“What kind of a boat?” croaked the old man, who had been lost in admiration of the shapely lines and finish of the River Swallow.
“Why, this boat. The River Swallow. Do you know anything about handling a wheel?”
“He! he! he! What a question!” chuckled the old man. “Why, Enos Whey was skipper of a Montreal packet afore rheumatiz crippled him up. D’ye want me to help you get her off the shoal?”
“That’s just what I do. If you will ship as wheelman and run her to Piquetville I’ll pay you well for it.”
“I’ll do it! By gum, I’ll do it!” cried the old man. “I haven’t had a wheel in my hands for fifteen years, but a man never forgets how to steer. Help me aboard, lad, and I’ll show you what I can do.”
Ralph clambered on board the River Swallow and then proceeded to help the old man up the rope ladder, sometimes used by the boys in debarking in a rough sea. With many grunts and groans, old Whey was at last safely on deck.
“What now, lad?” he asked.
“I’ll get the engines started and then we can cast off the stern lines. Then you’ll take the wheel and I’ll throw my clutch into the reverse and give her full power. I think, that with both propellers tugging at her the River Swallow will back off into deep water just as nicely as anything.”
“She ought to,” agreed the old man, “that sand is soft and she is not up on it very far. You go below, lad, and tell me when you are ready.”
Ralph hastened to his cabin, jumped into overalls and descended to the motor room. Everything was in apple-pie order, except that Hansen had left tools untidily lying about. Leaving the cleaning-up process till some future time, Ralph turned on the gasoline, set the sparks on both motors and then pulled the lever that started the compressed air apparatus that spun the engines till they picked up their power.