Long before sunset the _Vagabond_ was berthed for the night at the end
of an otherwise empty pier scarcely a stone's throw from the railroad
station at New London.
"I don't know who this wharf belongs to," said Nelson as he passed the
bow line up to Dan, "but there isn't any notice to keep away and so we
might as well use it." "I think it's an orphan pier," said Dan as he ran
the line through a ring and made it fast. "Anyhow, that's the way it
appears," he added. Nelson groaned.
"That'll do for you," he said. "Leave plenty of slack there to allow for
the fall of the tide. If those trains make as much noise to-night as
they're making now we'll wish we'd anchored across the river."
"Yes, I do hope the noise won't keep Tommy awake," said Dan concernedly.
"I think," replied Tom, who was trying to make Barry stand on his hind
legs and beg for a strip of bark torn from a spiling, "that it's rather
fun seeing trains again. I love engines, anyway. I used to think I'd be
an engineer when I grew up."
"Well, I think you'd make a success on the railroad," said Bob
thoughtfully, "but not as engineer."
"What, then?" demanded Tom unsuspiciously.
"Why, you'd make a dandy sleeper, Tommy," was the reply.
Presently they landed, crossed the railroad tracks, and skirted the
little open space with its monument, erected, as Tom declared, to
commemorate the discovery of New London by Thomas Ferris, the famous
explorer. And just then they made another discovery. It was the eve of
the Fourth of July. That fact was extremely evident. Up and down the
street the sound of exploding firecrackers was deafening. Dan started to
sing "The Night before the Fourth," but Tommy darted into a store and
when the others reached him he already had his arms full of crackers and
Roman candles. Then they visited other shops and bought all sorts of
things from news-papers to canvas shoes. Finally Dan was despatched to
the launch with the purchases and the others went on up the hill to the
big hotel. When Dan joined them he brought exciting news of a show which
was announced for that evening at the local theater and during dinner
they unanimously decided to attend.
"You ought to see the posters," said Dan. "Oh, great! There's one
picture where the hero in a false yellow beard has got into the
counterfeiters' den and is holding them all at bay with a pistol in each
hand, saying '_The first to move is a dead man!_' Oh, it's swell!"
"What's it called?" asked Tom eagerly.
"'The Counterfeiter's Bride.'"
"Did you see the bride?" asked Bob.
"Yes, she was there, too; in a corner, with her face over her hands
and----"
"With what?" shouted the others.
"I mean with her hands over her face. She has beautiful golden hair and
wears black; they always do. Then there's a terribly funny picture of
the comic fellow jumping out of a second-story window with a
life-preserver strapped around his waist."
"That doesn't _sound_ terribly funny," remarked Bob.
"With a life-preserver on him?" demanded Dan. "It was a fire."
"You didn't say it was a fire. I thought he was jumping into a river or
something."
"Well, he isn't; he's jumping into the street."
"Still," hazarded Nelson, "maybe he put the life-preserver on to save
him from automobiles. You know it's a mighty dangerous thing, jumping
into the street nowadays."
"Oh, you fade away!" growled Dan. "I'm going to see it, anyway."
"We all are," said Bob. "I haven't been to a theater since Christmas
vacation."
So go they did, and had a fine time. After they got back to the launch
and had been welcomed by Barry Tom and Dan reproduced the second act in
the engine room, Dan playing the rôle of the Secret Service hero and Tom
doing the distracted bride. Barry somewhat marred the effectiveness of
the supreme situation by thinking the whole affair organized for his
amusement and trying to shake Dan off his feet just when the latter had
covered Nelson and Bob with a pair of "sneakers" and was in the act of
declaiming in a blood-curdling voice: "_The first to move is a dead
man!_"
Nelson's and Bob's laughter drowned the line, but Tom, who had his face
covered with his hands, continued to emit his piercing shrieks long
after and had to be forcibly persuaded to desist. Then they went up on
deck and set off Roman candles and firecrackers, a proceeding which sent
Barry into paroxysms of excitement.
The next day, instead of continuing westward along the shore, they
headed the _Vagabond_ up the Thames River and had a Fourth-of-July
excursion up to Norwich between smiling green hills against which
nestled comfortable white farmhouses. Nelson grew reminiscent and retold
the story of the only Harvard and Yale boat race he had witnessed,
pointing out the quarters of the rival crews as they passed along. They
spent a couple of hours in Norwich and came back in the afternoon. After
they had passed under the railroad bridge and left New London behind Dan
had an idea.
"Say, fellows," he said, "instead of keeping on let's stop along the
shore here somewhere and camp out for the night. We can cook dinner on
the beach and rig up a tent with the awning. What do you say?"
They said yes, instantly and enthusiastically. And at five they found a
place that suited them, ran the launch into a little shallow cove and
set about disembarking. Three trips were made in the tender, and before
the last was completed Bob had a stone fireplace set up and Tom had
gathered enough fuel to last a week. By mutual consent Bob became chef
_pro tem_.
The cove was skirted by a little pebbled beach and in one place a
tumble-down stone wall ambled out of the woods nearby and fell to pieces
in the water, affording a very handy landing place for the tender. There
was only one mishap, and that occurred when Tom strove to relieve Dan of
a load of frying pans and dishes, lost his footing on a slippery stone
and went into two feet of water with his burden. Luckily nothing was
broken and Tom, by standing in front of the fire and turning slowly
around, was soon able to get dry again. They locked the cabin on the
_Vagabond_ and made everything shipshape for the night. Then, at a
little after six they squatted around the fire and ate fried eggs and
bacon, baked potatoes and smoky toast and washed the repast down with
smoky tea. But they all declared that it was the best supper they had
tasted for a long time.
"It's sort of a relief," said Nelson, "to have things seasoned with wood
smoke for a change. I was getting a little tired of Tom's kerosene
flavor."
"It isn't my fault," defended Tom. "Your old stove smokes like the
dickens."
After supper they set to work with the deck awning and, not without
several failures and many tribulations, at last rigged it up into the
semblance of a tent. Then they discovered that they had left bedding
entirely out of their scheme, and Bob and Tom rowed back to the launch
for blankets. By that time it was twilight and the river and the Sound,
just below them, were golden in the afterglow.
"Mighty pretty, isn't it?" asked Bob as he drew in his oars and got
ready to lay hold of the launch.
"Yes," Tom answered without enthusiasm, "but I think it would be a heap
more comfortable to sleep on the boat where we have decent mattresses
than to lie on the ground."
"Tommy, you're a sybarite," said Bob, as he climbed onto the launch.
"I don't know what that is," grumbled Tom as he followed, "but if it's
something that likes a decent bed I'm it."
They kept the fire going until bedtime and watched its flames leap and
writhe in the purple darkness. Then the moon came up and dimmed the
firelight and showed them the _Vagabond_ floating quietly at anchor a
little way off. Tom looked toward it longingly.
"Wish I was there," he murmured. And, after a moment, "What's a
sybilite, Dan?" he asked. Bob laughed.
"A 'sybilite,' Tommy," he said, "is a person who'd rather sleep on a
launch than on the ground."
"That's me," sighed Tom. "I thought, though, it was a fellow who told
fortunes, or something like that."
"Oh, no," said Dan, "that's a gypsyite."
"Hope you choke," muttered Tom. "I'm going to bed, although I don't
suppose I'll be able to sleep any."
"Only about twelve hours," jeered Dan.
When they awoke in the morning it was to a gray, wet world. A fine mist
was falling, everything outside the improvised tent was sopping and the
other side of the river was shut from view.
"There's no use trying to make a fire with this wood," yawned Bob. "I
vote we go on board."
Dan and Nelson agreed. Tom was silent, for after one disgusted look at
the outside world he had turned over and promptly gone to sleep again.
"Let's leave him," whispered Dan.
"But we need the awning," Nelson demurred. Dan chuckled.
"Sure, and we'll take it. He'll never wake up."
So very quietly they gathered the things together and bore them to the
landing. Two trips of the tender were sufficient, and on the second one
they took the awning. Back at the edge of the woods, with the mist
falling gently on his upturned face, slept Tom.
Barry seemed to appreciate the change of quarters as much as anyone and
was soon curled up in a corner of Bob's bunk. The dampness had got into
their bones and all were stiff and full of queer little aches when they
stretched their muscles.
"What we need," said Nelson, "is some hot coffee and lots of it."
"And right away quick," added Dan.
So Bob got busy at the stove while the others put the awning back over
the cockpit. While they were doing it they cast many amused glances
across at the shore where Tom still slumbered under his gray blanket.
"I tell you what," said Dan presently. "Let's go on down the river
around that point. Then when Tom wakes up he'll think we've gone off
without him. What do you say?"
Nelson laughed and agreed. So they pulled up the anchor, started the
engine, and went slowly downstream until a point of woods hid them from
the cove. Here they let down the anchor again and had breakfast. They
were intensely hungry and spent the better part of half an hour at
table.
"We'll keep something hot for Tommy," said Bob. "I'd just like to see
his face when he wakes up and finds us gone!"
"So would I!" said Dan with a chuckle. "Poor old Tommy! Won't he be fine
and damp?"
"Don't suppose he will catch cold and have rheumatism, do you?" asked
Nelson doubtfully.
"Tommy? Catch anything? He'd never move fast enough," laughed Dan. "I
wonder what he will do, though, when he finds the launch gone."
"Hope he doesn't go hunting upstream instead of down," said Nelson.
"Thunder! That would be awkward," said Dan. "I say, maybe we'd better go
back, eh? He ought to be awake by this time, and looking for us. And if
he gets it into his silly head that we've gone up the river instead of
down----!"
"I don't believe he's awake yet," said Bob. "If he was we'd have heard
him yelling for us."
"I don't know about that," answered Nelson. "We must have come a good
third of a mile downstream."
"Anyway," insisted Dan uneasily, "I think we'd ought to go back."
"All right," said Nelson. "Come on and we'll hoist anchor. It seems to
me we don't do anything else nowadays; I'm getting a crick in my back
over it."
They went across the engine room and stepped out into the cockpit. Then
they stared about them in surprise. There was nothing to be seen. The
fog had crept up since they had gone below and was now stealing silently
past them, blown landward before a tiny southeast breeze. Nelson and Dan
looked at each other inquiringly.
"Isn't this the dickens?" asked Dan.
"It surely is," was the reply. "O Bob! Come out here!"
Bob appeared. After a moment of surprise he asked:
"Where's the shore?" Nelson pointed off to starboard.
"Sure?" asked Bob.
"Yes, pretty certain. The tide's still running in and so we can't have
swung around."
"Hang these old fogs, anyhow!" growled Dan. "What are we going to do
now?"
"Go back for Tommy," answered Nelson. Bob looked doubtful.
"Can we do it?" he asked. "Aren't you afraid of running into something?"
"No, I guess not. We'll keep the whistle going, you can take the wheel,
I'll stand at the engine, and Dan can keep a lookout from the bow. We
don't draw much water and there weren't any shallows as far as I could
see coming down here. Besides, we ought to be able to see the shore at
least ten feet away. If Dan keeps a good lookout and yells quickly, and
you pass the word on down to me we'll manage all right, I guess. Let's
get the mud-hook up."
That done, Bob took the wheel, Dan perched himself in the bow, and
Nelson started the engine at the slowest speed. The _Vagabond_, with a
shrill screech from her whistle that so surprised Dan that he nearly
tumbled off the bow, pushed the fog aside and crept through the silence.
All went well for a moment. Then came a quick warning from Dan.
"Back her!" he yelled. "Land dead ahead!"
"Back her!" called Bob, swirling the wheel around. There was a sudden
commotion under the launch's stern as the propeller was reversed and, at
the same instant, a tiny jar as her bow settled on to the sandy bottom.
Dan ran back and seized the boat hook.
"Tell Nel to keep her backing," he called, "and I'll see if I can't
shove her off."
But it was a five minutes' task, and had not the tide been coming in
instead of running out it is likely that the _Vagabond_ would have
stayed where she was for a good twelve hours. But finally her bow was
free once more and Dan shoved and panted over the boat hook until the
launch was headed away and the dim line of shore was gone from sight
again.
"All right now," he called, and Nelson again threw the clutch forward.
In the excitement of getting afloat they had forgotten the whistle, but
now Nelson made up for lost time, and the launch poked her way gingerly
along to an accompaniment of distressful shrieks.
"How are we going to know when we get back to where we left Tommy?"
asked Bob down the companion way.
"We'll just have to guess at it," was the answer. "If we get where Tommy
can hear the whistle we'll be doing all right."
Several minutes passed. Then came another caution from the bow.
"Land on the port bow," called Dan. "Hold her off a bit more, Bob."
"All right," said Dan a moment later. "Can't see anything now. Seems to
me, though, we ought to be far enough."
"I guess we are," answered Bob dryly. "We're out on the bar, I should
say."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you feel the swells? If we aren't in the Sound we're pretty near
it."
"But how can we be? We've been going up the river toward New London,
haven't we?"
"I thought we had, but we haven't, I guess. Say, Nel, come up here a
minute."
Nelson appeared and agreed with Bob.
"Either we are somewhere around the mouth of the river or else we're in
a steamboat's wake; and we haven't heard any pass. Wait a bit." He went
down and stopped the engine. "Now," he said as he came back, "let's have
that boat hook a minute."
Dan passed it to him and he dropped it into the water, keeping hold of
the end. The submerged portion floated back against the hull. Nelson
pulled it up and tried again over the stern.
"We're just about broadside to the current," he announced. "And I'm
blest if I know where we are. Best thing we can do is to drop anchor, I
guess."
"Not if we're in the middle of the river," said Bob. "Let's keep on a
bit farther. Dan saw land a moment ago over there. Suppose I head that
way and we creep over until we find it again. Then we won't be in danger
of being run down by somebody."
"That's so," answered Nelson. "Keep your eyes open, Dan."
So the _Vagabond_ took up her travels again, groping her way through the
gray mist, with Dan peering anxiously from the bow. It was rather
exciting while it lasted and the monotonous screech of the whistle
breaking the silence lent an uncanny touch to the adventure. Then----
"Stop her!" called Dan, and Bob repeated the injunction to Nelson at the
engine. The propeller stopped and the launch floated softly through the
mist. "Star-board a little," said Dan. Bob turned the wheel. "All
right," said Dan. "How's this, Nel?"
Nelson had joined him and was peering perplexedly through the fog.
"I don't see any land," he said finally.
"Over there. I can't see it myself now, though. Wait a bit and the fog
will thin. There it is," said Dan. "See that dark line?"
"Yes. Let's put the anchor down. Stand by the cable, will you? It's all
snarled up." There was a splash which sounded momentously loud in the
stillness and the cable ran out for some ten feet. "We must be pretty
well in toward shore," said Nelson.
"Now what?" asked Bob, working his way forward over the slippery deck.
They looked from one to another. Finally----
"Stay here until the fog lifts and we can find Tommy, I guess," said
Nelson.
"Hang Tommy, anyhow," said Bob disgustedly. "He's always getting lost in
the fog."
"Yes, it's the easiest thing he does," agreed Dan. "He ought to write a
book about it when he gets home. 'Fogs I Have Met, by Thomas Courtenay
Ferris.'"
"Supposing we shoot off that revolver of yours a few times?" Nelson
suggested.
"All right," said Bob. "I'll get it."
"It was a dandy joke of yours, Dan," said Nelson. Dan shrugged his
shoulders and wiped the drops from his face against his sleeve.
"How the dickens was I to know this fool fog was coming up?" he asked.
"Here, let me shoot that, Bob."
"You run away," answered Bob, as he filled the chamber of his revolver.
"But I feel that I am to blame in the matter," said Dan earnestly, "and
I ought to be allowed to do all I can to--er--remedy things."
"Well, you can't shoot my revolver," answered Bob dryly. "But you can
hold the cartridges."
"Let me shoot once," Dan begged. Bob relented and between them they
banged away into the air until there was a good-sized hole in the
contents of the cartridge box and Bob called a halt. Then they listened
attentively.
"There!" whispered Dan.
"Steamboat whistle," said Bob, and Nelson nodded concurrence.
"Let's shout," said Dan. They shouted. Then they stopped and listened
again. There was not a sound to be heard save the faint lapping of the
waves against the shore.