The light of Monday morning's sun was very welcome to him; and when only its light gleamed in the gray east, he rose from his bed to begin the labors of the day. His father had enlarged the shop, so that he could build a yacht of the size of the Maud under its roof; and before breakfast time, he had prepared the bed, and levelled the blocks on which the keel was to rest. At seven o'clock Lawrence Kennedy appeared, and together they looked over the stock on hand, and made out a list of the pieces of timber and plank that would be required. At first the journeyman was inclined to take the lead in the business; but he soon found that his youthful employer was entirely familiar with the minutest details of the work, and knew precisely how to get out every stick of the frame. Donald constantly referred to the model of the Sea Foam, which he had already altered in accordance with the suggestions of his father, using the inch scale on which the model was projected, to get the size of the pieces, so that there should be no unnecessary waste in buying.
Kennedy went with him to the lumber wharf, where the stock was carefully selected for the frame. Before dinner it was carted over to the shop, and in the afternoon the work was actually commenced. The keelson, with the aperture for the centre-board nicely adjusted, was laid down, levelled, and blocked up, so that the yacht should be as true as a hair when completed. The next steps were to set up the stern-post and the stem-piece, and Mr. Ramsay's patterns of these timbers were ready for use. Donald was tired enough to rest when the clock struck six; but no better day's work for two men could be shown than that performed by him and his journeyman. Another hand could now work to advantage on the frame, and Kennedy knew of a first-rate workman who desired employment. He was requested to have him in the shop the next morning.
After supper, Donald went back to the shop to study, rather than to work. He seated himself on the bench, and was thinking over the details of the work, when, through the window, he saw Laud Cavendish run his sail-boat alongside the Juno, which was moored a short distance from the shore. Laud wanted to buy a boat, and Donald wanted to sell one. More than once he had been tempted to keep the Juno for his own use; but he decided that he could not afford such a luxury, even though she had cost him nothing. If he kept her, he would desire to use her, and he might waste too much of his precious time in sailing her. It would cost money as well as time to keep her; for boats are always in need of paint, spars, sails, rigging, and other repairs. He was resolute in his purpose to dispose of the Juno, lest the possession of her should demoralize him, and interfere with his attention to business.
It was plain enough to Donald that he must sell the Juno, though it was not as clear that Laud Cavendish could buy her; but he decided to see him, and, launching his tender, he pulled out for the Juno. While he was plying his oars, it suddenly came across the mind of the young boat-builder that he could not sell this boat without exposing his relations to Captain Shivernock. He was rather startled by the thought, but, before he had followed it out to a conclusion, the tender was alongside the Juno.
"How are you, Don John?" said Laud. "I thought I would come down and look over the Juno."
"She is a first-rate boat," replied Donald.
"And the captain wants to sell her?"
"She's for sale," replied her owner.
"What's the price of her?"
"Four hundred."