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

by Harry Castlemon

"Whew!" exclaimed Tom. "That's rather steep, I should say. However, I must have a vessel, and I don't care what she costs. Now listen to me! In the first place, I want this boat called the Storm King. She must be sloop-rigged, carrying as much canvas as can safely be put on her. Her hull must be painted black on the outside, and the cabin must be finished off with black walnut, and supplied with the finest kind of furniture; and, last of all, she must be warranted to beat every vessel of her size about the village."

"Exactly!" exclaimed Mr. Graves, who, believing that he had got a paying customer this time, listened attentively to all Tom had to say.

"And remember, also," continued Tom, "that I want her finished as soon as possible—the sooner the better. As I told you before, your money will be ready the moment I accept the vessel. If she doesn't suit me, I shall not take her."

"Of course not!" said the boat-builder. "But what are you going to do with her, Tom?"

"I'm going to be a trader. I expect soon to make my fortune."

"Certainly you will! What's to prevent it, I'd like to know? A boat of that description would make any man independently rich. I have a strong force," added Mr. Graves, as Tom arose to go, "and I'll promise to have her finished alow and aloft in fine style, by three weeks from to-day. Will that suit you?"

Tom replied that it would. He then took leave of the boat-builder, who, true to his promise, called in one of his workmen, and gave him some instructions in regard to building the sloop, which he intended should be the finest little vessel that had ever been launched at his yard. He had not the slightest suspicion that every thing was not just as it should be, for Tom had more than once assured him that some day he would gain his father's consent to a certain little plan, and that then he wanted a boat that would throw all the other yachts about the village completely into the shade. The boat-builder never imagined that Tom would dare enter into such an agreement without the permission of Mr. Newcombe, for what could a boy of his age do to earn four hundred dollars in three weeks? But then Mr. Graves knew nothing about the lottery.

Meanwhile the fisher-boy was loitering about the wharf, scarcely knowing what to do with himself. If the loss of the Go Ahead had occurred two days before, Bob would not have been long in deciding how he ought to pass the time away, for he would have employed himself in doing odd jobs about the village, and thus earned a few dimes to increase his little fortune. But now, he had no idea of doing any thing of the sort; for when Mr. Henry asked him if he did not want to earn a quarter of a dollar, by carrying in a cord of wood, that was piled on the wharf at the back of the store, Bob replied that he did not, that he was not looking for work. It is true he regretted his decision a moment afterward, but then it was too late, for Mr. Henry had hired some one else.

"Never mind," said the fisher-boy to himself. "I haven't lost much. Twenty-five cents for two hours' hard work is small pay. I've seen the day that I would have been glad to take all such jobs, but I'm better off in the world now; at least I soon will be."

All that forenoon, Bob walked up and down the wharf, watching the men at work about him, wishing that five o'clock would come, so that he might take possession of his new boat, and all the while wondering why it was that he was so miserable, while every one around him seemed to be so supremely happy. Again and again did he try to silence his conscience by saying to himself that his mother would never know any thing about the deception of which he had been guilty. Tom's plan would certainly succeed, and when he had his twenty-five hundred dollars in his pocket, he would pay for his boat, and then he would never go in debt or deceive his mother again. But these promises of better behavior in future did not quiet his feelings, for, in spite of all he could do to prevent it, the knowledge of the fact that he had abused the confidence his mother had reposed in him, would force itself upon his mind, and when twelve o'clock came the fisher-boy had become so thoroughly disgusted with himself that he did not want to go home to his dinner. He felt like an outlaw; and he could almost bring himself to believe that, if he should make his appearance at the door of his home, he would be refused admittance. But, knowing that if he remained away all day it would occasion surprise, and might arouse suspicion, the fisher-boy endeavored to dismiss all his unpleasant thoughts, tried hard to assume a cheerful look, and rather reluctantly started for home. To his surprise, he found that the cloud had vanished from his mother's face, and that she appeared to be as happy and contented as ever. She made no allusions to any thing that had transpired that morning, and Bob began to gain courage.