A REUNION AND A VISITOR
Never was maiden welcomed so enthusiastically and so fervently, as Polly Brewster, that morning when she stepped from the launch to the sea-wall at Battery Park. Her father and mother vied with each other in embracing and kissing her, while the tears of happiness streamed from their eyes; John and Anne hovered beside them, watching every dear feature of Polly’s face. Eleanor stood holding fast to her best friend’s skirt, as if that could keep her forever near her.
The members in the “Delegation of Welcome,” acted as if they had been imbibing some intoxicating stimulant. Such happy laughter, and vehement demonstrations of joy and love because Polly was with them again, spoke louder than words that they had all thought she was drowned. Tom found that little fuss was made over him in the first exuberant greetings, but he came in for his share after the doctor had concluded his story about the valiant young rescuer.
“Now, Mr. Brewster, you pay attention to me,” remarked the physician, when he was ready to depart on the launch: “You take your daughter home, at once, and put her to bed for the rest of the day, to spare her any nervous reaction. Then, if she is all right tomorrow, you may allow her to receive a caller, or two—no more for the time being, or you will have her break down.”
Mr. Brewster promised to obey the orders faithfully, and soon afterwards, Polly’s friends followed her and her parents to the automobiles which were waiting near the curb of the Park. Tom was surrounded, on both sides and fore and aft, by his family and John and Mr. Dalken, all of whom wished to hear the thrilling story of the rescue again.
“I’d rather hear how you folks kept afloat after that boat rammed the yacht,” said he, shunning a subject that still made him shudder.
Mr. Dalken insisted that Tom with his father and mother get into his luxurious limousine and let him drive them home. On the way uptown, Mr. Dalken told the story of their narrow escape from being lost in the Bay after the collision.
“Immediately after the yacht was rammed and we could collect our senses to comprehend what had happened, and what to do, the old tub of a ferry-boat kept on her course. But there were some worried citizens on board, for they shouted and, finally, the captain stopped his engines and blew the whistles to see if we needed help.
“Fortunately for us, a river tug was quite close at hand when the accident occurred, and its captain called through a megaphone to say that he would assist us in any way we commanded.
“Our Captain then ascertained that part of our gear had been shaken out of place, and it would be dangerous for him to try to run the vessel under her own power, and trust our steering gear. So the good old man on the tug took us in tow and landed us, towards dawn, at our dock.