Tish Marches On Read online

  “We are going fishing,” said Tish with her usual dignity, and he was still on the pavement staring after us as we drove away.

  Tish was her optimistic self during the journey. She had already calculated that she could increase her income considerably, and that fish caught beyond the three-mile limit should not be taxable.

  “It may be,” she said, “that we have at last found a method of legal evasion which the Congress has not discovered. And there are millions of sharks in the sea.”

  Aggie, however, refused to be comforted.

  “Thed let theb stay there,” she said hollowly. “I dod’t wadt ady.”

  Yet, looking back, I realize that Aggie was in better condition than I had expected. She was sneezing less, for one thing, and at the hotel that night she ate quite a good dinner. I know the reason now, and can understand her perfidy. Yet, in view of the fact that she had already sent that warning radiogram to Charlie Sands, I can only feel that she deserved some of her later misfortunes. To blame Letitia Carberry, as she has, is most unfair.

  We were up quite early, and after a breakfast of scrambled eggs—which Aggie ate over my protest—we drove to the flying field. Mr. Smith was there, and so was the dirigible which he called the Snark. It was already out in the open with the engines going, and a dozen men or so were holding it down by what he called the handling lines, or ropes. Mr. Smith seemed very proud of it.

  “Pretty, isn’t she?” he said. “And willing! She’d go on forever if you’d let her.”

  Willing! As I write that word my hand fairly trembles. If ever a dirigible was willing it was that one.

  Tish was the first to get into the thing, and while the lunch et cetera was being carried aboard he explained to her how the dirigible was operated. It had a wheel to the right of the pilot seat, to raise and lower it, and two foot pedals to steer by. Also it had two engines, he said, and when fishing for sharks one of them had to be stopped or the line would be caught.

  “Well, that’s the ship,” he said. “Safe and comfortable. You’ll never forget this experience, ladies. And the boys say there’s a lot of sharks offshore. … Hello!” he said suddenly. “What’s all this?”

  I looked, and a girl was driving up in a small car. She got out in a hurry and rushed toward us.

  “Johnnie!” she called.

  I knew her at once. It was the blond girl at the Ostermaiers’, and she had been crying.

  “What’s wrong?” Mr. Smith inquired.

  “Listen, Johnnie. It’s Jeff. He’s lost. You’ll have to find him.”

  “You couldn’t lose Jeff Blane anywhere in the Atlantic,” said Mr. Smith.

  “He wants to be lost,” said the girl desperately. “We had a quarrel yesterday and he started out to sea in his boat. He said he’d go straight out until the gas ran out. And he hasn’t come back. You know him, Johnnie,” she added. “He’s stubborn. He’ll do it.”

  “Yeah,” said Mr. Smith thoughtfully. “Jeff’s stubborn, all right. He might do it.”

  “You could throw him a rope and tow him back, couldn’t you?” And here she said something which I find hard to forgive, and which was responsible for much of our later trouble. “Hurry, Johnnie,” she said. “Get those awful old women out and hurry.”

  I saw Tish stiffen. But at that moment a messenger boy rode up on a bicycle, and Aggie looked cheerful for the first time that morning.

  “Got a radiogram for Mr. Smith,” said the boy. “Where is he?”

  “Here,” said Mr. Smith.

  “Got to come down and sign for it.”

  I believe that Tish even then had an inkling of the truth. Mr. Smith went down the ladder, signed the slip and read the message. Then he took off his cap and, scratching his head, walked over slowly and shouted up to Tish.

  “I’ve got a message here, Miss Carberry. Seems like somebody named Sands says you’re not to go. Says he’s your nephew. Says he absolutely forbids it. Seems like a pity, doesn’t it? Good day and everything.”

  “Nonsense,” said Tish sharply. “I am of legal age.”

  He scratched his head again.

  “Still and all,” he said, “we like the consent of the family. If your nephew doesn’t like the idea—”

  “Does that mean you refuse to take us?”

  “I guess it does.”

  I should have known what would happen. I have known Tish Carberry for many years. I know her courage and her strength of will. But who could have guessed that she would turn away from that window, grab the wheel, press a number of things at random, and suddenly shoot that wretched contraption up into the air as if it had been fired out of a gun? …

  When I picked myself up I saw the men on the field below laid out flat like a row of ninepins. We shaved the top of a barn, and a moment later I had the anguish of seeing one of our dangling ropes whip around a clothesline and jerk an entire family washing high in the air. There was a woman beside it with her arms up, ready to hang a garment on it; and she simply remained in that position, as if it could not have occurred.

  How can I express my sensations at that time, alone as we were in the air and moving rapidly in various directions as Tish experimented with the mechanism? Or my horror when, on looking for Aggie, I could not see her at all? But at that moment a faint sneeze reassured me, and I found her wedged under the rear seats of the cabin, with the basket of eggs on her chest and her eyes closed.

  “Aggie!” I cried in terror.

  She did not open her eyes.

  “By chest is crushed, Lizzie,” she said sadly. “I caddot breathe. Let be die id peace.”

  I removed the basket, but she still remained as she was.

  “Why should I get up?” she demanded. “I have years ad years to get up id.”

  “What on earth do you mean?”

  “How are we goig to get dowd?” she inquired, still with her eyes shut.

  “We seem to be going down this minute,” I retorted with some irritation.

  This, however, was a mistake. Tish was merely experimenting with the controls, and as a result the ship was behaving like a bucking horse, rising, dropping, and then shooting ahead in a most terrifying manner.

  She was her usual calm self, though.

  “I see now how it works,” she said. “It is entirely simple.”

  As Aggie chose this moment to be violently airsick, I made no reply. Holding our poor companion as she leaned out of a window, I was able to see that Tish had at least been able to bring up the ropes. But also I discovered that she was not turning back. That she was indeed headed directly toward the open sea. As soon as possible, therefore, I went to her and entered a protest.

  “I am in no mood, Tish,” I said, “to fish for sharks. I insist that you turn around and go back.”

  “And leave Mr. Blane to die?” she inquired. “You surprise me, Lizzie. When have I ever evaded a plain duty, especially where youth and its problems are involved?”

  Unfortunately Aggie had heard her, and went even paler.

  “Mr. Blade!” she said. “Ad what will we do with hib whed we get hib?”

  I must confess that the same thought was in my mind, but Tish remaining silent and the Snark now on even keel, I had only my own thoughts for company.

  It was not long before we passed over the beach and were at last above the sea. With what anguish I watched the shores recede! With what torture of mind did I see far beneath us a gray line of battleships, our protection in time of war but of no use to us at that time. With what envy did I see here and there a fishing boat, busy with its peaceful occupation of capturing the finny creatures of the deep.

  Feeling as I did, I was shocked an hour or so later to have Tish request me to prepare the shark tackle.

  “Really, Tish,” I protested.

  But I had no time for more. She was pointing far ahead.

  “Unless I am wrong,” she said, “that is Mr. Blane. We must prepare to save him.”

  Well, there was a small boat there, and through th
e glasses we could see it had an occupant, a man bare above the waist and wearing only bathing trunks. I have since read Mr. Blane’s statement, that he had plenty of gas and was quietly fishing when—as he calls it—he was attacked. This may be true, but there can be no doubt that he stood up when he saw the Snark and waved to it. If we were mistaken in regarding this as a signal of distress, I am sorry. He suffered, I admit; but we suffered more. Much, much more.

  However that may be, Tish at once instructed me to prepare the shark tackle and, after securing one end of the line to the structure of the dirigible, to lower it from the open door to the surface of the water.

  “I shall slacken speed,” she said, “and it will then be your duty to engage the hook in the bow of the boat. In this manner we can tow him back to land, and all will be well.”

  I still maintain that this plan, however it worked out, was both feasible and well intended, as are all of Letitia Carberry’s. Indeed, as we approached and our speed slackened, he looked up at us with quite a pleasant smile and waved again.

  “Hello!” he called. “Seen any sharks yet?”

  But all at once his expression changed, and too late I saw what was happening. A slight puff of wind hit us at the moment, and the shark hook was moving directly toward him and was about to strike him. He ducked hastily to avoid it, and then occurred the dreadful thing which still haunts my dreams.

  The hook caught him by the belt of his bathing trunks and lifted him bodily out of the boat.

  III

  NEVER SHALL I FORGET that moment, with Mr. Blane dangling face down far beneath us, and Aggie wailing feebly that she wanted to go home.

  Nor was this all. The worst was still to come. For not only was he a heavy man, but on attempting to lift him the chain above the hook caught on the ladder, which was still over the side, and do what we could we were unable to liberate it. It was therefore with a sober face that Tish at last turned the Snark toward the land again.

  “We must find assistance,” she observed. “By going close to the ground he may be able to catch hold of something and thus free himself. Or the men at the landing field can catch him. There is no reason for despair.”

  “Not udless his belt breaks,” said Aggie darkly.

  I have explained this in detail to show our real solicitude at the time. We did not kidnap Mr. Blane. We did not attack him. That the chain caught as it did was purely accidental. Indeed, we went so far as to lower a bottle of blackberry cordial on a line, to relieve somewhat the anxiety of his position, and he reached for it eagerly. In his constrained position, however, the attempt to swallow brought on a severe attack of coughing, and we were terrified lest his slender support give way.

  I need not say how grateful we were when at last the shores of our beloved country came in sight. I remember that even Aggie rallied from her lethargy of despair.

  “By dear, by dative lad!” she said. “Ad if ever I set foot od it agaid I’ll dever leave it.”

  Poor Aggie! When I think what even then was before her my very spirit quails.

  Nevertheless, when we reached the land another blow was in store for us. It was completely unfamiliar, and there was no sign whatever of the flying field. Moreover, although we saw plenty of people, none of them seemed surprised at our strange burden, or made any effort to help. Indeed, I have learned since that it was regarded as a movie stunt of some sort, and I believe there are still extant a number of photographs showing Mr. Blane in his strange situation.

  Even Tish became seriously annoyed, the more so as no landing field of any sort was visible.

  “The dratted idiots!” she said. “Look out for a haystack, Lizzie. We’ll have to put him somewhere.”

  It was, I think, at that time that Aggie roused to make a remark which I was to remember later.

  “I wish,” she said viciously, “that Charlie Sads could see us dow.”

  I have seldom lived through a more anxious time. Now and then over the roar of the engines we could hear Mr. Blane’s voice, and he seemed to be shouting. We could not hear what he said, however. Then at last Tish slowed up the motors and leaned over the side.

  “Ahoy below!” she called. “I am going down. Catch hold of a fence or something.”

  We dipped at once, and a team of horses attached to a farm wagon shied violently and then ran away. We then passed over a golf course, and a number of people waved but made no effort to help us. At last, however, Mr. Blane managed to catch hold of some fencing and the situation was apparently saved. But at that moment a small breeze caught us, and he rose rapidly, carrying part of the fence with him.

  (I wish here to state that, while it is true that he later dropped it on a cow, it was purely accidental, nor was the cow injured. That is shown by the speed with which she ran, and also by the way she jumped a quite high barbed-wire fence.)

  It was while we were watching the cow that I heard Aggie scream.

  “Tish!” she yelled. “The church steeple. He’ll hit it!”

  It was too late. There was a jerk and the Snark leaped up and forward, throwing us all off our feet. But when we looked back Mr. Blane was safely on the top of the steeple, holding to a lightning rod with one hand while with the other, his belt having given way, he clutched at his bathing trunks.

  As we passed over him he turned his face up to us, and I regret to say that it was contorted with fury.

  It was at this time that there occurred the other incident which was to bring us such opprobrium later. Tish felt that help was still required, as the church was a remote one, and on a leaf from my pocket memorandum book she wrote as follows: “Mr. Jefferson Blane on church steeple at crossroads. Please call local fire department to rescue.”

  This, lacking anything else, she tied to a shell from her rifle; when over the next town, she caught the attention of a number of people and then dropped it. To our dismay it fell into a chimney instead, and was followed very shortly by a muffled report and a puff of smoke and soot. I continue with the clipping mentioned earlier and headed “Local Resident Shot In Leg.”

  “Not satisfied with what they had already done, the bandits then proceeded to shoot from the dirigible, one bullet striking Mr. Peter Jenks, the well-known grocer, who was reading his newspaper in front of the fire. Fortunately it lodged in his artificial leg, but Mr. Jenks is still in retirement, due to shock.”

  As we never saw Mr. Peter Jenks, the unfairness of this report is obvious.

  We circled for some time near the church steeple, and at last had the happiness of seeing people running in that direction. But it was then that Tish made one of her rare mistakes. We could, I am confident, have discovered the flying field in time and thus have been hauled down to earth; but here her conscience intervened.

  “Due to no fault of our own,” she said, “we have left Mr. Blane’s motorboat to drift without guidance and inevitably be lost. We must locate it again, and bring it back.”

  No protests availing, we again headed for the broad Atlantic. Tish was in excellent spirits, rejoicing at having reunited the two young lovers, and certain that their quarrel was over. But as we passed over the naval vessels once more she grew more sober.

  “How strange it is,” she observed, “to be high in this beautiful air, secure from danger; and yet to see beneath us the murderous instruments of warfare. Nature,” she added, “is kind. It is only man who is cruel.”

  It is at such moments that Tish is at her best.

  How true, as we were to discover later!

  We moved on. Aggie was now calm, if despairing. Tish was watching for Mr. Blane’s boat and—it being almost noon by that time—I prepared a luncheon. Due to various causes the soup had been spilled, and the caramel custard was spread largely over the basket. Indeed, strangely enough, all that remained intact was our eggs; and over Aggie’s protests we were reduced to scrambled eggs and tea again.

  Thus reinforced, we all felt better, and Tish fell to planning how to rescue the boat without damage.

  “If
we can use the shark hook to bring up a handling rope,” she said thoughtfully, “we can then make a loop in the rope and drop it, preferably over the steering wheel. After that it will be a simple matter to tow it back.”

  After some difficulty this was arranged, and as we had by this time seen what was apparently the boat far ahead, all appeared well. We lowered the loop into the water and prepared for action.

  It was then that we saw the shark. It was coming from the coast directly toward us, swimming under the surface and moving with amazing rapidity. I recall Tish and her expression as she gazed down at it.

  “I had no idea,” she said thoughtfully, “that they swam so fast.”

  Those were the last words I heard her speak for some time!

  Considering the situation now, I understand what followed. At the time, however, I only knew that there was a terrific jerk, and that without warning the Snark was brought close to the surface of the water and shot forward with astounding speed. This is undoubtedly when the fisherman saw us; however that may be, the result was shocking. All of us were thrown to the rear of the cabin, and to make matters worse, an occasional wave washed in and almost smothered us.

  Nor was that all. We were up to our waists in water when Tish, gazing ahead, saw that we were approaching a floating structure, shaped roughly like a boat, and hastily called to us to hold on to something. The next moment there came a shocking explosion. We were showered with pieces of wood, and the Snark, abruptly released, rose high in the air and whirled about in a most dizzy fashion.

  It was Tish who recovered first and rose slowly to her feet.

  “That was a torpedo, Lizzie,” she said, in a strange voice.

  “Indeed!” I replied coldly. “I thought it was a shark that had swallowed some dynamite.”

  But she ignored me.

  “It is quite evident what has happened,” she observed. “The navy is at practice and the thing caught in the loop of our rope. It is extremely fortunate,” she added, “that it struck the target. Otherwise we might be far at sea by this time.”

  I had no time to consider what might have happened. What had occurred was plenty. The fact is that a hasty survey had showed me no sign whatever of Aggie, and it was some time before, on wading to the rear of the cabin, I discovered her in the small lavatory installed there. So violent had been the impact that she was wedged tightly against a sanitary fixture, with only her head above water. And I can still see her gazing up at me with agonized eyes.