"Why, we've stuck fast!" he exclaimed to Captain Feilner, whom he found standing by the rail. "What will they do now?"
"Send out a boat and sound for a passage," the Captain answered.
Even as he spoke, Alexander Lamont,—or, Alex Lamont, as he was usually called,—the tall, bronzed captain of the Island City, leaned out over the rail and shouted up to the hurricane deck above,
"Lower away the yawl, there! Step lively, now!"
They heard the shuffle of feet on the sanded tar roof overhead, the creak of falls and tackles, and in a moment the boat, its long oars manned by six stalwart deck hands and carrying, besides, a steersman at the stern and a leadsman with a sounding pole at the bow, pulled around the side of the steamer and out into the shoal water ahead. Meanwhile, the long line of steamers behind them also came to a stop.
"How much water must there be for us to get through?" asked Al.
"We are drawing three and a half feet," answered Captain Feilner, "and we ought to have four feet to go on, but we can do it on three and a half by sparring or warping. Have you never seen those things done? Well, you will probably have a chance in a few minutes,—and plenty more before we are through with this trip. Some of the other steamers do not draw quite as much as we do but none of them seem to be going to try to pass us."
The yawl gradually worked its way diagonally across and down the river, following the crest of the bar, until it had approached quite near to the north bank, the leadsman constantly thrusting his pole down to the river bottom. Then the boat suddenly turned around and came rapidly back to the Island City.
"There's three and a half, large, over there," said the pilot who had acted as leadsman as he came aboard, speaking to Captain Lamont. "We can go over but you'll likely have to set spars."