Canadian Stories, A Folk Magazine Written By or About Canadians

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.