Back of the bedroom, opening from the deck, was the engine-room. The engine was of six horse-power and a very good one, in spite of Mr. Cole’s aspersions. The gasolene tank was on the roof above. The Jolly Roger had a guaranteed speed of five miles an hour, but the boys soon discovered that the guaranteed speed and the actual speed didn’t agree by a whole mile. The engine-room had no window but was lighted by a deadlight set in the roof. Beyond the engine-room, on the other side of the boat, was a tiny kitchen, or, as the boys preferred to call it, galley. This opened into the after cabin and was so small that one person entirely filled it. But in spite of its size it was a model of convenience. There was an oil-stove, a sink—you forced water from a tank under the deck by means of a little nickel-plated pump—an ice-chest, shelves for dishes, hooks overhead for pots and kettles, cupboards underneath for supplies and a dozen other conveniences. As Dick said, all you had to do was to stand in front of the sink and reach for anything you wanted. There was a window above the sink and Dick discovered that it was very handy to throw potato peelings and such things out of.
The remaining apartment was a room nine by seven which the owner had used principally to store his painting materials in. Previously it had contained only a cupboard, table, chair, and a small, green chest. But now two cot-beds were established on opposite sides. There wasn’t much room left, but it was quite possible to move around and to reach the galley. This after cabin opened on to the rear deck, about five feet broad, from whence a flight of steps led up to the roof, or, again quoting the boys, the upper deck.
This was one of the best features of the little craft. It was covered with canvas save where panes of thick glass gave light to the rooms below, and was railed all around. Outside the railing were green wooden boxes for flowers. Last summer these had been filled with geraniums and periwinkle and had made a brave showing. And the boys had decided that they would have them so again. Stanchions held a striped awning which covered the entire deck. At the forward end was the wheel-house, a little six by four compartment glassed on all sides, in which was a steering wheel—the boat could also be steered from the engine-room—various pulls for controlling the engine, a rack for charts, a clock, and a comfortable swivel chair. Near the stairs there was a little cedar tender, but this was usually towed astern. Stowed away below were some inexpensive rugs which belonged up here, and three willow chairs and a willow table. A side ladder led from the upper deck to the lower so that one could get quickly from engine-room to wheel-house. Topping the latter was a short pole for a flag. Such was the house-boat Jolly Roger, Eaton, master.
“Tell you what I’m going to do,” said Dick, when they had unloaded their bags and distributed the contents. “I’m going to try the engine. We’d better find out as soon as we can whether she’s going to run.”
“What do you mean?” asked Roy, anxiously. “Go monkeying around here among all these ferry-boats and things?”
But Dick explained that his idea was to keep the boat tied up. So they looked to their two lines which ran from bow and stern and Dick slipped into the engine-room. Presently there was a mild commotion at the stern of the boat which gradually increased as Dick advanced the spark. The lines tightened, but held, and Roy and Chub joined the engineer.
“How does she go?” asked Chub.
“All right,” Dick answered, cheerfully. The engine was chugging away busily and Dick was moving about it with his oil-can. “I didn’t have any trouble starting it. I don’t believe Mr. Cole knows much about engines.” There was a tone of superiority in Dick’s voice that caused the others to smile, recalling, as they did, his own vast ignorance of the subject less than a year ago. The summer before Dick had purchased a small launch and what he now knew of gas engines had been learned in the short space of a few months’ experience chugging about Ferry Hill in the Pup.
“Oh, Mr. Cole always said he didn’t understand that engine,” answered Roy. “Turn her off, Dick, or we’ll break away from the dock.”