As Harry vanished, Joe’s head appeared, as he climbed up the side of
the bridge and joined his brother and Tom. Their anxiety was now for
Harry, who had been swept through the channel under the bridge, and
was manfully swimming toward the eddy where the boys had landed. He
came ashore none the worse for his bath, and was delighted to find
that Joe was not only safe but dry. Joe explained that the boat had
drifted against one of the piles of the bridge, and the current and
the tow-rope together had forced one of her sides so low down that the
water began to pour in. Joe thought that if the river intended to get
into the boat, he had better get out; so he sprung up and caught one of
the timbers of the bridge, and so climbed safely up to the roadway.
The boat, relieved of his weight and freed from the tow-line, drifted
quietly away, and was now floating peacefully on the river about twenty
rods from the shore.
Luckily an old man in a row-boat saw the runaway _Whitewing_, and
kindly caught her and brought her up to the bridge. As the boys baled
her out, they told him how the accident happened, and the gruff old
man said it “sarved ’em right.” “When you tow a boat next time,” he
continued, “you’ll know enough to put all your weight in the stern.
Did you ever see a steamboat towing a row-boat with a man in the bow?
If ever you do, you’ll see him going overboard mighty quick. A boat’ll
sheer all over creation if you tow her with a fellow in the bow. You
just put the biggest of you fellows in the stern of that there boat,
and she’ll go through under the bridge just as steady as a church.”
The boys gladly took the old man’s advice. When the boat was baled
out, they floated the rope down again, and when it was made fast, Tom
Schuyler, who was the heaviest of the boys, offered to sit in the
stern. His weight brought the bow of the boat out of the water, and she
was towed quickly and safely through. The boys resumed their places as
soon as Harry had put on dry clothes, and after a short and easy row
glided under the Spuyten Duyvel railway bridge, and found themselves on
the broad and placid Hudson. They rowed on for nearly a mile, and then,
having found a little sandy cove, ran the boat aground, and went ashore
to rest. After a good swim, which all greatly enjoyed, including Harry,
who said that his recent bath at Farmersbridge ought not to be counted,
since it was more of a duty than a pleasure, they sat down to eat a
nice cold lunch of ham sandwiches that Mrs. Wilson had kindly prepared;
and when they were no longer hungry, they stretched themselves lazily
in the shade.
“Well, boys,” said Harry, “we made a big mistake at the bridge; but we
learned something, and we won’t get the boat swamped that way again.”
“I’m awfully obliged to Harry for jumping in after me,” said Joe; “but
it’s the first time I ever heard of a captain jumping over after a
sailor. When a sailor falls overboard, the captain just stands on the
deck and looks around, kind of careless like, while the second mate and
four sailors jump into a boat and pick the man up. That’s the way it’s
done; for I know a fellow that saw a man fall overboard on a steamship,
and he said that was how the captain did.”
“All right,” said Harry; “I won’t jump in for you again, Joe. The
fact is, boys, I oughtn’t to have done it without waiting to find out
whether there was really anything the matter with Joe. I’ll tell you
what we’ll do. Joe is a first-rate swimmer, and we’ll make a rule that
whenever anybody is to jump into the river for anything, Joe shall do
it. What do you say?”
“Oh, I’m willing enough,” said Joe. “I don’t care who jumps as long as
the captain don’t. It won’t look well for the captain to be all the
time jumping overboard to pick somebody up.”
“A better rule,” remarked Tom, “would be that no fellow shall fall
overboard.”
“I move to amend that,” cried Jim, “by forbidding any accidents to
happen to any of us.”
“But you can’t do that,” said Tom, who never understood a joke.
“Accidents never would happen if people could help themselves.”
“Well,” said Harry, “if the rest of you will agree not to fall
overboard, I’ll promise that the captain sha’n’t spend all his time
in jumping after you. But if you are all ready, we’d better start on.
There’s a nice little breeze, and we can rest in the boat.”
By this time Harry’s shirt and trousers, which had been wrung out and
hung up on a bush, were perfectly dry. He packed them away with his
rubber blanket rolled tightly around them, and Jim attended to the duty
of stepping the mast. Then the boys took their places, and Joe pushed
the boat off with the boat-hook. The gentle breeze filled the sail, and
the _Whitewing_ went peacefully on her way up the river.
“Boys,” said Harry, presently, “it’s getting awfully hot.”
“That’s because we’re sailing right before the wind,” said Tom. “We are
going just about as fast as the wind goes, and that’s the reason why we
don’t feel it.”
“Is this a lecture on wind, by Professor Thomas Schuyler?” asked Joe.
“Because if it is, I’d rather hear it when it’s cooler. Let’s go over
to the other side of the river, where we can get in the shade of the
Palisades.”
It was now about three o’clock, and the sun was very hot. The boat
seemed to the boys to creep across the river, and the Palisades seemed
to move away just as fast as they approached them. When they finally
did come into the shadow of those huge rocks, they thought they had
never known anything so delightful as the change from the scorching
sunshine to the cool shade. Joe and his brother stretched themselves
out, and put their blankets under their heads; presently they grew
tired of talking, and in a little while they were fast asleep. Tom was
not sleepy; but he was so delighted with the beauty of the shore, as
seen from the boat, that he did not care to talk.
For a long time the boat glided stealthily along. The Palisades were
passed, and a long pier projecting into the river from the west shore
gradually came in sight. When the boat came up with the pier, half a
dozen barges lay along-side of it, into which men were sliding enormous
cakes of ice. The Sharpe boys woke up, and proposed to stop and get a
little ice. The men let them pick up as many small pieces of ice as
they could carry, and they went on their way so much refreshed that
they chattered away as gayly as possible.
Uncle John had warned them to select a camping-ground long before dark.
They remembered this advice, and at about five o’clock they landed
on a little low point of land a few miles below the entrance to the
Highlands. They first hauled the boat a little way up the beach, so
that it would be sure not to float off, and then began to take the
tent, the cooking things, and the provisions for supper out of her.
“We want to pitch the tent and make a fire,” said Harry, “and somebody
ought to get some milk. Let’s pitch the tent first.”
“I’ll do that,” said Tom, “while you fellows get the supper.”
“It takes two or three fellows to pitch the tent,” said Harry; “you
can’t do it alone.”
“I’ll undertake to pitch it alone,” replied Tom. “One of you can get
firewood, one can go for milk, and the other can get out the things for
supper. Here goes for the tent.”
The tent was furnished with two upright poles and a ridge-pole, each
one of which was made in two pieces and joined together with ferules,
like a fishing-rod. Tom selected a soft sandy spot close by the water’s
edge, where he spread out the tent, and pinned down each of the four
corners with rough wooden pins, which he cut with the hatchet from a
piece of driftwood. Then he crept under the canvas with the poles.
He put one of the upright poles in its place with the end of the
ridge-pole over it, and then, holding the other end of the ridge-pole
in one hand, he put the second pole in position with his other hand,
and pushed the end of the ridge-pole into its proper place. The tent
was now pitched; and all that remained to be done was to tighten the
four corner pegs and to drive in the other ones.
Meanwhile Jim had taken one of the pails and gone toward a distant
farm-house for milk. Joe had collected a pile of firewood, and Harry
had lighted the fire and put the other tin pail half full of water
to boil over it. By the time the water had boiled, Jim had returned,
bringing the milk with him. It did not take long to make coffee; and
then the boys sat down on the sand, each with a tin cup of hot coffee
at his side, and proceeded to eat a supper of ham sandwiches and cake.
It was not the kind of supper that they expected to have on subsequent
nights; but Mrs. Wilson’s sandwiches and cake had to be eaten in order
to keep them from spoiling. After the coffee was gone they each had
a cup of cold milk, and then put the rest of it in a shady place to
be used for breakfast. The provisions were carefully covered up, so
as to protect them in case of rain, and then the beds were made. This
last operation was a very easy one, since the sand was soft enough for
a mattress, and all that needed to be done was to spread the rubber
blankets on the ground as a protection from the damp. Then the boys
rolled up their spare clothing for pillows, and, wrapping themselves in
their blankets, were soon sound asleep.