Early one morning at Sunnyfield Farm in Middletown, Rhode Island, the cows were ready for milking. Two farm hands were missing. The other two men milked as many cows as they could.
It was still dark outside and it was autumn cool. It was many decades ago and one of the farm hands was my step-grandfather, who told my father this story. Both are gone now, so I am telling you the tale that happened so long ago.
If you tell a person that they cannot do something, they will always find a way. The era of Prohibition made many men wealthy. It was all about connections: knowing the able bodies, the empty barns, the source of the liquor, choosing the right boats, time and place for pick-up and delivery.
On an island as Middletown is on, one fellow would call the police, distracting them to the opposite end of the island, while the crime was being committed. For whatever reason, the ploy did not work out this particular morning. The delivery was intercepted just before landing at Third Beach boat ramp.
One man evaded the police by jumping out and swimming away in the dark, while the other man, who did not know how to swim, was apprehended and taken away in handcuffs to do time in jail.
The swimmer had not planned on being late for work. He ran two and a half miles up the road, through the fields, to Sunnyfield Farms, drenched to the bone, to milk his share of the cows.
It always pays to be able to swim.
RDB
November 17, 2016
No comments:
Post a Comment