CHAPTER XXIXJIMMY, THE BRIDGE-TENDER

CHAPTER XXIXJIMMY, THE BRIDGE-TENDER

Pretty soon the big fat man stuck his head out of the window and he shouted, “What’s the matter, is everybody deaf around here? Here, you boys, where’s the bridgeman?” Honest, you’d think I had the bridgeman in my pocket. I told him I didn’t know where the bridgeman was. Oh, but he looked mad. He had an awful red face and white whiskers and I guess he must have been used to ordering people around—anyway, he looked that way.

He said, “Here I am on the down tide, the water going out every minute and got to run up to North Bridgeboro yet. It’s a ——” he said what kind of an outrage it was, but I wouldn’t tell you. Oh, he was hopping mad. “I’ll get stuck hard and fast in the consarned mud,” he said, “if I ain’t back and past this here Sleepy Hollow in forty minutes—that’s what I will!”

I hollered up to him that I’d row across to Jimmy’s house and see if he was asleep.

“Asleep!” that’s just the way he shouted. “Do bridgeman sleep on full tide up this way? Don’t he know the harbor and waterway laws? I’ll make it hot for ’im—I will.” And then he began pulling the whistle faster and faster.

“Somebody must have been feeding him meat,” Westy whispered to me.

“He’s good and mad, that’s sure,” I said.

Even while we rowed across to Jimmy’s shanty I could hear him shouting between the whistlings and saying he’d have the bridgeman up for deserting on flood tide and putting him in the mud. And jiminy, I have to admit that he was up against it, because the tide was running down and by the time he got up to North Bridgeboro and back, it would maybe be too low in the channel. One thing, Jimmy had a right to be there, especially at flood tide, I knew that. But I guess the reason he wasn’t was because nothing but little motor boats ever came up our river and they can always crawl under.

Jimmy lives all by himself on account of being old and his people are all dead. I said to Westy that maybe he was just asleep, so we knocked and knocked, but nobody came to the door. Then I knew he wasn’t there at all or else maybe he was dead.

“Anyway, we’d better find out,” I said, “because it’s mighty funny him not being there, seeing that he never goes away anywhere.”

All the time we could hear that old grouch shouting about Bridgeboro and our river and saying it was Sleepy Hollow and Dopeville, and the river was a mud hole. But it isn’t and don’t you believe it.

“Anyway, I’m going to climb in through the shed window,” I said, “and see if maybe Jimmy is sick or dead.” I could see that Pee-wee was—not exactly scared but sort of anxious, and I was too, I have to admit it.

Westy and I got the shed window open, all right, because Jimmy wasn’t careful about it, on account of not having anything worth stealing, I suppose. I was kind of shaky when we went into the first room, because that was where he slept and I thought maybe he’d be lying there dead. But he wasn’t there at all. Just the same we stood there looking at each other, and we were both kind of nervous, because Jimmy’s clothes were lying all around on the bed and on the floor, and a chair was knocked over, and it looked just as if somebody had been rummaging in the room in a big hurry. The door into the other room was closed and, I have to admit, I didn’t feel like opening it.

“I bet somebody’s robbed him and killed him,” Westy said, kind of low.

“That’s just whatI’mthinking,” I said, “and when we open that door we’ll see him lying on the floor dead, hey?”

“Anyway, we have to open it,” he said.

“I’ll open it if you don’t want to,” I told him.

But, anyway, neither of us opened it. We just stood there and I felt awful funny. It was all still and spooky and I could hear the clock ticking, and I counted the ticks. It sounded spooky, going tick, tick, tick.

Then Westy said, “Shall I open it?”

“Sure,” I said, “we’ve got to sometime.”

So he opened it just a little bit and then, all of a sudden, he pushed it wide open and we looked into that other room.

CHAPTER XXXGONE

In the middle of the room was a table Jimmy always ate his meals at, and on that table was a big square piece of paper and there was a big envelope on the floor. But there wasn’t any sign of Jimmy. Oh, boy, didn’t I feel good on account of that.

Westy read the paper out loud and it was something about a convention of the Grand Army, or something like that. It said how all the members of some post or other were asked to go to Saratoga on account of that big convention and it was addressed to “Comrade James Van Dorian.” Gee, I felt awful sorry for him, sort of, because I knew how it was with him.

“He just couldn’t help it,” Westy said, “he got ready in a hurry and went. I guess he took all the money he had saved up—poor old Jimmy.”

“He’ll lose his job, that’s sure,” I said.

Even while we were standing there I could kind of see him getting dressed up in a hurry in that old blue coat he had, with the buttons all falling off it, and starting off with his crutch. Maybe he just got his pension money, hey?

All the while the whistle on the tug was blowing and I was afraid people would come around and maybe they’d all be on the side of the tugboat man and be mad at Uncle Jimmy.

Jiminy, I wasn’t mad at him, anyway.

And I could hear that old man shouting about all the things he was going to do and about the bridgeman deserting and leaving him in the mud.

“Hurry up,” Westy said, “let’s find the key-bar and we’ll open it for him; we can do it all right.”

So we looked all around in a hurry, but we couldn’t find it anywhere. The key-bar is what you open the bridge with, you know. It’s kind of like a crow-bar and you stick it in a certain place and walk around pushing it. It isn’t so hard when you get started on account of the bridge being balanced right and it’s geared up, too. But what’s the use if you can’t find the key-bar?

“It must be somewheres around,” Westy said, all excited.

Oh, didn’t we turn things inside out! But it wasn’t any use—we couldn’t find it.

“Don’t let’s bother,” I said, “I’ve got an idea; come ahead—quick!”

I didn’t even stop to tell him what I was thinking about, but I hustled back into the boat, with Pee-wee after us, wanting to know what we found inside.

“A couple of mysteries,” I panted out.

“How many?” he wanted to know.

“And a couple of ghosts thrown in,” I said. “Hurry up.”

On the way across I told the fellows to please let me talk to the old man, because I had something particular to say to him. I was panting and rowing so hard, that I couldn’t tell the fellows then. Anyway, I guess Pee-wee had that house haunted and filled with German spies and Uncle Jimmy murdered and goodness knows what all.

We pulled up right alongside the tug-boat and I called out to the old man that I wanted to tell him something and to please let me come up. I was all trembling, but anyway, I said it right out and I didn’t wait for him to say yes, because he was too busy saying other things to say it.

Westy and Pee-wee stayed in the rowboat and I went right up into the little house where the old man was. Oh, boy, wasn’t everything polished all nice and shiny! Gee, it was nice up in there. The wheel looked awfully big and the compass, you could just see your face in it. And it smelled kind of oily and nice up there. Wouldn’t I like to live in a place like that!

The old man was smoking a pipe and he blew out a lot of smoke—it was kind of like a barrage. Then he said very stern and gruff,

“Well, sir?”

Oh, boy, wasn’t I shaky! But I started right in, and when you once get started it’s easy, that’s one sure thing.

I said, “Maybe you’ll only be more mad when I tell you but I heard you say something about Uncle Jimmydeserting. Twice you said that. And I thought maybe you might be a veteran, hey? Maybe that’s a crazy thing to think, hey?”

All he said was, “Well, sir,” and he blew a lot of tobacco smoke at me and looked at me with a frown, all fierce, but I wasn’t scared.

“I only kind of deduced that,” I said, “and anyway I’ve got to admit you’ve got reason to be mad.”

Even still, all he said was, “Well, sir,” and he held his pipe so I thought maybe he was going to chuck it at me—good night!

“Anyway, if youwerea soldier, maybe you’ll understand, that’s all. Uncle Jimmy, that’s what we call him, he went away to the Grand Army Convention—that’s where he went. I’m not saying he had a right to go, but one thing, big boats like yours never come up this way, so the bridge doesn’t have to be opened very often—sometimes not all summer. It’s kind of just bad luck for him, that’s all. But, one thing sure, I know how it is to be away when I ought not to be, I do. And I’m no better than he is, that’s one sure thing. I’m a boy scout,” I told him, “and my scoutmaster says you have no right to make bargains about things that are wrong. But anyway, maybe you wouldn’t think this would be trying to make a bargain with you and sticking up for somebody that did wrong. So I thought I’d ask you if you’ll please promise not to write to the government people, and I’ll promise you to open the bridge for you in ten minutes. He’s lame, Uncle Jimmy is, and he got that way in some battle, and he has to use a crutch. And that’s the reason they gave him a job. I see your tug is namedGeneral U. S. Grant, and maybe he was fighting with General Grant, hey? You can’t tell.

“We can’t find the key-bar, but about a month ago, the old key-bar fell in the river, and I know where it is. Maybe you think I’m crazy, but I’ll dive and get it for you, if you’ll only promise not to tell on Uncle Jimmy, because he couldn’t help going. Maybe you don’t understand, but hejust couldn’t. I’ve got the swimming badge and that’s for diving too. All you have to do is to give me some rope, so I can take one end of it down and then you can haul it up and the key-bar will be tied to it. You can be dead sure. Because what a fellow has to do, he can do. Only you have to make me the promise first ’cause that’ll help me to do it.”

CHAPTER XXXITHE CAPTAIN’S ORDERS

Maybe it wasn’t a very good speech, but anyway, he was nicer than he was before and he had an awful funny twinkle in his eye.

Then he said, “So you know how to dive, huh, sonny? Can you keep your mouth shut?”

“Sure, you have to keep your mouth shut when you dive,” Pee-wee yelled up from the rowboat, and then the old man just had to laugh.

“I mean when you’re on land, sonny,” he said.

“Sure I can,” I told him.

“Well, then,” he said, “if any of you scout kids goes about sayin’ as how Uncle Jimmy went away to the convention, and I ever meet you in your old skiff, by the Big Dipper I’ll run you down and cut you in half, that’s what I’ll do! Do you hear?” he shouted. “If you ever run afoul o’ theGineral Grantin the bay or anywheres else, by thunder, I’m Cap’n Savage, I am, and onct upon a time I was Major Savage, and I should be at that there convention myself, instead of standing here blowing away at a better soldier than me!”

“Don’t you care, we’ll forgive you,” Pee-wee shouted up.

“Keep him quiet, will you?” I called down to Westy.

“Ask me something easy,” Westy said.

“And so you think you can dive,” old Captain Savage said, “or is that just boy scout talk? Do I stand a chance of getting upstream and down ag’in to-night, or not. Where do you say that key-bar is?”

You can bet I knew just exactly where it was. It was under the east span of the bridge and just underneath about the fifth or sixth plank from the centre. I knew it was hard bottom down there, too. So Captain Savage and the other man he had gave me a thin rope and we fastened one end on the deck. I tied the other end of it around my waist in a loose French sailor’s knot, so I could pull it off without any trouble under water.

Then I dived. I had to come up a couple of times without it, but the third time I got hold of it lying on the rocks, and quick as a flash I loosened the rope from my waist and tied it onto the key-bar. Then I came up, sputtering.

ROY DIVED AFTER THE KEY-BAR

ROY DIVED AFTER THE KEY-BAR

“Pull,” I sputtered, “you’ve got it; only pull easy.” Then I scrambled up on the deck.

Believe me in less than a minute the tug-man and Westy and Pee-wee were on the bridge and had the key-bar fixed in its socket. Then we started to push and around she went—slow at first, then faster.

Oh, boy, wasn’t I glad to see oldGeneral Grantmarch through. Just as I was going to get in the rowboat, Captain Savage stuck his head out of the window and shouted, “Here you, youngster; you come in here. We have to overhaul accounts.”

“Scouts don’t accept anything for a service,” Westy shouted.

“I ain’t a-talking to you,” Captain Savage shouted; “you other feller, scramble aboard and come up here! Don’t they learn you nothin’ about obedience in them thar scouts—huh? You scramble up on board here like I tell you!”

Oh, boy, I knew he meant me.

CHAPTER XXXIII MAKE A DANDY FRIEND

That was the first time I ever rode in a tugboat, and believe me, it was great. I stood right beside the wheel in that little house and pointed out the channel to Captain Savage all the way up to North Bridgeboro. That’s one thing I sure know—the channel. Anyway, if you don’t know it, follow the abrupt shore. But with a tug-boat, good night, you have to be careful because a tug draws so much water. He was going up there after a lumber barge, he said.

First, he didn’t say anything, only smoked, and it was like a fog in there. Pretty soon he said:

“So you youngsters don’t take nuthin’ fer services, huh?”

“We have to do a good turn if we see a chance,” I told him.

Then he wanted to know all about the scouts, how they were divided into troops and patrols and everything, and after I told him all that, we got to talking about our vacation and about Temple Camp, and especially about the house-boat. I asked him if he thought a three horsepower engine would drive the house-boat up the Hudson, so we could get as far as Catskill Landing in a couple of weeks.

He said, “It would be more like a couple of years, I reckon.”

“Good night!” I said, “if it takes us two years to get there and we have to be home inside of a month, I seeourfinish. I suppose it costs a lot of money to get towed.”

He said, “Wall now, whin I bring in a Cunarder and back her into her stall, it stands them in a few pennies.”

“You said something,” I told him.

“’N I don’t suppose your troop has got as much money as the Cunard Line,” he said.

“Gee, we’ve only got about four dollars now,” I told him; “I suppose we couldn’t get towed as much as a mile for that, hey?”

“Wall, four dollars don’t go as far as it used ter,” he said; “maybe it would go a half a mile.”

Then he didn’t say anything, only puffed and puffed and puffed on his pipe, and kept looking straight ahead of him, and turning the wheel ever so little. After a while he said there wasn’t water enough in our river to drown a gold fish, and he didn’t know why we called it a river at all. He said he couldn’t imagine what the tide was thinking about to waste its time coming up such a river. He said if a bird took a drink in the river while he was upstream, it would leave him on the flats. He was awful funny, but he never smiled.

When we got up to the mill at North Bridgeboro, he got the barge and started downstream with the barge alongside. All the while he kept asking me about the scouts, and I told him about Skinny, and how we were going to take him up to Temple Camp with us, so he could get better, maybe.

Then for quite a while he didn’t say anything, only puffed away and pretty soon we could see the bridge and I knew we’d have to open it again. But anyway, I could see a lot of fellows there and I knew they were all from our troop and that they were waiting to open the bridge forGeneral Grant.

Pretty soon Captain Savage took his pipe out of his mouth and began speaking, only he didn’t notice me only kept looking straight ahead.

“You know how to port a helm?” he said.

I told him no—not on a big boat like that anyway.

Then he said, “Wall, there’s lots o’ things you got to learn, youngster. And there’s one thing about tug cap’ns that you got to learn, see?”

I told him that was what I wanted to do—learn.

“Wall, then, I’ll tell you,” he said—this is just what he said—“I’ll tell you, you are in a mighty ticklish place ’n I don’t just see how you’re going to get out of it.”

For a minute I was kind of scared.

“I ain’t sayin’ you’re not a brisk lot, you youngsters, because you are, and no denyin’. All I’m sayin’ is you’re in a peck of trouble—that’s all.”

Then he didn’t say anything only looked straight ahead out of the window and kept on smoking. Gee, I felt awful funny.

Then I said if we did anything that wasn’t right, cracky, we didn’t mean it anyway, that was sure, and we’d do whatever he said. And I said I knew it wasn’t right for us to break into Uncle Jimmy’s shanty, because I couldn’t think of anything else we’d done that was wrong.

Then he said, “’Tain’t so much wrong, as ’tis a conflict of rules, as the feller says. Yer see, the trouble is tug-boat captains are a pretty pesky, ugly lot, as yer can see from me, and when it comes ter services, it’s give or take. Now I was thinkin’, that if you youngsters don’t let me tow you up as far as Poughkeepsie next week, I’ll just have to write and notify the authorities about Uncle Jimmy and make a complaint. I kinder don’t like to do it by reason of him being an old veteran, but it’s up to you youngsters. Either scratch out that rule of yours, or else see Uncle Jimmy lose his job. Take your choice, it’s all the same to me.”

G-o-o-d night! Jiminy, I didn’t know what to say to him. I guess I just stood there staring and he looked straight ahead out of the window and smoked his pipe, as if he didn’t care either way.

Pretty soon he said, “I’m going up to Poughkeepsie next Saturday with a barge, and I’ll give you youngsters till Friday to decide. You can send me a line to the barge office or the Pilots’ Association, or else you can leave me and old Uncle Jimmy fight it out between our two selves and Uncle Sam.”

The fellows opened the bridge forGeneral Grantto go through and Captain Savage let me out on one of the cross-beams, without even stopping. He didn’t even look at the fellows as the tug went through, only looked straight ahead of him and puffed away on his pipe, as if he didn’t even know that there were such things as scouts. We just stood there watching the tug churning up the water, as she went faster and faster until she was gone around the bend.

“He’s a kind of an old grouch,” Pee-wee said.

“It’s good you happened to think about how he used that worddesert,” Doc said.

Then Connie said he wouldn’t want to be his son and Artie said he wouldn’t want to be around the house with him on a rainy Sunday, and I let them go on knocking him, until they got good and tired and then I said,

“Do you know what he wants to do?”

“I bet he wants us to go and be witnesses against Uncle Jimmy,” Pee-wee said; “he’ll never get me to be a witness, you can bet.”

“Wrong the first time, as usual,” I said; “he wants to tow the house-boat up as far as Poughkeepsie for us next week.”

Well, you should have seen those fellows.

“What did you tell him?” Pee-wee yelled.

“I told him that I was sorry, but that scouts couldn’t accept anything for a service—not even favors.”

“You’re crazy!” Pee-wee shouted; “did you tell him that?”

“Sure I did,” I said, very sober, “and he got so mad he’s going to have old Uncle Jimmy sent to jail—just because I told him we couldn’t let him tow us to Poughkeepsie.”

“You make me tired!” Pee-wee screamed, “do you mean to say that if a fellow does a good turn to another—an old man—and it turns out to be a good turn on somebody else, and he says—the other one that has a boat—that he’ll make a lot of trouble for the other one we did a service for—do you mean to tell me that the other one has a right to say he’ll make trouble for him, and if he does we haven’t got a right to let him do a good turn to us, so that the other one we did a good turn for can get under a bridge—it’s a good turn to lethimdousa good turn, isn’t it? Let’s hear you deny that?”

“You’re talking in chunks,” Doc said; “pick up the words you spilled and straighten ’em out.”

“Hold him or he’ll fall off the bridge,” Artie said.

“Do you mean to tell me that we haven’t got to let him pay us back so as to save Uncle Jimmy?” Pee-wee fairly screeched. Oh, boy, you should have seen him.

“There is yet time,” I said, just like an actor, sort of. I said, “There is yet time to fool him—I mean foil him. We have till Friday to accept his offer.”

“Who’s got a pencil?” Pee-wee shouted.

CHAPTER XXXIIISO LONG-SEE YOU LATER

So that’s about all I can tell you now, but pretty soon I’ll tell you about our cruise up the Hudson and all about the fun we had on the house-boat and on Captain Savage’s tug. Oh, boy, he turned out to be one fine man. And I’m going to tell you all about Skinny too, and about the fix we got into about that tramp that slept in the house-boat. You remember that fellow, don’t you. Some scare we had, believe me.

And you’ll hear about Temple Camp and Jeb Rushmore, and you’ll get to know us fellows a lot better. Gee, I hope you’ll like us. Mr. Ellsworth says I’m a pretty good author, only I took such a long run there wasn’t any space left to jump in. I should worry. Some authors don’t run at all, they only walk. Believe me, you have to drag some of them with a rope.

Anyway, we’ve got acquainted now and that’s something. In the next story there’s going to be some girls—and some snakes, too. Especially one snake. Gee, but girls hate snakes—snakes and mice. Anyway, Mr. Ellsworth told me to write just the same as I talked, so if it’s no good, maybe that’s the reason. You should worry. Maybe you’ll like the next one better, hey?

Anyway, you’ll like Temple Camp, that’s one sure thing.

Back to IndexNext