Reube Dare's Shad Boat

“That was something of a close shave,” remarked Reube.

“It was,” said Will, studying with angry eyes the rope which had baffled him.

After this they took a long tack which brought them once more into smoother waters above the cape. As the sun got higher the wind fell lighter, and at length Reube announced that it was time to get out the net. The mainsail was hauled down, and under a close-reefed jib the Dido lay to while the net was slowly and carefully paid out over the stern. The helm was so delicately manipulated that the floating net was not allowed to bunch, but formed its line of blocks into a wide, shallow crescent with the Dido at one horn. This accomplished, the remaining bit of canvas was furled and the long, slow process of “drifting” was fairly begun. The tide ran fast, and the shores a half mile distant slipped smoothly by. The rudder swung loose while Will and Reube ate their breakfast, and congratulated themselves on the sailing qualities of the Dido. After breakfast they basked in the sweet June sun, told stories, wondered idly if the net was capturing anything, grew sleepy, and at last began to get impatient. A great gray gull flew over, and Will raised his rifle. But he lowered it instantly.

“I was on the point of dropping that poor old grayback,” said he, penitently, “just for lack of something better to do.”

“I wondered why you were going to shoot it,” said Reube, “when I knew it was no good as a specimen.”

“I say,” exclaimed Will, a few minutes later, yawning, “this sun’s getting mighty hot! How long have we been drifting?”

“A little over two hours,” replied Reube.

“How long is one expected to drift?” asked Will.

“O, say four, or maybe five,” was the reply.

“Well, as this is just a sort of trial trip and picnic,” suggested Will, “I move we haul in the net and count our fish. Then we can sail round yonder point to a big creek I know of with a fine, shelving sand spit at its mouth. The sand is covered at high water; but about the time we get there it will be just right for you to go in swimming from. A swim will go fine this hot day, eh?”

“All right!” assented Reube. He was himself consumed with impatience to see what was in the net.

As the first two oars’ lengths came over the side there was nothing, and the fishermen’s faces fell. Then came the shining, silvery sides of a dozen shad, and they grew exultant. Then a small salmon, and they chuckled. Then two or three large jellyfish slipped through the meshes in fragments. And then the shad really began. It was a noble haul, and excitement ran high in the Dido. The huge tub amidships was nearly half full of the gleaming spoils by the time the last fathom of net came over the side; and there was also another and larger salmon to show. The water in the tub was thrown overboard, as the shad made sufficient ballast.

“If the Dido keeps it up like this she’ll be as good as your diked marsh,” cried Reube, gloating over his prizes.

“Right you are!” said Will, heartily, washing his hands with vigor over the side. “And now for that swim. We’ve earned it, and we need it.”

Forthwith the sails were got up, and the Dido made all haste for the swimming place which Will had indicated. She rounded the point, skirted the shore for nearly a mile, ran into the creek’s mouth, and dropped anchor beside the tempting yellow sand spit.

CHAPTER X.

Besieged on the Sand Spit

WILL lost no time in getting off his clothes. He felt hot and fishy, and the cool, tawny ripples allured him. Reube tested the anchor to see that the Dido held fast, and then began more slowly to undress. The anchor had been dropped not more than thirty or forty feet from the sand spit, but the boat had swung off before the light breeze till the distance was increased to a score of yards.

“That’s quite a swim for me, Will,” said Reube, doubtfully, eyeing the tide.

“Nonsense! You can swim twice as far as that if you only think so,” asserted Will with confidence. “By the way, I wonder what makes you such a duffer in the water. That’s your weak point. I must take you in hand and make a water dog of you.”

“I just wish you would,” said Reube. “I don’t seem to really get hold of myself in the water. I have to work frightfully hard to keep up at all, and then I’m all out of breath in less than no time. Why is it, I wonder?”

“Well,” answered Will, “we’ll see right now. You swim over to the bar yonder, and I’ll stand here and watch your action. I fancy you don’t use your legs just right.”

“It’s too far. Pull her in a little way,” urged Reube.

Laughingly Will complied. He pulled on the rope till the Dido was almost straight above the anchor. Then Reube slipped overboard with an awkward splash and struck out for the sand spit.

His progress was slow and labored. His strokes made a great turmoil, but produced little solid result. Will’s face wore a look of amused comprehension, but he refrained from criticism till the swimmer had reached his goal and drawn himself out panting on the sand.

“How’s that?” asked Reube.

“O, it’s all wrong! If it was anyone less obstinate than you he wouldn’t keep afloat half a minute struggling that way,” answered Will. “But wait a moment and I’ll show you what I mean.”

With a graceful curve Will plunged into the water as smoothly as if he had been oiled. A few long, powerful strokes brought him to the spot where his comrade was standing.

“Now,” said he, “get in there in front of me when the water comes up to the lower part of your chest. You use your legs wrong, and your arms too. Your arms don’t make a quarter the stroke they ought to, and your fingers are wide open, and your hands press out instead of down on the water too much. Keep your fingers together, and turn your palms so that they tend to lift you, instead of just pushing the water away on each side. And, moreover, finish your stroke!”

“And what about my legs?” asked Reube, humbly.

“Never mind them till we get the hands right,” insisted Will. “Now lean forward slowly, with your back hollowed well and chin up, your arms out straight ahead, and straighten your legs. Right! Now round with your arms in a big, fine sweep, drawing up your legs at the same time. That’s more like it. But your legs – you draw them up right under you with the knees close together. That’s all wrong. Didn’t you ever watch a frog, old man? As you draw up your legs spread your knees wide apart like one of those tin monkeys shinning up a stick. Try again. M-m-m! Yes, that’s something like what I want. You see, with the knees doubled up wide apart they have their separate motions as you kick them out again. The legs press the water down, and so do some lifting. The feet push you ahead, and at the same time you thrust a wedge of water backward from between your legs as they come strongly together.”

“That’s reasonable,” assented Reube, practicing diligently. In a few minutes he had made a marvelous advance in his method. Will sometimes swam beside him, sometimes stood on the bar and criticised.

All at once, in the midst of an encouraging speech he clapped his hands to his heart with a cry of pain, sank upon the sand, and called out sharply:

“Come here quick, quick, Reube!”

Reube remembered his lessons even in his anxiety, and with long, powerful strokes made his way swiftly to Will’s side. As he landed Will straightened himself up with a grave smile, and held one his hand to draw Reube back from the water’s edge.

“I’m all right now,” said he.

“But what was the matter?” queried Reube, in impatient astonishment.

“Why, just that,” replied Will, suddenly pointing to the water.

Reube turned and glanced behind him.

“Sharks!” he almost shouted. And there, sure enough, were two black triangular fins cleaving the water where he had just been swimming.

After staring for a moment or two in silence he turned again and met the inscrutable smile on his companion’s face. He held out his hand.

“I understand,” said he. “If I’d got flurried in the water I would have forgotten the lessons you have just given me, and couldn’t have got to shore fast enough.” And in the love and admiration which glowed in his eyes Will read sufficient thanks.

“Now the question is,” mused the latter, “how we’re going to get to the boat.”

“Seems to me we’d better stay right here for the present,” said Reube, drily.

“Yes,” suggested Will; “and when the tide gets a little higher what then?”

“Um!” said Reube, “I was forgetting this is not an honest island. This does certainly look awkward. But what do you suppose those chaps are doing, cruising to and fro right there? Are they just catching herring? Or are they after us?”

“You would know what they were after if you had seen the way they streaked in here when they got a glimpse of you,” responded Will.

“I don’t see what we’re going to do about it,” said Reube presently, after they had gazed at their dreadful besiegers in gloomy silence. “But there’s something in the way of a weapon which we might as well secure anyway.” And running to the other side of the sand spit he snatched up a broken picket which had been left there by the previous ebb. “It’s better than nothing,” he insisted.

“Reube,” said Will, “if we stay here it’s all up with us pretty soon. We’ll just make a dinner for those chaps. It seems to me I’d better take that stick you’ve got there and make a dash for the Dido. You know I swim wonderfully fast, and dive like a fish; and I can perhaps manage to jab the sharks with that picket, or scare them off by making a great splash in the water. If I succeed in getting to the Dido I’ll bring her over for you, and we’ll fix the enemy with a couple of bullets.”

“No,” said Reube, doggedly, grasping the other firmly by the shoulder. “You just wait here. We’ll fight this thing out side by side, as we have fought things out before. Remember the cave, Will! And we won’t fight till we have to. We’re safe for a half hour yet anyway.”

“And then the distance between us and the boat will be all the greater,” urged Will.

“No, the wind’s falling and it may turn and blow the Dido over this way,” insisted Reube. “See, the fitful little gusts now. Or one of the other boats may come in sight near enough for us to hail her. You never can tell what may happen, you know.”

Indeed, as a matter of fact, Reube was right. He could not tell what would happen. What actually did happen was neither of the things which he had suggested, and yet it was the most natural thing in the world.

CHAPTER XI.

Foiling the Sharks

SLOWLY the tide crept in upon the spit, and the strip of sand grew narrower. Those grimly patrolling black fins drew nearer and nearer as the bar became smaller. The gusts of wind grew more and more capricious, sometimes seeming as if they would actually swing the Dido over to the rescue of the despairing prisoners; but this they refrained from doing.

“She’ll swing over to us yet,” asserted Reube, confidently. “She isn’t going to desert us in such a horrible scrape as this!”

But Will made no reply. He was studying his tactics for the struggle which he felt was now close at hand.

“You’d better give that stake, or picket, or whatever it is, to me, Reube,” he suggested. “You’ll have enough to do just swimming. I, being perfectly at home in the water, will be able to make the best use of it, don’t you think? If I can manage to give each of those brutes a solid jab in the belly, maybe they’ll get sick of their undertaking and depart.”

“All right,” agreed Reube, though with some reluctance. And he handed over the sharp stick.

“You’ll have to fight for yourself and me too, that’s all,” he continued.

“I’ll make a fight anyway,” said Will. “And I dare say I can drive them both off. In these well-stocked waters they can’t be very hungry or very fierce.”

At last the strip of sand was not more than three or four feet wide and six inches above water. But though so narrow it was more than a hundred yards in length, extending like a sort of backbone up the entrance to the creek. About the middle it looked a foot or two broader than where the captives were standing.

“Come up there where it is wider,” said Reube.

As they went those black fins kept scrupulously abreast of them, and they shuddered at the sight.

At this point the opposite shore of the creek jutted out somewhat sharply toward the sand spit. Will cast his eye across the narrow channel.

“What fools we are all this time!” he cried. “Why, we can easily swim across to land on this side before the sharks can get all the way around the shoal.”

“Can we?” inquired Reube, doubtfully.

“Yes,” said Will, “and the sooner the better. But now look, Reube; keep cool. Don’t try to hurry too much. Take the long, slow strokes. And remember, I’ll keep behind, and, if the brutes do get around too quick I’ll keep them busy a minute or two, never fear. Then you can come to my rescue with one of those fence stakes yonder. Come on, now!” And side by side they slipped swiftly into the water.

With long, powerful strokes they sped across the narrow channel that divided them from safety. Will, swimming at much less than his full speed, dropped almost a yard behind as soon as they were fairly started, and swam on his side so as to command a view of the water behind. The narrow ridge of yet uncovered sand, however, prevented him from seeing what took place when he and Reube slipped noiselessly, as they thought, into the water. Those black fins had turned on the instant, and were darting with terrific speed for the lower end of the sand spit.

By the time our swimmers were fairly half way across, or perhaps a shade better, Will saw the fins come round the foot of the sand spit.

“I think we’ll make it,” he said to himself, measuring the distance with cool eye. But he refrained from telling Reube what he saw. A moment later, however, as he marked the terrible speed of the approaching peril, he could not help saying, in a voice which he kept quite steady and casual:

“You’re doing finely, Reube. Don’t hurry your stroke, but put a little more power in it for a spurt and we’re safe.”

Reube wasted no breath for a reply. He knew this adjuration of Will’s meant that the danger was drawing very near; but his companion’s anxiety as to his nerves was quite unneeded. He struck out as steadily as ever, but with all the force which his muscle and his will power together could create, and went ahead so fast that Will had to really swim to keep up with him. In half a minute more – to them it seemed a long time – Reube struck bottom in shallow water and dragged himself to land. The sharks were now so near that for an instant Will hesitated. Would he have time to get out, or must he turn and defend his legs? But his decision was instantaneous. With a mighty thrust of his legs and one free arm he flung himself forward, felt the mud beneath his hands, jerked his feet under him, and stood up just in time to turn and deal the nearest shark a desperate blow with the pointed stake as it half turned over to seize him. Astonished and daunted, the great fish recoiled, and before its fellow could join in the attack Will had sprung out of reach.

“It’s a blessed thing,” said Will, “to get ashore with a whole leg, isn’t it?”

His light manner was but the froth on the surface of his deeper emotions. He was trembling from the long strain and stern self-repression.

Reube drew a deep, slow breath.

“Verily,” said he, with a grave face, “that was pretty nearly as bad as the cave while it lasted!”

“O, surely not,” objected Will. “We had the free air and sun, and a chance to fight for our lives. But it makes me mad to think what fools we were in the first place.”

“How so?” asked Reube.

“Why,” answered Will, “if we’d come, this way on the first arrival of those beastly leviathans we would not have had half so far to swim, and our pursuers would have had nearly twice as far to go. It would have all been as simple and easy as falling off a log, and our hearts wouldn’t be going like trip hammers now, the way they are.”

“That’s so,” agreed Reube, in a tone of disgust. “But now I’m wondering what other scrapes we can manage to get into between here and home. I never realized till now the truth of the proverb – generally I despise proverbs – which says ‘It never rains but it pours!’ It seems to me I have been at steady high pressure the last few days, and lived more and felt more than in all the rest of my life put together.”

“My idea is that fate’ll let us alone for a while now,” remarked Will, with the air of a philosopher. “The law of probabilities is all against any further excitement on this trip.”

“So be it!” said Reube. “But let’s get to the Dido– and our clothes!”

Trotting up the lonely shore of the creek for half a mile, they came to an aboideau, and crossed to the other shore of the stream. Following down the bank, they soon came opposite the Dido. The sharks were nowhere to be seen, and the Dido presently swung so near that a short plunge put them safely on board. Dressing hastily, they got up the anchor and sailed out of the creek with their bowsprit pointing homeward. As they did so the sharks appeared again, pursuing them. Will tied a piece of pork to a dry block, tossed it overboard, and snatched up his rifle. The bait floated a moment unmolested, then the nearest shark, darting upon it, turned over and engulfed it in his murderous mouth. At the same moment Will fired. The ball, with deadly precision, entered the brute’s mouth and pierced its brain. With a convulsive flurry it rolled over stone dead.

CHAPTER XII.

The Shot from the Rocks

THE other shark, taking alarm, darted away at once.

“That’s a trophy we must secure!” exclaimed Reube. “You don’t have a chance to shoot a shark every day.”

Will was already noosing a couple of ropes. The Dido was brought alongside the rolling carcass, and after a great deal of difficulty the nooses were made fast to its head and tail. In the effort to hoist the heavy mass aboard the boat was nearly swamped; and at one time Will offered to give up the job. But Reube generously insisted on continuing. At last, by waiting till a wave rolled boat and carcass, together in just the most propitious way possible, the thing was accomplished with a sudden hoist. Along with the great fish a barrel or two of water came aboard; and while Reube steered, Will was kept busy for a half hour bailing the boat out.

This accomplished, Will discovered that the hot sun, the excitement, or possibly the motion of the boat, had given him a violent headache.

“O, it’s all very well, but you know you’re seasick,” gibed Reube, as he sat at the helm.

“Maybe so,” assented Will, undisturbed at the imputation. “Anyway, I’m going to lie down here under the shade of the mainsail to sleep it off. Even if I snore don’t wake me, as you value your life!”

With the aid of a blanket he made himself comfortable, and in a few minutes was sound asleep. Steering the Dido and watching the shores slip by, and building plans for the coming year, Reube was well content. The wind, after having almost died away, had shifted a few points and was blowing gently but steadily. With this wind on her beam the Dido sailed fast, heeling smoothly, and sending the waves past her gunwale with a pleasant murmur. Reube took little account of time just now. Life seemed a very attractive dream, and he was unwilling even to stir. But his hand on the tiller was firm, and there was no smallest danger of him dropping to sleep.

This lotus-eating mood, with a few intervals, must have lasted four or five hours. The tide had turned and been a good three hours on the ebb. At last he observed vaguely that he was just off the promontory where he and Will had been caught in the cave. Thinking of the dangers of the locality, he steered a point or two further out to give the sunken reefs a wide berth. As he did so he noticed that the tide was out as far as the foot of the bluff, and that the cove flats were all uncovered. He was fairly past the point when out of the tail of his eye he caught a movement among the rocks just where the cave mouth lay. Turning his head quickly, he saw Mart Gandy step forward and raise his great duck gun to his shoulder.

The distance was scarcely fifty yards, and Gandy was a first-rate shot. There was no time to think. Like a flash Reube dropped forward upon the bottom of the boat, letting the tiller swing free. At the same instant there was a loud, roaring report from the big duck gun, and the heavy charge of buckshot, passing just over the gunwale, tore a black hole in the sail.

Reube had fallen just in time. He picked himself up again at once, recaptured the tiller, and tried to put the Dido before the wind in the hope of getting out of range ere Gandy could load up for another shot. But the boat was pointing straight for the shore, and came round very slowly. Ere Reube could get her on a new course Will appeared from behind the sail, astonished at the noise and the confusion.

He took in the situation at once. Gandy, who was reloading in fierce haste, stopped for a moment with paling face at Will’s unexpected appearance. He had evidently been under the impression that Reube was alone, or doubtless he would not have committed himself by such an attack. Then he made up his mind that he would see the thing through. Flinging down his powder horn, he rammed home the wadding fiercely, and reached for the heavy shot pouch at his side.

“To shore, Reube! Straight ashore with her!” said Will, in a low, intense voice.

Reube obeyed instantly, seeing that his former intention had been a mistake. Mart Gandy wadded home the buckshot in his great gun barrel. The charge was a terrific one. Will stooped, like a wild-cat crouching for a spring. The Dido rushed straight on, and both Reube and Will declared afterward that they knew just what it was like to charge a battery.

As Will’s keen eye saw Gandy’s finger feel for the trigger, he yelled, “Down! Reube!” and dropped beneath the gunwale. On the instant Reube fell flat in the stern. The great roar of the duck gun shook the air at the same moment. But the charge flew wild and high, and a black hole appeared in the upper part of the sail. The report was followed by a yell of pain, and the big gun clattered on the rocks. Gandy staggered back. The breech of the gun had blown out, and a fragment of it had shattered his arm. In a moment, however, he recovered himself and rushed desperately at the face of the bluff.

The boys saw at once what had happened.

“We’ve got him now,” said Reube, sternly. His sense of justice quenched all sense of pity.

“Yes,” remarked Will, “he can’t climb the rocks with that arm; and now that he can’t fire that clumsy weapon of his, he’s no longer dangerous. We’ll just take him prisoner!”

Meanwhile the Dido was dashing straight on to the Point, trusting to Providence that she would strike a soft spot. But with Gandy disabled there was no need of this desperate haste, so Reube steered for a place where he knew there was neither reef nor honey pot, but a slope of firm sand. He was too much occupied in the delicate task of making a safe landing for the Dido to observe what Gandy was doing. But Will watched the actions of the latter, with a cold smile on his finely cut mouth.

“He is a coward, every time, when it comes to the pinch!” was his remark. “See him now, too scared to meet us like a man, and struggling like a whipped cur to climb those rocks and get away! He can’t do it, though!”

Indeed, Mart Gandy at this moment realized the fact which gave Will such satisfaction. With his right arm broken, he could not make his way to the top of the bluff. Like a hunted animal, he turned and glared with eyes of hate and fear upon his adversaries. Again he looked at the rocks, turning his head quickly from side to side. And then, with a shrill, fierce cry, he darted out straight across the flats toward the head of the cove.

“He’ll get away after all,” remarked Reube.

“Get away, indeed!” muttered Will. “It’s in the very thick of the honey pots he’ll be in less than half a minute, or I’m much mistaken. There!”

As he spoke, Gandy was seen to throw himself violently backward. It was just in time. As he tore himself by a mighty wrench from the engulfing slime he struggled to his feet, swerved to one side, and ran on.