When Hiram returned to the room, a little ahead of time, his pep and ginger seemed to have been largely augmented. His energy appeared to have no limit, but with it all there was a shade of disappointment, or apprehension. He began at once about the boat.
"Fearsome is her name," said he. "She is just what we want, a dandy for our purpose, but I'm afraid she's too big. While fitted with a propeller and rudder, and steers from a chicken-coop up front, she has no power. But she's a peach for size and width!" he exclaimed, with breath no faster from running up the stairs three steps at a time. "How the devil are we going to get something to make her go?" he added, sitting down in front of me, holding his left knee between his hands, and looking appealingly at me.
"How big a boat is it?" I asked, suppressing my amusement.
"About a hundred and fifty feet long and twenty five or thirty beam. Not deep in the water, but she draws enough. She looks like an overgrown canal boat. But I brought the captain along; he can tell you more; do you want to see him? It's only a matter of getting power into her."
"How much will it cost to get possession of her?"
"Well, that is another thing—the captain says that it's to be auctioned for the crew's wages. He hints that the owners may have gone to jail, or back to the mountains to resume their legitimate business as highwaymen."
"Who is the captain you refer to?"
"Captain Marianna—I told you about him. He's the caretaker, and has been living on her—starved out, is an Italian, has a shipmaster's license from the Government. He has it hanging in the boat. I'm sure he will stay with us if we want him. He is downstairs now—want to see him?" Then, coming toward me, he asked in an earnest undertone, "Can we raise the money to put some kind of power in her? I can root out the Becker crowd, clean my slate and then make a fortune with her if we can," he insisted with fierce determination.