“That’s where you made your mistake,” said Bob. “The tide turned the launch around and you started in just the opposite direction from what you thought. I’ll bet you didn’t find the wharf?”
“Gee! I thought for a while I was never going to find anything. I kept rowing and rowing, easy, you know, so as not to bump anything, and wondering why I didn’t get to the shore. And then I was bothered about not finding any boats, because I knew there were two or three right between us and the steamboat wharf. Well, after about ten minutes I got sort of scared; thought perhaps I’d got turned around and was rowing out to sea. So I stopped and listened, but I couldn’t hear anything except a wagon somewhere in one direction and an engine whistle away off in the opposite direction. I didn’t know whether there was a railroad on the island or not. Is there?”
“I don’t think so,” said Nelson. “There’s one on Nantucket, though.”
“What he probably heard,” said Bob, “was the train across on the mainland. That would be only about six miles.”
“Well,” continued Tom, “I didn’t know where it was and so I decided to make toward where the wagon seemed to be. So I turned half around and started off in a new direction. I guess I rowed a quarter of an hour and didn’t see a thing or hear anything. Then I stopped and rested. I thought if I could only see which way the current was running I’d know where the mouth of the harbor was, because I was sure that the tide would be running out.”
“That was right,” said Nelson.
“Yes, but there wasn’t any way to tell. I could only see for about four or five feet around the tender and the water was like a looking-glass. Then, while I was resting, I heard some one shout: ‘Hi, Cap’n Joe!’ It sounded almost behind me and it startled me so I pretty near dropped the oars. So I shouted back and turned the boat around again. But I didn’t get any answer. So I began to row. Then I saw the shore ahead and when I got close I looked for a place to land. But all there was was a high wharf set on slippery spilings and no ladder anywhere. So I kept along the wharf for a long old ways, turned a corner and bumped into the stern of a coal barge. I edged the tender around that and found a fellow sitting on the gunwale fishing. So I asked him—Is there any more bread, Bob?”
“You asked him what?” exclaimed Bob.
“Get out! Cut me another slice of bread, like a good fellow. I asked him where the steamboat wharf was. And what do you think he did? Pointed over his shoulder, mind you, and said it was two miles! Then, thinks I, I’ve rowed around the point and this is Cottage City where the cottages are. ‘What place is this?’ I asked him. ‘Vineyard Haven,’ says he. Well, I didn’t know any more then, so I told him where I wanted to go and all about it. He was a nice chap, if his face was all over coal dust, and he told me that I was near a place called West Chop and that what I wanted was Eastville and that it was up the harbor and across. So I asked him then if there was a grocery store around there, and he said there was one about a quarter of a mile up the harbor. So I thanked him and started off again, keeping right up snug to the shore. And after I’d gone about a quarter of a mile, as I reckoned it, I made a landing at an old wharf and set out to find the grocery.
“It was like walking in the dark, because I couldn’t see more than a dozen feet ahead of me. Once I came pretty near going through a hole in the pier. But pretty soon I found a building of some sort and walked around it and found a road. But there wasn’t a soul to be seen. So I kept on going for quite a ways, and then I remembered that if I didn’t look out I’d never find the tender again. So I turned around and started back. And pretty soon I saw that I’d lost my way. But I found the grocery. There were two or three stores there and some houses. I went in and bought a pound of butter. I’d have got more but I didn’t know how good it would be. I suppose it’s pretty poor, isn’t it?”