“That’s right,” said Tom, looking over his shoulder, “because I jumped out, pulled the boat up and looked around. And on the other side of the road was a marshy place and a lot more water all along. I didn’t know which way the road would take me, so I went back and pushed off again. By that time those sardines had begun to swim around inside of me and I got kind of squirmy. After a minute I heard a whistle and I thought it was the Vagabond’s. I listened and it sounded five times. Then, after a while, it sounded five again.”
“Yes,” said Nelson; “one, two—one, two, three; twenty-three for you, Tommy.”
“Was that it? It sounded to me like T, o,—m, m, y! T, o,—m, m, y! Anyhow, I started out for it but it was hard to tell just where it was. And after I’d been pulling about ten minutes or so I had to quit. The—the sardines weren’t satisfied where they were. I was as sick as a dog for a while, and afterward I laid down in the bottom of the boat and didn’t care whether I ever found you fellows or not. Every now and then I’d hear the whistle. And then I went to sleep. When I woke up I was stiff and the water was just running off me. I was sure then that the tide had taken me out to sea and I was scared blue. So I turned the boat right around and rowed in the opposite direction. After a bit I heard oars and shouted out. A man answered and I asked him where the steamboat wharf was. ‘Over there about two or three hundred feet,’ said he. But I couldn’t see, him and I didn’t know where ‘over there’ was. So I asked him to wait until I reached him. He was a young fellow in a fishing dory filled with lobster pots. I told him I was looking for the Vagabond and he said he’d just passed her and that if I’d follow him he’d show her to me. So I did. And we went about thirty or forty strokes, I guess, and found her. And here I am. And if any one wants to go for a row the boat’s out there. I’m going to stay right here until the fog goes away. Is there any more tea, Bob?”
“No, but I’ll make you some,” was the answer. “It won’t take a minute.”
“Well, you certainly had the time of your life,” said Dan with a grin. “You always were lucky, Tom. If it had been me I’d have been miles out in Nantucket Sound by this time.”
“There ought to be a compass in that tender,” said Nelson. “And I’m going to get one for it.”
“Well, it won’t do any harm,” remarked Bob from the engine room, “but it’s an easy bet that none of us is going to go out in her again in the fog.”
“I’m plumb sure I’m not,” sighed Tom. “After I get that cup of tea I’m going to hit my bunk and take a nap.”
And he did, sleeping most of the afternoon, while Bob and Dan played cards and Nelson busied himself at the engine. The wiring hadn’t satisfied him of late and so he put in new connections all over and had a nice, messy time of it. About half-past four the fog lifted somewhat and by six was almost gone. A cool breeze blew down from the north and in the west the sun set in a pool of orange and vermilion. The Four doffed oilskins and sweaters and got into respectable attire, and at half-past six went ashore for dinner.
In the evening they played Five Hundred until nearly ten o’clock, at which time Tom was seventeen hundred and something in the hole. Whereupon he said he was going to bed and in proof of the assertion tossed the cards into Dan’s bunk, where they spread themselves out artistically from top to bottom. Dan was for forcing Tom to pick them up, and during the fracas following Nelson and Bob made things shipshape for the night. Then the riot was quelled and, after reciting the “Dirge of the Salt Codfish,” Tom and Dan consented to retire.