Part 10 (1/2)
TROUBLE WITH THE TRAMPS.
We were a proud lot when the house was finally completed. From the veranda we had an excellent view up and down the river. We could see our camp on the island and keep watch of our goods. Late one afternoon Dutchy and I were lolling about on the Goblins' Platform, idly watching a hawk soaring above us. The rest of the boys had returned to the island in canoes an hour before and left the heavy scow for us to row back. It was drawing near supper time and we had about decided to start for home, when I chanced to see a scow up the river. It looked exactly like ours, and in it were two men, evidently drunk, from the way they carried on. A glance showed me that our scow was not at its moorings. How were we to reach the camp? One of the men had evidently seen us and was pointing us out to his companion. We rushed down the Jacob's Ladder, but by the time we reached the river bank they were in midstream and heading rapidly northward. Our shouts merely brought forth derisive laughter. We were certainly in a predicament. First we ran back up the cliff, and tried from there to gain the attention of the rest of the fellows. They evidently saw us but couldn't make out what we wanted. Then we ran down to a point opposite the island and called to them. But the wind was against us and we couldn't make them hear, so we had to plunge in and wade across.
A COUNCIL OF WAR.
Immediately we summoned a war council. Dutchy and Jack were chosen by lot to guard the camp, while the rest of us started in pursuit in canoes. By the time we got under way the sun had dropped back of the Pennsylvania hills and the shadows were climbing slowly up the Jacob's Ladder. Swiftly we paddled up-stream, keeping close to the western sh.o.r.e, where the water was very quiet. We didn't expect to go far, because there were rapids less than three miles up, and we were sure that no tramps would ever be ambitious enough to row a heavy scow against the swift current at that point. As we rounded a sharp bend in the river, we noticed a camp fire a few hundred feet further up, around which five or six men were lounging, and there, just below them, was our scow. What were four boys to do against six grown men? We were each armed with a club, and could have made a pretty good fight if necessary, but after a whispered consultation we decided it would be best to wait until dark, when we could creep up quietly and steal away unnoticed with our boat.
VENGEANCE.
It seemed as if darkness never would come. It was scarcely dusk when our patience gave out and we paddled up stealthily, hugging the sh.o.r.e. Bill gained the scow unnoticed, but just as he was about to push off he discerned the body of a man within. It was one of the tramps lying there in a drunken stupor. What was to be done? Every moment was precious. A yell from the fireside decided him. With a mighty push he launched the boat out into the current, while we threw him a line and towed the boat out to midstream. With a volley of curses the men sprang up and pelted us with stones. But they were poor shots, and we escaped without serious injury. Our prisoner, in the meantime, was snoring heavily in the scow undisturbed. We took him down-stream and then unceremoniously picked him up and dumped him overboard within a few feet of the sh.o.r.e. It was a rude awakening, and nearly frightened the wits out of the man. But it brought him to his senses, and in a moment we were dodging more stones, sent with such good aim that we had to lie flat in the bottoms of the boats until the current carried us out of reach.
A DOUBLE SURPRISE.
It was now quite dark, and we had some difficulty in groping our way back to camp. There was no moon and the stars were obscured by clouds.
Our only course was to follow the sh.o.r.e line until we got around the bend, and then we steered for the beacon fire, which, by prearrangement, had been kindled on Point Lookout. But the spirit of mischief was in us.
We thought we would have some fun with Dutchy. We could see him silhouetted against the blaze. Jim and I hung back in the canoes, while Reddy and Bill went on with the scow, splas.h.i.+ng their oars and shouting and singing in disguised voices, like drunken men. Dutchy was evidently very much agitated. His ”h.e.l.lo, there! Boat ahoy!” was greeted with derisive yells.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 145. A Joke on Dutchy.]
”Say, we'll lick the life out of you, the same as we did them other kids,” shouted Reddy.
This was too much for Dutchy. He ran for all he was worth, yelling for Jack to come quick.
We had a merry laugh over the situation when suddenly the tables were turned. Something whizzed past Bill's ear; I was stung on the arm with a heavy nail; a large stone hit the scow; Reddy had his hat knocked off, and Fred upset his canoe trying to duck out of reach of the invisible missiles before we could make our a.s.sailants understand that we were friends and not the tramps. The joke was on us after all. We hadn't counted on Dutchy's accurate aim or Jack's skill with the crossbow.
TRAMP-PROOF BOAT MOORING.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 146. A Tramp-proof Mooring.]
Around the camp fire that night we discussed our adventures and made plans to prevent their recurrence. It was evident, for one thing, that we would have to moor our boats off sh.o.r.e in such a way that they would be out of reach of meddlesome persons, and yet could be drawn in toward sh.o.r.e by any one who knew how. This was the way we did it. A pair of galvanized iron ring bolts were procured on Jack's next trip to Lamington for provisions, also a light rope about forty feet long. The ring bolts were screwed into a pair of stout anchor stakes about two feet from their lower ends. The rope was pa.s.sed through the rings and the ends were joined by tying them to a galvanized iron link. Then it was soaked for a while to shrink it before it was set in place. After the rope had shrunk sufficiently, the two stakes were driven into the bed of the river, one close to the bank and the other far enough out to hold the rope belt clear of the bottom. Both stakes were sawed off under water, just above the ring bolts, so that they were hidden from sight.
When we wanted to moor our boats we secured their anchor ropes or ”painters” to the link. A large stepping stone marked the spot were the inner stake was driven, and standing on this stone we were able to reach down and haul in on the lower strap of the belt to draw the boat out a safe distance from sh.o.r.e, and then when we wanted to use our boat again we would haul in the upper strap to draw the boat in toward sh.o.r.e.
CHAPTER XIII.
WIGWAGGING AND HELIOGRAPHING.
Our tramp adventure was really quite a blessing to us, for it taught us the necessity of a good signaling system between the Goblins' Platform and the island and led to our learning how to wigwag, and later to the construction of a heliograph. Uncle Ed, when he read of our experience, sent us the U. S. Army ”Manual of Signaling.” Fred, the tailor of our camp, made us two white flags with red centers. Each flag was two feet square and was fastened to a light staff about five feet long. Then we got out the manual and practised sending signals, at first within shouting distance, until we got to be quite expert.
WIGWAG SIGNALS.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 147-150. Ready, First Movement, Second Movement, Third Movement.]
There were only three different movements that could be made with flags, but in the book different combinations of these movements were given to represent each letter of the alphabet and the numbers from 1 to 0. All these movements were begun and ended by holding the flagstaff upright, directly in front of the body, as shown in Fig. 147. The first movement was to swing the flag down to the right and back (Fig. 148), the second to the left and back (Fig. 149), and the third forward and back (Fig.