JUST IN TIME
Dick and Paul did not know whether to laugh at the old sailor, or follow
him in his mad rush for the forecastle. This latter inclination was not
because of any fear of the superstition regarding mermaids, but because
they thought there might be a collision with the unseen vessel, and it
would be wise to prepare for it.
Once more, out of the fog and mist came the voice:
"I remember well, in the days of old,
How a sailor lad named Bill
Fell overboard near the Hole in the Wall,
A dolphin's maw to fill.
"Oh, it's there one night, a terrible sight,
Did happen----"
"Ahoy there!" yelled Dick. "Who are you, and where are you going?" for
it needed but a moment's harkening to the second part of the song to
demonstrate that it issued from the mouth of some burly follower of the
sea and not from the salty lips of some fish-maiden.
"Who are you?" back came the challenge from the swirling fog.
"The yacht _Albatross_, bound for Havana," answered Dick. "Who are
you?"
"I'm a lobsterman, fog-bound, and my 'put-put' boat is out of gasolene.
For the love of Davy Jones, have you any aboard? I've been here ten
hours, and I'm hungry enough to eat a raw crab. Give a hail until I get
my bearings."
"A lobsterman!" cried Paul. "And old Widdy thought it was a mermaid!"
Jack called to Midwell, the mate, to have the whistle sounded, and then,
yelling to the unseen mariner to approach slowly, the two lads peered
forward from the bow of the yacht, for the first glimpse of the helpless
craft. There was the sound of oars being used, and presently there
loomed up through the mist a small dory motorboat, containing a grizzled
son of the sea, his craft piled high with boxes of lobsters.
A moment later Widdy popped his head up through the companionway. Behind
him were several of the crew.
"Is--is she--has she sung again?" asked the wooden-legged sailor,
cautiously.
"It doesn't happen to be a 'she,' Widdy," answered Dick.
"You don't mean to say that it's a he-one, do you?"
"It's a lobsterman," spoke Paul. "He's out of gasolene. Have we any,
Captain Barton?" for the commander was approaching.
"Yes, I guess there's some among the stores."
The lobster boat came alongside, and a very much relieved fisherman
looked up at the trim yacht.
"Hum, that's quite some of a smack," he remarked with calm enthusiasm.
"I'm right glad I met-up with you. I calculated I'd have t' stay out all
night, or until the fog lifted, an' that ain't goin' to be very soon.
Has any one a chaw of tobacco?"
"Was that you singin'?" demanded Widdy, suspiciously, while one of the
crew, at Captain Barton's direction, went to get some gasolene.
"Well, if you call it singin' I was," guardedly answered the lobster
man.
"Why and wherefore was you a-doin' of it?" inquired the wooden-legged
sailor. "I took you for a mermaid, an'----"
"A mermaid! Ho! Ho! A bloomin' mermaid I'd make! Why I was only a sort
of hummin' to myself because I'd lost my fog horn overboard, an' I
didn't want to be run down, with all these lobsters aboard, for lobsters
is high now. That's why I was sort of hummin' an' singin', as you call
it. Has any one got a chaw of tobacco?"
"Well, seein' as how you're not a mermaid, you can have it," responded
Widdy, as he passed over a generous portion. "But it's the first time I
ever heard of a lobsterman losin' his fog horn overboard. Some careless
of you, wa'n't it?"
"You might call it that," admitted the other, cautiously, "but I was so
busy haulin' up my pots an' emptyin' 'em that I didn't notice it right
away, an' you know," he added gravely, "a horn won't float."
"Hum," remarked Widdy, as he took back what was left of the plug of
tobacco. The gasolene was handed down into the small craft, and the
lobsterman insisted on giving Dick a generous portion of his catch in
payment therefor.
"Ho, for some lobster salad!" cried the young millionaire, as he held up
by the back a squirming crustacean. "Hans, get busy making about a peck
of mayonnaise dressing."
"_Yah!_ I dresses dot sea-bug all right!" exclaimed the cook with a
grin. "I knows how to fix dem!"
The lobsterman started his gasolene engine, and "put-putted" off through
the fog, seeming to get his bearings instinctively. He called a good-by,
and once more started his fog-horn song.
"Well, I wish we'd meet such mermaids every day in the week," commented
Paul Drew, as he looked at the pile of lobsters on deck, for he, too,
was very fond of them.
The _Albatross_, which had been hove to on meeting the small craft, was
once more sent slowly forward. The fog lifted about two hours later, and
the speed was increased. There was a fine supper aboard Dick's yacht
that night, and even the crew had lobster salad, as a sort of side dish
with their pork and beans.
"We'll be at Savannah to-morrow," announced Captain Barton one
afternoon--a glorious, sunny afternoon, when Dick and the boys were
sitting about the deck in steamer chairs. "Do you think your friend, Mr.
Beeby, will meet you there, Captain Hamilton?"
"I don't know," answered Dick. "You never can tell what Innis Beeby will
do. He's always changing his mind at the last moment, and he's so fat
that it doesn't worry him."
"Nothing does," said Paul. "I hardly think he'll join us, though."
"Well, we'll put in and see," decided the lad of millions.
At Savannah, when the yacht had docked, Dick found a telegram awaiting
him from his chum, Beeby. It read:
"Will be with you at ten A.M. to-morrow."
"And, just as likely as not he won't," commented the young captain. "But
we'll lay up here over night and see."
Ten o'clock the next morning came, and the boys eagerly scanned the pier
for a sight of the fat lad. There were all sorts of people coming down
to the water-front, but Innis Beeby was not of them.
"Guess we'd better get under way," suggested Dick, when eleven o'clock
had passed, and there was no sign of the cadet.
The gang-plank was being hauled in, and Captain Barton was about to
swing the engine room telegraph signal over to "half-speed ahead," when
a shout sounded up the broad pier.
"Here he comes!" cried Paul. "Here comes Innis, on the run!"
The boys saw a very stout lad waddling along at what he probably
considered a run, but which was far from it. In front of him, trundling
a hand-truck, containing the cadet's trunk and suitcase, was a tall,
thin porter, built on the lines of a racer. He would rush along and, on
looking back, would see his employer about twenty feet in the rear,
coming slowly.
"Can't you hurry, sir?" the porter shouted, so that Dick and the others
heard him. "The ship's about to sail, sir."
"Tell--'em--to--hold--her," panted Beeby. "I'm--com--ing!"
Forward ran the porter, trundling the truck. After him came Beeby, going
slower and slower, for he was winded. Captain Barton, unaware of the
impending arrival of Dick's guest, had shoved the telegraph lever over.
There was the ringing of a bell in the engine room, and the yacht
gathered way.
"Hold on!" cried Dick. "Stop the engines!"
"Run out the gang-plank again!" ordered Paul.
"Come on, Innis, come on!" yelled Dick to his friend.
"Get on the truck, and let the porter wheel you," suggested Paul. He
scarcely believed the fat cadet would do it, but the suggestion came at
just the right time, and the fleshy lad called:
"Here, porter, let me sit on top of my trunk. I can't go another step."
"Sure!" assented the man, and, a moment later, he was assisting the late
passenger up on top of the baggage. There was a laugh from the crowd on
the pier, in which Dick and his chums joined, but Innis Beeby cared
little for that. He could breathe easier now, and there was a better
chance of him catching the yacht.
The porter broke into a run with his load, and soon was alongside the
_Albatross_. But the vessel was now in the grip of the tide, and, though
the engine had been stopped, the yacht was moving. The gang-plank could
not be run out, for a snubbing post was right in the way.
"Get off, and I'll throw your baggage on board!" cried the porter, for
there was, as yet, but a small space of water between the steamer's rail
and the bulkhead.
"Yes--but--how--am--I--going--to--get--on--board?" panted the exhausted
cadet.
"We'll pull you up!" yelled Dick, for it would mean a lot of work to
stop, and back up to the landing place.
Up over the rail went tumbling the trunk and suit-case. Dick threw Beeby
a rope's end. The stout lad grasped it firmly. He was quite muscular,
from his athletic practice at the academy.
"Now, all together, fellows!" ordered Dick. "Haul him up!"
There was a heave and a pull--a straining and creaking of the rope.
Innis planted his feet against the side of the yacht, and "walked" up,
after the manner of scaling a wall at the military school. His training
stood him in good stead. A moment later Beeby was on deck, and only just
in time, for the yacht swung far out from the pier.
"Well--I'm--here--fellows," said Beeby, slowly, as he flung a dollar to
the dock for the porter. "I--said--I'd--come--and--I'm--here--(puff)
I'm--(puff) here--(puff) all right--(puff) am--(puff) I--not--(puff),
Dick?"
"To use a classical and poetical expression, you _be_," answered Dick,
with a laugh, as he grasped his chum's hand, "and we're mighty glad to
see you, Innis. Let her go, Captain Barton."
The _Albatross_ swung out into the channel.