“We’ll have to try for the next ferry landing then,” said Percy, dejectedly. “It’s back toward Flag Point.”
Without a word, Billie turned the car, and putting on all speed they whizzed through the rain. At that moment she had only one prayer in her heart: to pilot her friends safely through the storm and get them to the ferry landing. There was no sign of any of their pursuers as they passed the fort. When at last they reached the second summer encampment they breathed a sigh of relief. The ferry boat was docked at the landing and a man stood under the shed, his hands in his pockets.
Billie drew up at the entrance.
“Captain, will you take us on?” called Ben. He always called boatmen and conductors captain. He found it pleased them, but this man did not reply and still stood with his back turned looking out on the now angry strip of water between Seven League Island and the mainland.
Ben shouted and they all shouted together, but the man was as unmoved as a wooden statue.
“He’s deaf,” said Billie. “Get out and shake him.”
Ben jumped out and shook the man’s shoulder, who, with a strange guttural sound, turned slowly around.
“And dumb,” exclaimed Ben, indicating with violent motions first the automobile and then the ferry-boat.
The deaf mute shook his head and pointed in the direction of Flag Point. They offered him money, tried persuasion, threats, prayers, which he could not hear, and finally ended by dashing off toward the last ferry.
“It’s our only chance,” said Ben, “but we’ll get over in that if we have to use force.”