Dan Merrithew | Page 7

slid among the green piles until the
stern of the big tug loomed overhead. When it was within reach
Captain Barney leaned out, made one end of the line fast to the tug's
rudder post and then, paying out about twenty feet, he fastened the
other end to the bitts in the bow of the rowboat.
It seemed an hour's waiting before the Quinn's crew cast off the lines,
but in reality it was not more than ten minutes. As the screw began to
thresh the water and the tug to move swiftly out into the river, it
required rare skill on the part of the young boatman to manoeuvre the
boat so she should not be upset at the start. But Dan had the skill
required and more besides, as he knelt in the stern with one oar deep in
the water to the port side.

In the course of a few minutes they were fairly on their way, and
Captain Jim Skelly was losing no time. He had full speed before the tug
was a hundred yards from the pier, and the spray and the splintered
chips of ice flew back from the sharp bow, smiting the faces of the two
men in the little boat dragging astern with three-quarters of her length
out of water. Dan, kneeling aft, watched with eagle eye each quirk and
turn of the tow-line.
It is the hardest thing a man has to do--to tow behind a tug or ferryboat,
even under fair conditions. In this case, the conditions were far from
fair, for there was the ice, lazily rolling and cracking in the heavy wake
of the tug, grinding against the sides of the rowboat, until it seemed that
they must be crushed. There was great danger that they would be.
There was danger also that the tow-line might slue both men into the
icy waters and upset the boat.
Captain Barney was tingling with fear. Dan knew it, and smiled. It was
not often that any one had the privilege of seeing Captain Barney
frightened.
As the tug veered to starboard to round Governor's Island the tow-line
slued to port and thence quickly to starboard. The rowboat was snapped
over on her gunwales and the water poured in like a mill-race. A roar of
an oath escaped Captain Barney's lips, but before he had closed them
the boat had righted.
"Shut up, will you?" hissed Dan. "Do you want them to discover and
drown us? Ugh--she skated clean over that ice-cake!"
"You've got me out here to kill me, Dan," whimpered Captain Barney.
"'A Christmas present!' I see--now."
"Will you keep still?" whispered Dan. "If they hear us, you'll find out
who wants to kill you. The root she took that time was nothing. There'll
be worse ones--this boat is not through rooting yet."
Neither was she. Ahead the tug loomed, a great dark shape; and the
pulse of her engines was lost in the roiling water rising from the screw

blades and the hiss of it as it raced by the row-boat. There was a dim
blur of light from one of the after-cabin portholes and the shadow of
figures passing to and fro inside could be seen. The decks were
deserted. It was too cold to brave the night wind except under
necessity--a night wind that cut through the pea-jackets and ear-caps
and thick woollen gloves of the two men in the rowboat. Captain
Barney felt a fierce resentment that the Quinn's men should be so warm
and comfortable while he was shivering.
"Christmas Eve!" he exclaimed. "Fine, ain't it?" and he flailed his arms
about to keep the blood in circulation.
"Christmas Eve," said Dan solemnly, as though to himself, "the finest I
ever spent"; and he added apologetically, "even if I am making an
eternal fool of myself."
On they sped. Frequently the tug would hit a large stretch of clear water,
and at such times the jingle-bell would sound in the engine-room and
the Quinn would shoot forward at a rate that fairly lifted the rowboat
out of the water, while Dan, kneeling astern, oar in hand, muscles tense,
and mind alert, was ready to do anything that lay in his skill to prevent
an untoward accident.
Swish! Zip! and the rowboat would suddenly shoot to one side or the
other, compelling Dan to dig his oar way down into the water, bending
all his strength in efforts to keep the bow straight.
"She's rooting every second," he grumbled, opening and shutting his
hand to drive away the stiffness and then casting a vindictive glance at
Captain Barney, the source of all the trouble.
And as for the tugboat-skipper, he sat and watched his companion, and
resolved that, after all, there were a few things he did