"Very well, then," said he, "it will be all right, now we have a clear understanding. And I would like you to keep near me while the people are here. You may be able to help, and thereby you can work off some of your debt to us for the two meals you have had at our expense. Though we would not charge you much for them,—about fifty cents for the supper, and thirty-five—or forty—for the breakfast, I think. Now, we will go down to the wharf."
The steamboat was less than quarter of a mile distant. It gave three long, shrill toots of its whistle, and came straight for us. It was a small boat, covered with flags and streamers. A brass band, in red coats, sat in the bow playing "Sweet Marie." As the boat came nearer I was surprised to see how few people, aside from the band, were on it. I had expected to see a big crowd,—a picnic gathering. Instead, there were only about two dozen people. Most of them were men, but a few had brought their wives—nice looking old ladies—with them.
Mr. Snider stood up on a high place, took off his black felt hat, with a great flourish, and put on his ghastly smile. "Welcome!" he shouted, "welcome to Rogers's Island!"
There was a big man with a frock coat and top hat standing near the band. He must have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, and all his movements were slow and majestic. He took off his hat, faced toward the people who were sitting about the deck on camp- stools, and shouted in a deep but tremendous voice:
"Three cheers for Brother Snider!"
Then, counting "One, two, three!" and waving his tall hat in slow circles, he gave the three cheers all by himself. No one else opened his mouth.
The steamboat came alongside the wharf, was made fast, and a gang- plank run out. The big man came ashore, together with another who had a gray beard,—Deacon Chick, as I found out later. They shook hands with Mr. Snider very warmly, and introduced him to some of the other people as they stepped off the gang-plank.
"The Professor not here!" I heard the big man say; "that's a great disappointment!"
Then they all started up the wharf toward the house. The men of the band had scrambled ashore, and they headed the procession,— still playing "Sweet Marie" with loud blasts. Then came Mr. Snider, accompanied by the big man (he was the Hon. J. Harvey Bowditch) and by Deacon Chick. Behind him were the people from Lanesport, two by two, some of them carrying baskets, and most of them in their Sunday clothes. At the end were some men from the steamboat with armfuls of camp-stools.
Captain Bannister was not there. I had watched all the men as they came ashore, and I asked one of the crew of the "May Queen" about him. He had never heard of such a man, he said. So I decided to go up to the house, hear what was going to happen, and then go back to Lanesport on the steamboat. It would leave, so the man told me, at twelve o'clock sharp, and get to Lanesport about one. I would be in time to meet Ed and Jimmy, Mr. Daddles and the rest, and find out if they had had better luck at Big Duck Island.