I patiently tried to understand Tinny's explanation as to where the holes were, but in vain. At last I said: "Anthony, you just get in the boat and go over to Waverly with me and you can explain to Captain Frank where the damage is, so that he will know what materials to send when he sends a man."
"But, Miss, I ain't fix fo' go. Ef yo' been tell me yo' wan' me fo' go to Wav'ly wid yo', I'd a dress maself, but I ain' fix; look a' me."
I looked, and truly the little gnome was an object—an old, tattered derby hat, with the mellow green tint of age, a very dirty new bright green and white plaid shirt, which only emphasized the extraordinary patchwork nether garments and coat, from the pocket of which conspicuously protruded a bottle.
With a grave face I assured the old man that he was quite decent and must go, and that as he was a fine paddler he could paddle while Gibbie rowed and we would go like a steam tug. This reconciled him to going in his working trim, and we started—I sitting in the bow with Tag, my nondescript terrier, Gibbie in the middle with oars, and the gnome at the stern paddling.
All this delay had consumed hours and the sky had darkened and it felt like rain. Chloe came to the wharf to beg me to wait, but I had wasted so much time and patience that I could not put it off.
I soon found it was a special mercy that I had caught old Tinny and made him come, for Gibbie proved a poor oarsman and the wind was against us and very high, so though we had the tide our progress was not rapid, and I was glad to have the old man, who knows all about boats. With the head wind Tag and I, high in the bow, were a great disadvantage. I longed for Elihu, for I would have felt safer with him.
To make things worse, when we got into the broad Waccamaw where the whitecaps were dancing, a steamer passed up the river, making such big waves that Tinny wanted to turn back without crossing, but I was not willing, as we were more than halfway to the mills, and to my surprise Gibbie supported me and we went on. Fortunately I had taken what the negroes call an "'iler," a heavy rubber coat, to put over my knees. I had amused myself with pencil and pad, writing until the pad got too wet, for the water dashed in constantly. Poor Tag, straight up on his hind legs in the bow, looked out with dreary eyes, for at the best of times he hates water, and no doubt he said to himself that if he were a human he would have more sense than to leave a bright fire and comfortably carpeted room to be dashed and splashed in this way.
However, we reached the mill safely, and if only I had been successful in my errand, I would not mind, but Captain L. said he could not possibly spare any workman to send. This was a great blow, for I had written to him in June about it and he promised to send some one to repair the boiler, even naming a day when he would come. I do not know what to do now, for he knows all about such work and could tell me exactly what it was best to do, and I have such confidence in him. I did so wish to get the very little rice I have threshed out before Christmas. I will have to try to get a man from Gregory.
As I rowed up to the mills I came upon a flat heavily loaded with lightwood and recognized two of my men on it. I said, "Why, Billy, what are you doing here? Whose wood is that?"
"De my own."