V.
THERE must have been something about the appearance of our outfit or ourselves, or both, on the arrival of the bedraggled "Sometub" at Brunswick calculated to awaken the deepest sympathy of the kind-hearted folk who watched us approach through the chilly rain. When I asked the lockmaster for a suitable place to tie up for the night he pointed to a dilapidated dock on the berm bank adjacent to an ancient and densely populated pig pen.
"It would be very fine, except for the neighbors," I told him. "Pigs have a habit of getting up too early in the morning to suit us." This was not quite the reason for our objection to mooring beside a pig pen, but I aimed to be diplomatic. Perhaps they might be his pigs. "Crackey!" exclaimed the lockmaster, "You-all don't intend to spend the night in that boat, do you?"
"Yes," I answered. "We have the most comfortable cabin you ever saw."
Before the lockmaster could answer another man, who hastened over from the railroad yards, at once assumed the role of superintendent of the harbor, collector of the port, quarantine officer or whatever you would choose to call him. He spoke with the air of a person clothed with absolute authority.
"Yes, yes; tie up over there and I'll——" he began.
"I have just told the lockmaster that I'll not tie up over there," I interposed. But our new friend disregarded me entirely and continued:
"——I'll have an automobile here in five minutes to take you and the missus up to the hotel. Your boat will be safe till morning. Come from Pittsburgh, eh? How in Sam Hill did you get into the canal? I used to work in Pittsburgh, but that was a good while ago. Pretty big place now, I suppose—"
He was true to his word. An automobile oozed through the mud and the chauffeur announced that he was ready to take "the lady and gentleman to the hotel." In the presence of such an example of prompt service we reconsidered our resolution to spend the night in the boat and taking our baggage, we went to the hotel in our khakis. The people in the lobby must have thought that unkempt members of a band of gypsies had invaded the place when we rushed through to our room. However, the opinions of bystanders as to the appearance of our traveling duds gave us little concern. We put on dry clothes and in a few minutes it was announced that the dining room had been opened for our especial benefit. The young wife of the proprietor cooked and served a bountiful repast. She must have felt repaid for the effort by the manner in which we dispatched all the good things she had prepared.
The rain lasted through the night but Wednesday, July 26th, dawned with clear skies. We prepared to depart early, but first stocked "Sometub" with provisions and fuel, Brunswick being the last large town on the canal on the way to Washington. Before us for a distance of nearly 50 miles lay a stretch of sparsely settled country. From Brunswick to Point of Rocks the Baltimore and Ohio railroad runs close beside the towpath and in the early morning, "Sometub" was greeted several times by passengers on the observation cars of the Royal Blue express trains which dashed by at a mile-a-minute speed. We wondered if the people who were fluttering handkerchiefs and waving hats envied us. It was while riding on the observation car several years ago on this same route that we had planned our voyage. In its realization we regretted that more vacation tourists could not share the pleasure of our trip over the mountains—by water. We did not stop to consider that the majority of summer travelers desire speed, luxury and the least discomfort and would balk at the petty annoyances we endured through an obstinate motor and the omniesence of Jupiter Pluvius.