“All ready for the big day?” asked the genial boatman.
“We’re shy a few hours sleep,” grinned Tom. “Those cannon crackers started about four o’clock but outside of that we’re all pepped up and ready to go.”
“About three or four years ago,” reminded the boatman, “you used to be gallivantin’ around town with a pocketful of those big, red crackers at sun-up. Guess you can’t complain a whole lot now.”
Tom admitted that he really couldn’t complain and they climbed into the Liberty.
“I’m takin’ some last minute supplies down to the hotel at Sandy Point,” said the boatman, “so we won’t wait for anyone else.”
He switched on the starter and the boat quivered as the powerful motor took hold. They were backing away from the pier when the pilot of one of the other boats shouted for them to stop.
A boy was running down Main Street, waving a yellow envelope in his hand.
Jim Preston nosed the Liberty back to the pier and the boy ran onto the dock.
“Telegram for you,” he told Helen. “It’s a rush message and I just had to get it to you.”
“Thanks a lot,” replied Helen. “Are there any charges?”