I found that the troop had done a good day'swork caulking the hull up and slapping a couple of coats of copperpaint on it, while the tide was out. So then we decided that as longas the tide was going down, we'd float her down with it to the BridgeboroRiver and then wait for the up tide to float her upstream to Bridgeboro.We decided that we'd rather fix her up in Bridgeboro. So you see thatthis chapter is about the tide, too. Mr. Ellsworth and Mr. Donnelle bothtold me that I must have plenty of movement in my story, so I guess thetide's a good character for a story, because it's always moving.
Well, you ought to have seen those fellows when I sailed in shoutingthat I was Weetonka, the famous Indian chief. Doc Carson dropped hispaint brush on Connie Bennett and he was splashed all over with copperpaint--good night!
"Where did you get that thing," Pee-wee shouted, "it looks like ahorse's trough."
"You have to part your hair in the middle to ride in it, I can tell youthat," I told him.
"Where were you all the time?" he said.
"I was captured by a band of Apaches," I said.
"What kind of a band?" Pee-wee yelled.
"A brass band," I told him; "a brass band ofApaches."
"You make me sick!" he said, kind of disgusted.
"They took me to their village and were going to burn me at the stake,only the butcher didn't bring it, then they decided they'd chop me topieces only the butcher didn't bring the chops--"
Oh, boy! you should have seen that kid. He fired a wet bailing spongeat me and I dodged it and it hit one of his own patrol--kerflop! I guessyou'll think all us fellows are crazy, especially me. I should worry.I told them I escaped in the canoe and all that kind of stuff, but atlast I told them the real story and you can bet they were glad I wassaved. They all said I had a narrow escape, and I admit it was onlyabout an inch wide.
Now, I have to tell you about how we floated the house-boat down toBridgeboro River, and maybe you'd better look at the map, hey? Oh, butfirst I want to tell you about the name we gave it. Some name! Wechristened it with a bottle of mosquito dope. It's regular name was allrubbed off, so we decided we'd vote on a new name.
This is the way we fixed it. Each patrol thought of a name and then wemixed the three names up and made one name out of them. Then you justadd a little sugar and serve.
The Ravens voted the name Sprite, the Elks voted the name Fly and theSilver Foxes voted the name Weetonka, on account of me. Then we wroteall these letters down and mixed them all up and arranged them everywhich way, till we got this name:
RESOPEKITWAFTENLY
Oh, boy, some laugh we had over that name. We were all sitting around inthe two cabin rooms and believe me, it was some giggling match.
"It sounds like a Bolshevik name," Westy Martin said.
"You wait till the infernal revenue people get that name," I said, "it'llknock'em out." Because, of course, I knew we'd have to send the name tothe infernal revenue people--I mean internal or eternal or whatever youcall it--because you have to do that to get your license number.
"It's a good name," I said, "you don't see it every day."
"Thank goodness for that," Doc Carson said, It's as long as a spellinglesson or Pee-wee's tongue."
"It'll be a pretty expensive name; it'll take a lot of paint," BrickWarner said.
"We should worry," I said.
So then I made some coffee, because I'm the troop cook, and we thoughtit was best to eat before we started. That bunch is always hungry.
They said it was punk coffee, but that was because they didn't bringenough to go around.
"Don't laugh at the coffee," I told them, "you may be old and weakyourselves some day." I made some flapjacks, too, and then we started.
We didn't have to do much work because the ebb was running good andstrong, and we just sat around the deck with our feet dangling over,and pushed her off with our scout staffs whenever she ran against theshores. She didn't keep head on, but that was no matter as long as shewent, and pretty soon (I guess it must have been about seven o'clock)we went waltzing into Bridgeboro River.
And then was when we made a crazy mistake.
Just for a minute we forgot that the tide would be running down theriver instead of up. If we had only remembered that, three or four ofus could have gone ashore with a rope and tied her in the channel,which ran along the near shore. Then all we would have had to do wouldhave been to sit around and wait for it to turn, so we could drift upto Bridgeboro with it.
But just when we were floating out of the creek, we forgot all aboutwhat the tide would do to us, unless we were on the job and sure enoughit caught us and sent us whirling around and away over on to the flats.
"Good night!" I said when I heard her scrape.
"We should have had sense enough to know the tide is stronger here thanin the creek," they all said.
"What's the difference?" Dorry Benton said,
"We're stuck on the flats, that's all. Now we don't have to bother totie her. When the tide changes, we'll float off and go on upstream allright. We're just as well off as if we were tied up in the channel."
Well, I guess he was right except for what happened pretty soon. So wesettled down to wait for the tide to go down and change. After a whilewe began to see the flats all around us and there wasn't any water nearus at all--only the water in the channel away over near the west shore.We were high and dry and there wasn't any way for a fellow to get awayfrom where we were, because he couldn't swim and he'd only sink in themud, if he tried to walk it.
Well, while we were sitting around trying to figure out how long itwould be before the water would go down and then come up enough tocarry us off, Doc Carson said, "Listen!" and we heard the chug of amotor boat quite a long way off.
It was getting dark good and fast now, and there was a pretty widestretch of flats between us and the channel. Pretty soon we could hearvoices--all thin, sort of, as if they came from a long way off. That'sthe way it is on the water.
"She's coming down Dutch Creek," one of the fellows said. After a whileanother fellow said he thought it was Jake Holden. Then another one saidit wasn't.
"Sure it is," Connie Bennett said, "listen."
Then as plain as day I could hear the words "Crab running," and then ina minute something about "bad news." Pretty soon, through the steadychugging I could hear a voice say very plain, "I'm glad it doesn't haveto be me to tell her."
We couldn't make them out because it was getting too dark, but it wasJake Holden, the fisherman, all right. Pretty soon the engine beganchugging double, sort of, and I knew they were going around the cornerinto Bridgeboro River, because there's a steep shore there, and itmakes an echo.
I was a chump not to realize what they were talking about, but they hadchugged around into Bridgeboro River and were heading upstream before itpopped into my thick head. And even then it was on account of somethingelse they said, as the chugging grew fainter all the time. It seemed asif I heard it while I was dreaming, as you might say. I knew they werepretty far upstream by now, but the voice was awful clear, like voicesalways sound across the water, especially in the night.
"He was a nice little fellow," that's what I said, "but he had a rightto keep out of that place."
Then, all of a sudden, I knew. They were talking about me. They musthave been up that creek fishing and found that note of mine. And theywere going to tell my people as soon as they got home.
"Holler to them, fellows!" I said; "quick-all together."
I guess the fellows must have thought I was crazy, but they holleredfor all they were worth. But it was no use, for nobody answered. Iguess the wind must have been blowing our way or something--anyway, theydidn't pay any attention. Then pretty soon I couldn't hear the chuggingany more at all.
Oh, jiminies, but I felt bad. Maybe you think that as long as I escapedand would get home all right I ought to be satisfied. But that's becauseyou don't know anything about my mother. When my brother died I saw howshe acted and the doctor said s
he had to stay in bed two or three dayson account of her heart being not just right. Maybe he thought it wouldstop, I guess. And gee, I didn't want her to hear any bad news, even ifit wasn't true. 'Cause I knew just how she'd act--I could just see her,sort of. I guess I was kind of thinking about it and how it would bewhen Jake Holden went to the house, and how she'd have to wait five orsix hours, maybe till morning, before she saw me, when all of a suddenI heard Will Dawson of my patrol say, "What's the matter, Blakey?"--healways calls me Blakey. But I didn't pay any attention to him, because Icouldn't speak--exactly. I didn't seem to see any of the troop, I onlyjust saw my mother standing, maybe kind of unsteady like, and listeningto Jake Holden.
Then all of a sudden I walked straight over to where the Ravens were allsitting on the cabin roof. And I spoke to Wigley Wig-wag Weigand.
I said--this is just what I said--I said, "Wig, I always claimed RalphWarner was the best signaler in the troop and maybe you'll remember Iwas mad when you got the badge. But now I ain't mad, and I ain'tjealous, only I don't want those men to go and tell my mother I'mdead--I--I don't. I forgot to take the note away and they're going totell her and she--she has--her heart isn't very strong like. There'sonly one fellow in the troop can do it--it's you. You can do it. You cando anything, signalling. I've got to admit it now, when I need you.You're a Raven, but I want you to signal, quick. They'll see it in town.You're the only fellow can do it--you are. I got to admit it."
He didn't say much because he isn't much on talking. He's alwaysstudying the Handbook. But he jumped down and he just said, "I'll fixit." And I knew he would.
CHAPTER IX
THE LOST LETTER
Then Elmer Sawyer (he's a Raven) came up to me and said, "He'll do it,Roy; don't worry. And they'll get it too, because everybody in town isout these nights looking at the searchlights down the Hudson."
That was one lucky thing. A lot of cruisers and torpedo boats were downin the harbor and up the Hudson, and we could see their searchlightseven in Bridgeboro.
Wig looked all around the cabin as if he was hunting for something andthen he said, "No searchlight, I suppose." If we had only had asearchlight it would have been easy, but there wasn't any on board.
"Don't you care," Pee-wee said to me, "he'll think of a way." Oh, jiminy,but he was proud of Wig. I could see that Wig was thinking and for justa few seconds it seemed as if he couldn't make up his mind what to do.
"Can you smudge it?" Connie Bennett asked.
"Guess so," he said, "you fellows rip open the ends of these cushions,but don't tear the covering any, and somebody get the stove cleared out;see if there's a damper in the pipe, and see if there's any bilge underthe flooring. It'll take those fellows about twenty minutes to chug upto Bridgeboro."
Well, in two seconds he had us all Hying every which way, Elks, SilverFoxes and all. We didn't have to open more than one of the seat cushionsand, lucky thing, we found it full of excelsior. That makes a goodsmudge.
"Only you've got to treat it," Wig said.
"Treat it!" I said; "I'll treat it to all the ice cream it can eat, ifit'll only help you to send the message." I was feeling good now.
"Take it down in the bilge and treat it," he said, very sober like, toone of his patrol.
"Don't let it spend a cent," I called after him.
But I didn't go because I could see he would rather have Ravens helphim. You can't blame him for that. In about half a minute they cameupstairs and they had a lot of the excelsior all damp, but not exactlywet, and I don't know how they got it that way, except I know therewas bilge water down under the flooring. They're a lot of crackerjackson signalling, I'll say that much for them. There was a stove in themain cabin with a stovepipe going straight up through the roof like asmoke stack and there was a damper in it right near the stove.
"Get a handbook or a pocket code," somebody said, "so he'll have thesigns right near him."
"He doesn't need any signs," Pee-wee shouted, disgusted like.
Well, this is the way Wig did it, and after he got started, most of uswent up on the roof to see if we could read it. But that's mighty hardto do when you're right underneath it.
By the time the fellows came upstairs with the damp excelsior (that'swhat they call the smudge) Wig had a good fire started in the stove.
"Lay that stuff down here," he said; then he said to me, "What do youwant to say?"
"Just say I'm safe, Wig," I told him. "Say for them not to pay anyattention to what they hear."
I only waited long enough for him to get started, just so as to seehow he did it, then I went up on the roof and watched the long blacksmoke column. Cracky, I was glad it was moonlight, that's one sure thing.
As soon as he had a good fire started he stuffed some of the dampexcelsior in and shut the door, and told Artie Van Arlen (he's theirpatrol leader) to hold a rag over the crack in the door, because theblack smoke was pouring out that way, especially because the damper inthe pipe was shut.
I didn't stay there long, because the smoke was too thick for me andwhen I saw Artie bind a wet rag over Wig's eyes and mouth, I knew then itwas going to be mighty bad in that little cabin.
"Have another ready," I heard him say; "better have three or four ofthem."
Then he put his hand on the damper in the pipe and turned it and thenthe smoke in the cabin wasn't so bad. He just turned it around quick andkept turning it around and that let little puffs of smoke through, and Iheard the fellows up on the roof shouting, "Hurrah!" so I knew it wasworking all right. He sent up a lot of little puffs like that, just soas to draw attention, and he; kept doing it so long I got impatient.
"No use talking till you know somebody's listening," he said, kind ofpleasant like to me. I guess maybe he never liked me very much, becauseI didn't want that badge to get into their patrol and anyway he's kindof sober, sort of, and maybe he thought I had too much nonsense. But, oh,boy, I was strong for him now...and I could see how he began to coughand I was worried.
Then he groped around to get hold of the damper, for he was blindfoldedand the smoke in there was getting thicker and thicker. Then he gave ita quick turn, then waited a few seconds, then held it lengthwise withthe pipe for about twenty seconds.
"R," I said to myself.
Then he opened the damper three times, each about twenty seconds, and Icould hear the fellows up on the roof shouting.
"O! It's a good O! Bully for Wig Weigand!"
"Give me another towel, quick," he said to Artie. "Is the window open?you better go up, Kid."
It was the first time he ever called me kid and he had to cough when hesaid it. But I just couldn't move. There was something in my throat andmy eyes that wasn't smoke, and I said, "I can stand it if you can--Wig."
"Go on up, kid," he said, "we've--got--got--her--talking--now," and hecoughed and choked.
"Go on up, Roy," Artie Van Arlen said.
Up on the roof all the fellows were sitting 'round the edge with theirlegs over, watching the black column in the sky, and shouting when theyread the letters. But I was thinking about those fellows down in thatcabin filled with smoke and how they were doing that all on account of me.
"Pretty smoky down there," one of the Elks said to me.
"You said something," I told him.
"He's marking up the sky all right, if he can only stick it out,"another fellow said. "Who's down there with him ?"
"Artie," I said.
"They'll stick it out, all right," Westy Martin said; "it's easier forArtie, he can stay near the window ."
"Bully for you, Wig, old boy!" somebody shouted, just as the E in SAFEshot up. And I knew what it meant--it meant that the words Roy is safehad been printed in great big black letters across the sky.
Then it came faster and faster and it seemed as if he must be turningthat damper like a telegraph operator moves his key. "Don't worry!"it said, "reports false," "Roy Blakeley safe," "Roy safe," "Blakeleyalive." He said it all kinds of different ways.
Once Artie came up coughing an
d choking and watched a few seconds tosee if the wind was blowing the smoke away as fast as the signs weremade, because that was important.
"It's lucky we have that wind," he said, and then went down again ina hurry.
Pretty soon we could see some searchlights far away and I guess theywere on the ships. But ours was different and nearer to Bridgeboro,and people would be sure to see it, only maybe they wouldn't understandit and that's what made me worry. I'm good on reading smudge signals,even though I never sent many and I never have to have the handbook whenI read the code, that's one thing. And I didn't pay much attention toall the talking and yelling, only kept my eyes up in the sky, watchingthat long smoky column. It beat any searchlight you ever saw. "Royalive"--"Roy alive" it kept saying and sometimes "don't worry."
I didn't see how any fellow could manage a smudge and send it so fastand keep his spaces. The last word before it stopped was SAFE, orthat's what it was meant to be, only the short flash for E didn'tcome. The fellows all began shouting when there wasn't any more, and Iheard Pee-wee shout downstairs, "Aren't you going to put the name of theboat?"
"Do you want him to crack the sky open?" I heard a fellow say, and theyall laughed.
But I remembered how that last E didn't come and I started down theladder for all I was worth. I scrambled around the narrow part of thedeck to the window and called, but nobody answered. The smoke wascoming out thick.
"Wig," I said, "are you there? Are you all right? Artie, where are you?"
Roy Blakeley: His Story Page 4