Tom Slade at Temple Camp Part 7

"Maybe it's been raining here this afternoon," observed Tom, "and that's what makes all this mud."

"Well, it's certainly raining here now," said Roy. "Me for that shack!"

The rain suddenly came down in torrents and the boys turned up their collars and made a dash across the marshy land toward the shadowy structure. Roy reached it first and, turning, called: "Hey, fellows, it's a boat!"

The others, drenched, but laughing, followed him, scrambling upon the deck and over the combing into the c.o.c.kpit of a dilapidated cabin launch.

"What do you know about that!" said Roy. "Strike a light and let's see where we're at. I feel like a wet dish rag."

Presently Pee-wee's flashlight was poking its bright shaft this way and that as they looked curiously about them. They were in a neglected and disheveled, but very cosy, little cabin with sleeping lockers on either side and chintz curtains at the tiny portholes. A two-cylinder engine, so rusted that the wheel wouldn't turn over and otherwise in a dubious condition, was ineffectually covered by a piece of stiff and rotten oil cloth, the floor was cluttered with junk, industrious spiders had woven their webs all about and a frantic scurrying sound told of the hurried departure of some little animal which had evidently made its home in the forsaken hull.

"Oh, but this is great!" enthused Pee-wee. "This is the kind of an adventure you read about; _now_ our adventures have really started."

"It'll be more to the purpose if we can get our supper really started,"

said Roy.

"How do you suppose it got here?" Pee-wee asked.

"That's easy," said Tom. "I didn't realize it before, but the tide must come up over the road sometimes and flood all this land here. That's what makes the road muddy. There must have been a good high tide some time or other, and it brought the boat right up over the road and here it is, marooned."

"Maybe it was the same flood that did all the damage down our way," Roy said. "Well, here goes; get the things out, Pee-wee, and we'll have some eats. Gee, it's nice in here."

It _was_ nice. The rain pattered down on the low roof and beat against the little ports; the boat swayed a little in the heavier gusts of wind and all the delightful accompaniments of a life on the ocean wave were present--except the peril.

"You get out the cooking things," said Roy, "while I take a squint around and see if I can find something to kindle a fire in."

He did not have to go far. Sliding open the little hatch, he emerged into the c.o.c.kpit, where the wind and rain smote him mercilessly. The storm had grown into a tempest and Roy wondered how it would be out on the wide river on such a night. In the c.o.c.kpit was nothing but the shredded remnant of a sun awning and a couple of camp chairs, but a few feet from the boat something on the mushy ground cast a faint glimmer, and on going to it he found it to be a battered five-gallon gasoline can, which he brought back in triumph. By this time Tom and Pee-wee had the camp lamp burning and the supper things laid out. It was a very cosy scene.

"See if there's a Stillson wrench in that locker," said Roy.

Among the rusted tools was a "Stillson," and with this Roy disconnected the exhaust pipe from the engine. He next partly "jabbed" and partly cut a hole in the gasoline can of about the circ.u.mference of the pipe. A larger hole in the side of the can sufficed for a door and he squeezed the end of the exhaust pipe into the hole he had made for it, and presto! there was a very serviceable makeshift stove with the exhaust system of the engine converted into a draught and chimney.

"The new patent Silver Fox cooking stove," said Roy. "A scout is resourceful. This beats trying to kindle a fire outside, a night like this. Chuck that piece of wood over here."

There was an old battery box knocking about and this Roy whittled into shavings, while the others with their belt axes completed the ruin of the awning stanchions by chopping them into pieces a few inches long.

"Guess they weren't good for much," observed Tom.

"Oh," said Pee-wee, "I'd just like to live in this boat."

It was no wonder he felt so. With the fire burning brightly in the old can and sending its smoke out through the boat's exhaust, the smell of the bacon cooking, the sight of their outer garments drying in the cheery warmth, while the wind howled outside and the rain beat down upon the low roof the situation was not half bad and an occasional lurch of the old hull gave a peculiar charm to their odd refuge.

"Could you dally with a rice cake, kiddo?" asked Roy, as he deftly stirred up some rice and batter. "Sling me that egg powder, Tom, and give me something to stir with--not that, you gump, that's the fever thermometer!"

"Here's a fountain pen," said Pee-wee; "will that do?"

"This screw-driver will be better," said Roy. "Here, kiddo, make yourself useful and keep turning that in the pan. You're a specialist on good turns."

Pee-wee stirred, while Tom attended to the fire, and Roy to the cooking.

And I might mention on the side that if you should happen to be marooned in a disused boat on a bl.u.s.tering night, and are ingenious enough (as Roy was) to contrive the cooking facilities, you cannot do better than flop a few rice cakes, watching carefully that they don't burn. You can flop them with a shoe horn if you've nothing better at hand.

They spread their balloon silk tent in the c.o.c.kpit, holding fast to the corners until enough water had fallen into it to fill the coffee-pot, and they had three such cups of coffee as you never fancied in your fondest dreams.

For dessert they had "Silver Fox Slump," an invention of Roy's made with chocolate, honey and, I think, horse-radish. It has to be stirred thoroughly. Pee-wee declared that it was such a _table d'hote_ dinner as he had never before tasted. He was always partial to the scout style of cooking and he added, "You know how they have music at _table d'hote_ dinners. Well, this music's got it beat, that's one sure thing. Gee, I'll hate to leave the boat, I sure will."

The boisterous music gave very little prospect of ceasing, and after the three had talked for an hour or so, they settled down for the night, two on the lockers and one on the floor, with the wind still moaning and the rain coming down in torrents.

When they awoke in the morning the wind had died down somewhat, but it still blew fitfully out of the east and the rain had settled down into a steady drizzle. Tom ventured out into the c.o.c.kpit and looked about him. The hills across the river were gray in the mist and the wide expanse of water was steel color. He could see now that there was another road close under the precipitous cliffs and that the one which divided this lowland from the river was almost awash. Through the mist and drizzle along this higher road came a man. He left the road and started to pick his way across the flat, hailing as he came. The three boys awaited him in the c.o.c.kpit.

"Don't n.o.body leave that boat!" he called, "or I'll shoot."

"Dearie me," said Roy. "He seems to be peeved. What are we up against, anyway?"

"Don't shoot, mister," called Tom. "You couldn't drag us out of here with a team of horses."

"Tell him we are Boy Scouts and fear naught," whispered Pee-wee. "Tell him we scorn his--er--what d'you call it?"

"Hey, mister," called Roy. "We are Boy Scouts and fear naught, and we scorn your what-d'you-call it."

"Haouw?" called the man.

"What's that he's got on?" said Tom, "a merit badge?"

"It's a cop's badge," whispered Pee-wee. "Oh, crink.u.ms, we're pinched."

The man approached, dripping and breathing heavily, and placed his hands on the combing.

"Anybody here 'sides you youngsters?" he demanded, at the same time peering inside the cabin.

"A few spiders," said Tom.

"Whatcher doin' here, anyway?"

"We're waiting for the storm to hold up," said Roy; "we beat it from that road when----"

"We sought refuge," Pee-wee prompted him.

"Any port in a storm, you know," Roy smiled. "Are we pinched?"

The man did not vouchsafe an immediate answer to this vital query.

Instead he poked his head in, peered about and then said, "Don' know's ye are, not fur's I'm concerned. I'd like to hev ye answer me one question honest, though."

"You'll have to answer one for us first," called Roy, who had disappeared within the little cabin. "Do you take two lumps of sugar in your coffee?"

The man now condescended to smile, as Roy brought out a steaming cup and handed it to him.

"Wall, ye've got all the comforts uv home, ain't ye?"

"Give him a rice cake," whispered Pee-wee in Roy's ear. "He's all right."