CHAPTER IX.
THE boat was in a shallow part of the river, between the shore and a long row of piles that marked the steamboat channel. Harry sounded with an oar, and found that the water was only two feet deep. “We’ll have to get overboard and drag the boat over the piles,” said he, “and it’s going to be a mighty hard job, too. That swell threw us over as neat as the bull threw Joe over the fence up at Lenox last summer.”
“When I got pitched over that fence I stayed there,” said Joe. “I didn’t try to get back into the field where the bull was, and I don’t see what we want to get back where the steamboats are for.”
“That’s so,” exclaimed Harry. “We’re safe enough here. Let’s get the water out of the boat, and keep on this side of the piles.”
When the boat was made dry, and the lighted lantern was hoisted to the top of the mast, Tom resumed his place at the helm, and Harry and Joe prepared to take another nap. “I don’t want to grumble,” said Joe, “but I wish I didn’t have to lie on the coffee-pot and a tin cup. I don’t feel comfortable on that kind of bed.”
“I’ll change with you if you like,” replied Harry. “I’m sleeping on a beautiful soft bottle of oil, and some sardine boxes, but I don’t want to be selfish and keep the best bed for myself.”
“Oh, never mind,” returned Joe. “I’ll manage to sleep if Jim don’t step on my face. I always did hate to have anybody step on my face when I was asleep.”
“Well, good-night everybody,” said Harry. “I’m going straight to sleep. Tom, be sure you wake me up if a steamboat tries to climb over these piles.”
This time Tom did not fall asleep at the helm, but the wind gradually died away, and the sail hung limp and useless. Jim got out the oars without stepping on anybody, and rowed slowly on. In a little while they came to the end of the shallow lagoon into which the swell had so unexpectedly cast them. A sand-bank stretched from the shore to the line of piles, and it was impossible to go any farther. Tom decided to make the boat fast to the limb of a willow-tree that projected over the water, and to go ashore and sleep on the sand. Neither he nor Jim thought it worth while to wake the other boys; so they gathered up their blankets, crept quietly out of the boat, and were soon asleep on the soft, warm sand. When Harry and Joe awoke at daylight, stiff and cramped, they were disposed to be rather indignant at Tom and Jim, who were sleeping so comfortably on the sand; but Tom soon convinced them that he had acted from the best of motives, and they readily forgave him.