It was Philadelphia’s tribute to the victorious hosts in the war with Spain, and the boys came in just the nick of time to take in all the goings on—the parades of soldiers and sailors and the still more interesting, ever restless procession of the multitude of people from every direction.
Everything was open, from the United States Mint, Independence Hall, where Congress first met, to Cramp’s shipyard and the University of Pennsylvania buildings. During the three days our mariners lay off the city, they saw it all. Kenneth would have been at Cramp’s shipyard to this day if Arthur had not pulled him off by main force. The great enclosure from which so many of America’s famous ships have been launched had a strong fascination for him, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he could tear himself away.
Under way once more, the “Gazelle” soon reached Bordentown, where she entered the Delaware and Raritan Canal. Surprised and delighted at the small canal fee, Kenneth paid the $2.80 and, with a long line, he and Arthur began to tow to Trenton (six miles). As luck would have it, Kenneth and his friends met the owner of the steam-yacht “Cora” at Trenton, who was also going through the canal.
The story of the trip thus far, and the plans for the remainder of the journey so interested the “Cora’s” master, that he wanted to hear more of it and offered to tow the “Gazelle” through for the sake of the society of her captain and crew. The boys thought this more than a fair exchange and “accepted with pleasure.” The “Gazelle” seemed to feel the importance of her position, and strutted behind the graceful “Cora” as though she were merely following the larger and more fashionable vessel, and was not submitting to anything so undignified as towing.
“The old boat will get so stuck up with her five-mule team and now her steam-yacht tow, that she’ll outgrow her headsails.”
“Wait till she strikes the Erie Canal, when her fall cometh. It’s lucky if we get even one horse to tow her then.”
Along the broad canal the two yachts went at a pace that the boys thought too fast, for little opportunity was given to them to see the many interesting things that they passed so quickly.
At New Brunswick, the end of the canal, the “Gazelle’s” crew bid their kind friends good-by, and, hoisting sail, went on alone. As they drew nearer and nearer the Metropolis—the city which they had heard about all their lives, but had never seen, and which, next to their own homes, was the place of all others that they desired to reach—their nerves tingled with excitement, and the good round pace which the “Gazelle” was making, seemed all too slow.
When darkness fell they were but seven miles below New Brunswick, on the Raritan River, anchored in a spot that seemed absolutely remote from civilization, above all far from a great city, so quiet was it. Undisturbed by sight of any one, the three youngsters made the night hideous with their jubilant songs, bawled at the top of their voices. Well might they be joyful, for surely the thing accomplished more than justified their exultation.
In a thirty-foot boat they had braved the treacherous Gulf and the savage Atlantic, travelled dangerous waters without a pilot; mere boys who had never seen salt water before this cruise, with barely enough money to pay the narrowest expenses and buy the cheapest possible food; and now they were within a day’s sail of New York, sound and well, with a boat under them that was as fit as when she had slipped into the fresh waters of far-off Lake Michigan.