“By George!” Jack exclaimed admiringly. “The old boy intends to take her in through the shoals. But it’s a risky thing to do.”
“It is necessary?” asked Mr. Parker, deeply concerned. “After all, we’ve already caused the Barkers great inconvenience. Surely there is no need for them to risk going aground just to put us off at the Island.”
“Captain Barker could give us a little gasoline, but he gets a big kick out of doing it this way,” Jack muttered. “He and Sally both like to show off. It wouldn’t surprise me if the old boy oversteps himself this time. We’re running into shoal water.”
Sally, evidently worried, stationed herself at the bow of the River Queen, dropping a leadline over the side.
“Eight and a half feet!” she called. “Seven and three-quarters—”
“We’ll never make it,” Jack murmured. “We’re going aground now!”
Even as he spoke, the ferryboat grated on the sandy river bottom.
Captain Barker seemed not in the least disturbed. “Let ’er have it!” he shouted through the speaking tube. “Every ounce we’ve got!”
Rasping and groaning in its timbers, the stout little ferryboat ground her way through the sand. For one terrifying moment it seemed that she had wedged herself fast. But she shuddered and went over the bar into deeper water.
Sally drew a long sigh of relief, and grinned at Jack. “I knew Pop could make it,” she chuckled, “but he sure had me scared for a minute.”