TIP’S HURRIED LANDING.
During the remainder of that day, and all the night, Tim lay in his
berth wondering why it was he did not die, since he was so sick,
and expecting each moment that the steamer would go to the bottom.
He almost forgot Tip, save once or twice when he asked Bobby to see
whether the dog was feeling as badly as he was; and when he was told
that Tip was apparently enjoying very good health, he felt a sense of
injury because his pet did not share his sickness with him.
Bobby remained with him nearly all the afternoon; but toward night
his newly-formed friendship was not strong enough to keep him in the
ill-smelling place, and he went on deck to enjoy what was to him simply
a glorious sail.
When Tim awakened on the following morning――for he did get some sleep
that night――the steamer was yet pitching around wildly as though she
were mad, but he had recovered from his sickness, and felt weak and
hungry.
He looked as pale as though he had been confined to his bed for a week,
and he imagined he was so thin that the sun would shine right through
him; but in this he was mistaken.
Of course his first visit was to Tip, and after he had petted him to
his heart’s content, and given him a hearty breakfast, thanks to old
Mose’s generosity, he went below to report to Mr. Rankin for duty.
There was plenty of work to be done; and now that he had “paid his
tribute to the sea,” the steward showed that while he could be kind
when there was reason for it, he also believed in making boys useful.
Tim carried dishes, cleaned knives, ran with cups of hot coffee or
tea at imminent danger of scalding himself, until all the passengers
had breakfasted, and then for at least an hour Captain Pratt kept
him going from the wheel-house to the cabin, and from the cabin to
the wheel-house, on one errand or another, until he thought he was
sufficiently exercised.
All this time he had not once caught a glimpse of his friend Bobby
Tucker, nor, indeed, had he had time to look for him. He had asked old
Mose where Minchin’s Island was, and when the steamer would arrive
there; but although Mose could give him very little geographical
information, he knew certainly that the _Pride of the Wave_ was due at
the island about noon.
Tim was impatient to get through with his work, so that he could talk
with Bobby a few moments, and when Mr. Rankin told him that he was at
liberty until dinner-time, he went at once to Tip’s narrow quarters,
believing he would find the boy from Minchin’s Island there.
Nor was he mistaken, for there was Bobby examining the dog very
carefully, measuring his legs and the stump of his tail, in order that
he might give accurate information regarding him to his friends at home.
Although the boys were very glad to see each other, the meeting was not
a particularly affectionate one.
“Hello, Bob!” cried Tim; and Bobby answered,
“Hello, Tim!”
“What are you doin’ to Tip?”
“I was only kinder lookin’ him over, to see if he was all right for the
bears when he an’ you come down to see me.”
“Ah, he can take care of the bears fast enough, but I’m afraid he won’t
get down to your house.”
“Oh yes, he will,” was the confident reply. “The very next time the
_Pride_ comes to the island I’m goin’ to get father to make the
captain let you come ashore, an’ father’s one of the selectmen, so I
guess Captain Pratt can’t help hisself.”
The idea that Bobby’s father was one of the town officials appeared to
put the matter in a different light, and Tim began to have great hopes
that the visit might really be made.
Then the chance of catching a bear, or of getting near enough for Tip
to catch one, was discussed. Tip was unfastened in order that all his
beautiful proportions might be seen more distinctly, and the boys grew
so excited over the subject that they forgot the flight of time, until
the steamer’s whistle aroused them from thoughts of bear-killing.
“Gracious!” exclaimed Bobby, “here we’ve got home, an’ I’d forgotten we
was so near.”
“Was it Minchin’s Island the boat was whistlin’ for?”
“Yes. That’s the first place she stops at after she leaves the city.
Come, quick, so’s we can get my valise out of the kitchen.”
Bobby’s valise with its precious contents was still in the care of
Mose, its owner not having looked after it more than once each hour,
and now he was very uneasy lest he should not be able to get it in time.
Tim was so excited by his companion’s fears that he fastened Tip as
quickly as possible, not noticing in his haste that the knot was only
half tied, and could easily be unloosened.
The valise, with apparently as much in it as when it was intrusted to
the old darkey’s care, was soon in Bobby’s possession, and the two boys
went on the upper deck, from which the landing was to be made.
Here, standing by the rail, Bobby pointed out the various objects
of interest on the island, not forgetting the woods in which he was
positive Tip would one day roam in search of the ferocious bear.
Captain Pratt was standing near them, but he was so much engaged in
giving orders for the proper landing of the boat that he did not notice
his cabin boy, who was breaking one of the rules of the steamer by
loitering on that deck.
The boat was still quite a distance from the shore, and Bobby was
pointing out his father’s house when they heard a furious barking, and
before they could turn Tip was jumping up around them. He had found no
difficulty in escaping from the half-tied rope, and after that was done
it was an easy matter for him to find his young master.
Captain Pratt had heard Tip’s joyful greeting also, and as he turned to
see the cause of it, the dog, who was in such high spirits at having
escaped from his imprisonment that he was ready to show his good-will
for every one, left the boys and fawned upon the captain as if he was
his best friend.
Captain Pratt showed very little consideration for the dog, even while
he thought he belonged to one of the passengers, and gave him such a
kick as sent him half the length of the deck, changing his note of joy
to deep yelps of pain.
The place in which Tip had been confined was anything but a clean one,
and, as a natural consequence, when he jumped upon the captain he left
the muddy imprints of his paws on the clean blue clothes in which the
commander of the _Pride of the Wave_ had that day arrayed himself.
“Whose dog is that?” roared the captain, as he surveyed the damage done.
“He’s mine,” answered Tim, who, at the first blow struck his pet, had
jumped toward the poor brute and taken him to his bosom to soothe him.
Then it was that the captain first saw his cabin-boy on the forbidden
ground of the upper deck, and it is positive that if he had had the
time just then he would have given him a painful intimation of the
mistake he had made. As it was, he walked up to Tim quickly, seized
poor Tip by the neck, and flung him as far as possible into the water.
“Now you go below,” he said, in a low, angry tone, to Tim, “and after
we make this landing I’ll settle with you.”
Tim paid no more attention to the captain’s words than if they had been
uttered by a boy smaller than himself, but rushed frantically to the
rail as if he was about to jump after his pet.
The steamer was already so near the wharf that Captain Pratt had no
time to see if his order was obeyed, but was obliged to give all his
attention to the management of the boat.
It was fortunate for Tip that the captain was very angry when he threw
him into the water, since he, using all his strength, had tossed him
so far from the steamer’s side that he was in no danger of being drawn
under the wheel, as would have been the case had less vigor been used
in the cruel deed.
Tip acted like a very sensible dog under the circumstances――he held his
head up and struck out boldly for the shore, urged on by a crowd of
boys on the wharf.
Tim was almost frantic with grief, believing his pet was perishing
before his eyes, and he powerless to save him. It is quite possible
that he would have obeyed his first impulse and leaped into the water
to try to save Tip, if a passenger had not taken a firm hold of him.
“It’s a wicked shame! I’d jest like to take that captain an’ do to him
jest as he has done to Tip; an’ he such a nice bear dog too!” said
Bobby, who stood by Tim’s side watching Tip’s battle for life.
“Do you s’pose he’ll drown?” asked Tim, the great tear-drops rolling
down his cheeks.
“I dunno,” was the cautious reply. “It seems to me his legs is rather
short for swimmin’ very far; an’ then, you see, he ain’t got any tail
to steer hisself by.”
Tim was just giving way to a fresh outburst of grief at these words,
which seemed to sound Tip’s death-knell, when a gentleman said:
“There isn’t the slightest danger of his drowning. It will take him
some time to reach the shore, for he’s not swimming directly toward it;
but he’ll come out all right, and it won’t do him the least harm.”
“An’ jest as soon as I get ashore I’ll run round an’ call him in, an’
bring him to you,” said Bobby, anxious to do something toward saving
the life of an animal as valuable as he believed Tip to be.
The dog was yet some distance from the shore when the boat was made
fast to the wharf, and Bobby rushed on shore, going toward the point
where Tip must land, wholly regardless of his parents, who were waiting
to greet him.
Tim started to follow him, bent on saving his pet and forgetting that
there was such a person in the world as Captain Pratt, when he felt a
heavy hand laid on his shoulder.
“I thought I told you to go below!” said an angry voice, and, looking
up, Tim saw it was the captain who was detaining him. “If you so much
as make a motion to go on shore I’ll whip you within an inch of your
life!”
Then, without giving him an opportunity to disobey, the same heavy hand
pushed him back on the deck, and Mr. Rankin led him forcibly below.
“I won’t stay here! I won’t go down-stairs an’ leave Tip there to
drown!” cried Tim, passionately. “It’s awful wicked, an’ I won’t do it!”
“Listen to me, Tim,” said Mr. Rankin, kindly but firmly. “There is no
possible chance that your dog will drown, and you must come below, for
it is the captain’s orders.”
“But I must go an’ get him,” wailed Tim.
“Suppose you could get him before we leave the dock, which you can’t,
and suppose you should get him aboard without the captain’s seeing
you, which is an impossibility, what would be the result? Captain Pratt
would throw him overboard after we got out to sea again, and then he
would be sure to drown.”
Tim knew the steward’s reasoning was correct, and yet he refused to be
comforted. He was led below despite his struggles, but when he reached
the main-deck he ran to the rail, from where he could see all that was
going on in the water.
“Do you s’pose he will get ashore all right?” Tim asked of Mr. Rankin,
as he watched Tip’s exertions to save himself.
“Of course he will; he’s almost there now, and in five minutes more
he’ll be just as safe as ever, and a good deal cleaner.”
By this time the freight for the island had been landed, and the
steamer was already leaving the wharf. Tim was in an agony of fear lest
he should be obliged to depart without assuring himself that Tip was a
saved dog.
But in order that the steamer should be put on her course again it was
necessary to back her for some distance, and that was a bit of good
luck for Tim, since they moved in the direction taken by Tip.
Tim could see Bobby, at the extreme point of land that jutted out into
the sea, urging the dog to increased exertion, and aided by all the
boys who were on the wharf at the time Tip was thrown overboard, as
well as by a number of others who had learned of the excitement by
seeing Bobby as he ran around the shore.
Just as the steamer’s paddle-wheels ceased to force her back, and
began to urge her in the opposite direction, Tip’s short legs touched
the bottom, and in another instant Bobby was holding him, all wet and
dripping, high up in the air, while he executed a sort of triumphant
war-dance before Tim’s delighted gaze.
Tim stood looking with his very heart in his eyes as the _Pride of the
Wave_ carried him farther and farther from the only friend he had in
the world, and when he saw Tip run along the beach and shake himself he
laughed from very joy.
But in another instant he understood that, if the dog was safe, he was
being separated from him very rapidly.
“I sha’n’t see him ever again in this life,” he wailed, “an’ he is the
only feller that cares anything about me.”
Then he ran to the little hole which had served Tip as a state-room,
and there gave vent to his sorrow in passionate weeping.