“That theer boat ’ll never carry her, my lad,” said the miller.
“It will, I tell you,” cried Vane, firmly.
“Aw reight. In wi’ her then, and when she’s at the bottom you can come and fish for her. It’s straange and deep down there.”
“Now then, ready?” cried Vane after a due amount of preparation.
An affirmative answer was given; the frame-work with its cranks was carefully lifted on to the platform and lowered into the boat’s stern, which it fitted exactly, and Vane stepped in, and by the help of a screw-hammer fitted some iron braces round the boat, screwed them up tightly. The machine was fairly fixed in its place and looked extremely top-heavy, and with Vane in the stern as well, sent the boat’s gunwale down within four inches of the surface and the bows up correspondingly high.
By this time the rector and the Little Manor people had arrived, while quite a little crowd from the town had gathered to stand on the edge of the dam and for the most part grin.
“There,” said Vane as he stood up covered with perspiration from his efforts. “That’s about right. In a boat made on purpose the machine would be fitted on the bottom and be quite out of the way.”
“Couldn’t be, lad,” said the miller. “But goo on, I want to see her move.”
“Wish there was another boat here, Gil,” said Distin. “You and I would race them.”
“Let them talk,” said Vane, to encourage Macey, who looked very solemn, and as he spoke he carefully examined the two very small paddles which dropped over each side, so arranged that they should, when worked by the cranks and hand levers, churn up the water horizontally instead of vertically like an ordinary paddle wheel.