The Rival Campers; Or, The Adventures of Henry Burns

by Ruel Perley Smith

The arrival of the steamer from Benton was an event of great interest daily, for it brought not only mysterious packages, bundles, and messages from fathers whose business kept them in the city, but now and then a new face, which was duly scrutinized and commented upon by the summer colonists before its possessor had crossed the gangplank.

So that on this day when Squire Brackett returned to his native isle there were many gathered upon the wharf, though, it is hardly necessary to say, not for the purpose of welcoming his return. Yet one might readily believe the squire thought otherwise; since, as the steamer neared the wharf, this self-important individual, arrayed in a suit of shining black, with a great deal of staring shirt-front, and with an enormous slouch-hat surmounting his ponderous head, seemed the most conspicuous person aboard.

The squire stood nearest the gangway, and, indeed, it looked from a distance as though the other passengers, in recognition of the greatness of this island magnate, had drawn respectfully back a little distance, to wait till he should have gone ashore ere they approached the railing.

As the steamer came nearer, however, the reason for this seeming deference on their part became apparent. It was plainly not due so much to any awe inspired by the squire as it was to fear,—fear of the squire’s purchase. The squire’s purchase was as ugly and vicious looking a bulldog as ever walked on four legs. The squire held the dog by a stout piece of cord, which was wound several times about his wrist.

The dog and the squire, being each in equally ill-humour, may have found their companionship agreeable. Certain it was that the squire was the only person whom the dog did not snarl and snap at. It growled and snapped at every one, and even snarled and showed its teeth at the good-natured cook aboard the steamer, who had offered it a scrap of meat.

This surliness on the part of his new acquisition had particularly pleased the squire, who argued from it that here was an incorruptible beast, that would meet in the same spirit any such advances upon the part of strangers when it should be duly installed as guardian of his farmhouse.

The squire would be magnanimous on this occasion, however, and, despite the fact that the crowd on the wharf looked to him, as it always did in his eyes, like invaders of his domain, he gave a bow accompanied by a sweeping gesture of his hand, presumably intended to be a patronizing greeting, which should include everybody, and nobody in particular, at once.

Then the steamer made its landing. It was not always an easy matter here, for the tide at certain times ran swift, and seemed to strive fiercely to drive the boat away from the wharf. Therefore, when the steamer was as yet at some distance from the wharf, a deck-hand at the bow skilfully let fly a coil of small rope, which unwound in the air and was caught by a man standing on the wharf. To an end of this rope was attached the usual heavy hawser, which was then drawn on to the wharf by means of the small rope, and the bight thrown over a spiling. In like manner the other big hawser was drawn up astern on to the wharf.

When things were done shipshape, it was the rule of the steamer that the small rope should be coiled again and at once thrown back to the boat while one end was still fast to the wharf, so that when the hawser was cast off from the spiling it could be drawn aboard by the small rope, without its splashing down into the water and getting wet.

But things were more often done hurriedly than shipshape at the Southport landing. The steamer’s crew had all they could do usually to land freight and get it out quickly enough, so that the boat could go on down the bay without losing time. The line thrown to the wharf was usually caught by the village storekeeper, who had little time to spare, or by whatever man or boy happened to be standing near at hand. The boat’s rule was seldom obeyed. Scarcely any one ever took the trouble to coil up the small rope and throw it back. When the hawsers were cast off they fell into the water, regardless of the fact that they thereby got wet and became heavier, dragging the small ropes after them, and were hauled aboard as the boat steamed away.