Meanwhile Tom Newcombe was stepping gayly about the office, performing his duties with more than usual alacrity; and one, to have seen him, would have little imagined that he had passed the most miserable night of his existence. He had never once closed his eyes in sleep; for, while he tossed uneasily about on his bed, he kept his brain busy trying to study up some plan to get himself out of his troubles. He could not bear the thought of giving up that splendid little vessel, after she had been built according to his orders, and he had so faithfully promised to be on hand with the money as soon as she was completed. He had so confidently expected to own and sail her himself, that he was sure that it would be a death-blow to him if he should see her pass into the possession of any one else. He knew that the matter could not be kept a secret much longer, for when Mr. Graves found out that he had no money to pay for the yacht, he would very likely take the trouble to call upon Mr. Newcombe. That would be a calamity indeed; for Tom knew that if the facts of the case came to his father's ears, he might bid good-by to all hopes of ever owning the vessel. He had believed that his twenty-five hundred dollars would come to hand so that he could settle with the boat-builder before his father should hear of what was going on; and, possession being nine points of law, he hoped that the merchant would raise no objection to his keeping the Storm King. But he had been disappointed in receiving the prize, and now he was trying to decide upon some plan to raise the four hundred dollars, or, at least, to secure possession of the vessel. This was, by far, the most difficult task he had yet undertaken; and for a long time it proved to be more than he could manage. But Tom was fruitful in expedients, and about midnight he suddenly sprung up in his bed and clapped his hands for joy. He had at last discovered a way out of his difficulties.
"That's it!" said Tom to himself, after he had thought the matter over. "I'll have that yacht yet! It takes just me to get up schemes. I'm all right, and now I'll go to sleep."
But that was easier said than done. He was intensely excited over his new project, and it kept him as wide-awake as his trouble had done before. Contrary to his usual custom he answered the breakfast bell promptly, and, in spite of the sleepless night he had passed, appeared at the table as bright as a lark. After eating a very light breakfast, he went down to the office, where he performed his duties in a very short space of time. Then he caught up his cap and ran out upon the wharf, where he found the fisher-boy at work at his wood-pile.
"You're just the very man I am looking for!" said Tom. "Quit that job and come with me!"
"What's up now?" asked Bob. "You seem to be in good spirits this morning!"
"I should say I was!" replied Tom, snapping his fingers, and stepping gayly about the wharf; "and why shouldn't I be? We are all right now!"
"Are we?" exclaimed Bob, eagerly. "Has our money come, after all?"
"No, not yet! I'm going to send for it again in a week or two. But I own the Storm King, Bob! That's one settled fact!"
"You do! Have you raised the four hundred dollars?"