Go-Ahead; Or, The Fisher-Boy's Motto

by Harry Castlemon

"Now, Bobby, tell me all about it," said Mrs. Jennings, as soon as the door had closed behind their visitor.

"Before I begin, mother, answer me one question," said the fisher-boy. "Did you believe that I had run away?"

"I did not," was the prompt reply.

Bob drew a long breath of relief. There was at least one person in the world who still had faith in him. Seating himself in a chair by his mother's side, he related his story just as he had told it to the executive officer of the Storm King, and wound up by saying—"I am not sorry for what has happened. I know that I have been kept from my work, but I have found my skiff, and now I am going after it."

Bob did go. He put a piece of candle in his pocket—for the lantern that had been used in the cave was on board the yacht—and started off without waiting for his breakfast, although he had not eaten a mouthful since the previous morning. He went straight to the wharf, and his appearance there occasioned a great commotion among the ferry-boys, who climbed out of their boats, and gathered about him, even neglecting the passengers who were waiting to be carried across the harbor.

"Where have you been, Bobby, an' where's Sam Barton, an' Bill Stevens, an' Jack Bennett, an' the rest of them fellers?" inquired half a dozen of the boys at once.

"If one of you will lend me a boat for ten minutes, and go with me, I'll tell you all about it," was Bob's reply.

Of course, the boys would go with him, and they could spare their boats for ten minutes, or for all day, for that matter. Of the boats offered him, the fisher-boy climbed down into the one that suited him best, and, to the no small amazement of the boys, sculled under the wharf. A half a dozen boats kept close behind him, their crews making unsuccessful attempts to induce Bob to tell them the meaning of his strange movements. The latter said nothing, until he had gathered all the boys about him in the cave, and then he told his story. If he had never had an appreciative audience before, he had one now, and he was obliged to relate over and over again the particulars of his capture and the fight with the dog, as well as all the other incidents that had transpired while he was a prisoner. Every one wondered what had become of the governor, and all were anxious to know what Bob intended to do with the members of the band. But, in this matter, the fisher-boy kept his own counsel.

After the ferry-boys had examined the cave to their satisfaction, and listened to all Bob had to say about Crusoe and his men, they assisted him in getting the Go Ahead No. 2 into the water. When Sam found that he would not be allowed an opportunity to dispose of the skiff, he had taken care to preserve every thing that belonged to her. The sail and the oars lay upon the thwarts, where they had been placed when the skiff was first brought into the cave, and so did the stake to which she had been chained. She was as good as new in every respect, and the fisher-boy could not refrain from shouting with delight, when he saw her floating in the water, under the pier.

Bob's story spread with great rapidity, and he soon found that he was quite a hero in the village. If he had felt so disposed, he could have spent half the day in relating his adventures to admiring listeners. But his time was too valuable to be wasted. He took four or five passengers across the harbor, who made a great many inquiries concerning the Crusoe band; but he answered them in as few words as possible, and, as soon as he could get away from them, he started for home. There he disposed of a hasty breakfast, and, an hour afterward, the Go Ahead No. 2 was anchored on his fishing grounds, and Bob was sitting with his line dangling in the water, thinking over his adventures, and waiting patiently for a bite. But, contrary to his expectations, he soon found that the fish were quite as able to resist the temptation of a bait suspended over the side of his fine skiff, as they had been when it was thrown to them from his old scow. His splendid boat made no difference with their biting; and at night, when he filled away for home, his fish-basket was as empty as when he made his last trip down the bay, in the old Go Ahead. Ferrying was a little more profitable. He carried eight passengers across the harbor that night, by which he made sixteen cents.