The little skiff moved with a rapidity that threatened instant destruction to any thing that came in her path, and not wishing to have their boats sent to the bottom, the ferry-boys all concluded that the safest plan was to allow Bob a clear field. The latter did not fail to make the most of his time. The neat appearance of his boat brought him a goodly number of passengers, and when he counted his money that night before going home, he found that he had earned just sixty cents.
He was well satisfied with the Go Ahead No. 2.
"You're all a pack of cowards!" said Sam to his companions, when he saw the fisher-boy fill away for home, after taking the last passenger across the harbor. "All cowards, every one of you! If you had obeyed my orders, Bobby Jennings wouldn't now be settin' in that new boat of his'n like he was lord an' master of all of us. A good duckin' in the harbor would help him powerful, an' he must have it."
Bob having taken his departure, Sam was no longer obliged to remain under the pier. He came out, looking very crest-fallen, and joined his companions, who, as they sculled slowly toward home, talked over the incidents of the afternoon, and debated upon the best plan to punish the fisher-boy for what he had done.
Sam, almost too angry to speak, took no part in the conversation. His desire to "get even" with the fisher-boy was now stronger than ever; for not only had the latter, as he believed, made use of one of the twenty dollar gold pieces to purchase his new boat, but he had actually beaten the bully at his own game, and fully demonstrated his ability to hold the harbor against the combined attacks of Sam and all his friends. This did not look much like driving him out of Fishertown; on the contrary, it appeared that if Bob chose to push matters, he could hold every one of his enemies at bay.
"He wouldn't give me one of them gold pieces fur my skiff," said Sam to himself. "He said he was too honest for that, but he has paid 'em to somebody else fur that new boat of his'n, an' I won't stand no such nonsense. I bet he'll be astonished when he gets up to-morrow morning."
If Sam had decided upon any thing new, he said nothing about it just then. He kept behind his companions all the way, and when he arrived at the beach he secured his yawl and went directly to his own home. As soon as it grew dark, however, he began to bestir himself. He walked about among the cabins, and presently collected four of his friends—the only ones among the dozen boys in Fishertown who could be trusted in every emergency—and after a few moments' whispered consultation, they again separated. For a quarter of an hour Sam strolled about, stopping now and then to say a few words to some of the ferry-boys he chanced to meet, until, believing that his four followers had been allowed ample time to obey his orders, he bent his steps toward the spot where he had left his yawl. He was very cautions in his movements—for he did not want every one about Fishertown to know what was going on—and when he reached his boat he stepped into it, quickly cast off the painter, and shoved away from the beach.
"Are you all there, fellers?" he asked, in a whisper.
"Yes," replied a voice from under the thwarts. "All here!"
Sam gave way on the oar, and in a few moments the boat entered the harbor, and shaped its course toward Mr. Newcombe's warehouse. Several vessels were lying alongside the pier, but Sam ran by them without attracting the attention of any of the watch, and finally the yawl disappeared among the spiles that supported the wharf. Here it was as dark as midnight; but Sam, who seemed to understand what he was about, pulled in his oar, and by pushing against the spiles, worked his way along until the boat reached the extreme end of the wharf.