“Indeed you won’t! Of course I’m tired, but I’ve got to do something to keep warm. And I want to get in. I want supper. They’ll all be in bed if we don’t hurry.”
Our tired muscles lent themselves mechanically to their work and the boat slid across the quiet waters of the moonlit harbor. The town lights grew bigger, wharves loomed above us, and soon we were gliding along under their shadow. The eddies from our oars went lap-lap-lapping off among the great dark spiles and stirred up the keen smell of salt-soaked timbers and seaweed. Blindly groping, we found a rickety ladder, tied our boat and climbed stiffly up, and there we were on our feet again, feeling rather queer and stretchy after seven hours in our cramped quarters.
Half an hour later we were sitting in the warm, clean kitchen of the old inn, and a kindly but mystified hostess was mothering us with eggs and ham and tea and pie and doughnuts and other things that a New England kitchen always contains. While we ate she sat and rocked energetically, questioning us with friendly curiosity and watching us with keen though benevolent eyes.
“Rowed, did you? Jim!” calling back over her shoulder through a half-open door, “did you hear that? These folks have rowed all [pg 196] the way across the bay this afternoon—yes—rowed. What say? Yes, she rowed, too. They say they’re goin’ on to-morrow, round Judith.”
“Say, now,” she finally appealed to us in frank perplexity, “what’re you doin’ it for?”
“We like it,” said Jonathan peacefully.
“Like it, do you? Well, now, if that don’t beat all! Say—you know? I wouldn’t do that, what you’re doin’, not if you paid me. Have another cup o’ tea, do.”
The next morning she bade us good-bye with the air of entrusting us to that Providence which is known to have a special care for children and fools.
In fact, through all the varying experiences of our cruise, one thing never varied. That was, the expression on the faces of the people we met. Wind and water and coast and birds all greeted us differently with each new day, but no matter [how] many new faces we met, we found in them always the same look—a look at once friendly and quizzical, the look one casts upon nice children for whose antics one is not responsible, the look one casts upon very small dogs. Why? Is it so odd a thing [pg 197] to like to row a little boat? If it had been a yacht, now, or even a motor-boat, the expression would have been different. Apparently the oars were what did it.
On that particular morning, word of our doings must have got abroad, for as we stepped out on the brick sidewalk of the shady main street a little crowd was waiting for us. It was a funny procession:—Jonathan first, with the guns and the water-jug, then a boy with a wheelbarrow, on which were piled the two dunnage bags, the metal box, the lantern, the axe, the chart tube, and a few other things. An old man and some boys followed curiously, then I came, with two big baking-powder cans, very gorgeous because the red paper was not yet off them, full of provisions pressed on us by our friendly hostess. Tagging behind me, came an old woman, a big girl, and a half-dozen children. It was the kind of escort that usually attends the hand-organ and monkey on their infrequent visits.