Vol.9,
No.52, 2006 How
The “Mad Dash” Ferry
Got Her Name By
Joy L Magnusson
There
isn’t much left of
the old ferry dock anymore,
except the overgrown remains
of the gravel river road
and the slightly cleared
rocky patch that used to
be the landing for the old “Mad
Dash” ferry. Still,
just standing here brings
back memories.
Everyday, when we came down
that river road to take the
ferry to school, Tanner Cook,
the cheerful old ferryman,
would be waiting for us right
there, where that clump of
raspberry bushes is growing
now. It’s been a long
time, but I can still see
his smiling, laughing face
as he greeted us every morning.
He could always make the
older boys laugh and, sometimes,
he had peppermints for the
little kids. We used to love
to take that ferry.
He was here the day the “Mad
Dash” ferry earned
her name, but he didn’t
have time to greet anybody.
The river dock was alive
with activity that morning.
Besides the teacher, Miss
Day, and the usual group
of chattering students, Fred
Riley, the farmer who owned
the quarter of land just
south of Gurnsey Corner,
was there taking some of
his herd to the stockyard
on the far side of the river.
A couple dozen head of cattle
were crowding the road mooing
restlessly and rattling their
bells. As well, Mrs. Holliday,
the hardware store owner’s
wife and her sister-in-law,
Mrs. Cooligan, were on their
way to some big, important
meeting over in Devonville,
chatting each other’s
ears off as they always did
when they were together.
It was as noisy and busy
as any county fair.
Mrs. Holiday and Mrs. Cooligan,
already on board with their
fancy town car, stood at
the railing watching Tanner
and Mr. Riley struggling
to get the cattle on board.
Usually, the critters had
no problem getting on the
boat, but the strong wind
and choppy water seemed to
be making them nervous.
There was only so much room
on the ferry, so after loading
a dozen or so cows, Tanner
decided he’d cross
with what he had and come
back for Mr. Riley and the
rest of the cattle, as well
as the teacher and kids still
waiting patiently on the
river bank.
As Tanner was undoing the
moorings, we could hear the
rhythmic thunk thunking as
the ferry was repeatedly
knocked against the dock
by the increasing swells.
Suddenly, something seemed
to occur to Tanner. Still
holding the lanyard in
one hand, and reaching
up to prevent his hat from
blowing off in a sudden
gust of wind with the other,
he turned toward Mr. Riley. “Hey,” he
said, “Do you...?”
The rope snapped from his
hand in a burning streak
as a huge swell thrust the
boat away from the dock.
With a clumsy lurch to one
side, it knocked against
a rock and heaved backward
toward the centre of the
river. The heavy current
grabbed the little boat and
before anyone on shore could
move, the ferry was racing
downstream out of control!
‘Grab the rope!” Tanner
screamed. But he, Mr. Riley,
and a couple of older school
boys were already diving
for it. It snapped out of
everyone’s grasp and
splashed into the water.
Tanner made one last vain
attempt to retrieve the lanyard.
He hurled face first into
the cold river with a violent
splash as the rope again
eluded his grasp and slithered
out of reach.
The ferry was now about
a hundred yards off and still
moving, the lanyards trailing
behind. Tanner leapt up and
raced down the river bank
shouting, “Stop it!
Stop the ferry!”
Riley leapt on his horse
and galloped downstream while
a couple of boys launched
the river skiff and half
paddled and half rode the
current as they chased the
ferry. A few other kids sprinted
for the nearest farm yard
yelling for help while the
rest of us tore down the
river all shouting at once.
On board, the ladies were
nearly hysterical! They shrieked
and ran back and forth as
the cows mooed and yelped
helplessly. Tanner tried
to shout directions as he
raced along the shore, but
the ladies didn’t hear
a word he was saying.
The ferry listed to its
port side as it took the
corner by the railroad tracks
and everyone thought it was
gone. It teetered dangerously
for one terrifying, breathless
moment before it righted
itself with a deafening smack
and took off again, momentarily
vanishing behind a clump
of trees.
Riley rounded the corner
first and brought his horse
to a sudden halt. Tanner
wasn’t far behind and
the rest of us caught up
a second later. We all stood
there, Mr. Riley on his horse,
Tanner still dripping wet
and panting and everybody
else in a row on the river
bank. All we could do was
stare, stunned and silent.
The ferry boat that, a second
earlier had been racing willy
filly down the river was
now at a dead stop, bobbing
gently, the water sloshing
lazily past its hull.
There were mutters of “What
the...?”
“How...?”
There was no time to speculate,
though. The two ladies on
board were draped over the
railings and sobbing hysterically.
It was not until the women
were brought safely ashore
in the river skiff that Tanner
had the time to look around
and discover the cause of
the ferry’s abrupt
halt. On the far side of
that corner there was a pile
of silt that had built up
over time with the rushing
of the currents. A good part
of the year, anyways, it
was completely submerged.
Today, luckily, the river
happened to be low enough
that the sandbar was poking
its head just above the surface,
and the boat managed to get
hung up on it. Were it not
for that, who knows how far
those ladies would have gotten.
Well, once the whole town
heard about the ferry’s “mad
dash” for freedom,
she had earned her nickname
for life.