Tish Marches On (19 page)

It came from some palm trees, and we discovered that it was Lily, face down and crying bitterly.

With her customary kindness Tish moved over and sat down beside her.

“I perceive,” she said, “that you are unhappy. Yet in this lovely spot—”

“Oh, go away,” said the girl, without looking up. “If I want to cry, that’s my affair.”

“In a week,” said Tish, “you will wonder why you have wept.”

“Will I?” said Lily rudely, and suddenly sat up. “What do you know about it? I’ve had this for twenty years. Don’t come around here and tell me—”

“Had what?” Tish inquired gently.

“Father,” said Lily. “And the way I feel about him is nobody’s business. I’ll tell you this: I’ve been hoping all morning that he’d go in bathing. There’s a shark out there.”

Tish glanced at Aggie and myself.

“I think I know him.”

“Well, you’ll have heard him anyhow,” said Lily.

“A red-faced man, and inclined to be violent?”

“Inclined to be! Listen! Last year his boatman fell over his rod and broke it, just as a tarpon struck, and he threw the man overboard.”

As she began to weep again at this moment, Aggie, who is the soul of kindness, brought her some blackberry cordial. She took it suspiciously, but in a few minutes she was feeling better.

“That’s great stuff,” she said. “If I had a feather in my hand, I could fly.”

But she confided no more to us, although she was much more cheerful and even did a dance step or two on the beach before she departed.

“If you see a handsome youth looking for me,” she called back, “give him some of that medicine of yours and send him in to bite father!”

Tish was very thoughtful. It was clear to her, she said, that the young man was mixed up in Lily’s trouble, and that the Monster was more than usually unpleasant because of the wager; that if he got a diamond-button fish before the other man he would be more reasonable, and that it was clearly our duty to help him get such a fish.

“Like the man or not,” she observed, “the happiness of two young hearts lies in his keeping. And if we can in any way assist him to such a fish, it becomes our duty to do so.”

Both Aggie and I perceived the nobility of the idea, and I wish to say now that in all that followed, unfortunate as it was, this was Tish’s ruling thought.

Nevertheless, with that fatality which pursued us throughout, that very evening we were unwittingly to rouse his suspicion against us once more.

The late afternoon boat brought Tish a telegram from Charlie Sands:

WIRES FROM CERTAIN PERSON INDICATE BAD FISHING AND EQUAL BAD HUMOR. TRUSTING YOU TO DO YOUR BIT AS AGREED.

But as it was then dinnertime, and we were to practice with our rods and reels that night from a small bridge which led from the golf links to a pavilion on our islet, Tish put it in her knitting bag and quite forgot it. And the events of that night put it out of her head entirely.

Briefly, on the bridge all had gone well that evening until we heard a boat rapidly approaching and about to pass under it. Both Tish and I reeled in, but Aggie unluckily had twisted her line and was unable to do so. Just what occurred I do not know, but the next moment the boat had hurled itself at the island with a terrific crash and climbed almost to the pavilion.

In the really dreadful silence that followed I could hear Tish whispering to us to run; this we did, although as the end of her rod had struck Aggie in the chest she could go neither fast nor far. In the end we found safety in a sand trap on the links and lay there for some hours. Most uncomfortably, as the sand immediately irritated Aggie’s nose and started her to sneezing, and as we were extremely anxious about Tish.

We had heard her running rapidly toward the hotel, and a moment or so later the Monster and his boatman followed. But Tish carries no surplus weight as I do, and we learned from her later that she was well in the lead from the start.

“I had sufficient time,” she said, “to leave my rod on the back veranda, go inside, and pick up my knitting. But I think he suspects me, Lizzie. He stood outside a window and shook his fist at me.”

Well, it really was unfortunate, because the tarpon came in that night for a short time, and the other man brought in a fish only a pound and a half under the diamond-button weight. But Lily’s father went down to the pier to look at it, and then insisted on having it cut open. The other man objected, but it was finally done, and they found that three eight-ounce weights had been rammed down its throat.

The other man claimed that his boatman must have done it while his back was turned, because he had promised him a hundred dollars if the fish made the weight. But there was a great deal of hard feeling all around, and it was agreed that both men would go out without boatmen thereafter. All of which has a bearing on this narrative, whether Charlie Sands thinks so or not. Because if the Monster had had a boatman along on that terrible night later, things might have been different.

The tarpon had disappeared again, and the wind was still high. All the fishermen were in an unchristian frame of mind, but the Monster was really dreadful. Even golf did not soothe him, and one day when we were watching and Aggie happened to sneeze just as he drove off at the last hole, he sent his ball into the water and turned on us in a frenzy of rage.

“Great suffering snakes!” he yelled. “Can’t you women keep away from me? That’s all I ask: just keep away. And if this island isn’t big enough, find another island. Any island!”

Well, later on we did exactly that and he did not like it. He was certainly a difficult person, and when Lily’s young man won the golf match that day he walked right up to Aggie and accused her of sneezing on purpose.

“It’s persecution!” he yelled. “That’s what it is. What did I ever do to you women anyhow?”

Then he broke the golf club he had in his hand and stalked away.

It was that night that Tish had another telegram from Charlie Sands.

ARE YOU MIXED UP IN SITUATION IN ANY MANNER? PLEASE REPLY.

But, as our dear Tish said with dignity, it did not deserve any reply, and so she sent none.

Looking back over that situation, I can see how one more event led up to the catastrophe, and by eliciting Tish’s interest in the young man himself, finally precipitated the crisis.

T
HIS EVENT WAS OUR
meeting with Lily’s young man himself, on the pier one night.

We had thought we were alone until we perceived a pair of white flannel trousers lying prone on the flooring.

“Dear me,” Tish said, peering at them. “What a strange place for a pair of trousers!”

And then a muffled voice spoke, from over the edge of the pier.

“I’m in them,” it said, “and if I ever get this — — hook out from under this — — edge —”

“I don’t like your language,” Tish said severely.

“Then you’d better go away,” said the voice. “The way things are, I may swear for an hour, or possibly two.”

And then he overreached himself and fell right over the edge and into the water.

He came to the surface in a moment or so, however, and holding onto a piling, with his head above the water, he inspected us.

“Sorry,” he said. “I thought you were three other fellows. Well, I’m calmer now. Nothing like a cold bath to restore the good old morale. Why struggle? Why suffer?”

“You sound unhappy,” said Tish.

“Unhappy? That’s a mild word, ladies. I’m as unhappy as hell. When I consider that by merely ducking my head under this surface for a sufficient length of time I should cease to suffer, I am tempted, strongly tempted.”

And with that he suddenly disappeared into the sea. Never shall I forget my agony of mind, or Aggie’s hysterical moaning.

“He has done it,” she cried. “He has ended it all.” And she sneezed violently.

In a moment, to our great relief, he reappeared at the steps of the pier and pulled himself out of the water. He was quite calm, but he inspected himself ruefully.

“You can see,” he said, “that luck is against me. As I said, why struggle? Why suffer? These are my best flannel trousers, and they are shrinking as I speak. Also, I have learned finally and forever that I shall never make a fisherman. There was a faint hope, but it is gone. I’ve had that infernal hook everywhere, from the back of my neck to underneath the dock, where it is now; everywhere except in a fish’s mouth.”

Well, as he was thoroughly wet and also despondent, Tish sent Aggie at once for some blackberry cordial, and it gave him a more cheerful outlook on life. He declined to go to the hotel and change his clothing, but said that he felt like talking.

“I feel,” he said, “the urge to tell the story of my life, if you will bear with me, and if someone will watch that bottle and see that it does not fall into the sea. The thought of all the little fishes going gaga and—but never mind about that.

“I was born,” he went on, “with a complex against fishing. It is an early impression, rather, due to seeing my nurse eat fish for forty days in Lent. However that may be, I loathe and despise fishing. From the squirming of the worm to the squirming of the unlucky fish, it is horrible to me.

“Judge then of my tragedy when I find the one, the only, girl and discover not only that her father is a fisherman, but that he is a fanatic on the subject. Where other men celebrate a winning in the stock market with wine, he goes out and buys a new reel; he inspects his lines with a magnifying glass; his house is full of stuffed fish mounted on boards. He measures a man by the line he can put out on a cast; his idea of a kiss is the way a trout fly falls onto the water. Just why his daughter wasn’t born with scales—”

“That will do,” said Tish sternly.

“Well, you’ve got the idea. He’s here, and it’s all off. He wants a son-in-law only to take fishing, and I came here, so to speak, on trial. But I went asleep the first day he took me out in a boat; I lost his best reel for him; and I loosened a front tooth for him one day practicing a back cast. And now he’s made a fool wager on a diamond-button fish, and I’m only excess baggage.”

He was silent for a moment.

“What I ought to do,” he said moodily, “is to go home and forget it. And her. I’m doing no good here. I can’t even eat. The way her father looks at me in the dining room gives me indigestion. I’ve got it now. Perhaps a little more of that cordial would help it.”

He cheered after he had taken a glass, and said that he had had various ideas. One of them was to bore a hole in the old man’s boat, and watch him slowly sink. Another was to drain out his gasoline, all but a little, and let him drift to sea, slowly dying of hunger and thirst.

“But the really big idea,” he observed, “would be to land him all alone on one of those empty islands, and let nature take its course!”

Yes, I admit that he said that. But for him to have told Charlie Sands later on that the island was his idea was really absurd. As Charlie Sands must realize now, the island was purely an accident.

On the way back to the cottage Tish commented on his recital.

“All in all,” she said, “this young man would be better off out of that family. Nevertheless, our duty is plain. If the Monster, as Aggie calls him, is to be placated by winning this wager, we must be near at hand to help him in emergency.”

And again I repeat that this was Tish’s kindly idea from the start. She is ever friendly to young love, and to lovers; and in spite of his attitude toward us, she bore no malice toward the man who was later to place us in so awkward a position.

And now I come with a certain reluctance to the further events of that night, which made for a time such a diametric change in our habits of living; forcing on us indeed the need to shift for ourselves under most unpropitious conditions.

As we passed the hotel on our way to the cottage we saw a man run out in fishing garb, followed by others, and we realized that at last the tarpon had reached the passes in numbers. We at once shifted into our bathing suits with the skirts over them, and in our haste neglected to take our mackintoshes or other wraps; an oversight which we were bitterly to regret, especially Aggie.

It was Tish’s idea that we follow the Monster’s boat and this we did, although to our surprise he did not go in the usual direction, but headed down the coast.

“Many fishermen,” Tish informed us, “have secret places of their own, and use them only when safe from observation. We will follow him.”

I think he must have heard our engine, for he speeded up and went very fast; but we also moved rapidly and kept close behind him. It was indeed an eerie feeling, following the sound of his engine through the darkness; once we went aground on a mud bank, and it was necessary for all of us to remove our clothing and work the boat off. As the night was cold, it was a trying business, and it was at that time that our poor Aggie stepped onto a large crab, which closed on one of her toes and held on. A most painful matter.

But we soon located him again, and finally came to a stop not far from his boat. We knew nothing of our surroundings, or even where we were. But there was no time to worry. All the water about us was filled with the great creatures; they swam and rolled and leaped, and suddenly Tish shouted that she had one, and a colossal body shot out of the darkness and hit the water with a thud.

I shall omit the details of that struggle. We at once put on our life belts, and soon it became necessary to lash our valiant Tish to her chair, which was fortunately screwed to the deck. All the time the creature was leaping. It was then that I noticed that our boat was drawing near the other, and that the Monster was shouting at us.

“Keep off me,” he shouted. “Start your engine, you idiots! I’ve got a fish on!”

But as we were still some distance away, and also fully occupied, we paid no attention. Our dear Tish was having all she could do to hold on to her rod, although she managed to gasp that both her shoulders were dislocated, and I was standing by to render assistance if necessary, when a terrible and unexpected thing happened.

In the faint starlight we heard a hideous tearing and smashing of wood, and the other boat rose in the air and then settled back again. We realized with horror what had occurred: Tish’s fish had risen like a projectile under his boat and had practically-wrecked it.