Gandy is Rescued from the Honey Pots.
WILL was but a few seconds in getting the necessary rope out of the
cuddy. Then, taking an oar with him, he followed Reube as fast as he
could run, casting wary eyes at the oily patches which were dotted
around his path.
The wretch in the honey pots had evidently no thought that his enemies
would attempt his rescue. When he saw them approaching he thought they
came to mock him or to gloat over his last agony, and he nerved himself
to control the terror which had unmanned him. Then he saw the boat hook,
the oar, the rope, and he knew that these meant help if help were
possible. A wild hope, mixed with wonder, lit up his deep-set eyes.
Could it be that Reube Dare would try to save him after all that he had
done? To let him perish would be just, and so easy and so safe. To help
him would be perilous indeed, for no one could go among the honey pots
without taking his life in his hands; and yet here was Reube, here was
that interfering Carter chap, running toward him as if there were no
such things as honey pots. He could not understand it. The deadly mud
was sucking, sucking, sucking at his feet, his knees, his thighs. It was
like dumb, insatiable tongues of strange monsters curling about him.
Nevertheless, he half forgot the horror in a new feeling which broke
upon his spirit, and this emotion spoke in his eyes as Reube arrived at
the edge of the honey pot. Reube saw it, and it insensibly softened his
voice as he said:
“Keep up your nerve now, and we’ll get you out all right.” At the same
time he stretched out the boat hook, which Mart grasped with desperate
strength, pressing it to his breast with his one sound arm.
Flinging all his weight into the pull, Reube surged mightily on the boat
hook. But his utmost force produced no effect. The pull of the twisting
mud was mightier. Instead of extricating Gandy, even by an inch, he
found himself sinking. He was on treacherous ground. With a quick wrench
he freed the leg that was caught by dragging it from its boot. Then,
leaving the boot where it was, he ran around to the other side of the
honey pot and felt for firm standing ground.
As he did so, Will came up breathing quickly.
“Be keerful on your right!” cried Gandy, sharply, and Will sprang aside,
just avoiding a bad spot.
“Thanks, Gandy,” he remarked, in a casual way, as if Gandy had picked up
his hat for him or handed him a match. Then he flung a coil of rope,
saying:
“Fix the end of that under your arms; fix it firm, so that it won’t
slip.”
Then he went round the honey pot to where Reube was standing, with pale
brow knitted closely.
“What are we going to do?” asked Reube. “I can’t budge him.”
Gandy, in spite of shattered arm, had succeeded in fastening the rope
about his waist, and now, placing the long, light shaft of the boat hook
in front of him, was bearing down upon it as hard as he could.
“That’s a good idea,” cried Will. “But here, Mart, the oar will be
better because it’s bigger round and flat in the blade. Fling us the
boat hook and take the oar!”
These efforts, though they had not at all availed to extricate the
victim, had kept him from being dragged further down. With the oar he
was able to exert his strength to more advantage. Will now made a loop
in the rope and passed the handle of the boat hook through it. Then, one
on each side of the rope, and each with the shaft across his breast, so
that the whole formed a sort of rude harness, Will and Reube bent their
bodies to the pull like oxen in a yoke. At the same time Gandy, using
his unwounded arm, lifted with all the force that despair could give
him.
For two or three seconds there was no result. Was it all to be in vain?
Then from Gandy’s white lips came a gasping cry of “She gives!” and
slowly, slowly at first, then with a sudden yielding which nearly threw
the rescuers to the ground, that terrible hold gave way, and Gandy, was
jerked forward upon solid ground.
White and panting from the strain, they turned to free him from the
rope. He had fainted and lay as if dead. The anguish of his wound and of
his terror and the gigantic effort which he had just put forth had
overcome him.
[Illustration: Will and Reube bent their bodies to the pull.]
“Let’s get the poor wretch down to the water,” proposed Will.
“We’ll take him right aboard the _Dido_, where we can see to his arm and
fix him a place in the cuddy,” said Reube. “The _Dido’s_ hard and fast
now for another six hours, so we can take our time. But I wish we could
get the chap to a doctor sooner than that.”
So saying, he picked up Gandy’s long form and walked with it easily down
to the boat. The wounded man was still unconscious. A bed of quilts was
fixed for him, and Reube was just about to cut the sleeve from his shirt
to examine the arm and bathe it when Will cried:
“Hold on a minute, Reube. The way the boat lies now I think we can pry
her off with the oar. See how the sands dip away on the outside.”
He was right. Using the big oar as a lever, they got the _Dido_ afloat
in a very few moments. Then Reube said:
“You sail the boat, Will, and I’ll see to the patient.”
“You had better let me attend to him while you steer,” suggested Will.
“No,” said Reube; “he’s my own private enemy, and I must look after him
myself. You see to the boat.” And Will obeyed without more ado.
Had they been watching Gandy’s face they would have seen the eyes open
and instantly close again. But Reube was delicately cutting the sleeve
away and Will was watching the process, the sail, and the _Dido’s_
course all at the same time. Gandy was conscious, but in a faint way he
was wondering over the situation in which he found himself. Presently he
heard Will speak again:
“Well, now you’ve got him, and the poor rascal is a good deal worse for
wear. I can’t for the life of me see what you’re going to do with him.”
Will’s voice was kind, in a bantering way. He found it hard to maintain
a proper degree of righteous indignation against a man whose life he had
just saved. And that helpless arm he could not but contemplate with
pity.
“I’m going to get him home and into the doctor’s hands,” said Reube. “It
seems to me he’s punished enough this time, and maybe he’ll realize it.
Anyway, I’m not going to take action against him after all the trouble
we’ve had to save him. We’ll just say nothing about that shot from the
rocks till we see how he turns out when he gets well. If there’s any
good in him, this experience ought to bring it out. And there must be
some good streak in a fellow that’s faithful to his family the way Mart
is.”
By this time the arm was bare, and Reube was bathing it tenderly. Then,
covering the wound with a wet compress, he bandaged it loosely and rose
to fix a shelter over the patient’s face. To his amazement the tears
were rolling down Gandy’s sallow cheeks.
“What’s the matter, Mart? Feeling worse?” he inquired, anxiously.
But Gandy made no reply. He covered his face with his one available arm,
and Reube could perceive his thin lips working strangely. Having seen
that he was as comfortable as he knew how to make him, Reube seated
himself by Will in the stern. Save for a few chance and commonplace
remarks, there was silence between the two comrades for an hour, while
the _Dido_ sped merrily homeward. They had enough to occupy their
thoughts in that day’s adventures, but they did not wish to talk of what
their captive could hardly like to hear about. At last Will remarked:
“It’s warm, Reube, and your patient must be thirsty.”
“That’s so,” said Reube, springing up. With a tin of fresh water he
stepped over to Gandy’s side, slipped an arm under his head to raise it,
and said:
“Here, Mart, take a sup to cool your lips. They look parched.”
Instead of complying, Gandy grasped and clung to the hand that held the
cup.
“Forgive me,” he begged. “Reube Dare, forgive me. I never knowed what I
was doin’. To think of all I’ve done to you, an’ then you to treat me
like this!” And he covered his face again.
“Mart,” said Reube, more moved than he was willing to let appear, “never
mind about that now. We’ll let bygones be bygones. Here’s my hand on
it.” And he grasped the hand that hid Mart’s eyes.
In his weakness Gandy was so overcome that he tried to laugh just while
he was struggling not to cry, and he made a poor mixture of the attempt.
But, raising himself for a second on his elbow, he managed to murmur
unsteadily:
“I can’t talk, but, ’fore God, I’ll show you both what I think of yous.”
And Mart Gandy kept his word through after years of loyal devotion to
these two young men who on this day had taught him a new knowledge of
the human heart. An ambition to seem worthy in their eyes led him to
mend his life, and the Gandy name soon grew in favor throughout the
Tantramar countryside.
As for the _Dido_, fate looked kindly on her trips all that season and
for several seasons thereafter. That autumn Reube took his mother to
Boston. Mrs. Carter, with Will and Ted, went at the same time; and after
a simple operation, much less painful than had been expected, Mrs. Dare
regained the perfect use of her eyes. On their return to the Tantramar
Will and Ted set out again for college, and this time Reube went with
them. His _Dido_ had proved herself a fair match for the new marsh in
the matter of giving her master an education. During successive summer
holidays she carried Reube and Will and Ted on many a profitable and
merry trip, but never again did she experience one so eventful as that
with which she began her career as a Tantramar shad boat.
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER NOTES
Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in punctuation have been maintained.
Some illustrations were moved to facilitate page layout.
A cover was created for this eBook.
[The end of _Reube Dare's Shad Boat: A Tale of the Tide Country_, by
Charles G. D. (George Douglas) Roberts.]