Tony’s features developed a broad smile, and he glanced through the note.
“So you’ll soon be setting off on a journey around the world, or thereabouts, eh?” he remarked at last, banteringly.
“Well, maybe about half-way, or perhaps as far as Greenport breakwater,” Jack returned; “but you know, Mr. Santo, we can’t do much till we get your help.”
“Well, what do you want me to do?” asked Tony good-humoredly, putting down his hammer.
“I don’t want to bother you too much,” said Jack, “but you said that if we got stuck you would give us a bit of help.”
“Why, yes, I’ll run over there in the dory some Saturday and help you to launch her, when you’re ready.”
“Thank you. That will be a tremendous help. Shall we dig a channel down to the water and float her out that way, or dig the sand away from her bow—she is lying bow-on toward the river, you know—and get her out with a winch?”
“I’ll take a winch. That will be easier. I’ll find a place on the opposite bank of the river where I can moor the winch, and then run a cable across the water to the sloop. We’ll drag her out when you’ve done enough spade-work. But mind, you want to get all that sand clear away from her sides, and make a nice slope up from her bow so that she won’t stick when the winch begins to haul on her. How long will that take you? Till next fall?”
“I hope not. We couldn’t very well manage it by next Saturday. That would only give us two days. But we’ll be ready for the winch the Saturday after.”
“All right,” replied Tony. “We’ll make that a date.”