So it went on through the long, dark hours. He would take an interval ofrest and then jump up to his vigil at the bell for fear he would fallasleep and miss some passing ship.
The night seemed interminable. Indeed, he began to believe that he hadfallen asleep and that a day had passed and another night had comewithout his being aware of it, for never had he thought the dark hourswere so long.
Morning came at last and with the first streak of light on the easternhorizon, hope came back anew. The rain gradually ceased and duringSkippy’s intervals of rest he watched, with not a little awe, the wonderof dawn at sea. Little by little the night fled before the roseate mornand soon the entire sky was flooded with soft light. And as the suncrept up out of the sea he stretched himself across the wet seats andrelaxed.
Two hours later, he woke with the sun shining full in his face. He satup, startled, and realized that his head was aching and that he feltstiff and chilled. Moreover, he felt sick with despair to think that hehad slept away the hours of daylight, hours when a ship might havepassed near enough for him to signal.
He stood up and scanned the sunlit water in all directions but there wasnot a sign of a sail, not a sign of a ship. In the distance, a gullsoared high above the water and after a moment another one seemed toleap out of space and join it.
The tide was going out and the whole surface of the blue-green waterseemed to roll on toward the horizon in a series of undulating hills. Agentle murmur filled the warm, sunlit air and Skippy could not believethat the booming surf of the past night had been anything but a baddream.
He rang the bell for a time but had to give it up because of a terriblegiddiness in his head. And so for hours, he sat anxiously scanning theillimitable sea and sky, hoping, hoping, hoping....
Noon came and passed and the sun scorched him cruelly. The boat, too,had become a constant source of anxiety for she developed a leak and hadto be continually bailed out, and he was thankful that he had not obeyeda former impulse and tried to row her east in the hope that he wouldstrike the Hook.
Toward mid-afternoon he was conscious of pains in his chest, and hishunger and thirst were becoming unbearable, particularly the thirst, forthe heat of the sun was intense. He wished fervently for the coolingrain of the night before.
Sunset came, however, and with it a soft, cool wind. Skippy welcomed it,but hated the gray light of approaching twilight that obliterated thedeep blue clouds. It seemed to spell doom to him and he cried out indespair. If daylight had not brought rescue what hope was there left foranother long night?
His hopes sprang up afresh, however, and he conceived the idea of tyingto the bell a long length of rope which he found in the bottom of theboat. In this manner, he could ring it constantly just by pulling therope which required little exertion on his part. By dusk he was feelingtoo sick to either stand or sit up.
He entered his second night at sea both hopeful and despairing. Everydoleful clang from the bell brought him hope but in the followingsilence it would quickly vanish and he would sink in depths of despair.Then with his fast-ebbing strength he would pull hopefully at the ropeagain.
EVERY DOLEFUL CLANG FROM THE BELL BROUGHT SKIPPY HOPE.]
And so the bell tolled on through the long night hours.
CHAPTER XV RESCUED
A few hours before dawn a long, trim, high-powered motor boat cutthrough the placidly rolling waves. Its motor was so muffled that itemitted no more than a low droning sound and could be heard for only ashort distance, despite the fact that it had been let out to full speed.
Besides the man at the wheel the boat carried six men, three standingfore and three aft. One of the men aft half lounged over the coaming andhis broad shoulders and large, amiable face all but filled the stern ofthe boat. The spray constantly swept over his big, dangling hands andthe salt moisture struck at his tanned cheeks but he seemed not tonotice. His entire attention, like that of his comrades, was centered onthe grayish black horizon; his eyes seemed to miss nothing, yet therewas an abstracted look in them that the man at the wheel did not fail tonotice.
“Whadja hear, Big Joe?” he asked quietly.
The big man nodded his head without moving his body.
“’Tis that buoy,” he said absently. “Sure and she’s goin’ a great ratefor such a calm, me lad. Even in pretty bad storms I niver knowedFlint’s buoy to be ringin’ like that.”
“Flint’s?” queried another of the men, interested.
Big Joe Tully smiled reminiscently.
“And why not? ’Tis what most o’ Flint’s men called it. ’Tis a buoy atthe intrance to Kennedy’s Channel and ’tis a bad spot, if iver there waswan. Ye niver know how the tide’s goin’ to act. ’Tis like a colleen whatcan’t make up her mind, and she’s not to be trusted, so nobody goes bythat way. Besides, ’tis a long way round past the Hook. Anyways, theould boss took advantage o’ that place and we used to meet some o’ hisbest customers there and unload the stuff to thim.”
“Not a bad idea takin’ us by there for an eyeful, hey, Tully?” suggestedthe man at the wheel. “Long’s you’ve decided on playin’ ball with us,since we squared that case ’gainst you, we might as well take your tips.Seems like a wise mug like ol’ Flint never made no mistakes. He got richan’ the law never got him so if _he_ picked out a spot like this buoy,he must ’a’ known what he was doin’. Mebbe it’ll be a pretty good spotfor our customers too?”
They all laughed at this, but Big Joe Tully merely smiled and glanceddown at the compass.
“Sure and ould Flint made his mistakes and plenty,” he said in his soft,deep voice. “He made mistakes whin he didn’t watch out that the coppersdidn’t take the scows o’ men what was workin’ for his racket. And hemade a mistake whin he stuck Toby Dare with a piece o’ junk. I guess hethought he’d be puttin’ me on me uppers where I’d be goin’ back and beghim for work.”
“He got knocked off fust, didn’t he, Big Joe?” laughed the man at thewheel.
“That he did. ’Tis too bad he couldn’t ’a’ lived to see how quick Iconnected with you guys.”
“It’s too bad he couldn’ lived anyways,” said another of the men,“’cause that poor guy Dare wouldn’t be in the can then. Anyhow I don’tthink he knocked him off. I think he’d liked to ’cause Flint give him alousy break, but I believe what he said in court that some other guybeat him to it.”
“I know lots o’ guys what were layin’ for ould Flint,” said Big Joe.“Sure he’d been dead a dozen times if iverywan what had it in for him,did what they said they’d like to. That’s why they won’t be holdin’ poorToby.”
“All the same, they _are_ holdin’ poor Toby,” said the man at the wheel.“He was sentenced late yesterday afternoon for twenty years to life an’by this time he’s hittin’ the hay in the big house, that’s what.”
“And didn’t ye hear!” said another. “His kid, Skippy, ain’t been seensince he had a talk with Marty Skinner aboard the _Apollyon_. Poor kid,he went there to plead for his old man, the paper says, and thathardshell Skinner wouldn’t give him a break, I guess. The second matetold a reporter that the kid left the yacht in a rush, hopped in hiskicker and beat it for the Hook. Guess he thought as long as he couldn’tdo nothin’ for Toby, he’d get away somewhere and try an’ fergit. Well,that’s life.”
Big Joe Tully clenched his knotted, hairy fists.
“Sufferin’ swordfish!” he said. “Poor Toby! And that poor kid! ’Tis ahowlin’ shame, so ’tis.”
“Know ’em?” asked the man at the wheel.
“I oughta—I worked ’longside o’ Toby doin’ Flint’s jobs night afternight, so I did. A whiter guy than Toby niver lived. He ain’told—thirty-four or so. Got married whin he was a kid and his wife died.He’s crazy ’bout that kid o’ his, Skippy. ’Tis what makes me feel bad.”Big Joe looked down at the compass once more. “North, northeast,” hesaid to the man at the wheel. “We oughta be at Flint’s buoy in twintyminutes. The
re’s the light from the Hook.”
They watched intently the great sweeping arc of light swinging over thesmoothly rolling water. The motor boat plunged north, then northeast andin Big Joe Tully’s eyes was a thoughtful, puzzled expression, the closerthey got to the buoy.
“D’ye say there ain’t somethin’ spooky ’bout the way that bell’sringin’?” he asked his comrades. “Did ye iver hear a bell on a buoy ringlike that without stoppin’? ’Tain’t natural, ’cause....”
Just then he caught a glimpse of the little kicker bobbing merrilyalongside the buoy.
CHAPTER XVI RIVER PEOPLE
“An’ when I sees ye layin’ in the bottom o’ that kicker, I’d swore I wasseein’ things so I would,” Big Joe Tully was saying. “Lucky I gets it inme noodle that somethin’s wrong the way that bell keeps ringin’.”
The shanty of the _Minnie M. Baxter_ was bright with the light ofmid-morning. The floor had been scrubbed almost to whiteness, the tablewas laid with a soft Turkey red cloth and the lamp looked shiny andclean. Skippy’s feverish eyes took it all in before he turned on hispillow.
“I felt so sick, I didn’t exactly know it was you,” he said weakly. “Iheard voices, but I couldn’t think what it was all about. All I’dthought all night was that I hadda keep on ringin’ the bell.”
“Sure, kid, and ye rang it!” said Big Joe with a light laugh.
“An’ you sure saved me,” Skippy smiled in return. “Gee, it was lucky youcame that way, huh? Where’d you been?”
Big Joe lighted a cigarette and puffed on it before answering.
“Sure an’ just puttin’ the big eye on some new location for a newracket,” he said softly. “I got six men with me.”
“Is it—is it gonna be straight?” Skippy asked.
“Nah,” Big Joe laughed. “Who’ll be straight in the Basin and live like ahuman bein’? As ’tis, what they got? They’re all doin’ the higher-up’sdirty work; but _me_, I ain’t so foolish even if ould Flint tipped offthe coppers and they grab me scow. I got a little money and I’ll workthis new racket and make lots more. The doctor says ye’ve got a prettyweak lung so ye need a month in bed and the best o’ food. Well,sufferin’ swordfish, we’ll dig up the dough so’s ye’ll be fat an’ sassy’fore Toby comes out.”
Skippy’s eyes lighted up.
“Gee, Mr. Tully, it must be costin’ an awful lotta money for a lawyer toappeal the case, huh?”
Big Joe waved a large hand deprecatingly.
“Forget it, Skippy. Ain’t I doin’ it for a good friend and ain’t I doin’it so’s ye won’t see Toby in the can for twinty years or more? Don’t yebe worryin’ ’bout the dough, me lad. I made it with the scow easy. Nowit’ll do you and Toby some good, so ’twill.”
“Gee whiz,” breathed the boy gratefully. “It’s too much for you to dofor Pop and me ’cause we can’t pay it back—_never_!”
“That’s why ye gotta be forgettin’ it!” Tully protested. “I ain’t gotnobody to spend it on, kid, so I might’s well spend it on you and Toby.I’d only leave it to ye in me will whin I died!” He laughed loudly.“Now’ll we be good friends, kid?”
Skippy had to fight back the tears before he smiled.
“Gee, _sure_! Gee, I like you an awful lot, Mis——”
“Cut out the _Mister_, kid! Big Joe’s me monicker, and nothin’ else. Nowanythin’ more on that big mind o’ yourn?”
Skippy nodded hesitantly.
“Gee—gee whiz,” he stammered, “I just was thinkin’ wouldn’t it be niceif you had enough money so you didn’t have to go into any crookedrackets for a while, huh? Gee, I’d like to think you didn’t have to doit, honest I would, Big Joe! Maybe I’ll be able to go to work when I getstrong and I’ll be able to help then, huh? Maybe we can live on clean,honest money like Pop wanted me to, huh? Besides, the money you’rehelpin’ Pop and me with is kind of from when you were runnin’ your bargestraight, isn’t it?”
Big Joe got up from his chair, went over to the table and ground out hiscigarette stub in an ash tray. Then he came back and leaning overSkippy’s bunk, he rumpled the boy’s hair playfully.
“’Tis a funny lad ye be, Skippy. But I s’pose ye be gettin’ it fromToby. He was always agin doin’ Flint’s work. Said he wouldn’t ’a’started it if he hadn’t been takin’ care o’ ye so much daytimes whin yewas sick with that throat business.”
“Pop was always honest inside, that shows it,” said Skippy proudly.
Big Joe smiled.
“Anyways ye’re right about me runnin’ me barge straight the first year,”he said vehemently. “I did.” Then: “So ye want me on the level? Well,we’ll be seein’ about that but we ain’t goin’ to starve I’ll be tellin’ye, so I will.”
Skippy’s eyes were shining.
“You’ll get along if people can see you’re tryin’ to be honest, that’swhat Pop said.”
“Sufferin’ swordfish, kid,” said Big Joe. “Be quittin’ thinkin’ ’boutanythin’ now ’ceptin’ gettin’ better. And no more talk about work whenye’re better. Sufferin’ swordfish, ye ain’t nothin’ but skin and bones,the doctor said! Ye’re as pale as a ghost, too. Eggs, milk and chickensoup is what ye need and what ye’ll be gettin’.”
“Who’ll fix ’em?” Skippy asked, chuckling weakly.
“Our nixt door neighbor on the _Dinky O. Cross_,” Big Joe said. “She’s aright nice woman, kid—Mrs. Duffy, and as soon as she sees us carryin’ yein she said it milted her heart. So we put a plank across to her scowand she come in here and did ’bout iverythin’ ’fore the doctor come. Igive her the dough for the things and she’s cookin’ thim now.”
“She’s a—she’s one of the river people, huh? Like _you_, Big Joe?”Skippy asked wondering.
“Like you and me, Skippy me boy,” answered Big Joe, nodding his head.“She’s one o’ our people, the kind what helps their own whin there’strouble.”
Skippy shut his eyes to visualize the stern, cold visage of MartySkinner. Hadn’t he talked of river people as if they were all of a kind?Hadn’t he said they were all crooks and criminals?
Big Joe had put him in that category of river people, he who had neverdisobeyed a law in his young life! He resented it and wanted to say so,but his better judgment prevailed against it and he decided to wait andsee what kind of people these river people of Brown’s Basin really were.Certainly if they were all like Big Joe Tully, Skinner had much tolearn.
It was the buxom Mrs. Duffy who decided it, some moments later. She camein like the fresh morning breeze from the inlet, clean-aproned andsmiling, laden with soup and eggnog and a wealth of bright cretonnetucked under her generous arm.
“Cretonne curtains for thim little windows, bhoy,” she saidbreathlessly. “Mr. Tully give me the money for ’em an’ I made ’em up’fore I come over. It’ll seem more like home to ye in Brown’s Basin whinye see ’em from the outside. The inlet’s dismal enough, so ’tis, withoutstarin’ at it through bare, dirty winders; ain’t I right, Mr. Tully?”
“Guess so,” Big Joe answered a little abashed. “Women folks know moreabout thim things, but even me, I be likin’ that bright stuff flutterin’around a winder. Ye got the soup an’ everythin’?”
Mrs. Duffy’s smile was vast and it swept from Big Joe to the wan-lookingSkippy.
“Ye’ll pick up, so ye will, or me and Mr. Tully’ll be to blame, Skippy,”she said heartily.
Skippy almost choked with gratitude. He tried to speak, but could onlythink that these were river people—his people! Big Joe, who was spendinga lot of money so that his father might have another chance for freedomand who would spare no expense to nurse him back to health. And Mrs.Duffy, who was bringing cheer into the shanty of the _Minnie M. Baxter_and who seemed to care so much that he get well!
_River people?_ Skinner didn’t know what he was talking about! He,Skippy Dare, was proud to be one of the river people.
CHAPTER
XVII MUGS
Many delightful weeks Skippy spent after he was up and around. Day afterday, he and Big Joe roamed the length and breadth of the river, andoften they went down the bay and across to some unfrequented beach wherethey swam and fished to their hearts’ content.
Skippy soon showed the effects of his healthful life and Mrs. Duffy’sfine cooking. He was browned from head to foot and his flat chest hadexpanded two inches. And what was more, he had learned to triumph overtears.
That in itself was a great achievement, for he had great need topractice self-control during the fall and the winter following. The godsthemselves seemed to have cast sorrowful glances over the _Minnie M.Baxter_ and Skippy’s mettle was tried to the breaking point sometimes,yet always he came up smiling. Very often it was a poignant smile, thekind that pierced Big Joe Tully’s almost invulnerable heart and set himto doing all sorts of extravagant things so that he might see the paineffaced from the boy’s face and hear him laugh happily.
That was why on the evening of Toby’s retrial, Big Joe left the shantyof the _Minnie M. Baxter_ in awkward haste. He had left Skippy smiling asmile so poignant that he could bear it no longer.
“Big Joe,” the boy said when they were dawdling over the most luxuriousmeal that Tully’s money could buy, “it was most like throwin’ moneyaway, huh? They don’t wanta let Pop get out, I guess. They can’t findthe man that really did it and they’ve gotta have somebody so I s’posethey think it might’s well be my Pop. Now he _will_ be in for life onaccount of the way they tripped him up in his answers. Gee, how could heremember word for word what he said at his first trial? People don’tremember word for word ’bout things like that. Poor Pop was so nervous Igot chills down my back.”