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Updated: June 9, 2025
So impressed was I by the imaginings suggested by Tom Anderly's story, that I opened my letter to old Ham Mayberry and asked him if he had ever heard of a man named Carver who had gone through the experiences Tom had related of the man who had swum to the Sally Smith from the direction of Bolderhead Neck?
Paul certainly picked sour fruit when he made friends along the water-front of Bolderhead! "That's the feller," snarled my cousin I could read his lips, although the trio was across the narrow street as I went along the docks and I knew very well that he was hatching something against me with his two friends.
Paul Downes had represented himself as me and had got away with the money with which I had expected to pay my passage home. But, of course, I really was not in great straights for means of getting back to Bolderhead.
For to be adrift in Bolderhead Harbor on such a night, with the wind and tide urging one's craft out toward the broad ocean, while one was nailed up in the cabin and unable to do a thing toward guiding the boat, was a situation to shake the courage of the bravest sailor who ever was afloat. I believed I had nobody but myself to thank for the accident.
I'd probably have plenty of money with which to pay my passage home; and just then I wanted to see my mother, and Ham Mayberry, and lots of other folk in Bolderhead, more than I wanted to be knocking about in strange quarters of the world. I glanced around at the steamship again.
Naturally my mother had lived in affluence during her girlhood and it was considered by her friends a great mistake on her part when she married my father. He was a ship's surgeon when they were married and his only income was derived from the practise of his profession. He established himself as a physician in Bolderhead after the wedding; they lived simply, and I was their only child.
The Wavecrest was bowling along nicely so I could give my attention to the big ship, which I soon made out to be the Peveril. Old Tom was right. She was one of the Bayne Line ships, coming from Boston coming from home, as you might say! To tell the truth, I was a good bit home-sick. I let my mind wander back to Bolderhead.
Ye ain't a native, though, eh?" and before I could reply to this, he continued: "I been studying about Bolderhead ever since you come aboard. There was something curious happened at Bolderhead or just off the inlet and it's all come back to me now." "What was it?" I asked, idly. "Well, it's quite a yarn," he said, wagging his head.
And I verily believe the old man loved me as though I were his own blood. Anyhow, I was too excited and worried on this night to think of any class distinction. Beside, among Bolderhead people, the master was considered no better than the man if both behaved themselves, were honest, and attended church on the Sabbath!
"Didn't the man this Carver belong in Bolderhead?" "So I supposed. But the letter come from foreign parts." "Where?" I asked. "'Twas from Santiago, Chili." "Then he had not gone back to Bolderhead?" I stammered. "Bless ye, lad! how do I know? I only know he sent the money from Chili. He was something of a mystery, that feller, I allow. Ever heard tell of him in Bolderhead?
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