The fisher-boy, although far from being convinced, replied that he would be more than satisfied with the wages offered, provided the business could be carried on according to those calculations; and Tom, thinking that he had made the matter perfectly clear to Bob’s comprehension, again turned his attention to his contract and shipping articles. The Mystery rocked considerably as she glided over the little waves, and this had the effect of making Tom’s writing look worse than ever. But he studied hard and worked perseveringly to draw up the important document (and that was more than he would have done had it been his arithmetic lesson), and when it was finished he handed it to Bob, who, after a good deal of trouble, made out the following:
Contrak and shiping Artikles—
be it known to All men that you and i bob jennings and thomas newcombe do Hearby agree that when i shall make Money enough to by the Swalow, That i will Give you six dolers a weak to be my crew and first Mait, every day except sundys, and That i will treat you kindly and allways pay You the money when it is dew, if you do Your work up square and no fooling when i get the Boat, and both of us shall try To make us happy and friendly. witness my Hand and yours.—if i should happen to Slip up on getting The boat, then this Contrak and shiping artikles is not of any use—and is not Binding on said thomas newcombe and bob jennings.
“Now,” said Tom, when the fisher-boy had finished reading the document, “that is plain enough, isn’t it? Well, then, let me sign it first, because I am the captain, you know.”
After they had both affixed their signatures to the contract, Tom put it carefully away in his pocket, and here the subject was dropped. Even Captain Newcombe had grown weary of counting his imaginary profits, and he began to wish they were at their journey’s end. As usual with him, he became very uneasy. He grew tired of sitting still, and first he wished that a sloop about the size of the Mystery would come along, so that they could have a race. Then he wished there was “some boy on board learning to be a sailor;” wouldn’t he make him “sup sorrow with a big spoon,” in revenge for the manner in which the second mate of the Savannah had treated him? Then he almost wished that a storm would come up; and, turning to the fisher-boy, he asked:
“Do you believe that if a fellow whistles while on board a vessel, it will get up a hurricane?”
“Father used to say it would,” answered Bob. “But I never tried it, and I don’t want to.”
“I wish I could start up a little more breeze. I wouldn’t want a hard one, for the Mystery couldn’t weather it. But I’ll run the risk;” and, as Captain Newcombe ceased speaking, he began to whistle, at the same time casting his eyes rather suspiciously around the horizon, to see if the storm was coming. But there was not a single cloud to obscure the sun, which beat mercilessly down upon them; and Tom finally gave up his attempt in disgust, and again stretched himself out in the stern-sheets, under the shade of the mainsail.
Although the Mystery was making remarkably quick time, she did not sail fast enough to suit her impatient captain, who, every few minutes, raised himself on his elbow, and looked toward the point, which still seemed as far off as when they left the wharf. But, nevertheless, they were gradually drawing nearer to it, and, at the end of an hour, Bob rounded-to and landed on the beach, a short distance from the farm-house.
As soon as the fisher-boy had hauled down the sails, Tom sprang ashore, drew his memorandum-book from his pocket, thrust his pencil behind his ear, and walked toward the house. Presently a man appeared at the door, and, as soon as Tom arrived within speaking distance, he inquired: