CHAPTER VIII
A COLLISION
It did seem indeed as though the house-boat were suspended in space. The lanterns threw a strange, weird light on the swirling mist which swept slowly by. The unseen water lapped and gurgled against the sides of the “Gray Gull.”
Far out, the long, hoarse blast of a fog-horn told of a passing boat groping its way along; then came a response, fainter, like an echo from the distance. The damp air brought with it other sounds, too; the sharp, imperious whistle of a tug nearer at hand, and the steady, rhythmic clanking of its machinery.
A strange sensation as of drifting came over the boys, and but for the fact that Jack tested the anchor, all would have believed they were floating further out on the river.
When Aleck Hunt appeared with a lantern, a chorus of oh’s and ah’s escaped their lips.
None had ever seen such a weird and startling effect before.
“Great Scott!” cried Jack.
As Aleck slowly swung his lantern from side to side, a crowd of shadowy giants hovered menacingly above them. Each movement sent them springing about, to dance and flitter on the restless, eddying vapor.
As arms uplifted, great images with giant bands waved threateningly, and then flashed downward, as if to pluck them up and disperse them through the whitish haze.
Suddenly the grim shadows blended into one; then, with startling rapidity, the swinging lantern threw fantastic blots and blurs and queer-shaped patches of light on the moving curtain.
“Oh, but it’s strange,” remarked Joe, in awesome tones. “Wish we were a bit nearer the shore. Kind o’ ghostly, eh?”
“Creepy enough, I should say so.”
“Makes a fellow’s head dizzy.”
“Great Scott, that boat must be awfully near,—’most on top of us.”
The sharp, warning notes of its whistle, again sounding, seemed to burst forth froma point close at hand. The pounding of the engine, the labored exhaust all told of its approach, and seven figures, with a sudden flush of excitement, crowded to the edge of the deck, and vainly tried to pierce the gloom.
“Can’t see a thing,” muttered Aleck.
“Great Scott, look out!”
A series of frantic yells suddenly went up from the occupants of the house-boat; then followed another.
Lights, like great eyes, struggled to show themselves, and, immediately after, the frightened boys saw a confused blur of shadowy masses forging its way toward them. The swish, as the sharp prow cut through the water, reached their ears clearly.
There was no time for action; their voices united in one long cry of alarm.
But it was too late.
A dark mass, cutting the vapor, loomed high up; the eyes shaped themselves into lanterns. There was an instant of breathless suspense.
Then the “Gray Gull” staggered and groaned, and seemed to fairly rise out of the water under the force of the impact. A seriesof terrific bumps, jolts and grinds carried terror to their hearts, while a hissing, boiling sheet of angry water rising between the two craft swept across the deck.
For an instant, it seemed as if the “Gray Gull” had been struck a mortal blow. Wobbling violently, she swung around with a creaking groan and tugged hard on the anchor chain.
Confused blurs of light and dark, a grim, black hull, slipped by. Shouts rose, then grew fainter; the lanterns became eyes again, and in another instant, all had vanished in the gray gloom of fog beyond.
For a moment, not a sound escaped the boys’ lips. Clutching whatever support lay within reach, they steadied themselves.
Sharp and clear came the clanging signals from the engine-room of the tug; then the sound of machinery stopped and a loud voice hailed them.
“Hello, back there, are you all right?”
“What do you think, Jack?” asked Fred, in a voice that trembled with excitement.
The first shock of fear had passed; Jack was calm and collected again.
“Still right side up—she hit us a glancing blow, luckily.” Then, raising his voice, he yelled, “All right, we don’t need any help. But you will, if you don’t keep a bit further out—you’ll break a chunk out of the Palisades!”
A hoarse laugh followed; the whistle sounded, and the tug was again in motion.
“What’s that—what’s that?” asked Joe, excitedly.
He had been swinging his lantern close to the water’s edge, in an effort to find out the extent of the damage, and detected a small object floating slowly away. It had a strangely familiar look.
“By Jingo, Confuse-us overboard!” yelled Joe.
He leaned far out, and grabbed the dog, which in another instant would have been beyond his reach.
Confuse-us’ eyes were shut and Confuse-us’ tail was still.
“Poor little dub,” echoed Aleck, sorrowfully.
“Quick,” cried Bob. “Bring him in!”
Their own danger was forgotten on the instant. They gathered around, and set towork with all the energy and earnestness that such a desperate case required, and their efforts were presently rewarded.
Confuse-us blinked his eyes, and, with returning consciousness, wagged his stubby tail; and a loud, long cheer went up, which did a bit more to bring the pup around.
“Now,” said Jack, with a shrug of his shoulders, “we had better get nearer the shore. That was a pretty close shave.”
“Rather!” said Tom. “Whew! I thought we were going down, sure.”
“If that boat had struck us squarely,” added Dave, “it would have been——”
“A case of swim,” put in Jack. “Plenty of excitement for one day, eh?”
“A bit too much,” said Joe, with a vivid recollection of his own mishap. “Don’t let Fred get hold of a book; we might as well turn in.”
And they did.
Early next morning, Norman Redfern appeared, bringing with him a few articles which he especially valued.
“Up anchor—let ’er go!” said Dick, and the “Gray Gull” resumed her voyage.
The river and its surroundings seemed to grow more interesting as they progressed. The great excursion boats plying to Newburgh; the Albany day line of steamers, and a host of other craft, from handsome private yachts and motor boats to lumbering schooners and clumsier barges from Haverstraw, loaded with bricks, all came in for a share of attention. The telescope swept them from stem to stern and back again, and a running fire of comments and speculation often resulted.
They, too, were regarded with interest, and occasionally, when sarcastic hails and laughter reached their ears, the boys yelled back replies with all the riotous energy that the incident warranted.
The great wall of the Palisades, they found, came to an abrupt end, and some distance further along rose a thickly wooded hill, skirting the shore of the river for miles. On the eastern side Norman Redfern pointed out Irvington, the home of Washington Irving, and then Tarrytown and the historic Dobbs’ ferry.
The river soon widened out into the Tappan Sea, and the opposite shore could be seen but faintly through a gray-blue haze.
Saucy little waves reflected the clear blue overhead. The day promised to be hot, and white clouds piling up in the west began to assume an ominous appearance.
“Nyack the next stop, captain?” asked Joe.
“Right you are.”
“Then for the millionaire boy,” grinned Aleck.
Norman Redfern became grave and thoughtful. No doubt his rather timid nature shrank from the interview which only the house-boat boys’ urging had induced him to seek. The disastrous end of his first engagement as a tutor, the subsequent loss of another post upon which he had set his heart and the discouraging search for a position, all served to increase his tendency to shrink from the hard knocks which the world sometimes deals out. Self-effacing, and with an almost over-developed sense for the rights of others, the game of life was a much more serious matter to him than to one like the lively, courageous Bob Somers.
Colonel Ellison, George Clayton’s guardian, had none of these traits. He was a largeman, with a big voice; aggressive, strictly honest, stubborn—one of that type who rises superior to any situation, and who has very little sense of the rights of others.
So Norman’s heart misgave him; but his lively companions served to encourage and cheer him, and keep alive his reawakened determination to assert his rights.
“Jolly curious to meet the millionaire boy,” remarked Jack. “Hope he won’t be too stuck up to notice us in this rig. We don’t look any too stylish, you know.”
“He isn’t that kind,” said Norman. “He is a fine lad; but of course you must remember one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“His surroundings and life of ease and luxury have formed certain characteristics which are only to be expected. Perhaps, if you didn’t know him well, he might be considered a trifle overbearing—a bit set upon having his own way. But, in the main, his good traits more than counterbalance it.”
“I’ll bet he’s a silly chump, after all,” Joe whispered to Bob, a moment later, as they stood on the deck. “Norman’s an easy, good-naturedchap, and would like ’most anybody. Gee whiz, but the river’s wide, eh?”
“It certainly is,” answered Jack. “Looks more like a bay. Let’s have the tube, Joe. There’s a train. See it? looks great through the glass.”
“So it does,” agreed Joe, taking his turn with the telescope; “and there’s a motor boat close inshore.”
“We’re coming to Nyack, boys,” said Redfern, stepping out upon the deck. “Getting along at racing speed, too—the tide is with us. In a few minutes you’ll see Colonel Ellison’s house.”
“Dandy place to live, out here,” said Dave.
“Swell,” agreed Joe. “A chap could have no end of fun.”
The charming little town of Nyack was now in full view. Handsome residences extended along the river for a considerable distance and many fine trees were outlined sharply against the white cumulus clouds.
Redfern presently touched Jack Lyons’ arm.
“That house with the big columns in front is Colonel Ellison’s home,” he said.