This novel landing method provoked one amusing incident. The supply-boat came out to the rock one day bringing a new raw hand. The cableway was rigged up, and the workman prepared for his ride to the rock. But the man was somewhat corpulent, and could not be thrust through the preserver. This was an unexpected _contretemps_, and it seemed as if the superintendent would have to let his recruit return. But Ballantyne did not worry over trifles, neither did he relish the idea of losing a hand after having him brought so far, so he put forward a somewhat daring proposal. He told the captain of the steamer to lash the workman to the top of the buoy, and they would pull him ashore all right. The labourer was scared out of his wits at this suggestion, and resented being handled as if he were a balk of timber. Why, even the perishable articles were unloaded in casks to protect them from the wet. He expressed his determination to see them to perdition before he would make a trip through the air under such conditions. Ballantyne was somewhat crestfallen at the cold reception of his brilliant idea, so told the captain to take the workman back to Astoria, and to ransack the place to discover a buoy which would be big enough to fit him. Two days later the vessel returned with the larger buoy and also the corpulent quarryman. His second glimpse of the primitive travelling frightened him worse than ever, and he point blank refused to budge. In order to reassure the raw hand, Ballantyne hauled the buoy ashore, and, jumping into it, made a journey, to illustrate that the system was perfectly safe, and that one need not even get wet. But Ballantyne’s demonstration was rather unfortunate. The cable was slack, and the ship rolled heavily. Result: the superintendent was dragged through the water for nearly the whole distance, and at times nothing of him could be seen. When he landed on the boat, half-winded and drenched to the skin, the quarryman was scared more than ever, and announced his intention to return to Astoria. Ballantyne cajoled, coaxed, argued, and stormed, in turn, but to no avail. Then another idea came to his fertile mind. If the man would not travel via the breeches-buoy, why not send him ashore in a bos’n’s chair? This was rigged up satisfactorily, and therein the workman consented to go ashore, though not without the display of considerable trepidation and anxiety to keep out of the water. They got him on the rock safely, and without so much as wetting the soles of his feet. The quarryman by his resolute opposition set up a record. He was the first man to land dry on the Tillamook.