Nid and Nod

by Ralph Henry Barbour

“To-morrow,” said Brose. “It won’t be but seventy-five cents, anyway; just the worth of that hawser. That tow ain’t going to cost anything now I know who I done it for!”

The launch broke into sound and disappeared momentarily around the stern of the Pequot Queen. When they saw it again Brose was draped over the little engine, squirting oil.

I fear that Laurie begrudged Kewpie the two sessions of pitching-practice that day. Certain it is that the afternoon session was shortened to a scant thirty minutes, after which four boys set forth on a shopping expedition, armed with a list that Laurie had made after dinner. Still later they joined Polly and Mae at the shop. Progress was reported and plans for the next day laid. Then Bob treated the crowd, Kewpie virtuously choosing a ginger-ale.

To their disappointment, a light rain was falling that Thursday morning when the four boys set forth for the Pequot Queen. Ned trundled a wheelbarrow laden with lumber, and the others each carried a couple of two-by fours or planks. Ned’s load also included a paper bag of iron spikes, two hammers, and a hatchet. They chose Ash Street in preference to the busier thoroughfares and, because the lumber on the wheelbarrow was continually falling off and the burdens on the boys’ shoulders required frequent shifting, their progress was slow. The rain wasn’t hard, but it was steady, and Ned, who had arisen in a depressed state of mind, grumbled alternately at the weather and the wheelbarrow. They scarcely expected to find Brose Wilkins on hand when they reached the boat, but there he was awaiting them. Laurie introduced Ned and Kewpie, and work began.

By eleven o’clock a gangway led from the bank to the deck of the Pequot Queen. Or, if you liked, you could call it a bridge. It was twenty-six feet in length and thirty-two inches wide, and it was supported midway by two posts which Brose had driven into the sand. It was railed on each side so that, even in the dark, Miss Comfort could traverse it safely. Later it was to be painted, the planking green and the hand-rails white. At least, that was what Brose said, and since Brose seemed to have taken command of operations no one doubted the assertion. Ned and Kewpie, who had been to Walnut Street on an errand, arrived just as the last plank was laid, and the five drew up on the bank and admired the gangway. Of course, as the material was all second-hand, the job didn’t possess the fine appearance that new lumber lends. A stern critic might even have sneered at the joinery, for Brose Wilkins worked with speed rather than accuracy, and the gangway reminded Laurie a little of Brose’s launch. But it was strong and practical, and none of the admirers were inclined to be fastidious. On the contrary the boys were loud in commendation, even Laurie and Bob, who had wielded saw and hammer under Brose’s direction, praised the result highly. Then they all walked along it to the deck and solemnly and approvingly walked back again to the shore. As Bob said proudly, it didn’t even creak.

They spent an hour clearing the boat of the worst of the dirt and rubbish, preparatory to the more careful going over to follow in the afternoon, and finally they parted from Brose and climbed the hill again.

There was no pitching-practice that forenoon.

Shortly after half-past one they went to Mrs. Deane’s, reported progress to Miss Comfort, borrowed two pails, a broom, a scrubbing-brush, and a mop, and returned to the scene of their labors. Brose was again ahead of them. He had taken down the smoke-stack and was covering the hole in the roof with a piece of zinc sheeting. “I was thinking,” he explained, “that she might want to use this place for something, and there was a lot of water coming in around that old funnel. After I paint around the edges of this it’ll be tight.” Brose drove a last flat-headed nail and swung his legs over the side of the boiler-room. “I was thinking that maybe she’d like to keep a few hens in here.”

“Hens!” cried the quartet below in incredulous chorus.

Brose nodded. “Yeah, she was always fond of hens, Miss Pansy. Used to have quite a lot of ’em until her fences got sort of bad and they took to wandering into other folks’ yards. There wouldn’t be much trouble here, I guess. They could go ashore and wander as much as they pleased and not hurt anything.”