Before the fisher-boy put his fare into his pocket, he could not help holding it up to the view of Sam and the rest of his rivals, who stood up in their boats wiping their faces and foaming with rage. Sam made no remark, but he shook his head threateningly, and Bob knew that the matter was far from being settled. This did not trouble him, however, for he was an independent sort of a fellow, and the bully was a boy whose friendship he cared nothing about. Besides, he thought that, if Sam was foolish enough to get angry because he had been beaten in a fair race, he might take his own time to get pleased again. The fisher-boy landed his passengers safely upon the opposite wharf, and, as he pulled toward the middle of the harbor again, he saw that Sam and his friends were holding another consultation. The bully was shaking his fists in the air and talking loudly, and Bob was almost certain that they would change their tactics, and attempt to gratify their revenge by giving him a good beating, and treating him to a bath in the harbor.
"I shall call it a mean trick, if they try to thrash me," said Bob, pulling his oar out of the water and balancing it in his hand. "This piece of hickory is pretty tough, and, if they pitch into me, I think they will find that I am about as hard to whip as any boy they have got hold of lately."
The fisher-boy, knowing that he had as much right in the harbor as any one, had determined to stand his ground as long as possible; but, with all his courage and confidence in his ability to beat his rivals at their own game, he could not help feeling a little anxiety when he thought what might be the result of this second council of war. He was very much relieved to see that, when the meeting broke up, they did not advance toward him in a body, as he had expected they would, but quietly took up their stations as before.
At length, half a dozen ship-carpenters appeared upon the wharf, and, in an instant, the ferry-boats were in motion. In spite of all they could do to prevent it, Bob again took the lead, and a short distance behind him came Sam Barton, shaking his head and muttering to himself, and moving his oar viciously about in the water, as if he had determined to vent all his spite upon it. Bob reached the wharf first, and, flushed with excitement, and proud of his second triumph over the bully, turned to look at Sam. He saw the latter give one glance over his shoulder, and then come on like the wind—the sharp bow of his heavy yawl cutting the water like a knife. In an instant, Bob's exultant smile gave way to a look of astonishment and alarm.
"Hold on, there!" he shouted, with all the strength of his lungs; "you'll run me down!"
"Out of the way, there, Bobby Jennings," yelled Sam, never once slackening his speed or turning from his course; "here comes the boat the gentlemen's seen."
"Sheer off, there, Sam Barton!" shouted the fisher-boy again, seizing his oar and attempting to scull his boat out of the way. But it was too late; the yawl came on with all the speed the bully's practiced arms could give it, and, striking the scow fair in the side, it smashed in the planks as if they had been pipe-stems, and, before Bob could tell what was going on, he found himself floating about in the cold waters of the harbor.
THE WRECK OF THE GO AHEAD. [Page 55.