IV

Even before the leaves come, you can't see the pier from the house. It

runs out from the bottom of a high bank and is otherwise hidden by

trees. But it's only a short distance, and in good weather we have the

guests walk it, because it gives them a better chance to admire the

gardens and the Athenian columns and things. But Monday, which dawned

bright and still and warm, and was just as typical of May in Westchester

as was the snow-and-wind storm, we drove them down in a bus because the

roads and paths were horribly muddy. Of course, none of the women

wanted to take the early train, so there were only the men and Sally

and I in the bus. Sally said that there was going to be some fun when

the men got to the pier and didn't find the _Hobo_, and she wasn't going

to miss it. Just before we started she drew me aside and said:

"Sam, when we get there, for Heaven's sake look blank."

"I understand your fears, Sally," I said, "and I will look as blank as I

possibly can. But remember, child, how easy it is for _you_ to look

blank; and don't always be urging others to attempt the impossible."

"Mrs. Sam," said Billoo, on the way down, "I can't tell you what a good

time I've had."

"You nice man," said Sally, "I wish we could persuade you to stay a day

or two longer."

"If it wasn't for the market, I could stay forever," said Billoo.

"Not if I lived," said I. "Saturday to Monday is plenty long

enough--Hello--!"

The pier and the empty stretch of water between the island and the

mainland were in sight, but there was no _Hobo_.

"Hello what?" said Tombs. "Why, where's the ferry?"

"I don't see her," I said, and, I hope, anxiously; "you don't suppose--"

"Isn't the _Hobo_ there?" shrieked Billoo. He turned his head on his

fat neck, and at first he looked very angry, and then scared.

We walked down to the pier, and then out on the float to get as big a

water view as possible, but there wasn't so much as a row-boat in sight.

"What can have happened?" said Sally.

"I'm worried to death," I said. "Suppose she _was_ blown from her

moorings, the captain could have run her into New Rochelle, and come

back yesterday afternoon when the wind went down. Something must have

happened."

"Oh, Sam," cried Sally, "you don't think she may have been run down by

one of the Sound steamers and sunk?"

"I dare not think of it," I said. "I dare not think of the poor chaps on

board."

"I don't see how I'm to get to town," said Billoo dismally. He pulled

out his watch, and held it in his hand, and every moment or two looked

at it. "Haven't you a couple of row-boats? We couldn't get this train,

but we could get the next--"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said. "We're not much on the water, and

we've never been properly supplied with boats--"

Billoo swallowed some hasty thought or other, and began to look across

at the mainland. My father owns all the land opposite the island, even

the pier and the short road to the village of Stepping-Stone; and

although there were several boats at the pier, there were no people, and

the rest of the shore is nothing but thick woods.

"We must telephone somewhere," said Billoo.

"You can't," I said. "You know you tried to telephone all yesterday and

couldn't, and the butler told me this morning that he had tried to put

in a call and got no answer."

"What does it matter?" said Sally. "You've all got to stay now. I think

that's splendid."

"Mrs. Sam," said Tombs hollowly, "do you realize that this accident may

mean _ruin_ for some of us?"

"Oh, dear!" said Sally "how dreadful!"

"Somehow of other," said Billoo, "_I'm_ going to get across."

And the others said that somehow or other _they_ were going to get

across, too.

"I've _got_ to!" said Billoo, and he looked about in a fat, challenging

way as if daring any one to say that he had not got to.

"You poor things," said Sally, "I hope to Heaven you can; but how?"

"Where there's a will, Mrs. Sam--" Billoo said. And he began to think

hard. All of a sudden his face brightened.

"It's too easy," he said. "The wind's right; four or five of us have

umbrellas--Sam, you'll have to lend us this float. We've only to cut it

from its moorings, and sail it across--May we have it?"

"Yes," I said, "but you're crazy to try it."

"It's a case of sink or swim," said he. "Who's coming?"

Without exception the men agreed to sail with him on the float. It was a

fine, big platform, floated on sheet-iron air-tanks, and moored at the

four corners by heavy ropes.

Sally and I withdrew to the pier and watched Billoo and the others cut

slowly through the ropes with their pocket-knives. Presently the float

began to move, and a second or two later the float end of the gang-plank

slipped into the water with a heavy splash. Those who had umbrellas

opened them to catch the breeze, and the others lit cigars, and stood

about in graceful attitudes. Sally and I cheered as loud as we could.

"I'll send you a tug or something," Billoo called back to us, "and try

to find out what's happened to the _Hobo_."

"Thank _you_!" I called back.

"Sam," said Sally, "I don't know what you think, but I call it good

sand."

"So do I," said I, "but foolish."

"Why foolish?" said Sally. "They're really going quite fast, and

they'll be across in no time, and they'll get the next train and

everything."

"They will not," I said.

"Why?" said Sally.

"Because," said I, "they will run on to the middle ground, and stay

there."

"Not at high tide!" exclaimed Sally.

"At high tide," said I. "That float draws a good two feet, and it's so

heavy that once it runs on the mud it will stay on the mud--" And then I

shouted to Billoo:

"Look out for the middle ground!"

"What?" he answered.

"Why do you warn him?" said Sally.

"Because it won't help him," said I.

"What?" called Billoo again, and Sally answered at the top of her lungs,

"Look--out--for--the--middle--ground!"

"Right O!" Billoo answered; "where is it?"

"Just ahead," Sally called.

Billoo turned to look, and at that moment the float, which was

travelling at a good clip, ran into it.

Billoo and Randall fell flat on their faces; everybody staggered; one

umbrella and two hats went overboard and drifted away, and Sally and I

sat down on the pier and laughed till we were helpless.

V

The float had become a fixture in the landscape about two hundred and

fifty yards out. We could converse with our friends by shouting only,

and when we got tired of condoling with them and giving them assurances

of our sympathy, we told them that _we_ were going back to the house to

get some more breakfast and think out what was best to be done,

"Sam," said Sally, "that's the maddest lot of men I ever saw."

We looked back. Billoo was stamping up and down the float, waving his

arms and orating like Falstaff; Randall and Tombs had their heads

together, and were casting what appeared to be baleful glances at

Billoo. It was evident that he was not popular on the float.

When we had had some more breakfast, and had sat around a little to

digest it, the women began to come down-stairs. Mrs. Randall was the

first to come down, and she was in great distress.

"It's _too_ dreadful," she said. "I had something of the utmost

importance to tell Billy, something that I wanted him to do for me

down-town. And I overslept."

"Well," said I, "let me tell you what a good fellow Billy is. He hasn't

gone yet."

"Good Heavens!" she cried, "not gone yet? Why, what time is it? Why, he

won't get down-town in time for the opening!"

"Probably not," I said. "He was just going, when suddenly he said, 'I

know there's something my wife wants to say to me.' I said, 'Wake her up

and find out what it is.' He said, 'No, she's getting so she can't do

without her beauty sleep; I'll just wait around till she wakes of

herself.'"

"Sam," said Mrs. Randall, "what has happened to my husband?"

"Nothing much," I said. "He's in the same boat with many others--only it

isn't a boat. Don't be alarmed."

"_Where is my husband?_" said she.

"If you are equal to a short, muddy walk," I said, "I will show him to

you--Morning, little Miss Tombs--want to see brother and young Fitch?

They said they wouldn't go to town till you'd seen them--Morning, Mrs.

Giddings--morning, Miss Marshall--I'm not much on breaking bad news, but

there's been an accident to all your husbands and brothers and fiancés.

They're all alive still, so far as I know--but they ought not to last

more than five or six days."

"It's proposed," said Sally, "that we all go and see what can be done

for them."

We refused to answer any questions. We led the way to the pier and

pointed out the float, and the men on it. "There," said Sally, "you can

see them quite plainly from here."

"Yes," said I, "and the more plainly you see them, the plainer they

are."

"Will you kindly tell me," said Mrs. Randall, "what my husband is doing

out there on that float?"

"He is doing nothing," I said. "You can see for yourself. And it isn't a

float any more."

"Better tell them what has happened," said Sally.

"No, Sally," I said, "no."

"Yes, Sam," she said.

"Oh, all right," I said, "if you really think it's best. The fact is,

ladies, the whole thing is a piece of drunken folly. You know how men

are when they get drinking and arguing, and quarrelling. To make a long

story short, it came to Billoo's insulting Randall; Randall challenges

him; duelling is against the law; they take pistols and witnesses out on

the water beyond the jurisdiction of the United States; and they _were_

going to murder each other. But it's all right now--don't be

frightened."

Sally had turned her face away, and I'm sure I was serious as a judge. I

patted Mrs. Randall on the shoulder.

"Even if your husband isn't brave," I said, "he's clever, clever and

deep."

"My husband not brave!" she cried. "I like that; he's the bravest man I

ever saw."

"Well, that may be," I said doubtfully, "but, considering that on the

way out to the duelling ground, or water, when nobody was looking but

Sally and me, he kicked the box of cartridges overboard. But, perhaps

they'll agree to use pocket-knives--"

"Sam," said little Miss Tombs, "I'll give you a kiss good-morning if

you'll be serious."

"Wait till Fitch is looking," I said.

Then Sally explained what had happened, and edged herself so politely

between little Miss Tombs and me that the others laughed.

"They'll float at high tide, won't they?" asked Mrs. Giddings.

"No," I said. "It was high tide when they ran aground. It will take a

tugboat to get them off."

The words weren't out of my mouth when a tugboat appeared round the

corner of the island, making up the channel. The men on the float began

to scream and yell, and jump up and down, and wave their arms. But the

tugboat paid no attention. It thought they were drunk. It passed within

three hundred yards of them, whistled a couple of times, and became

small in the distance.

"Sam," said Sally, "in about an hour they'll be high and dry on the mud.

Then not even a boat can get to them. And by the time it's high tide

again it will be dark and nobody will see them, and they'll be dying of

hunger and thirst."

"That's true," I said. "Sally, you explain that to them, and I'll have

the men fetch one of the stable doors, and we'll put a sail on it and

provision it and trust to its hitting the middle ground about where

they did."

I never worked so hard in my life. I had a stable door taken off its

tracks and rigged with the canoe's sail; and we put a case of champagne

on board, and a tub of ice, and bread, and cold meat, and butter, and

jam, and cigars, and cigarettes, and liquors, and a cocktail shaker, and

a bottle of olives stuffed with red peppers, for Billoo, and two kinds

of bitters, and everything else to eat or drink that anybody could think

of, and some camp-chairs, and cards for bridge, and score-pads, and

pencils, and a folding table. Of course, most of the things got soaked

the minute we launched the door, but there wasn't time to do the thing

over again. So we gave the relief boat three cheers and let her go.

The way the men on the float eyed the course of the door, you would have

thought them all nearly half dead with hunger and thirst. We were all

excited, too.

At first the door made straight for the float. Then the breeze shifted a

little, and it made to the left of the float--then to the right of

it--and then straight at it again.

Everybody cheered. The relief expedition looked like a success. The men

all came to the edge of the float to meet it--and then, just as all

seemed well, a dark patch of wind came scudding across the water, filled

the door's sail, and sent the door kiting off to the right again. The

game was up, The door was going to miss the float by sixty or

seventy feet.

Then the men on the float began to toss coins; there was a shout of

delight; and Billoo, trumpeting his hands, called to me:

"Make the ladies go behind the boat-house, quick!" And he began to

unbutton his coat. I herded the women behind the boat-house and ran back

to the pier. Billoo was stripping as fast as he could.

"What's he doing?" Mrs. Giddings called to me.