"Perhaps it will; but it don't seem to be working wonders just now. You have not caught a single fish to-day, and mother says that, if you don't earn thirty cents to-night, she will have to use part of your fifteen dollars."
Thirty cents! That was a small amount to stand between Bob and his fortune, but it might as well have been as many dollars, for he had no idea that he should be able to secure a load of fifteen ship-carpenters that evening. He thought of his leaky scow, then of Sam Barton's fine boat, and wished that he was able to own one exactly like it. But wishing did no good. It would not bring him another boat, or change the Go Ahead into a handsome yawl, with cushioned seats; so Bob, after another glance at the letters under the eaves, dismissed all thoughts of Sam Barton and his boat, and turned his attention to bailing out his scow. In half an hour the boat had been emptied of the water, and wiped dry, after which the fisher-boy pushed off from the beach, and sculled toward the harbor.
CHAPTER II.
A LIBERAL PASSENGER.
The fisher-boy's home, as we have said, was built upon the beach, and was but one of a dozen similar abodes, where dwelt as many boys, who, like Bob, earned their living by fishing and ferrying. They all made it a point to be in the harbor at half-past six in the morning, and at five in the evening; and, when Bob pushed off from the beach, he soon found himself in the midst of a small fleet of boats, of all sizes and descriptions, whose ragged crews were bent on the same mission as himself. These boys were mostly the sons of sailors and fishermen; some of them, like Bob, looking forward to the day when they should be the masters of fine vessels; while the majority, with no care for the morrow, were content to follow the occupations of their fathers, and were willing to remain fishermen all their lives. Bob was, perhaps, the poorest one among them, as fortunes were reckoned in Fishertown—which was the name given to that part of the village where the fishermen lived. Their boats constituted their only wealth, and a boy's fortune was measured by the size and condition of his craft. The boys were all good judges of boats, and there was not one among them who did not laugh whenever Bob made his appearance in the harbor. On the evening in question, when he came up with the little fleet, he was greeted with a chorus of shouts and yells that would have made most boys angry.
"Here comes Bobby Jennings in his washing-tub!" shouted one of the ferry-boys, as Bob sculled slowly past him. "Clear the track!"
Although the term "washing-tub" does not give one a very good idea of the appearance of the fisher-boy's scow, it was, perhaps, the most appropriate name that could have been applied to her, for she bore but very little resemblance to any thing in the shape of a boat that had ever been seen about the village. She was built of heavy planks, which Bob had picked up at the upper end of the harbor; and, having no plane with which to dress them down to an equal thickness, he had been obliged to use the boards as he found them; consequently, one side of the scow was heavier than the other; and this made her "tip" considerably, as if she was always on the point of capsizing. The fisher-boy had made an attempt to shape the stem and stern exactly alike, but, having nothing but a dull ax to work with, he had only succeeded in giving the Go Ahead a very homely model, for the bow was long and slanting, and the stern stood almost straight up and down in the water. Of the planks that formed the bottom, some were thick and others thin, and the joints were caulked with rags and bits of rope which Bob had picked up about the wharves. This unwieldy craft was propelled by an oar worked over the stern; and, although she made but poor headway under sail, she could be pushed through the water at an astonishing rate of speed, especially when the sight of a passenger on the wharf induced the fisher-boy to put forth all his power of muscle.
"Yes, sir!" shouted another of the ferry-boys, "here comes Jennings and his lumber-yard!"