"What did I tell you, Bobby Jennings? Didn't I say that you shouldn't run no craft, except my skiff, in this ere harbor? I guess you won't go round beatin' fellers an' winnin' half-dollars now. If you want to make friends with me, you know where I live."
So saying, the bully started off to hunt up a passenger, leaving the fisher-boy gazing thoughtfully down into the water. He had scarcely heard what Sam was saying, for he was trying to think up some plan for raising the Go Ahead. Wouldn't it be a glorious triumph for him if he could coax her to the surface of the water again, repair her, and take her back into the harbor to trouble Sam Barton and the rest of his rivals? If he only had a rope made fast to her, he could, with a little assistance, haul her upon the wharf; and he was confident that, in one day's time, he could fix her up as good as new. But, after thinking the matter over, Bob was forced to come to the conclusion that he might as well try to hit upon the best plan for pulling the earth up to the sun, for the one was, to him, almost as hard a feat to accomplish as the other. The water was much too deep for him to dive down with a rope; and, even if he had a line made fast to her, where could he raise force enough to hoist her upon the wharf? Certainly not among the ferry-boys, for they had all sided with Sam against him. Beyond a doubt, he had seen the last of the Go Ahead; and, as he came to this conclusion, the tears started to his eyes again, and he walked hastily away from the spot.
CHAPTER VI.
GOING IN DEBT.
The fisher-boy would have been very different from most youngsters of his age, if he had not felt angry at Sam Barton for what he had done. He thought it was a cowardly way of taking revenge upon a rival, and if the bully had been upon the wharf at that moment, he might have discovered, to his cost, that Bob's muscles were very strong, and his fists very hard. But a boy who can be guilty of so mean a trick is never possessed of a great deal of courage, and Sam was wise enough to keep out of the fisher-boy's way.
If Tom Newcombe could have been a witness of what had just taken place in the harbor, he would have been immensely delighted. It was a strong argument in his favor, and it went further toward gaining the fisher-boy's assistance in carrying out his plans, then any thing he could have said or done. It is true, that the loss of his boat did not compel Bob to invest in the lottery—indeed, he had once or twice almost decided that he would have nothing to do with it; that if any part of his fifteen dollars was used, it should go toward paying for a new skiff. He had several times been on the point of coming to the sensible conclusion that Tom's scheme was a humbug, and that if he ever hoped to become a rich man he must labor faithfully and save every cent of his money. But Bob had a hard lesson to learn. Before he was an hour older all these good resolutions were forgotten, and Tom had carried his point. It was all the result of the loss of the Go Ahead.
As Sam Barton had told his companions the evening before, Bob could not live without a boat, and now the question that had been troubling him so long must be answered, and that very speedily. He might have built another scow—for there happened to be plenty of lumber floating about at the upper end of the harbor—but he was a very poor ship-carpenter, and by the time his craft could be completed, his fifteen dollars would all be gone. Besides, the boat would, no doubt, be quite as clumsy and leaky as the Go Ahead had been; and he knew, by experience, that with such a craft, he could not make ferrying a paying business. He must have a boat as good as any in the harbor, or he could not hope to secure custom. Such a one he could not build; he had no money to buy it, and his only alternative was to follow Tom's suggestion, and "go in debt for it." This was the conclusion Bob came to as he walked toward his home thinking the matter over; and, after a moment's hesitation, he turned and bent his steps toward Mr. Graves's ship-yard.
He was now about to add a new chapter to his experience, and he hardly knew how to begin operations. He had never asked a man to credit him, and his first hard work must be to decide upon the words he ought to use to introduce his business with Mr. Graves. But his wits seemed to have wandered to the ends of the earth; for, when he reached the ship-yard, he was as badly puzzled as ever to know what he ought to say to the boat-builder. He glanced in at the gate and saw the proprietor of the yard walking about among his men, and in the bay beyond he saw a little fleet of skiffs, with any one of which he was certain he could very soon double his fortune. Bob stepped inside the gate, but there his courage failed him, and he turned and walked out again. For ten minutes he stood leaning against the fence, sometimes almost resolved to walk boldly into the yard and settle his business at once, but oftener on the point of starting for Fishertown as fast as his legs could carry him; and every one who passed him, turned and looked at his dripping garments, no doubt wondering why he did not go home and change them. But the truth of the matter was, Bob had no dry ones to put on. The clothes he had at that moment on his back were all he possessed in the world, and, just then, the probabilities were that, if he did not soon take some decided step he would never be any better off. The fisher-boy thought of this, and once more glancing in at the gate, he saw that Mr. Graves had left his workmen, and was walking toward his office. Now was his time, if ever. Drawing in a long breath, and calling all his courage to his aid, he entered the yard and approached the boat-builder, who stopped and looked at him in astonishment.