CHAPTER XI.
UNCLE PHIN’S DANGER.
For a moment poor Arthur, who knew nothing of boats and had never been on one before unless it was a New York ferry-boat, stood irresolute and frightened, without the slightest idea of what had happened or what he ought to do. The cry that he heard had not sounded a bit like Uncle Phin’s voice, and if it was his what had become of him? He was not on the boat, nor, so far as Arthur could discover, was he in the water. Upon seeing the bridge overhead the boy readily comprehended that the shock which had flung him to the floor was caused by the boat drifting against one of its great stone piers; but this did not explain Uncle Phin’s disappearance.
In his fear and distress of mind he began to call wildly: “Uncle Phin! Oh, dear Uncle Phin! where are you?”
“Hyar I is, Honey,” came a feeble voice from the other end of the boat, and Arthur sprang joyfully in that direction.
As the boat had swung around on striking the bridge pier, its after end now pointed down stream, and Arthur had been standing at the bow, gazing back on the place where he was afraid Uncle Phin had been left. Now, as he reached the other end of the boat, he saw the old man’s white head and black face, just on the surface of the water, but a short distance from where he stood. He seemed to be sitting astride of some object, to which he clung desperately. Every now and then it would sink, and poor Uncle Phin would disappear completely, only to re-appear a moment later, spluttering, choking, and exhibiting every sign of the utmost terror.
For a moment Arthur did not in the least comprehend the situation, and could not imagine what it was to which Uncle Phin was clinging. When it suddenly occurred to him that it was the long steering sweep, the other end of which projected above his head over the roof of the cabin, his first impulse, and the one on which he acted, was to spring to this inboard end and throw his weight upon it, with the idea of lifting the old negro clear of the water. As the steering sweep was a very nicely balanced see-saw, and as Uncle Phin’s body in the water, weighed less than Arthur’s out of it, the boy’s effort was crowned with a complete success, though its result was not exactly what he had anticipated.
To be sure, as Arthur flung himself upon one end of the long pole, the old man, astride the bit of plank fastened to its other end, was lifted into the air. It was, however, so suddenly and unexpectedly, that he lost his balance, toppled over, and again disappeared headforemost beneath the water. At the same time the boy, at the inner end of the see-saw, was bumped down on the cabin roof. Then Uncle Phin’s end again descended into the water, just in time for the old man to grasp it as he came to the surface.
With great difficulty he struggled into his former position, and turning a reproachful gaze on Arthur said:
“Don’t you do it again, Honey. I’se no doubt you means all right; but anodder fling like dat ar, would drown de old man shuah.”
“I didn’t mean to, Uncle Phin! Indeed, I didn’t!” cried poor Arthur, in great distress. “I only meant to try and help you and lift you from the water.”
“Well, you done it, Honey, shuah ’nuff; but I wouldn’ try no more sich ’speriments. If you’ll frow me de end ob de rope, what’s lying jes inside the do, and tie de odder end to dat ar pos, I reckin I kin pull myself up outen de water.”
Arthur quickly did as directed, and in a few minutes more had the satisfaction of seeing his dear old friend rescued from his perilous position, and seated safely on the deck. As the water-soaked man sat there, recovering from his exhaustion, and grateful for the warmth of the hot morning sun, he shook his head, and said:
“I allus heerd tell dat salorin was a resky bizness, an dat dem what goes down into de sea in ships sees wonerful tings; but I nebber spected ole Phin Dale ebber sperience it all fer his own sef.”
After his strength was somewhat restored, Uncle Phin instructed Arthur to keep a sharp look-out for any more bridges, and went into the cabin to light a fire and prepare breakfast. A good supply of dry wood and a box of matches having been provided, he quickly had a cheerful blaze crackling on his rude hearth. While it was burning down to a bed of red coals, he mixed the meal, salt, and water, that he intended should be transformed into a corn-pone, set the coffee water on to boil, and cut two slices of bacon. The smoke of the fire found its way out of the cabin through a square hatch that Brace Barlow had cut in the roof directly above it.
In less than an hour the bed of coals had done its duty. The corn-pone had been baked on a flat stone, previously rubbed with a bacon rind, and set up at a sharp angle in the hottest corner of the fireplace. The slices of bacon were done to a turn, and four fresh eggs had been fried with them. The coffee was hot and strong, and there was maple sugar to sweeten it. Taken altogether, it was a breakfast that would have pleased a much more fastidious person than hungry little Arthur Dale Dustin, and he enjoyed it as, it seemed to him, he never had enjoyed a meal before.
Uncle Phin’s delight at seeing his “lil Marse” eat so heartily was unbounded, and they both found so much pleasure in their novel housekeeping that the mishap of an hour before was forgotten, and they would willingly have agreed to drift along in this happy way for the rest of their lives.
After every scrap of food had been eaten, and only grounds remained in the coffee-pot, Uncle Phin began to clear the table, which was an empty packing-box, shake the table-cloth, which was a newspaper, and wash the dishes; while Arthur set to work to tidy up the cabin. He made the beds, which only took about one minute each, placed his precious book carefully on one of the shelves, and then looked about for a broom with which to sweep the floor. There was none.
“Why, Uncle Phin!” exclaimed the boy, “if we haven’t come off and forgotten the broom!”
“So we has, Honey! so we has!” replied the old man, pausing in his work and assuming an expression of mock dismay, “I ricollec now, when de furnichure man putten in dem elergent brack walnut bedstids, he say, ’Misto Phin Dale, don you fergit somefin’; and I say, ‘No, Misto Furnichure man, I reckin not.’ Now, he mus er been meanin de broom all de time, an hyar we is come off an lef it behin.”
“You are making fun of me, you know you are,” laughed Arthur; “but really, I do need a broom very much, for I can’t make this place look tidy without one.”
“You mus hab one, ob cose,” said Uncle Phin, “an we’ll jes run inter de sho and fin some white birch trees, an Unc Phin make you a twig broom, jes de fines you ebber seen.”
They were both glad of an excuse to stop and make a landing, for they were enjoying their voyage so much that they feared it might come to an end more quickly than they wished it to. So they went on deck, and watched for a good opportunity to run ashore.
At last they drifted close into a grassy bank, above which were a number of huge oil tanks, a brick building, and a neat white cottage. It was a pumping station on one of the great pipe lines through which crude petroleum is conveyed from the wells of the oil region to the distant seaboard refineries. At that time it was thought necessary to have relay stations of tanks, and pumps to force the oil along from one to another, every five or six miles. Of late years, however, the pumps have grown larger and stronger, until, on a recently constructed pipeline leading into Chicago, one immense pumping engine forces the oil along the entire distance of 250 miles.
As the Ark drifted slowly along in front of this pleasant-looking place, Uncle Phin, directing Arthur how to steer, loosened the side sweep that was farthest from shore, and, by rowing with it, headed their craft in toward the bank. In a minute more she was so close to it that Arthur could easily spring to the narrow beach, carrying with him the end of a rope, that he made fast to a tree.