Loving’s Landing, at first sight, didn’t appear to be worth the trouble they had taken to find it. It was largely composed of lumberyards, machine-shops and wharves in front of which dirty little canal-boats were lying. Higgins’s Boat Yard was difficult to discover, each informant directing them differently, but at last they found it tucked away between the railroad and the river and hidden by a lumberyard. They presented their credentials at the office and were directed to where the Jolly Roger lay ready for launching. By that time Chub was speculating on the chances of obtaining luncheon in such a “one-horse metropolis.”
The Jolly Roger lay at the top of the way, one end tilted high in air. It was something of a feat to board her and more of a feat to move around after they were there. The doors and windows had been opened but the interior still had a musty odor that caused Roy to sniff in displeasure. For the next half-hour they roamed around in and out, planning and making memoranda of things to buy. The boat was furnished just as when they had last seen it, although the hauling out had seriously displaced many of the articles. In the forward cabin,—or living-room, just as you had a mind to call it,—chairs and table had congregated against one wall as though holding a conference.
“Seems to me,” said Chub, “we’re going to need a lot of things. We ought to have new curtains all over the shop, cot-beds, bedding, some more chairs—”
“Well, we’ve got those all down,” answered Roy shortly. “What is most important. I fancy, is to have someone go over the engine.”
“You bet,” Dick agreed. “We can do without new curtains better than we can do without an engine. I’ve been looking at the batteries and wiring and they’re all out of kilter. We’d better consult Higgins and find some one who can fix up that part of it.”
“She doesn’t look much as she did last summer,” said Chub disappointedly.
“Oh, she will when she gets in the water and we have her fixed up,” Dick replied. “How about painting her outside?”
They climbed down and had a look at her from the wharf, finally agreeing that a coat of white on the house was necessary. Then they found the boat builder and talked it all over with him. As soon as he found that there was a prospect of work to be done he was all attention. He agreed to take charge of the matter, paint her as directed, have the engine and batteries thoroughly gone over and deliver her at a certain dock in the North River, New York, in one week’s time.
“Of course he’s lying, too,” said Chub gloomily as they made their way out of the yard, “but it’s a sweet lie. I don’t suppose he will have her ready before the middle of July. Some one of us will have to come up here every day or so and get after him.”