I had learned from experience that Sipes usually became reticent when questioned too closely. It was better to let him volunteer whatever he wanted to say about his own affairs. I was careful not to evince any curiosity as to the object of the river trip, and gladly accepted the invitation, as I had intended visiting the river during the fall.
The shanty was stripped of most of its small movable contents, which were put on board when the additions were completed. The nets were taken into the house and piled up. The small boat was laid on top of them along the wall, and the door fastened with a rusty padlock.
Sipes remarked, as he put the key in his pocket, that “they was always some bulgarious feller rubber’n round fer sump’n light an’ easy, that ’ud clean out that shanty if it wasn’t batt’n’d up an’ locked.”
The reincarnated craft was floated, and it sailed slowly away, with the doughty mariners giving boisterous orders to each other.
A week later I heard a loud halloo, and cries of “Wot Oh!” down on the beach opposite to my camp in the dunes. I looked over the edge of the bluff and saw the Crawfish riding proudly on the low swells. The broad sail flapped idly in the breeze, and Saunders was ensconced on top of the cabin, smoking his pipe. Sipes had waded ashore and was waiting to help get my belongings on board.
A small tent, a supply of canned goods, sketching materials, a camera, and other items were carefully stowed. My row-boat was connected with a line, and we were ready to start. We had only about fifteen miles to go, and expected to reach the mouth of the river about noon.
The cabin was characteristic of its builders. It was intended for use and not as an ornament. Ordinarily two could sleep in it comfortably, but the present cargo taxed its capacity. There was little ventilation when the door was closed. What fresh air there was entered through a pair of auger holes, which had evidently been bored for observation purposes. I suggested that the air inside would be better if the holes were larger, or if there were more of them, but Sipes claimed that they were large enough.
“Air c’n come in now faster’n you c’n breath it. Jest notice how much bigger them holes is than them in yer nose.” Such logic was uncombatable and the subject was changed.
The motor worked spasmodically and we sailed most of the way. The breeze died down when we were about half a mile from where the Winding River came out of the dunes. After much cranking the motor started, but would only run backwards. We turned the stern toward the river’s mouth and made fair progress.
“That’s w’y we named ’er the Crawfish,” explained Sipes. “We know’d we’d ’ave to do a lot o’ that kind o’ navigat’n’.”