IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT
It is probable that John Ellery never fully realized the debt of
gratitude he owed to the fog and the squall and to Captain Nat Hammond.
Trumet, always hungry for a sensation, would have thoroughly enjoyed
arguing and quarreling over the minister's visit to Come-Outer meeting,
and, during the fracas, Keziah's parson might have been more or less
battered. But Captain Nat's brilliant piloting of the old packet was
a bit of seamanship which every man and woman on that foam-bordered
stretch of sand could understand and appreciate, and the minister's
indiscretion was all but forgotten in consequence. The “Daily
Advertisers” gloated over it, of course, and Captain Elkanah brought it
up at the meeting of the parish committee, but there Captain Zeb Mayo
championed the young man's course and proclaimed that, fur's he was
concerned, he was for Mr. Ellery more'n ever. “A young greenhorn
with the spunk to cruise single-handed right into the middle of the
Come-Outer school and give an old bull whale like Eben the gaff is the
man for my money,” declared Zebedee. Most of his fellow-committee agreed
with him. “Not guilty, but don't do it again,” was the general verdict.
As for the Come-Outers, they professed to believe that their leader had
much the best of the encounter, so they were satisfied. There was a
note of triumph and exultation in the “testimony” given on the following
Thursday night, and Captain Eben divided his own discourse between
thankfulness for his son's safe return and glorification at the
discomfiture of the false prophets. Practically, then, the result of
Ellery's peace overture was an increased bitterness in the feeling
between the two societies and a polishing of weapons on both sides.
Keziah watched anxiously for a hint concerning her parson's walk in the
rain with Grace, but she heard nothing, so congratulated herself that
the secret had been kept. Ellery did not again mention it to her, nor
she to him. A fortnight later he preached his great sermon on “The
Voyage of Life,” and its reference to gales and calms and lee shores and
breakers made a hit. His popularity took a big jump.
He met Nat Hammond during that fortnight. The first meeting was
accompanied by unusual circumstances, which might have been serious, but
were actually only funny.
The tide at Trumet, on the bay side, goes out for a long way, leaving
uncovered a mile and a half of flats, bare and sandy, or carpeted with
seaweed. Between these flats are the channels, varying at low water from
two to four feet in depth, but deepening rapidly as the tide flows.
The flats fascinated the young minister, as they have many another
visitor to the Cape, before or since. On cloudy days they lowered with
a dull, leaden luster and the weed-grown portions were like the dark
squares on a checkerboard, while the deep water beyond the outer bar was
steely gray and angry. When the sun shone and the wind blew clear from
the northwest the whole expanse flashed into fire and color, sapphire
blue, emerald green, topaz yellow, dotted with white shells and ablaze
with diamond sparkles where the reflected light leaped from the flint
crystals of the wet, coarse sand.
The best time to visit the flats--tide serving, of course--is the early
morning at sunrise. Then there is an inspiration in the wide expanse, a
snap and tang and joy in the air. Ellery had made up his mind to take a
before-breakfast tramp to the outer bar and so arose at five, tucked a
borrowed pair of fisherman's boots beneath his arm, and, without saying
anything to his housekeeper, walked down the lawn behind the parsonage,
climbed the rail fence, and “cut across lots” to the pine grove on the
bluff. There he removed his shoes, put on the boots, wallowed through
the mealy yellow sand forming the slope of the bluff, and came out on
the white beach and the inner edge of the flats. Then he plashed on,
bound out to where the fish weirs stood, like webby fences, in the
distance.
It was a wonderful walk on a wonderful day. The minister enjoyed every
minute of it. Out here he could forget the petty trials of life, the
Didamas and Elkanahs. The wind blew his hat off and dropped it in a
shallow channel, but he splashed to the rescue and laughed aloud as he
fished it out. It was not much wetter than it had been that night of
the rain, when he tried to lend his umbrella and didn't succeed. This
reflection caused him to halt in his walk and look backward toward the
shore. The brown roof of the old tavern was blushing red in the first
rays of the sun.
A cart, drawn by a plodding horse and with a single individual on its
high seat, was moving out from behind the breakwater. Some fisherman
driving out his weir, probably.
The sand of the outer bar was dimpled and mottled like watered silk by
the action of the waves. It sloped gradually down to meet the miniature
breakers that rolled over and slid in ripples along its edge. Ellery
wandered up and down, picking up shells and sea clams, and peering
through the nets of the nearest weir at the “horsefoot crabs” and squid
and flounders imprisoned in the pound. There were a few bluefish there,
also, and a small school of mackerel.
The minister had been on the bar a considerable time before he began to
think of returning to the shore. He was hungry, but was enjoying himself
too well to mind. The flats were all his that morning. Only the cart and
its driver were in sight and they were half a mile off. He looked at
his watch, sighed, and reluctantly started to walk toward the town; he
mustn't keep Mrs. Coffin's breakfast waiting TOO long.
The first channel he came to was considerably deeper than when he forded
it on the way out. He noticed this, but only vaguely. The next, however,
was so deep that the water splashed in at the top of one of his boots.
He did notice that, because though he was not wearing his best clothes,
he was not anxious to wet his “other ones.” The extent of his wardrobe
was in keeping with the size of his salary.
And the third channel was so wide and deep that he saw at once it could
not be forded, unless he was willing to plunge above his waist. This
was provoking. Now he realized that he had waited too long. The tide had
been flowing for almost an hour; it had flowed fast and, as he should
have remembered, having been told, the principal channels were eight
feet deep before the highest flats were covered.
He hurried along the edge, looking for a shallower place, but found
none. At last he reached the point of the flat he was on and saw, to
his dismay, that here was the deepest spot yet, a hole, scoured out by a
current like a mill race. Turning, he saw, creeping rapidly and steadily
together over the flat behind him, two lines of foam, one from each
channel. His retreat was cut off.
He was in for a wetting, that was sure. However, there was no help for
it, so he waded in. The water filled his boots there, it gurgled about
his hips, and beyond, as he could see, it seemed to grow deeper and
deeper. The current was surprisingly strong; he found it difficult to
keep his footing in the soft sand. It looked as though he must swim for
it, and to swim in that tide would be no joke.
Then, from behind him, came a hail. He turned and saw moving toward him
through the shallow water now covering the flat beyond the next channel,
the cart he had seen leave the shore by the packet wharf, and, later, on
the outer bar. The horse was jogging along, miniature geysers spouting
beneath its hoofs. The driver waved to him.
“Hold on, mate,” he called. “Belay there. Stay where you are. I'll be
alongside in a shake. Git dap, January!”
Ellery waded back to meet this welcome arrival. The horse plunged into
the next channel, surged through it, and emerged dripping. The driver
pulled the animal into a walk.
“Say,” he cried, “I'm cruisin' your way; better get aboard, hadn't you?
There's kind of a heavy dew this mornin'. Whoa, Bill!”
“Bill” or “January” stopped with apparent willingness. The driver leaned
down and extended a hand. The minister took it and was pulled up to the
seat.
“Whew!” he panted. “I'm much obliged to you. I guess you saved me from a
ducking, if nothing worse.”
“Yes,” was the answer, “I wouldn't wonder if I did. This ain't Saturday
night and 'twould be against Trumet principles to take a bath any other
time. All taut, are you? Good enough! then we'll get under way.” He
flapped the reins and added, “G'long, Julius Caesar!”
The horse, a sturdy, sedate beast to whom all names seemed to be alike,
picked up his feet and pounded them down again. Showers of spray flew
about the heads of the pair on the seat.
“I ain't so sure about that duckin',” commented the rescuer. “Hum! I
guess likely we'll be out of soundin's if we tackle that sink hole you
was undertakin' to navigate. Let's try it a little further down.”
Ellery looked his companion over.
“Well,” he observed with a smile, “from what I've heard of you, Captain
Hammond, I rather guess you could navigate almost any water in this
locality and in all sorts of weather.”
The driver turned in surprise.
“So?” he exclaimed. “You know me, do you? That's funny. I was tryin' to
locate you, but I ain't been able to. You ain't a Trumetite I'll bet on
that.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Tut! tut! tut! you don't tell me. Say, shipmate, you hurt my pride. I
did think there wa'n't a soul that ever trod sand in this village that I
couldn't name on sight, and give the port they hailed from and the names
of their owners. But you've got me on my beam ends. And yet you knew
ME.”
“Of course I did. Everybody knows the man that brought the packet home.”
Nat Hammond sniffed impatiently.
“Um--hm!” he grunted. “I cal'late everybody does, and knows a lot more
about that foolishness than I do myself. If ever a craft was steered
by guess and by godfrey, 'twas that old hooker of Zach's t'other night.
Well--Humph! here's another piece of pilotin' that bids fair to be a
mighty sight harder. Heave ahead, Hannibal! hope you've got your web
feet with you.”
They had moved along the edge of the flat a short distance and now
turned into the channel. The horse was wading above its knees; soon the
water reached its belly and began to flow into the body of the cart.
“Pick up your feet, shipmate,” commanded Nat. “You may get rheumatiz if
you don't. This'll be a treat for those sea clams back in that bucket
amidships. They'll think I've repented and have decided to turn 'em
loose again. They don't know how long I've been countin' on a sea-clam
pie. I'll fetch those clams ashore if I have to lug 'em with my teeth.
Steady, all hands! we're off the ways.”
The cart was afloat. The horse, finding wading more difficult than
swimming, began to swim.
“Now I'm skipper again, sure enough,” remarked Hammond. “Ain't gettin'
seasick, are you?”
The minister laughed.
“No,” he said.
“Good! she keeps on a fairly even keel, considerin' her build. THERE
she strikes! That'll do, January; you needn't try for a record voyage.
Walkin's more in your line than playin' steamboat. We're over the worst
of it now. Say! you and I didn't head for port any too soon, did we?”
“No, I should say not. I ought to have known better than to wait out
there so long. I've been warned about this tide. I--”
“S-sh-sh! YOU ought to have known better! What do you think of me? Born
and brought up within sight and smell of this salt puddle and let myself
in for a scrape like this! But it was so mighty fine off there on the
bar I couldn't bear to leave it. I always said that goin' to sea on
land would be the ideal way, and now I've tried it. But you took bigger
chances than I did. Are you a good swimmer?”
“Not too good. I hardly know what might have happened if you hadn't--”
“S-sh-sh! that's all right. Always glad to pick up a derelict, may be a
chance for salvage, you know. Here's the last channel and it's an easy
one. There! now it's plain sailin' for dry ground.”
The old horse, breathing heavily from his exertions, trotted over the
stretch of yet uncovered flats and soon mounted the slope of the beach.
The minister prepared to alight.
“Captain Hammond,” he said, “you haven't asked me my name.”
“No, I seldom do more'n once. There have been times when I'D just as
soon cruise without too big letters alongside my figurehead.”
“Well, my name is Ellery.”
“Hey? WHAT? Oh, ho! ho! ho!”
He rocked back and forth on the seat. The minister's feelings were a bit
hurt, though he tried not to show it.
“You mustn't mind my laughin',” explained Nat, still chuckling. “It
ain't at you. It's just because I was wonderin' what you'd look like if
I should meet you and now--Ho! ho! You see, Mr. Ellery, I've heard of
you, same as you said you'd heard of me.”
Ellery smiled, but not too broadly.
“Yes,” he admitted, “I imagined you had.”
“Yes, seems to me dad mentioned your name once or twice. As much as
that, anyhow. Wonder what he'd say if he knew his son had been takin'
you for a mornin' ride?”
“Probably that it would have been much better to have left me where you
found me.”
The captain's jolly face grew serious.
“No, no!” he protested. “Not so bad as that. Dad wouldn't drown anybody,
not even a Regular minister. He's a pretty square-built old craft, even
though his spiritual chart may be laid out different from yours--and
mine.”
“From yours? Why, I supposed--”
“Yes, I know. Well, WHEN I go to meetin', I generally go to the chapel
to please father. But when it comes right down to a confession of faith,
I'm pretty broad in the beam. Maybe I'd be too broad even for you, Mr.
Ellery.”
The minister, who had jumped to the ground, looked up.
“Captain Hammond,” he said, “I'm very glad indeed that I met you. Not
alone because you helped me out of a bad scrape; I realize how bad it
might have been and that--”
“Shsh! shh! Nothin' at all. Don't be foolish.”
“But I'm glad, too, because I've heard so many good things about you
that I was sure you must be worth knowing. I hope you won't believe I
went to your father's meeting with any--”
“No, no! Jumpin' Moses, man! I don't find fault with you for that. I
understand, I guess.”
“Well, if you don't mind the fact that I am what I am, I'd like to shake
hands with you.”
Nat reached down a big brown hand.
“Same here,” he said. “Always glad to shake with a chap as well
recommended as you are. Yes, indeed, I mean it. You see, you've got a
friend that's a friend of mine, and when she guarantees a man to be A.
B., I'll ship him without any more questions.”
“Well, then, good-by. I hope we shall meet again and often. And I
certainly thank you for--”
“That's all right. Maybe you'll fish ME out of the drink some day; you
never can tell. So long! Git dap, Gen'ral Scott!”
He drove off up the beach, but before he turned the corner of the
nearest dune he called back over his shoulder:
“Say, Mr. Ellery, if you think of it you might give my regards
to--to--er--the lady that's keepin' house for you.”
Breakfast had waited nearly an hour when the minister reached home.
Keziah, also, was waiting and evidently much relieved at his safe
arrival.
“Sakes alive!” she exclaimed, as she met him at the back door. “Where in
the world have you been, Mr. Ellery? Soakin' wet again, too!”
Ellery replied that he had been for a walk out to the bar. He sat down
on the step to remove the borrowed boots. A small rivulet of salt water
poured from each as he pulled them off.
“For a walk! A swim, you mean. How could you get in up to your waist if
you just walked? Did you fall down?”
“No, not exactly. But I waited too long and the tide headed me off.”
“Mercy on us! you mustn't take chances on that tide. If you'd told me
you was goin', I'd have warned you to hurry back.”
“Oh, I've been warned often enough. It was my own fault, as usual. I'm
not sure that I don't need a guardian.”
“Humph! well, I ain't sure either. Was the channels very deep?”
“Deep enough. The fact is, that I might have got into serious trouble if
I hadn't been picked up.”
He told briefly the story of his morning's adventure. The housekeeper
listened with growing excitement.
“Heavens to Betsy!” she interrupted. “Was the channel you planned to
swim the one at the end of the flat by the longest weir leader?”
“Yes.”
“My soul! there's been two men drowned in that very place at half tide.
And they were good swimmers. After this I shan't dare let you out of my
sight.”
“So? Was it as risky as that? Why, Captain Hammond didn't tell me so. I
must owe him more even than I thought.”
“Yes, I guess you do. He wouldn't tell you, though; that ain't his way.
Deary me! for what we've received let us be thankful. And that reminds
me that biscuits ought to be et when they're first made, not after
they've been dried up on the back of the stove forever and ever amen.
Go on and change those wet things of yours and then we'll eat. Tryin' to
swim the main channel on the flood! My soul and body!”
“Captain Nat sent his regards to you, Mrs. Coffin,” said the minister,
moving toward the stairs.
“Did, hey?” was the housekeeper's reply. “Want to know!”