owned the _Rascal_ and he was there all night, and he almost died from
poison of the mosquitoes. Anyway I would have been dead before night
when the mosquitoes come out—that’s one good thing. I don’t mean it’s
one good thing, but anyway you know what I mean.
Pretty soon I could push the swamp grass out of the way and swim a
little. Oh, cracky, I was thankful for that tide! I knew it would keep
on coming when it once started ’cause the tide never goes back on you.
Of course it goes back, but you know what I mean. Sometimes if you’re on
a hike and telling time by the sun it’ll go under a cloud, or sometimes
if you’re lost and following the stars, it’ll cloud up and you can’t see
them any more. And crinkums, a trail will go back on you sometimes. But
the tide is sure. It’s _got_ to come up, and so I knew it was coming up
to rescue me and I knew I was all right as soon as I saw that spark
plug.
Pee-wee wanted to name this chapter “_Saved By A Spark Plug_” or “_The
Hero Plug_” but I said it sounded silly. Any way I’ll never say another
word against the tide. Often when I saw motor boats stuck on the flats I
could hear the men in them saying things about the tide—oh, gee, you
ought to have heard some of the things they said.
But I’ll never say anything, anyway. It seemed kind of, you know, like
an army coming to rescue me, slow but sure, and pretty soon I was
swimming around, and oh, didn’t I feel good!
All of a sudden like, there was a little river there and it kept getting
deeper and wider and I knew it began away out in the ocean and it seemed
as if it was picking its way all the way up into these marshes, to give
me a chance to do what every scout knows how to do—swim.
Of course I was saved, but I didn’t know how far I’d have to swim, only
I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have to die now.
I guess now you’d better look at the map I made, and then you’ll see how
the creek came in the marshes and about where I was, when it began to
rise.
Of course I didn’t know where it came from or where it went, but I
decided to swim against the tide for two reasons. First I was afraid to
go the other way because it might just peter out, like most of those
meadow creeks do, and then I’d be in the marsh again. Oh, boy, safety
first. I’d had enough of marshes. Besides if I swam the other way it
would be deeper and wider and I’d be more likely to find a board or a
log or something and pretty soon I might come to solid shores.
But before I started I had another adventure. I took off my shoes and
stockings and everything except my underclothes. But of course, that
wasn’t the adventure. It was a dandy adventure, but you have to wait,
and if it rains to-morrow so we can’t go trailing, I’ll write some more.
I think it’ll rain to-morrow.