"If I could only think of some honest way to earn a hundred dollars, how proud I should feel!" said the fisher-boy. "It would support the family in fine style for a year to come, and would buy a good many articles of furniture that we need in the house. It would send me to sea, too, and I would then be in a situation to make a man of myself. I might, some day, become the captain of one of Mr. Newcombe's fine ships."
At this point in his meditations, when the fisher-boy was imagining how grand he would feel when he should walk the quarter-deck of his own vessel, he was suddenly startled with the shout:
"Look out there, you ragamuffin! Out of the way, or we'll run you down!" And the next moment, a beautiful little schooner, filled with boys about his own age, dashed by, under a full press of canvas.
"Ship ahoy!" shouted the boy who held the helm of the schooner; "What ship is that?"
"Why, that's the 'Go Ahead,'" said one of his companions, reading the name which was painted in rude letters on the stern of Bob's scow.
"So it is!" said another. "But I don't think the name is appropriate, for she don't seem to go ahead at all."
The boys in the schooner laughed loudly at this exhibition of wit, and the little vessel dashed on, leaving Bob sitting in the stern of his scow, silent and thoughtful. This incident had brought him back to earth again. The gallant ship, of which he had imagined himself the proud commander, faded before his eyes, and he found himself seated at the helm of his leaky boat, with its tattered sail and empty fish-basket staring him in the face. The trim, swift-sailing little schooner, which had so nearly run him down, and which was now bounding gayly over the waves of the bay, with its load of merry, thoughtless boys, presented a strange contrast to his own clumsy craft, and, but for one simple thing, Bob would have been more disheartened than ever. But one of the boys had called him a "ragamuffin;" while the others had made sport of his boat and the odd name she bore, and this aroused the fisher-boy's spirit.
"They don't know what they were talking about," said Bob to himself. "I didn't give my scow that name on account of her sailing qualities, for no one who knows any thing about a boat would expect a tub like this to sail fast. I call her the 'Go Ahead' because that's part of my motto, and I want it where I can see it when I get down-hearted."
Bob hesitated, and even looked as if he felt ashamed of himself as he said this, for he remembered that but a few moments before he had been sadly discouraged, and had never once thought of his motto. It was strange that he had forgotten it, for the words "Go Ahead," painted in huge capitals, stared at him from every part of the boat to which he could direct his gaze. On the thwarts, the gunwales, the oar with which he was steering, and even on the bottom, where the water stood three inches deep, appeared the mysterious words, which, under ordinary circumstances, never failed to prove a sure source of cheerfulness and contentment to the fisher-boy.
"They called me a ragamuffin," continued Bob, looking down at his patched garments, "and perhaps I am; but I know one thing, and that is, a ragged coat has covered the back of many an honest man. I believe I am honest, for I never, knowingly, cheated a man out of a cent. My customers are not afraid to trust me, for they believe just what I say, and never look at the scales when I am weighing out the fish. Sam Barton says, that poor men and cowards ought not to be allowed to live in the world; but mother says, poverty is no disgrace if a person works hard and tries to better his condition. I won't always be a ragamuffin, now I tell you! I'll own a sail-boat one of these days that will make that schooner ashamed of herself. How will I get it?" added Bob aloud, as if some invisible person had just asked him the question. "How will I get it? I'll work for it; that's the way I'll get it. I'll stick to my ferrying and fishing until something better turns up, and then I'll make a man of myself."