If I had been giving undivided attention to my combined duties as steersman and pilot, instead of neglecting them for other and more engrossing matters, I should, doubtless, have seen the dory before.
As it was I had not seen it at all, nor heard the oars.It had sneaked up on the Comfort out of the darkness and its occupant had laid us aboard as neatly as you please.
I was, to say the least, startled and surprised.I dodged the threatening club and turned a dazed face toward the person brandishing it.He appeared to be a middle-sized, elderly person, in oilskins and souwester, and when he spoke a gray whisker wagged above the chin strap of the souwester.
"Who in blazes are you?" I demanded, as soon as I could get the words together.
"Never you mind that.You know who I be all right enough.Be you goin' to pay me for them lobsters? That's what _I_ want to know.""What lobsters?"
"Them lobsters you've been stealin' out of my pots for the last fortnight.""_I_ have been stealing?"
"Yes, you.I been layin' for you all night long.I don't know who you be, but you'll pay for them lobsters or come along with me to the lock-up, one or t'other."I looked about, over the water.The light toward which I had been trying to steer blazed dead ahead, surprisingly near and bright.
Except for that, however, there was no sign of anything except darkness and waves.
"Look here, my man," I said."I haven't stolen your lobsters; but--""I know better.I don't know who you be, but I'd know you was a thief if I run acrost you in prayer-meetin'.Just to look at you is enough."I heard a hysterical giggle from the bench beside me.Evidently the person with the club heard it, too, for he leaned forward to look.
"So there's two of ye, eh!" he said."Well, by godfreys, I don't care if there's a million! You'll pay for them lobsters or go to the lock-up."I laughed aloud."Very well," I said."I am agreeable.""You're agreeable! What do you mean by that? This ain't no laughin' matter, I'll tell you that."I laughed again."I don't care what you tell me," I observed.
"And if you will take us somewhere ashore--to the lock-up or anywhere else--I shall be much obliged."The occupant of the dory seemed to be puzzled.He leaned forward once more.
"What sort of talk is that?" he demanded."Where's my lobsters?...
Hey! What? I swan to man, I believe one of ye's a woman!
Have the females turned thieves, too?"
"I don't know.See here, my friend, my name is Paine, and I'm the only lobster aboard this craft.This lady and I belong in Denboro.
My launch has run out of gasolene and we have been drifting about the bay since five o'clock.Now, for heaven's sake, don't talk any more, but take us to the lock-up and be quick about it."The unknown paid no attention to my entreaty.Instead he leaned still further over the Comfort's rail.The dory careened until Iexpected to see her capsize.
"I swan to man!" he muttered."I swan to man! 'Tain't possible I'm mistook!""It scarcely seems possible, I admit.But I'm afraid it is true."I heard the club fall with a clatter.
"My--godfreys! Do you mean to say--? From Denboro? Out of gasolene! Why--why, you've got sail up!""Nothing but a tarpaulin on an oar."
"And you've been cruisin' all night? Through the fog--the squall--and all?"
"Yes," wearily, "yes--yes--yes."
"But--but ain't you drownded?"
"Not quite.If you don't let go of that rail we shall be soon.""Driftin' all night! Ain't you wet through?""Yes.Might I suggest that we postpone the rest of the catechism until we reach--the lock-up?"This suggestion apparently was accepted.Our captor suddenly became very much alive.
"Give me a line," he ordered."Anchor rope'll do.Where is it?
up for'ard?"
He pawed the dory along, hand over hand, until he reached the Comfort's bow.I heard the thump of the anchor as he dragged it into the dory.Then came the creak and splash of oars.His voice sounded from somewhere ahead.
"Head for the light," he shouted."I'm goin' to tow you in.""In where?"
"In ashore.That's Mack'rel Island light.My name's Atwood.I'm keeper of it."I turned to my passenger.
"It looks," I said, "as if our voyage was almost over."And it was.Mr.Atwood had a tough job on his hands, towing the launch.But the make-shift sail helped some and I did my best to steer in his wake.Miss Colton and I had no opportunity to talk.
The gentleman in the dory kept up a running fire of remarks, shouted between grunts, and embroidered with cheerful profanity.
We caught fragments of the monologue.
"I swan to man--ugh--I thought ye was thieves, for sartin.Some everlastin', dam--ugh--have been sneakin' out nights and haulin' my lobster pots.Ugh--if I'd caught 'em I was cal'latin' to--ugh--break their--ugh--ugh-- This dory pulls like a coal barge--I--Wet through, ain't ye? And froze, I cal'late-- Ugh--and hungry, too-- Ugh--ugh-- My old woman's tendin' light.She--ugh-- Here we be! Easy now!"A low shore loomed black across our bows.Above it the lighthouse rose, a white chalk mark against the sky with a red glare at its upper end.Mr.Atwood sprang overboard with a splash.The launch was drawn in at the end of its anchor rope until its keel grated on the sand.
"Now then!" said our rescuer."Here we be! Made harbor at last, though I did think I'd crack my back timbers afore we done it.
I'll tote the lady ashore.You can wade, can't ye?"I could and I was very glad of the opportunity.I turned to take Miss Colton in my arms, but she avoided me.
"Here I am, Mr.Atwood," she said."Oh, thank you."She was swung into the air and moved shoreward to the accompaniment of mighty splashings.
"Don't be scart, ma'am," said Mr.Atwood."I shan't let ye drop.
