“Well, we’ll soon know,” replied Jim. “Look at that now! They’re taking down her yards.”
The boys had now reached the dock, and sure enough, as Jim had said, a crowd of laborers were busy on the wharf and on the Hector, and the sound of hammers and axes, of loud orders, and the creak of tackle blocks awoke echoes which the dock had not heard for generations.
Already nearly all the yards of the old ship had been taken down and were laid upon the dock where men were planing and cutting them; the grass and weeds had been removed from the cracks in the planking and men were busy cutting and tearing out the old caulking. The ragged shrouds were being taken off and, on a hanging stage under the bowsprit, carpenters were working on the massive stem.
“Gosh! It does look as if you’re right,” admitted Tom, as the two boys stopped, and with wonder, gazed upon the bustling scene. “Oh, there’s Cap’n Pem! Let’s go and ask him all about it.”
Approaching their old friend, the boys plied him with questions.
“Sure, they’re a-fittin’ of her out fer a cruise,” he avowed, seating himself on one of the yards. “Reckon ’iles so almighty sky high—what with this ’ere war an’ all—that old man Nye jest couldn’t resist the temptation o’ fittin’ out fer a cruise.”
“Where’s she goin’?” he continued in answer to the boys’ queries.
“Gosh hanged ef I know! Any seas mos’ likely. Ain’t nary one o’ the chaps here as knows nothin’ ’bout it. Jest had orders ter overhaul the ol’ Hector an’ git her ship-shape an’ ready fer sea. Jake Potter’s gang ’tis. Ain’t seed Jake or I’d know more erbout it.”
“But aren’t you surprised?” asked Tom. “When Jim told me, I wouldn’t believe it. Why, it don’t seem possible. How on earth can that old hulk float?”
“Surprised?” chuckled the old salt. “Say, son, time ye git as ol’ as I be an’ been to sea fer a matter o’ forty year, ye won’t find nothin’ to surprise ye. ’Sides, what’s so surprisin’ ’bout a good ship goin’ t’ sea after a bit o’ rest? Float? Course she’ll float. Why, boys, I’ve been a-cruisin’ fer sparm in the western ocean an’ jammed in the ice in Behring Sea fer five years in a ship what was jes’ punk ’longside o’ this ’ere Hector. Float! Why, bile me down fer blubber, if she ain’t a floatin’ long after these ’ere new-fangled, sawed-timber jimcracks o’ ships what the gov’ments a-buildin’ of has been scrapped fer a hundred year. Why, boys, don’t ye know the ol’ Hector well enough to know she’s jes’ as sta’nch an’ sound as the day she was built? Long’s her timbers ’re sound an’ her keel an’ garboard strake’s not rotten, she’s all right; an’ I’ll bet my wooden leg ’gainst a chew o’ baccy thet she’s as sound as a trivet to-day.”