SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS
Within half a mile of the ferryman's cottage, at Port Rock, was the
summer residence of Mr. Sherwood, who, two years before, had become
the husband of Bertha Grant, of Woodville. The scenery in the
vicinity was beautiful, and the mansion commanded a splendid view of
the Adirondack Mountains and of the lake.
Mr. Sherwood was an enthusiastic admirer of the scenery of Lake
Champlain. His constant visits at Woodville had given him a taste for
aquatic sports, in which he was disposed to indulge on a larger scale
than ever had been known at Woodville. He had been remarkably
fortunate in his financial operations, and was already a wealthy man.
Though he did not retire from active business, he had taken a
partner, which enabled him to spend a part of his time during the
summer at his country house on the lake.
Mr. Grant had gone to Europe a second time, to be absent during the
summer, and Miss Fanny and Fanny Jane had accepted Bertha's
invitation to spend a few weeks at Port Rock. A splendid time had
been promised them by Mrs. Sherwood, who had made extensive
preparations for their visit. The arrangements included a novelty
which offered a very brilliant prospect to the party, and excited the
imagination even of the older ones to the highest pitch.
This novelty was nothing less than a miniature steamboat, which had
already been christened the _Woodville_, in honor of the home of
the owner's lady. She was a splendid little craft, and as perfect in
her machinery and appointments as any steamer that ever floated. She
was a side-wheel boat, sixty feet in length, by twelve feet beam.
Forward there were a regular wheel-house, a small kitchen, and other
rooms usually found in a steamer. Abaft the wheels there were a
saloon and two staterooms. Of course all these apartments, as well as
the cabin below, were very contracted in their dimensions; but they
were fitted up in the most elegant style.
The _Woodville_ had cost a great deal of money; but her owner
expected to realize a full return for it in the enjoyment she would
afford him, his wife, and their friends. She had been sent up the
Hudson, and through the canal to Whitehall, and thence to Port Henry,
where she had arrived on the day before Lawry Wilford's return to
Port Rock.
On board of the little steamer there is an old friend of our
readers. He may be found in the engine-room; and as he rubs up the
polished iron of the machinery, he is thinking of Fanny Jane Grant,
with whom he escaped from the Indians in Minnesota, and whom he
expects on board with Mr. Sherwood's party. The young man, now
sixteen years of age, is the engineer of the _Woodville_. Though
he has been but two years learning the trade of machinist, he is as
thoroughly acquainted with every part of a marine-engine as though he
had spent his lifetime in studying it.
The engine of the _Woodville_ was built at the works where
Ethan French was learning his trade, and he had been employed in its
construction. As he was a frequent visitor at Woodville, he had
petitioned for the situation he now held. At first, Mr. Sherwood was
not willing to trust him; but Ethan's employers declared that he was
a man in everything but years, and was fully competent to manage the
engine, and even to build one after the designs were made. He had
come up from New York in the steamer. He had seen Mr. Sherwood at
Port Henry, on his arrival, and had been ordered to have the boat in
readiness to start on the following morning, when the family would be
passengers.
Mr. Sherwood had already selected Lawry Wilford as the pilot of the
_Woodville_. He was small in stature, and would look better in
the wheel-house than a full-grown man. He had often met the young
pilot, and had been greatly pleased with his energy and decision.
Lawry had been employed by Miss Fanny several times to row her on the
lake; and he had served her so faithfully that her influence was not
wanting in procuring for him the situation.
Lawry, not yet informed of the honorable and responsible position
which had been awarded to him, walked up to Mr. Sherwood's house. He
had heard Miss Fanny speak of the _Woodville_, while in the boat
with him, and had listened with delight to her enthusiastic
description of the beautiful craft. He was quite as anxious to see
her as any of the party who were more directly interested in her.
"Can I see Mr. Sherwood?" asked Lawry.
"He has gone away," replied the man.
"Where has he gone?"
"To Port Henry; he went in the carriage, and is coming back in the
new steamboat."
"Has he got a pilot?" continued Lawry anxiously.
"I don't know; he expected you, I believe; but when you didn't come
back, he couldn't wait any longer. I heard him say he could pilot her
himself, and I suppose he is going to do so."
"I'm sorry I didn't see him; I have but just got home," replied Lawry.
He wanted to pilot the beautiful little steamer up from Port Henry.
He wanted to see her; wanted to make her acquaintance, for she
promised to be the belle of the lake. He was sorry to lose the
chance, for it might prove to be a valuable one to him. Mr. Sherwood
was very liberal, and he hoped he would not engage another pilot. It
was no use to complain, and Lawry walked back to the ferry, where he
could see the steamer when she arrived. When he reached the landing-place,
the ferry-boat was about halfway across the lake, and his
attention was attracted by the strange movements of those on board of
her. His father was laboring at the steering-oar with a zeal which
indicated that some unusual event had occurred. The ferry-boat was
thrown up into the wind, and while Lawry was waiting to ascertain
what the matter was, his father leaped into the water.
It was now evident to Lawry that something serious had happened, and
he sprang into the small keel-boat, used for conveying foot-passengers
across the lake, which was fastened to a stake on the shore. Taking
the oars, he pulled with all his might toward the ferry-boat. He
was a stout boy, and handled his oars very skillfully; but before
he could reach the scene of the excitement, his father had
returned to the bateau.
"There's your coat," said John Wilford.
Mr. Randall seized the garment with convulsive energy, and with
trembling hands felt for the pocketbook in which the six thousand
dollars had been kept.
"It is gone!" gasped he; and he seemed ready to sink down in the
bottom of the boat when he discovered his loss.
"Gone!" exclaimed John Wilford.
"What's the matter?" asked Lawry.
"I've lost my pocketbook with six thousand dollars in it," groaned
the bank director.
"How did you lose it?" demanded Lawry.
"That drop came down and let my coat into the lake; but I don't see
how my pocketbook could get out of the coat."
"I don't believe the money was in the pocket," added the ferryman.
"Yes, it was," persisted Mr. Randall.
"I don't see how it could fall out of the pocket," said John Wilford.
"Nor I; but the money is gone," answered the bank director, with a
vacant stare. "I'm ruined!"
"Well, I can't help it. I've done all I could for you. I tried to
save it; and if I get the rheumatism for a month or two, it will be a
bad job for me."
"Wasn't the pocketbook in the pocket when you picked up the coat?"
asked Mr. Randall, walking up to the ferryman.
"How should I know?" replied John Wilford. "I gave you the coat just
as I found it."
"I don't believe the pocketbook would sink," added the director.
"There was nothing but paper in it."
"Of course it wouldn't sink, then," interposed the owner of the
vehicle in the ferry-boat.
"I don't think it would," said Mr. Randall.
"I know it wouldn't," protested the stranger. "I dropped my
pocketbook into the lake once, and it floated ten minutes before I
could get it again."
"Then it must be floating about on the water," added Lawry. "I will
try to find it."
"I'll go with you," said Mr. Randall.
They got into the boat, and Lawry pulled about the spot where the
coat had fallen into the water for half an hour without discovering
the pocketbook.
"I suppose I must give it up," sighed the director.
"I'm sure it's not on the water," replied Lawry.
"Do you suppose it would sink?"
"I don't know; the gentleman in the ferry-boat says it wouldn't."
"Stop a minute, boy, and I will soon find out," continued the
unfortunate loser of the money.
He took all the money and papers out of his wallet, and stuffed it
with pieces of newspaper which Lawry gave him. Having thus prepared
the wallet, which he said was of the same material as the lost
pocketbook, he placed it on the surface of the water, holding his
hand underneath to save it, in case the trial should result
differently from his anticipations. It floated, and he removed his
hand from under it to exhibit his confidence in the law he had tested.
"That's plain enough," said he. "My pocketbook hasn't gone to the
bottom."
"It certainly has not," replied Lawry.
"Then where is it?--that's the next question."
"Are you sure it was in your pocket when you got into the ferry-boat?"
"Just as sure as I am that I sit here."
"You were very careless about your coat on board of the sloop."
"I know I was."
"I don't see how a man could throw down his coat with six thousand
dollars in the pocket," said Lawry.
"I know I'm careless; but I'm so used to carrying money that I don't
think much about it. I always carry it in a pocket inside of my
vest," continued the director, putting his hand in the place
indicated; "but this is a new vest, and hasn't any such pocket.
Things don't look all right to me. Is the ferryman your father?"
"Yes, sir; he is."
"Well, the money's gone," added Mr. Randall. "We will go back to the
ferry-boat."
"Did you find it?" asked John Wilford, as the bank director stepped
into the bateau.
"No; but I'm certain it has not gone to the bottom."
"Where is it, then?"
"I don't know; can you tell me?"
Mr. Randall looked at the ferryman very sharply. His manner
indicated that he had some suspicions.
"How can I tell you?" replied John Wilford.
"The money was in the coat pocket when you picked it up in the
water--I know it was."
"Do you mean to say I took it out?" demanded the ferryman angrily.
"If you didn't, I don't see what has become of it."
"Do you mean to accuse my father of stealing?" said Lawry indignantly.
"I don't accuse him of anything; but here are the facts, and you can
all see for yourselves."
"You throw your coat down anywhere. It would have gone overboard
from the sloop if I hadn't saved it; and it won't do for so careless
a man as you are to accuse anybody of stealing your money," added
Lawry angrily.
"Very likely you lost it out of the pocket before you got into the
ferry-boat."
"Never mind him, Lawry. I haven't got his pocketbook," interposed
the ferryman.
"I know you haven't, father; and it makes me mad to hear him accuse
you of stealing it."
"Mr. Randall, if you think I've got your money, I want you to
satisfy yourself on the point at once," continued John Wilford,
turning to the director.
"I hope you haven't."
"But you think I have. Search me, then."
Greatly to the indignation of Lawry, Mr. Randall did search the
ferryman; turned out his pockets, and examined every part of his wet
garments. The pocketbook was not upon his person; and the loser, in
spite of the laws of specific gravity, which he had just
demonstrated, was almost compelled to believe that his money had gone
to the bottom of the lake.