"Yes, they can."
"And they say we have nothing to say about the freight rate—that is fixed," he said, his eyes wide and keen with wonder at the new situation into which he had so suddenly plunged.
"The freight rate will no doubt be liberal enough," I suggested.
"Then we might just as well get the credit of doing it willingly," he wisely concluded, and was away again.
In less than half an hour we moved up about a thousand feet, and all the men available were busy crowding timber into the Fearsome, continuing the work far into the night. The captain looked after the stowage and I was busy getting an emergency supply of gasoline, oil and sundry necessary supplies. Hiram provisioned and attended to other details. He was in an element natural to him and seemed to forget everything else. By daylight the next morning we had the hold full and a deck-load six feet high. In fact, the Fearsome looked like a floating, sawed timber raft, bound and tied together with log chains.
After breakfast as we were feeling our way out of the river into the sound, Hiram came down very soberly to where I was attending to the engine. He was evidently well pleased. Hands that but a short while ago were manicured twice a week were now broadened, manly, brown and grease-stained.
"Don't you think we are short-handed?" he asked. "I tried to get some one but couldn't. I hate to have you stand by that motor long hours at a time. Perhaps I can help?"
"If the weather is good we ought to make the mouth of the river by night, anchor there, get some sleep and complete the journey to New Orleans to-morrow in daylight."
"Ben! do you mean to say we can make New Orleans in two days?" he asked in open-eyed wonder.