GOING IN DEBT.
The fisher-boy would have been very different from most youngsters of
his age, if he had not felt angry at Sam Barton for what he had done.
He thought it was a cowardly way of taking revenge upon a rival, and
if the bully had been upon the wharf at that moment, he might have
discovered, to his cost, that Bob's muscles were very strong, and his
fists very hard. But a boy who can be guilty of so mean a trick is
never possessed of a great deal of courage, and Sam was wise enough to
keep out of the fisher-boy's way.
If Tom Newcombe could have been a witness of what had just taken
place in the harbor, he would have been immensely delighted. It was a
strong argument in his favor, and it went further toward gaining the
fisher-boy's assistance in carrying out his plans, then any thing he
could have said or done. It is true, that the loss of his boat did
not compel Bob to invest in the lottery--indeed, he had once or twice
almost decided that he would have nothing to do with it; that if any
part of his fifteen dollars was used, it should go toward paying for
a new skiff. He had several times been on the point of coming to the
sensible conclusion that Tom's scheme was a humbug, and that if he ever
hoped to become a rich man he must labor faithfully and save every
cent of his money. But Bob had a hard lesson to learn. Before he was
an hour older all these good resolutions were forgotten, and Tom had
carried his point. It was all the result of the loss of the Go Ahead.
As Sam Barton had told his companions the evening before, Bob could not
live without a boat, and now the question that had been troubling him
so long must be answered, and that very speedily. He might have built
another scow--for there happened to be plenty of lumber floating about
at the upper end of the harbor--but he was a very poor ship-carpenter,
and by the time his craft could be completed, his fifteen dollars would
all be gone. Besides, the boat would, no doubt, be quite as clumsy
and leaky as the Go Ahead had been; and he knew, by experience, that
with such a craft, he could not make ferrying a paying business. He
must have a boat as good as any in the harbor, or he could not hope to
secure custom. Such a one he could not build; he had no money to buy
it, and his only alternative was to follow Tom's suggestion, and "go in
debt for it." This was the conclusion Bob came to as he walked toward
his home thinking the matter over; and, after a moment's hesitation, he
turned and bent his steps toward Mr. Graves's ship-yard.
He was now about to add a new chapter to his experience, and he hardly
knew how to begin operations. He had never asked a man to credit him,
and his first hard work must be to decide upon the words he ought to
use to introduce his business with Mr. Graves. But his wits seemed
to have wandered to the ends of the earth; for, when he reached the
ship-yard, he was as badly puzzled as ever to know what he ought to say
to the boat-builder. He glanced in at the gate and saw the proprietor
of the yard walking about among his men, and in the bay beyond he saw a
little fleet of skiffs, with any one of which he was certain he could
very soon double his fortune. Bob stepped inside the gate, but there
his courage failed him, and he turned and walked out again. For ten
minutes he stood leaning against the fence, sometimes almost resolved
to walk boldly into the yard and settle his business at once, but
oftener on the point of starting for Fishertown as fast as his legs
could carry him; and every one who passed him, turned and looked at his
dripping garments, no doubt wondering why he did not go home and change
them. But the truth of the matter was, Bob had no dry ones to put on.
The clothes he had at that moment on his back were all he possessed
in the world, and, just then, the probabilities were that, if he did
not soon take some decided step he would never be any better off. The
fisher-boy thought of this, and once more glancing in at the gate,
he saw that Mr. Graves had left his workmen, and was walking toward
his office. Now was his time, if ever. Drawing in a long breath, and
calling all his courage to his aid, he entered the yard and approached
the boat-builder, who stopped and looked at him in astonishment.
"Why, Bob," said he, "have you been in swimming with your clothes on?"
"Yes, sir," was the reply, "but I couldn't help it. Sam Barton sunk my
boat for me."
"He did! The young rascal! That boy is going to State's prison by the
lightning express train. I wouldn't have any thing to do with him, Bob.
You have no boat now, I suppose?"
"No, sir," replied the fisher-boy, sorrowfully; and when he thought of
the Go Ahead, he could not keep back his tears.
"Never mind," said Mr. Graves, kindly, "you have not lost much."
"I have lost a great deal, sir," replied Bob. "I can't live without a
boat."
"Of course you can't," said Mr. Graves, briskly. "You must get another.
Now, perhaps I can sell you one of my nice little skiffs. They are
very cheap, and warranted fast. Better take one of 'em, Bob, and then
you can pay off Sam Barton by taking all his passengers away from him.
Wouldn't that be glorious?"
The boat-builder evidently became excited as he said this, for he
punched Bob in the ribs with his fingers, and laughed so loudly that he
was heard all over the ship-yard.
"I'd like to have one of them," said the fisher-boy, "but I've got no
money to pay for it now."
"Ah!" said Mr. Graves, drawing back and stroking his whiskers--"that's
bad--a person can't buy any thing without money; that's been my
experience." As he said this, he looked out over the bay and began
to whistle, as if he had nothing further to say on the subject. This
greatly discouraged Bob, for he saw that Mr. Graves had suddenly lost
all interest in his affairs. "He knows that I am going to ask him to
trust me!" thought the fisher-boy, and he had hit the mark exactly.
The boat-builder was like a great many other men; he could afford to
offer his sympathy to any one in distress, because it did not cost him
any thing. He had spoken so kindly to Bob, because he thought he had
come there to buy one of his boats, and was ready to pay the money as
soon as the bargain could be concluded; but when he learned that the
fisher-boy's pockets were empty, his feelings changed instantly. If Bob
could have paid the cash for his boat, he would have left the ship-yard
firm in his belief that Mr. Graves was one of the kindest men in the
world; as it was, he began to believe him to be the most hard-hearted.
For a moment the fisher-boy stood looking down at the ground in great
perplexity. He scarcely knew what to say next, but he finally decided
that the best course he could pursue would be to state his business at
once. He wanted it settled one way or the other, for he did not like to
be kept in suspense.
"Mr. Graves," said he, with a desperate effort, "I came here to ask
you if you would sell me one of your skiffs on time. I'll pay you for
it in three months." (He was at first going to say one month, as Tom
had suggested; but what if the lottery scheme should fail? He did not
believe that any such disappointment was in store for him, but still,
it was best to be on the safe side).
The fisher-boy was astonished at himself. He had not believed that he
possessed the courage to ask the question he had just propounded, and
the words had scarcely passed his lips before he was sorry that he had
ever uttered them. He was certain that he had lowered himself in Mr.
Graves's estimation, and that gentleman's conduct gave him reason for
this belief. He opened his eyes in amazement, and looked the fisher-boy
very hard in the face, as if he could hardly believe that he was in
earnest. For the first time in his life, Bob had met a man he could
not look fairly and squarely in the eye. He hung his head as if he
had been guilty of a very mean action, and almost expected to hear the
ship-builder order him out of the yard. He waited impatiently for his
answer, but it was not given immediately, for Mr. Graves picked up a
stick and began to whittle it with his knife, at the same time running
his eye over his little fleet of skiffs with a sort of affectionate
look, as if they stood very high in his estimation, and he was not
willing to sell any of them "on time."
At length, to the fisher-boy's immense relief, he threw away the stick,
and asked:
"How do I know that you will pay me at the end of three months?"
"I promise you that I will work day and night to raise the money,"
answered Bob. "Besides, I will give you my note."
Mr. Graves laughed loudly. "I am afraid your note would not be worth
much," said he. "But I have always heard you spoken of as an honest,
hard-working boy, and I am willing to give you a little assistance.
Come with me!"
Bob could scarcely credit his ears. He followed the boat-builder like
one in a dream; and not until Mr. Graves stepped into a yawl and pushed
off toward the spot where the skiffs were anchored, did he believe that
it was all a reality, and that he was soon to be the owner of one of
the finest boats in the harbor.
"Now, then," said Mr. Graves, pulling up along-side one of the
skiffs--"how will the Sea Gull suit you?"
The boat in question was one of the most beautiful little things Bob
had ever seen. She was painted white inside and out, her bow and stern
were shaped alike, and both were as sharp as a knife. She was intended
for a fast boat, and the name which was painted on her bows suited her
exactly, for she sat on the water as lightly as a feather.
"What is she worth?" asked the fisher-boy.
"Twenty-five dollars," was the reply; "and that pays for a sail and a
pair of strong oars."
"Very well!" said Bob, who was so overjoyed and excited that he could
scarcely stand still, "there is no need of looking any farther. I'll
take her if you will paint out that name and give her another."
"I'll do it," replied the boat-builder; "but I shall have to charge you
an extra dollar for it."
The fisher-boy had seen the time that this would have made him
hesitate. Heretofore he had always looked upon a dollar as quite a
respectable sum of money, and one well worth saving; but now, from
some cause or other, it did not look so large in his eyes, and he was
willing to pay it for having a new name painted on his boat.
"All right," said he. "I want to call her the 'Go Ahead No. 2.' I'd
like to have you get her ready as soon as possible, for I am in a hurry
to get to work with her."
"You shall have her to-night at five o'clock," said Mr. Graves, pushing
the yawl toward the shore, "and I want you to go straight to the harbor
and settle up with Sam Barton. Don't let him take a single passenger
across if you can help it. But remember, Bob, I must have my money at
the end of three months."
"I promise you that it shall be ready for you," said the fisher-boy
promptly, as if twenty-six dollars was a very insignificant sum of
money in his estimation, and he could raise it at any moment. "I
think, in fact I know, that I shall be able to pay you in four weeks
from to-day." As Bob said this, he thought of the lottery.
As soon as the yawl reached the shore the fisher-boy took leave of Mr.
Graves, and left the ship-yard with a much lighter heart than he had
brought into it. The question that had been troubling him so long was
settled at last, and he was the owner of a boat that he believed to
be far superior to any craft of the kind about the village. Although
he did not feel any better natured toward Sam Barton, he could not
help laughing when he thought how astonished the bully would be when
he saw the rival whom he imagined he had so effectually disabled sail
into the harbor in a boat as good, if not better, than his own. Bob
did not believe that, reckless as he knew him to be, he would dare
attempt the destruction of his skiff, for by such a proceeding he
would render himself liable to prosecution before a court of law. The
fisher-boy, however, was not yet acquainted with Sam Barton. The bully,
when he had determined upon his course, always exhibited a great deal
of resolution in carrying it out; and, having decided that Bob had
lived in Fishertown long enough, it was not his intention to allow
him a moment's peace until he had been driven out of the harbor, and
compelled to take up his abode somewhere else. The result of this
contest was doubtful. The fisher-boy was not wanting in courage, and
when he became fairly aroused he was rather an unpleasant fellow to
have about. He was very independent, he did not believe in privileged
classes, and knowing that he had as much right in the harbor as any
body, it was very likely that he would stand his ground as long as
possible. Just at that moment he would not have been afraid of a dozen
Sam Bartons. He had a nice boat, and he was satisfied.
There was one thing, however, that marred his happiness, and that
was the thought that perhaps his mother would not approve of what he
had done. He had often heard her say that when a person was in debt
he was in danger; but now, Bob thought differently. He did not see
how he could get himself into trouble, simply because he had gone in
debt for a boat worth twenty-six dollars. Even if the lottery scheme
failed--an event which he now imagined to be impossible--he would have
no difficulty in settling the note when it fell due, for, if fishing
did not pay him, ferrying would; and, if business in the harbor should
become dull, he would devote all his time to fishing. It is true he
could remember that sometimes fishing and ferrying had both proved very
unprofitable; but the reason was, because he had nothing but a clumsy
old scow to work with; now the case would be different, because he was
the owner of a splendid little skiff. In short, Bob really believed
that the fish, which had refused to bite at his bait when it dangled
over the side of his leaky scow, would be utterly unable to resist the
temptation when his line was thrown from the stern of the Go Ahead No.
2. How he reached this conclusion was best known to himself. Perhaps it
was because his conscience troubled him, and he was obliged to make use
of all the arguments he could think of to quiet it.
There was another matter, besides the payment of his debt, that weighed
heavily on his mind, in spite of all he could do to prevent it. It
intruded itself upon him with every step he made toward his home,
and, although he tried to dismiss it with an impatient, "I know it
will come out all right, and mother will never know the difference,"
he could not rid his mind of the thought, that, to say the least, he
was about to be guilty of a very mean action. The nearer he got to
Fishertown the slower he walked; but he reached his home at last, and
his appearance without his boat caused a great commotion in the house.
Without waiting to be questioned, the fisher-boy began his story. His
brothers listened with looks of amazement and indignation, but Bob saw
that his mother was troubled. She was, no doubt, wondering how the
family was to be supported, now that the Go Ahead was gone.
"O, it's all right," said Bob, cheerfully. "I've got another boat that
can't be beaten by any thing about Newport. I'd like to see Sam Barton
smash her!"
"Where did you get your new boat?" asked his mother.
"From Mr. Graves. She cost me twenty-six dollars, too."
"How did you earn so much money?"
"I haven't paid for her yet," replied the fisher-boy. "I am to
settle with Mr. Graves in ninety days. He said that I was an honest,
hard-working boy, and he would give me a lift."
Bob did not like to see that troubled look on his mother's face, and he
was in hopes that this announcement would drive it away; but, contrary
to his expectations, it seemed to increase it.
"I am glad that Mr. Graves has so good an opinion of you," said his
mother; "and I don't want you to lose it. For that reason, I am very
sorry that you went in debt to him. Suppose you are not able to pay
for your boat at the end of three months?"
"Now, mother," said Bob, "there's no need of supposing any thing of the
kind. I'll work night and day, and I know that, with that nice boat I
can earn twenty-six dollars in less than ninety days. If I can't, I
had better shut up shop. I tell you, mother, it isn't every ferry-boy
that can go to Mr. Graves and get trusted for a skiff. I've got a good
reputation, and I mean to keep it. And I'll tell you another thing,"
he added, mysteriously, "we are not going to live in this tumble-down
shantee much longer. In a very short time we'll be living in a nice
little house in the upper end of the village, among respectable people,
these two youngsters will be going to school, and I shall be at sea,
leaving behind me more than money enough to support you while I am
gone. What do you think of that?"
(Tom Newcombe's ideas were gaining ground rapidly.)
Bob's mother did not know what to think of it. She had never listened
to such a speech before, and she could not imagine what had got into
Bob to raise his spirits so wonderfully. However, she did not give that
much thought, for she could not forget the debt of twenty-six dollars,
which must be paid before they could leave Fishertown and take up their
abode in a "nice little house in the upper end of the village." But
she said nothing more in regard to it, thinking, no doubt, that as the
mischief had been done, the less said about it the better. Besides, she
had almost unlimited confidence in Bob, and, knowing that he possessed
a great deal of energy, and was not easily discouraged, she hoped that
he might, after all, succeed in raising the money by the time agreed
upon. If she had any fears on the subject, she kept them to herself.
The fisher-boy brightened up when he saw that his mother was not
disposed to find fault with him for what he had done, but his
face instantly clouded up again when he thought of something very
disagreeable he had yet to perform. His mother noticed it, and asked
him what was the matter.
"Nothing much!" replied Bob, "only you don't seem to be very glad that
I have got a new boat."
"I should be delighted if it was paid for," said his mother.
"Well," said the fisher-boy, putting his hand into his pocket and
pulling out the money he had earned that morning, "if I pay some on it
now, I won't have so much to pay by and by. You can spare five dollars,
can't you?"
His mother replied that he could have the money if he wanted it, and
taking her purse out of her pocket she began to count out the bills.
She noticed that her son was very uneasy, that he could not stand
still, but kept walking backward and forward over the floor; and if
she had looked at him, she would have been astonished to see that his
face was very red, and that he looked as if he had been caught in
doing something which he knew to be wrong. Bob did indeed feel like a
criminal; but he took the bills his mother handed him, and thrusting
them into his pocket, he hastily left the house, leaving his mother to
suppose that he was going to give them to Mr. Graves. Whether or not he
did so, remains to be seen.