To any one less enthusiastic than her proud new owner, the sloop would not, perhaps, have looked such a priceless possession. There is something peculiarly desolate about the appearance of a wreck at any time, and, at least up to the time when the Sangus had again changed its course, the Sea-Lark had looked even more desolate than she would otherwise have done, because she was so far from the river. The water had left her canting over heavily to port, her stump of mast, a yard long, sticking up. On the port side her deck was now about level with the sand; her starboard side, raised four or five feet higher, had formed a barrier against which a solid bank of the restless sand had settled. Had she been an old boat and needing paint at the time she came to grief, decay might have left its stamp upon her in the three years she had lain there; but it so happened that her oaken beams and hard-pine planking were as sound at the time of the accident as on the day when they were first put into her, while the fact that she had received a double coat of paint only two months before, helped her further to resist the weather. She was not, therefore, really a wreck, as nothing of any consequence, except the mast, was broken.
Taking turn and turn about, the two boys worked strenuously, first removing the sand that had silted up against her starboard side. It was no light task, for the drift ran the whole length of the sloop, and the lads’ backs were aching and their limbs weary before they seemed to have made any impression on it. When the skipper called a final halt, however, they were well pleased with the result of their arduous labors. Nevertheless, Jack realized now for the first time how great was the task he had set himself, and how hopeless would be his efforts without the kindly assistance of Tony with the winch.
In three days the boys had entirely removed the drift, and then began to dig down around the sides of the vessel, to release her from the grip of the sand there. George proved not only a willing but an extremely useful helper. Though not so tall as his chum, he was strong, and gave promise of developing into an unusually powerful man. But it was the spirit with which he threw himself into the task that Jack appreciated as much as anything. Just before the date of the appointment with Tony, once when they were resting, perched on the side of the Sea-Lark, George surveyed the piles of sand which they had removed in the past week.
“We only want one thing now,” he said thoughtfully, “to make us both thoroughly happy.”
“What’s that?”
“A peach of a wind-storm, to fill up all the holes we’ve been digging! If that happened, I don’t believe we’d have the pluck to start all over again.”
“Don’t suggest such an awful thing,” cried Jack, “or I’ll smite you with a belaying-pin! By the way, George, I can’t do that.”
“Oh, I am so sorry!” said the other. “Why not?”
“Because there doesn’t seem to be a belaying-pin on board. We’ll need one or two, won’t we? The skipper always thumps people on the head with a belaying-pin, particularly the mate. There’s something about a marlinespike, too, isn’t there? I’m not quite sure what a marlinespike is, but I think I club you with it when there isn’t a belaying-pin handy.”
With a deft movement of his body, the mate got behind the skipper and neatly tipped him overboard into the hole they had so painstakingly dug; nor was the captain allowed to climb on board again until the mate had extracted a promise that he would at all times be treated in a humane manner when they were far out on the bounding ocean.