UNCLE PHIN’S DANGER.
For a moment poor Arthur, who knew nothing of boats and had never been
on one before unless it was a New York ferry-boat, stood irresolute and
frightened, without the slightest idea of what had happened or what he
ought to do. The cry that he heard had not sounded a bit like Uncle
Phin’s voice, and if it was his what had become of him? He was not on
the boat, nor, so far as Arthur could discover, was he in the water.
Upon seeing the bridge overhead the boy readily comprehended that the
shock which had flung him to the floor was caused by the boat drifting
against one of its great stone piers; but this did not explain Uncle
Phin’s disappearance.
In his fear and distress of mind he began to call wildly: “Uncle Phin!
Oh, dear Uncle Phin! where are you?”
“Hyar I is, Honey,” came a feeble voice from the other end of the boat,
and Arthur sprang joyfully in that direction.
As the boat had swung around on striking the bridge pier, its after end
now pointed down stream, and Arthur had been standing at the bow, gazing
back on the place where he was afraid Uncle Phin had been left. Now, as
he reached the other end of the boat, he saw the old man’s white head
and black face, just on the surface of the water, but a short distance
from where he stood. He seemed to be sitting astride of some object, to
which he clung desperately. Every now and then it would sink, and poor
Uncle Phin would disappear completely, only to re-appear a moment later,
spluttering, choking, and exhibiting every sign of the utmost terror.
For a moment Arthur did not in the least comprehend the situation, and
could not imagine what it was to which Uncle Phin was clinging. When it
suddenly occurred to him that it was the long steering sweep, the other
end of which projected above his head over the roof of the cabin, his
first impulse, and the one on which he acted, was to spring to this
inboard end and throw his weight upon it, with the idea of lifting the
old negro clear of the water. As the steering sweep was a very nicely
balanced see-saw, and as Uncle Phin’s body in the water, weighed less
than Arthur’s out of it, the boy’s effort was crowned with a complete
success, though its result was not exactly what he had anticipated.
To be sure, as Arthur flung himself upon one end of the long pole, the
old man, astride the bit of plank fastened to its other end, was lifted
into the air. It was, however, so suddenly and unexpectedly, that he
lost his balance, toppled over, and again disappeared headforemost
beneath the water. At the same time the boy, at the inner end of the
see-saw, was bumped down on the cabin roof. Then Uncle Phin’s end again
descended into the water, just in time for the old man to grasp it as he
came to the surface.
With great difficulty he struggled into his former position, and turning
a reproachful gaze on Arthur said:
“Don’t you do it again, Honey. I’se no doubt you means all right; but
anodder fling like dat ar, would drown de old man shuah.”
“I didn’t mean to, Uncle Phin! Indeed, I didn’t!” cried poor Arthur, in
great distress. “I only meant to try and help you and lift you from the
water.”
“Well, you done it, Honey, shuah ’nuff; but I wouldn’ try no more sich
’speriments. If you’ll frow me de end ob de rope, what’s lying jes
inside the do, and tie de odder end to dat ar pos, I reckin I kin pull
myself up outen de water.”
Arthur quickly did as directed, and in a few minutes more had the
satisfaction of seeing his dear old friend rescued from his perilous
position, and seated safely on the deck. As the water-soaked man sat
there, recovering from his exhaustion, and grateful for the warmth of
the hot morning sun, he shook his head, and said:
“I allus heerd tell dat salorin was a resky bizness, an dat dem what
goes down into de sea in ships sees wonerful tings; but I nebber spected
ole Phin Dale ebber sperience it all fer his own sef.”
After his strength was somewhat restored, Uncle Phin instructed Arthur
to keep a sharp look-out for any more bridges, and went into the cabin
to light a fire and prepare breakfast. A good supply of dry wood and a
box of matches having been provided, he quickly had a cheerful blaze
crackling on his rude hearth. While it was burning down to a bed of red
coals, he mixed the meal, salt, and water, that he intended should be
transformed into a corn-pone, set the coffee water on to boil, and cut
two slices of bacon. The smoke of the fire found its way out of the
cabin through a square hatch that Brace Barlow had cut in the roof
directly above it.
In less than an hour the bed of coals had done its duty. The corn-pone
had been baked on a flat stone, previously rubbed with a bacon rind, and
set up at a sharp angle in the hottest corner of the fireplace. The
slices of bacon were done to a turn, and four fresh eggs had been fried
with them. The coffee was hot and strong, and there was maple sugar to
sweeten it. Taken altogether, it was a breakfast that would have pleased
a much more fastidious person than hungry little Arthur Dale Dustin, and
he enjoyed it as, it seemed to him, he never had enjoyed a meal before.
Uncle Phin’s delight at seeing his “lil Marse” eat so heartily was
unbounded, and they both found so much pleasure in their novel
housekeeping that the mishap of an hour before was forgotten, and they
would willingly have agreed to drift along in this happy way for the
rest of their lives.
After every scrap of food had been eaten, and only grounds remained in
the coffee-pot, Uncle Phin began to clear the table, which was an empty
packing-box, shake the table-cloth, which was a newspaper, and wash the
dishes; while Arthur set to work to tidy up the cabin. He made the beds,
which only took about one minute each, placed his precious book
carefully on one of the shelves, and then looked about for a broom with
which to sweep the floor. There was none.
“Why, Uncle Phin!” exclaimed the boy, “if we haven’t come off and
forgotten the broom!”
“So we has, Honey! so we has!” replied the old man, pausing in his work
and assuming an expression of mock dismay, “I ricollec now, when de
furnichure man putten in dem elergent brack walnut bedstids, he say,
’Misto Phin Dale, don you fergit somefin’; and I say, ‘No, Misto
Furnichure man, I reckin not.’ Now, he mus er been meanin de broom all
de time, an hyar we is come off an lef it behin.”
“You are making fun of me, you know you are,” laughed Arthur; “but
really, I do need a broom very much, for I can’t make this place look
tidy without one.”
“You mus hab one, ob cose,” said Uncle Phin, “an we’ll jes run inter de
sho and fin some white birch trees, an Unc Phin make you a twig broom,
jes de fines you ebber seen.”
They were both glad of an excuse to stop and make a landing, for they
were enjoying their voyage so much that they feared it might come to an
end more quickly than they wished it to. So they went on deck, and
watched for a good opportunity to run ashore.
At last they drifted close into a grassy bank, above which were a number
of huge oil tanks, a brick building, and a neat white cottage. It was a
pumping station on one of the great pipe lines through which crude
petroleum is conveyed from the wells of the oil region to the distant
seaboard refineries. At that time it was thought necessary to have relay
stations of tanks, and pumps to force the oil along from one to another,
every five or six miles. Of late years, however, the pumps have grown
larger and stronger, until, on a recently constructed pipeline leading
into Chicago, one immense pumping engine forces the oil along the entire
distance of 250 miles.
As the Ark drifted slowly along in front of this pleasant-looking place,
Uncle Phin, directing Arthur how to steer, loosened the side sweep that
was farthest from shore, and, by rowing with it, headed their craft in
toward the bank. In a minute more she was so close to it that Arthur
could easily spring to the narrow beach, carrying with him the end of a
rope, that he made fast to a tree.