Then Chap hauled out an old box from under the stern, and set it upon one of the seats. On this Phœnix cautiously mounted, and reached the window-sill. Then Chap attempted to boost him, but Phœnix was so heavy that he found it no easy thing to do.
On his first attempt his vigorous efforts nearly upset the boat, but he succeeded at last, and when Phœnix got hold of the railing he very quickly hauled himself up.
He found Phil hard at work untying a tiller which had been made fast on one side of the deck.
“Get that other end loose,” cried Phil, “and we’ll ship her in a minute.”
The boys quickly unfastened the tiller, and then they ran it into one of the square holes in the end of the rudder-post, which projected above the lower deck on which they stood.
“Now, pull around!” cried Phil. “Push her over towards the wind!”
Phil had frequently been out with his uncle in a sail-boat, and had some pretty clear ideas about navigation. The boys pushed against the end of the tiller with all their force, and gradually it moved around. The smoke rolled up from the forward part of the vessel, the sparks flew far ahead; but there was no heat at the stern of the boat, and the boys did not believe that there was any fire beneath them.
“Hurrah!” cried Chap, from below. “She’s going around a little! Stick to her, boys, and hold her hard. If it’s too much for you, I’ll get aboard and help.”
“Don’t you do it!” shouted Phil. “We want that boat to be ready for us. Don’t you leave her, Chap.”
“All right!” shouted Chap. “Put her round harder yet, boys, and hold her.”