"I think she stove a great hole in her bow, and that is all that ails her. If we can get her on the ways, she can be made as good as ever she was in a week."
"Whatever her condition, Lawry, she is yours. I will give you a bill of sale of her at once."
Mr. Sherwood executed the paper in due form, affixed the stamp, and gave the document to the young pilot.
"I can hardly help weeping when I think of the beautiful little steamer," said Mrs. Sherwood. "She was a perfect little fairy. How elated we were as we moved up the lake in her! What fine times we were promising ourselves on board of her! Now the dear little craft lies on the bottom of the lake, broken and spoiled!"
"I shouldn't dare to put my foot in her again," added Miss Fanny. "I shudder when I think of her."
"I shudder when I think of you, Fanny. You were sinking when Lawry dived down after you," said Mr. Sherwood.
"We ought all to be grateful to God for His mercy in saving us," added Fanny Jane.
"I trust we are grateful to Him; and I am sure we shall never forget what Lawry has done to-day," responded the gentleman.
"Never!" exclaimed Fanny warmly.
"It was all my fault," continued Mr. Sherwood. "I am ashamed of myself, and disgusted with the boat."
"The boat is not to blame, sir," said Ethan French. "She behaved like a lady."
"I know she is not to blame. It was my silly impatience. I was in such a hurry to try the steamer that I could not wait for a pilot. Bertha, do you know what your father used to say to me when I was in a hurry?"
"I don't know; but I have heard him say that you were too impatient for your own good."
"'Haste and Waste' was his maxim, when I was not disposed to wait the natural development of events. By neglecting this precept, I have nearly sacrificed the lives of my best friends. Lawry, if you are going to be a steamboat man, let me give you this maxim for your government—'Haste and Waste.'"
CHAPTER VI
THE SHERIFF'S VISIT
Lawry put the bill of sale of the Woodville in his pocket, and felt like a steamboat proprietor; for the fact that his steamer lay at the bottom of the lake did not seem to lessen her value. She was in a safe place, and there was no danger of her "blowing up" or drifting away from him. The haste of Mr. Sherwood had been "a windfall" to him, though Lawry would not willingly have purchased the steamer at the peril of so many precious lives. He was ready to accept the moral and prudential deductions from the catastrophe, and really believed that the rich man's maxim was a safe and valuable one.
In his own limited experience, Lawry could recall many instances where haste had made waste; but the foolish conduct of Mr. Sherwood in attempting to navigate the Woodville in water with which he was totally unacquainted was the most impressive example of the worth of the proverb, and he felt that the steamer, in his own possession, would always mean "haste and waste" to him.
"I have often heard my father speak of the folly of unconsidered action and blind haste," said Bertha. "He lost a valued friend in the steamship Arctic, which was sunk, and hundreds of lives sacrificed, by running at full speed in a dense fog. In her case, haste was not only a terrible waste of property, but of life."
"That will be worth remembering, Lawry, when you are in command of a steamer," added Mr. Sherwood.
"I don't think I ever shall be in such a position," replied Lawry modestly.
"I am afraid you never will be on board of the Woodville."
"I'm pretty sure she can be raised, though I may not have the means to do it myself," continued Lawry.
"You shall have all the means you want, my boy," replied Mr. Sherwood. "We owe you a debt of gratitude which we shall never be able to pay, and if you want anything, don't fail to call upon me."
"If you need any help, Lawry, I'm with you," said Ethan French.
"Thank you; I dare say I shall want all the help I can get," answered Lawry, as he took his leave of the family.
"I'm the owner of a steamboat!" thought he. "I'm a lucky fellow, and I shall make my fortune in the Woodville. I can take out parties, or I can run her on a day route from Burlington up the lake; and there is towing enough to keep me busy all summer."
Excited by the brightest visions of the future, he came in sight of his father's cottage. It looked poorer and meaner than it had ever looked before; and perhaps he thought it was hardly a fit abode for a steamboat proprietor. When he saw the tall mast of the ferry-boat, with the sail flapping idly in the wind, he was reminded of the events which had occurred on board of her that afternoon. It was mortifying to think that his father had even been tempted to steal; but he was rejoiced to know that he had been induced to return the six thousand dollars to the owner.
Lawry had not seen his father since he left the landing-place to board the Woodville. He was not at the house when the party landed, after the catastrophe, and Lawry was glad he was not there, for his absence assured the anxious son that he had gone in search of Mr. Randall. Amid the exciting events which had followed the painful discovery that his father intended to steal the six thousand dollars, the young pilot had not thought of the matter, for his mind was entirely relieved by Mr. Wilford's promise to give up the money.
Lawry went into the house; his father had not yet returned, and his mother asked him a hundred questions about the steamboat disaster, as she set the table for supper. When the meal was ready, Mrs. Wilford went to the door and blew a tin horn, which was intended to summon the ferryman to his tea.
"I think father has not got back yet," said Lawry.
"Where has he gone?"
"Up to the village, I believe," replied Lawry, who had determined not to tell his mother of the great temptation to which his father had almost yielded.
"What has he gone up there for?" inquired Mrs. Wilford, who perhaps saw in the anxious looks of her son that something had been concealed from her.
"He had a little business up there," answered the young pilot. "I think we had better not wait for him, for he may not be back for some time. I haven't shown you this paper, mother," he continued, wishing to draw off her attention from his father, as he handed her the bill of sale of the Woodville, and seated himself at the table.
"What is it, Lawry?"
"It is a bill of sale of the little steamer."
"A what?" demanded Mrs. Wilford, as she paused with the teapot suspended over a cup.
"A bill of sale of the new steamer."
"What, the one that was sunk?"
"Yes; Mr. Sherwood has given her to me, just as she lies."
"Humph! He might as well have given you a five-acre lot at the bottom of the lake. What in the world can you do with a steamboat smashed to pieces and sunk?"
"I can raise her."
"You may as well think of raising the Goblins on which she sank."
"She can be raised, mother."
"Perhaps she can, but you can't raise her."
"I shall try, at any rate," replied Lawry confidently.
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the ferryman. The son cast an anxious glance at his father, as the latter took his accustomed place at the table. A forced smile played about the lips of Mr. Wilford; but Lawry interpreted it as an effort to overcome the sense of humiliation his father must feel at having his dishonest intentions discovered by his son.
"Well, Lawry, I found him," said Mr. Wilford.
"Did you? I'm very glad you did," replied the son.
"Who?" asked Mrs. Wilford.
"The bank man—the one that lost the money," replied the ferryman.
"What did you want of him?"
"We found his money after he had gone."
"Did you? I'm so glad! And neither of you said a word to me about it."
"I gave it back to him, and it's all right now."
Unhappily, it was not all right; and the ferryman had scarcely uttered the words before a knock was heard at the door. Without awaiting the movements of Mrs. Wilford, who rose from the table to open the door, the visitors entered. Mr. Wilford turned deadly pale, for the first person that passed the threshold was the sheriff, whose face was familiar to the ferryman. He was followed by Mr. Randall and a constable.
Lawry's heart sank within him when he saw who the visitors were. He feared that his father, in spite of his statement to the contrary, had been led to appropriate the six thousand dollars. It was a moment of agony to him, and he would have given his right, title, and interest in the sunken steamer for the assurance that his parent was an honest man.
"I come on rather unpleasant business, Mr. Wilford," the sheriff began; "but I suppose I may as well speak out first as last."
"Goodness! what can you want here!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilford.
"Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Wilford," said the sheriff. "It may be all right, for what I know. Mr. Randall, here, has lost a large sum of money, and he thinks he has been robbed. I'm sure I hope it's all right."
"Why, husband!" ejaculated Mrs. Wilford; "didn't you just say—"
"I didn't say anything," interposed the ferryman.
Lawry was quite as pale as his father. He would rather have been accused of the crime himself than had it charged upon his father; he would rather have gone to prison himself than had him dragged away on such an infamous accusation. The sheriff's encouraging words that it might be all right, had no force or comfort for him. Lawry knew that his father was guilty, and he was in despair.
Mrs. Wilford had only heard that the money was lost, at first; and then, from her husband, that it had been found and restored to the owner. It was plain that he had told her a falsehood; that if he had found the money, it was still in his possession. The case was too plain to need much reflection. Mr. Randall and the sheriff knew less than the ferryman, less than his wife and his son; but in the good woman's estimation, it was far worse to be guilty than it was to be detected.
It would be difficult to fathom the motives which induced John Wilford to tell his wife and son that the money had been restored to the owner. Perhaps he had some plan by which he hoped to escape detection and punishment for his crime; or it may be that he told the falsehood to satisfy Lawry for the present moment. His calculations, whatever they may have been, were exceedingly stupid and ill digested. There was an utter want of skill and judgment in his operations. He was not a strong-minded man, and his guilt seemed to have paralyzed his weak faculties. His failure to be rich in the path of dishonesty was even more signal than his honest but weak efforts in a legitimate business.
"What did he just say?" asked the sheriff, whose attention was attracted by Mrs. Wilford's words, but more by the sharp manner of her husband as he interrupted her.
"What is your business with me?" demanded the ferryman of the sheriff, earnestly.
"What did he say?" repeated the sheriff.
"If my husband has been doing anything wrong, I'm sorry for it," replied Mrs. Wilford.
"Mr. Randall thinks he has taken his money," added the sheriff. "If you can tell me what your husband just said, it might throw some light on the matter."
"Oh, husband!" cried the poor wife, throwing herself into a chair and weeping bitterly.
"Mr. Randall knows I haven't taken his money," protested the ferryman stoutly.
"Don't cry, marm," said the sheriff, moved by the distress of the afflicted wife. "Nothing has been proved yet, and for all I know, your husband may be as honest as any man in Essex County."
"I've always been an honest man, and I always expect to be," added the culprit. "I haven't got the money. If any of you think I have, why don't you do something about it—not try to frighten my wife?"
Mr. Wilford was searched by the sheriff and constable, but the money was not upon his person. The house was then carefully examined, but with no different result.
"Do you know anything about this business, Lawry?" said the sheriff, when the search was completed.
"I don't think he had anything to do with it," interposed Mr. Randall. "The boy helped me look for the pocketbook, and behaved very handsomely; but I didn't like the looks of his father."
"What did your father say just before we came?" asked the sheriff.
Lawry was stupefied with grief and shame. He knew not what to say, and he dropped his head upon the table, and sobbed like a little child.
"Things look bad, Mr. Wilford. Your wife and Lawry know more than they are willing to tell," continued the officer.
"You have scared them half out of their wits," replied the ferryman, trying to smile.
"It isn't likely we can find out anything here," said the constable.
"If he has got the money, he has hid it round the house somewhere."
Adopting this suggestion, the officers, followed by Mr. Randall, left the cottage to examine the vicinity. The constable was a shrewd man, and for a country locality, quite distinguished as a thief-taker. The shower early in the afternoon had left the ground in condition to receive the tracks of every individual who had been near the ferry.
The sharp officer examined all the marks in the earth, and finally followed the footsteps of John Wilford, through a corn-field, above the cottage.
Mrs. Wilford and Lawry wept as though their hearts would break, while the ferryman, trembling with apprehension, paced the kitchen.
"What are you crying for?" said he impatiently.
"Oh, John!" sobbed his wife.
"Nothing has been proved."
"Yes, there has. You told me you had given the money to Mr. Randall."
"You told me you would restore it to the owner, when I gave you the pocketbook," added Lawry.
"Lawry, if you say a word about it, you shall go to jail with me," said Mr. Wilford angrily.
CHAPTER VII
"THE FERRYMAN'S CRIME"
Mr. Wilford, in spite of his faults and peculiarities, was a kind father, and never before had been heard to utter such terrible words as those which had just passed his lips. It was a consolation to Lawry and his mother to believe that the words were only a threat which was never intended to be executed, and only made to awe the youth into silence. It was needless; for, right or wrong, the son would have died rather than betray his father.
John Wilford's operations in hiding the money were as transparent as his efforts to quiet the suspicions of his family. The constable followed his tracks in the soft ground of the corn-field till he came to a stump in one corner of the lot. It was decayed and hollow, and in one of the cavities the pocketbook was discovered. Mr. Randall laughed for joy when it was handed up to him. Its contents were undisturbed, and not a dollar of the money was missing. The party walked back to the house, having been absent less than half an hour. The ferryman was just coming out as they entered the gate.
"I hope you are satisfied," said he, confident that the officers would never think of crossing the corn-field in search of the lost treasure.
"I'm satisfied, Mr. Wilford," said the sheriff.
"Don't you think it is a mean thing to come here and accuse me of robbing one of my passengers?" continued the ferryman.
"I don't think so."
"In my opinion, Mr. Randall hasn't lost any money. I don't believe a man would throw his coat down anywhere if there was six thousand dollars in the pocket."
"But the money was lost, whether you believe it or not," interposed the bank director, irritated by this charge.
"I've heard of such a thing as men losing money to cheat their creditors, or something of that sort," added the ferryman.
"Don't talk so, husband," said Mrs. Wilford, who, with Lawry, had come out of the house when they heard the voice of the sheriff, anxious to learn the result of the search.
"Don't you think that's mean, to accuse a man of cheating his creditors, after you have stolen his money?" retorted Mr. Randall.
"What right have you to say I stole your money?" demanded Mr.
Wilford, with a show of intense indignation.
"Because you did."
"Can you prove it?"
"I think I can."
"No, you can't. I don't believe you lost any money. It's only a trick to cheat the bank or your creditors."
"We shall see."
"Don't talk so, husband," repeated Mrs. Wilford.
"Keep still, wife. When a man hasn't done anything, it's hard to be charged with stealing six thousand dollars. They can't prove anything."
"Yes, we can, Mr. Wilford," interposed the sheriff. "It becomes my duty to arrest you, though I would rather have done it when your family were not present."
"Arrest me! What for?" exclaimed John Wilford. "You can't prove anything."
"Yes, we can," replied the sheriff.
"What can you prove?"
"I think it would be better for you not to talk so much," added the sheriff, in a low tone. "Come with me, and I will do my duty as quietly as possible."
"Come with you! What for?" said Mr. Wilford, in a loud tone. "I didn't steal the money."
"It's a plain case. It's no use for you to deny it any longer."
"But I didn't."
"We have found the money, just where you put it."
"Found—what!" stammered the guilty man.
"Oh, husband!" groaned Mrs. Wilford.
"Oh, father!" sobbed Lawry.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Wilford," said the kind-hearted officer; "but it's all as plain as daylight. He took the money and hid it in a stump in the corn-field, where we found it."
"What shall we do?" cried Mrs. Wilford.
"It's a bad business, marm, but I can't help it. I must do my duty."
Mr. Wilford leaned on the garden-fence, with his gaze fixed upon the ground. He could not look the loved ones in the face, after the crime he had committed. The smaller children, who had been at play around the house, were now gathered about the group, unable fully to comprehend the terrible misfortune which had befallen them; though, as they gazed on Lawry and their mother, they could not help realizing that something very sad had happened.
"I'm ready to go with you," said John Wilford to the sheriff, for the scene was too affecting and humiliating.
"Oh, husband, why did you do it?" exclaimed Mrs. Wilford, as she grasped one of his arms, clinging to him like a true woman, in spite of his shame and infamy.
"I don't know why I did it. I was crazy. I wanted to be rich," replied the unhappy man.
"I wish you had given back the money, as you said you did."
"I wish I had now."
"Can nothing be done?" continued Mrs. Wilford, appealing to the sheriff. "Must he go with you?"
"He must; my duty is as plain as it can be."
The poor woman suggested various expedients to avoid the fearful consequences; she appealed to the bank director, and begged him not to prosecute her husband. Mr. Randall, though he had been greatly irritated by the cruel insinuations of the culprit, was not a malignant man; and he was disposed to grant the petition of the disconsolate wife. He had recovered his money, and had no malice against the ferryman. But the sheriff declared that no such arrangement could be tolerated. The matter had been placed in his hands, and, as a sworn officer of the law, he should be obliged to arrest the offender.
In vain Mrs. Wilford pleaded for her husband; in vain Lawry pleaded for his father; the sheriff, kind and considerate as he had shown himself to be, was inexorable in the discharge of his duty. There was no alternative; and John Wilford must go to jail. The poor wife, when she found that her tears and her pleadings were unavailing, submitted to the stern necessity. She insisted that her husband should be allowed to change his dress, which the sheriff readily granted; and in a short time the culprit appeared in his best clothes. It was a sad parting between him and his family, and even the ferryman wept as he passed out from beneath his humble roof, not again to come beneath its friendly shelter for many, many weary months.
Mrs. Wilford and Lawry were stunned by the heavy blow. The light of earthly joys seemed suddenly to have gone out, and left them in the gloom and woe of disgrace. There was nothing to be said at such a time, and they sobbed in silence, until the sound of the ferry-horn roused Lawry from his lethargy of grief. Some one wished to cross the lake, and had given the usual signal with the tin horn, placed on a post for the purpose, at the side of the road.
"There is no ferryman here now," said Mrs. Wilford gloomily.
"I will go, mother," replied Lawry.
"It may be many a day before your father comes back," added Mrs. Wilford, as she wiped away her tears. "It is a great deal worse than a funeral."
"We can't help it, mother, and I suppose we must make the best of it."
"I suppose we must; but I don't know what we are going to do."
"We shall do well enough, mother. I will attend to the ferry; but poor father—"
Lawry, finding he could not speak without a fresh flow of tears, hastened out of the house. There were two wagons waiting for him; and when they were embarked in the boat, he pushed off, and trimmed the sail for the gentle breeze that was blowing up the lake. The passengers asked for his father; but Lawry could only tell them that he had gone away: the truth was too painful for him to reveal. He returned to his desolate home when he had ferried the wagons over the lake. There was nothing but misery in that humble abode, and but little sleep for those who were old enough to comprehend the sadness and shame of their situation.
Before morning the news of John Wilford's crime had been circulated through the village of Port Rock and its vicinity. Some knew that the ferryman was lazy and thriftless, and wondered he had not robbed somebody before. Others had always regarded him as a person of no sagacity or forethought, but did not think he would steal. Many pitied his family, and some said that Lawry was "as smart as two of his father," and that his mother and the children would be well provided for.
The intelligence went to the mansion of Mr. Sherwood, and there it touched the hearts of true friends. Though none of them knew much about the ferryman and his family, yet for Lawry's sake they were deeply interested in them.
After breakfast Mr. Sherwood went down to the ferry-house; and the young pilot, with many tears and sobs, told him the whole of the sad story of his father's crime. The rich man was full of sympathy, but nothing could be done. He volunteered to be the culprit's bail, and to provide him with the best counsel in the State. But John Wilford was guilty, and nothing could wipe out this terrible truth.
Mr. Sherwood did all he had promised to do; but the ferryman, after he had been examined and fully committed for trial, declined to furnish bail, declaring that he did not wish to be seen at Port Rock again. At the next session of the court, two months after his committal, he pleaded guilty of the robbery and was sentenced to three years' imprisonment in the penitentiary at Sing Sing.
After the sentence the prisoner was permitted to see his family for the last time for many months. It was a sad and touching interview; but from it Lawry and his mother derived much consolation. John Wilford was penitent; he was truly sorry for what he had done, and declared that, when he had served out his time, he would be a better man than he had ever been before. It was comforting to the mother and son to know that the wanderer was not hardened and debased by his crime and the exposure; and they returned to their home submissive to their lot, sad and dreary as it was.
From the day his father had been arrested, Lawry felt that the care of the family devolved upon him. His older brother was away from home, and was indolent and dissipated. The ferry and the little farm must be cared for, as from them came the entire support of his mother and his brothers and sisters. Though he was oppressed by the burden of sorrow which his father's crime cast upon him, he did not yield to despair.
Half a mile below the ferry-landing he could see the smokestack of the Woodville projecting above the water. She was his property; and if she had seemed to be a prize to him before the calamity had fallen upon his father's household, she was doubly so now. As he crossed the ferry, he gazed up at the Goblins, with less of exultation, but more of hope, than before. In his opinion, as he expressed it to his mother, there was "money in her." Mrs. Wilford was in great tribulation lest the man who now held the mortgage upon the little farm should insist upon being paid, as there was now no hope that, the debtor, in prison, would be able to do anything. Lawry told her that the steamboat would enable them to pay all claims upon his father.
Mrs. Wilford had but little confidence in her son's schemes, but she did not discourage them; and Lawry racked his brain for expedients to accomplish the task he had imposed upon himself. He had no money, and he was too proud to ask Mr. Sherwood for the assistance which that gentleman would so gladly have rendered. Ethan French came down to see him every day, and the prairie boy was so kind and considerate that they soon became fast friends.
"When are you going to work on the steamer, Lawry?" asked Ethan. "I suppose you don't feel much like meddling with her yet."
"I don't; but she ought to be raised as soon as possible," replied Lawry. "I am going to work upon her right off. I went down to see how she lies this morning, and I have got my plans all laid."
"Have you?"
"I have."
"Do you think you can get her up?"
"I know I can."
"Well, how are you going to do it?" inquired Ethan.
"Do you know Mr. Nelson, over at Pointville? I suppose you don't. Well, he is a great oil man; he has got some oil-wells down on the St. Johns River. He is getting together all the barrels and hogsheads he can find, to send down to his works. He has as many as a hundred at his place in Pointville. I'm going to borrow a lot of these casks, if I can, and raise the Woodville with them."
"How are you going to manage with them?" asked Ethan, deeply interested in the plan.
"Sink them round the boat, and fasten them to her hull, till there is enough to float her."
"But how are you going to sink them?"
"There's some one to go over the ferry," replied Lawry, as a blast of the tin horn was heard. "If you will go over with me, I will tell you all about it, and we will call and see Mr. Nelson while we are at Pointville."
Ethan embarked with his friend, and when the boat started the subject was resumed.
CHAPTER VIII
RAISING THE "WOODVILLE"
Ethan French, during the two years he had been a resident of the State of New York, had been an earnest and diligent student. His mind was even more improved than his manners. His taste for mechanics had prompted him to study the various subjects included in this science, and as he stood by his companion, the pilot, he talked quite learnedly about the specific gravity of wood and iron, about displacement, buoyancy, and similar topics.
"The hull of the steamer—that is, the woodwork—will not float itself, but it will sustain considerable additional weight," said he.
"Yes, I understand all that," replied Lawry. "If there had been no iron in the Woodville she would not have gone down."
"The iron in her engines is seven or eight times as heavy as the same bulk of water. Its weight carried the hull down with it."
"Then we must put down empty casks enough to float the engine," added Lawry.
"No; the woodwork of the hull will hold up a portion of the weight of the engine, and we must furnish buoyancy enough to sustain the rest of it."
"It will not take a great many casks, then—will it?"
"Not a great many; but the difficulty is to get them down to the bottom, and fasten them to the hull."
"I can do that," replied Lawry confidently.
Ethan approved the method, and promised to ascertain what weight each of the casks would sustain in the water, when he had obtained their dimensions. The ferry-boat reached the other side of the lake, and the young men went to see Mr. Nelson, the owner of the casks. He did not wish to use the hogsheads till October, and was willing they should be employed for the purpose indicated, if Lawry would give him security for their safe return.
"Mr. Sherwood will do that for you, Lawry," said Ethan.
"That's a good name," added the oil speculator. "If he will guarantee the safe return of the casks, that is all I ask. I wonder if Mr. Sherwood don't want some shares in the Meteor Oil Company."
"I don't know; I'll ask him," replied Ethan.
"If you will, I won't charge you anything for the use of the casks," added Mr. Nelson.
Mr. Sherwood was consulted in the evening. He was very willing to furnish the required security for the use of the oil-casks, but he did not seem to have the same confidence in the "Meteor" which Mr. Nelson exhibited, though he promised to consider the matter.
It required three days to complete the preparations for raising the Woodville. All the ropes and rigging in the neighborhood, including many hay-ropes and clothes-lines, had been collected; the oil-casks had been conveyed over the lake in the ferry-boat, and secured within a "boom" composed of four long timbers, lashed together at the ends, forming a square, which was moored close to the Goblins; and a raft had been built, upon which the operations were to be conducted.
Mr. Sherwood had offered to furnish as many men as could be employed to assist in the work; but the young engineers had so arranged their plans that no help was needed. At sunrise in the morning the boys ran down to the Goblins in the ferry-boat, which was necessary for the transportation of sundry heavy articles. The raft was already there, moored in the proper place for commencing the labors of the day. The engineers were deeply interested in the operations before them, for there was a difficult problem to be solved, which required all their skill and ingenuity; and Lawry felt that his future prosperity and happiness depended upon the success of the undertaking.
Their plans and their machinery were yet to be tried, and there was a degree of excitement attending the execution of the project which was as agreeable as it was stimulating to their enthusiastic natures. People had laughed at the idea of two boys raising a steamer burdened with heavy machinery, and both of them felt that their reputations were at stake.
"Now, Lawry, we shall soon find out what we can do," said Ethan, as they made fast the ferry-boat to the raft.
"I know what we can do," replied the young pilot confidently. "If the casks will float her, she shall come to the top of the water before to-morrow night. Now, Ethan, the first thing is to get a rope under her."
"That's easy enough."
"It's all easy enough, if you only believe in yourself."
A rope of six fathoms in length was selected from the mass of rigging on the raft, and a stone just heavy enough to sink the line attached to the middle of it. Lawry took it in the wherry, sculled to the stern of the sunken steamer, and dropped it into the water. He then carried one end to Ethan, on the raft, while he returned with the other in his boat, which he moored to the opposite side of the Woodville. The middle of the rope was kept on the bottom of the lake by the stone, while the two ends were carried forward by the boys until the bight was drawn under the keel of the steamer, as far as her position on the rocks would permit it to go. Lawry's end was made fast around the smokestack, and Ethan's to the raft.
One of the hogsheads was next floated out of the boom enclosure, and hauled upon the raft, Lawry adjusted the hogshead slings to the cask. In the middle of the raft an aperture had been left, large enough for a hogshead to pass through, over which a small derrick had been built. A stone post, about the length of the casks, and just heavy enough to sink one of them, had been brought down on the bateau. This "sinker," as the young engineers called it, had been weighed, and it exactly conformed to the requirement of Ethan's figures; it was just sufficient to overcome the flotage power of the cask.
"Now, keep cool, Ethan, and we shall find out whether your figures are correct, or not," said Lawry.
"Figures won't lie," replied Ethan; "I know they are correct, and that hogshead will go to the bottom as quick as though it were made of lead."
"We shall soon see," added Lawry, as he placed a couple of skids across the "well." "Now we must place the sinker on those skids."
By the aid of the derrick, which was provided with a rude windlass, constructed by Ethan, the stone post was hoisted up, and then dropped down on the skids. The sinker had been rigged with slings, and the hogshead was attached to it by a contrivance of Lawry, upon which the success of the operation wholly depended, and which it will be very difficult to describe with words. The sinker would carry the cask to the bottom of the lake, where its buoyancy was to assist in bringing the steamer to the surface of the water; but it was necessary, after the cask had been sunk and fastened to the hull, to detach it from the sinker; and this had been a problem of no little difficulty to Lawry, who managed the nautical part of the enterprise.
Fastened to the slings on the sinker was a rope ten fathoms in length. A loop was formed in this line, close to the sinker, and the bight passed through the slings on the hogshead. The loop was then laid over the two ropes, one of which was fast to the sinker, and the other was the unattached end of the line, and "toggled" on with a marline-spike. If the young reader does not quite understand the process, let him take a string, with one end fastened to a flatiron; double it, and pass the loop—which sailors call a bight—upward between the thumb and forefinger; bring the loop down to meet the two parts of the string on the palm of the hand; then take the two lines into the loop, and put a pencil under the two parts drawn through the loop. The flatiron will correspond to the stone sinker, and the thumb to the slings on the hogshead. Lift up the flatiron, so that the weight will bear on the thumb; then pull out the pencil, and the iron will drop.
The marlinespike was thoroughly greased, and a small line attached to the head of it, so that it could be easily drawn out of the loop, when the cask had been secured to the hull of the steamer.
"There, we are all right now," said Lawry, after he had tried the marlinespike several times to satisfy himself that it could be easily drawn from its place. "Now we will make fast the rope which runs under the keel to the hogshead."
"Here it is," added Ethan.
"We want to have the cask under the guard of the steamer when we get it down."
"That will be easy enough."
"Perhaps it will; but I'm afraid the rope will bind on the keel."
"If it does, we must take the raft round to the other side of the Woodville, and pass it round the windlass; we can haul it up in that way."
"That will take too much time. I think you and I both will be strong enough to haul the cask into place."
"Now, give us a turn at the windlass, Ethan," said Lawry, when he was ready.
"Aye, aye," replied Ethan, as he turned the crank, and raised the sinker and the cask, so that the skids which supported them could be removed.
"Lower away!" added Lawry, highly excited; and the sinker began to descend into the water, carrying with it the hogshead. "That works first-rate. Now hold on till I get hold of the other end of the guide-rope."
Lawry jumped into the wherry, and sculled round to the other side of the sunken steamer, where he detached the end of the line passing under the keel from the smoke-stack, where it had been secured. He hauled on the rope till he got it clear of the stone with which it had been sunk.
"Lower away!" shouted Lawry.
"Lower, it is," answered Ethan.
"Slowly," added the pilot, as he hauled in the rope.
"It is going to the right place. I can see it in the water."
"Hold on!" cried Lawry; and the wherry was so unsteady beneath him that it was with great difficulty he "kept what he had got" on the rope.
In order to overcome this disadvantage he passed the rope around the smokestack.
"I have it now!" shouted he. "This gives me a splendid purchase;" and he hauled in the rope, bringing the hogshead chock up to the hull of the sunken craft.
"We are growing wiser every moment," laughed Ethan.
"So we are. Lower away, slowly. That's it," said Lawry. "Lower away."
"The sinker is on the bottom," replied Ethan.
"All right; can you see the hogshead?"
"Yes; you have hauled it completely under the guard. The water is as clear as crystal," answered Ethan.
"Hold on a moment till I make fast this line!"
Thus far the experiment had been entirely successful, and Lawry's bosom bounded with emotion. The plan for raising the Woodville was his own, though he had been greatly assisted by Ethan, who had designed and constructed the derrick and windlass, thus diminishing the labor of the enterprise. The young pilot felt like a conqueror when he had placed the first cask in position.
Sculling the wherry back to the raft, he pulled the string attached to the toggle, and drew it out of the noose.
"Hoist away," said he.
"Hoist, it is," replied Ethan, as he took hold with him.
"All right!" shouted the young nautical engineer. "I feel like giving three cheers," he added.
"So do I; and we'll do it, when we get the sinker on the raft."
The stone post came up "in good order and condition," and the skids were placed under it, to keep it in position for the sinking of the second hogshead. The three cheers were given with a will, and they came from the hearts of the boys. They had labored patiently for three days in gathering the material and constructing the machinery for the raising of the steamer, and their first success was a real joy.
"Breakfast-time," said Lawry, as the horn sounded from the ferry-house.
"I don't want any breakfast," answered Ethan. "I don't feel as though we could spare the time for eating."
"Haste and waste," added Lawry, laughing. "We have got a great deal of hard work to do, and we must keep our strength. For my part, I'm hungry."
"I'm not; and I'm so interested in this job that I don't like to leave. We ought to have brought our breakfast down with us."
"I don't think we shall make anything by driving the work too hard. We must keep cool, and do it well. Besides, I'm liable to be called off a dozen times a day."
"What for?"
"To take people over the ferry."
"Oh, bother!" exclaimed Ethan impatiently. "Have we got to leave the work to paddle everybody that comes along over the lake?"
"We have," said Lawry. "I must look out for the family now."
There was a good wind, and the boys returned to the ferry-house in the bateau. Before they had finished their breakfast, the ferry-horn sounded, and Lawry was obliged to take a team over to Pointville before the work could be resumed. Ethan was rather impatient under this delay; but he was too kind-hearted to make any unpleasant remark which would remind his friend of his father's crime.
CHAPTER IX
BEN WILFORD'S PLAN
While Lawry was ferrying the team over the lake, Ethan occupied himself in making a long-handled boat-hook, which might be useful in the operation of raising the steamer. While he was thus engaged, a young man, about eighteen years of age, coarsely dressed, and with a very red face, came down the road and stopped at the place where he was at work.
"What you making?" asked the young man.
"A boat-hook," replied Ethan.
"Do you belong here?" continued the stranger nodding his head toward the ferry-house.
"No; I'm only helping Lawry Wilford for a few days."
"The old man's got into hot water, they say."
"Yes."
"Well, he was always preaching to me about doing the right thing; and now he's fallen off the horse-block himself," added the young man, with a slight chuckle.
"It's bad for Mr. Wilford and his family."
"That's so. Where's Lawry now?"
"He has gone over with the ferry-boat."
"I reckon Lawry has to run the machine now."
"He has to run the ferry-boat."
"Well, he knows how. Lawry's smart—he is. I suppose you don't know me."
"I do not."
"I'm Lawry's brother; and that makes it that Lawry is my brother."
"Then you are Benjamin Wilford?"
"That's my name; but Ben Wilford sounds a good deal more natural to me. I heard the old man had got into trouble, and I came up to see about it, though I'm out of a job just now, and couldn't do anything better. I hear that Lawry owns a steamboat, and I didn't know but he'd want some help. Where is she?"
"She's on the bottom, out there by the Goblins," answered Ethan, pointing to the raft. "We are at work raising her."
"Can you get her up, do you think?"
"Yes; I have no doubt we shall have her at the top of the water by to-morrow night."
"I've come just in time, then," added the young man. "I think I know something about a steamboat."
Ethan did not like the looks of Lawry's brother. His bloated face was against him, and the young engineer, without knowing anything more about him than his swaggering manner and red face revealed, wished he had stayed away a few days longer.
"I'll go in and see the old woman, and get some breakfast; then I'll go up with you and see what you are doing," said Ben Wilford.
"We are going up as soon as Lawry comes back," answered Ethan, pointing to the ferry-boat.
The dissolute young man, who had just been discharged from his situation as a deck-hand on one of the steamers, for intemperance and neglect of duty, sauntered into the house; and the fresh breeze soon brought the impatient Lawry to the shore.
"Lawry, we have got some help," said Ethan.
"Who?"
"Your brother has just come."
"Ben?" asked the young lad, a troubled expression gathering on his face.
"Yes; he has gone into the house to get his breakfast."
"I'll go in and see him," added Lawry, who did not seem to be at all pleased with the news of his brother's arrival.
It is a sad thing for a brother to behave so badly that he cannot be welcome at his own home.
Mrs. Wilford shook hands with Benjamin as he entered. She was glad to see him, and her mother's heart went out toward him; but she was filled with doubts and fears. The young man only laughed while his mother wept at the story of the father's crime. He sat down to his breakfast, and declared that he had come home to take care of the family.
"I hope you are able to take care of yourself, Benjamin," replied his mother, as she glanced at his bloated face.
"I always did that, mother. The old man and I couldn't agree very well, but I reckon you and I can get along together. Lawry, how are you?" continued the returned wanderer, as his brother entered the room.
"Very well; how are you, Ben?" answered Lawry, as he shook hands with his brother.
"First-rate. How about the steamboat, Lawry?"
"She's all right; or, she will be, when we get her up."
"Do you think you can raise her?"
"I know we can."
"Well, I heard all about her up in the village, and I have come home to help you. I know all about steamboats, you know."
"What did you leave your place for?"
"The captain and I couldn't agree. I'm going to run an opposition line."
"Are you?"
"I am; bet your life I am."
"Where will you get your boats?"
"Don't want but one; and they say your boat is the finest little craft that ever floated on the lake."
"She is, without a doubt."
"Well, we can take some money out of the captain's pocket, at any rate. We'll make a fortune out of your boat, Lawry, if we get her up."
"I shall get her up by tomorrow night."
"I'll help you, Lawry."
"We don't need any help at present. I must go now, for Ethan is waiting for me."
"Who's Ethan?"
"Ethan French; he is the engineer of the steamer," answered the young pilot, moving toward the door.
"Hold on a minute, Lawry, and I'll be ready to go with you. I can show you how to do the business."
"I know now."
"You're smart, Lawry; but you're not so old as I am."
"I'm old enough to do this job."
"You haven't seen so much of steamboats as I have."
"Now, Benjamin, you mustn't interfere with Lawry's work," interposed
Mrs. Wilford. "He knows what he is about."
"I'm not going to interfere with him; I'm only going to help him."
"If you really want to help me, I'll tell you what you can do," said
Lawry.
"What's that?"
"You can run the ferry."
"Run the ferry!" exclaimed Ben. "Why, I know more about steamboats than you and your engineer put together. Do you suppose I'm going to run a ferry-boat when there's a job of this sort on hand?"
"You can help more in this way than in any other," persisted Lawry.
"Run a ferry-boat!" sneered Ben; "that isn't my style."
"We don't need any help on the steamer."
"Yes, you do. At any rate, I'll go down and see what you are about."
"What's that rock for?" he demanded, pointing to the sinker which lay on the skids.
"To sink the casks with," replied Ethan; and he explained the process by which the hogsheads were attached to the hull of the Woodville.
"Well, Lawry, if you had been studying seven years to get up the stupidest thing that could be thought of, you could not have got up a more ridiculous idea than this," said Ben, laughing contemptuously.
"How would you raise her?" asked Lawry quietly.
"Well, I wouldn't do it in this way, I can tell you. If you want me to take this job in hand for you, I'll do it. You might as well try to raise the Goblins as the steamer in this way."
"It is very easy to condemn the method," added Ethan indignantly; "but it isn't so easy to find a better one."
"You say you don't want any help from me," said Ben.
"If you can tell me any better way, I should like to hear it," replied Lawry.
"If you want me to raise your steamer, say the word."
"Let me know how you intend to do it, first," persisted Lawry. "It's easier to talk than it is to do."
"You're smart, Lawry; but you can't raise that steamer with those casks in seven years."
"I'll have her on the top of the water by to-morrow night," said the young pilot.
"No, you won't."
"You see! But we must go to work, Ethan."
"That's just my idea," said the engineer.
"Then you don't want me to do the job?" added Ben.
"No, I think not," replied Lawry, rather coldly.
"I think my way is the best."
"Perhaps it is; but I don't know what your way is."
"I'll tell you, Lawry, for I don't like to have you waste your time and strength doing nothing; besides, we want the steamer as soon as we can get her, or the season will be over."
"What do you mean by we, Ben?" asked Lawry quietly.
"Why, you and me, of course. I know something about steamers, and perhaps I should be willing to go captain of your boat, if you ever get her into working order."
"Perhaps you would," answered Lawry.
"Of course you mean to use the boat for the benefit of the family, now the old man is jugged and can't do anything more for them."
"To be sure I do."
"I'm willing to do my part. You can be the pilot, and the other fellow can be the engineer."
"And we can both of us have the privilege of obeying your orders," laughed Lawry.
"Well, I shouldn't be likely to interfere with you; your place would be in the wheel-house."
"And yours in the cabin, Captain Wilford. I can't stop to talk about this now. There comes Ethan with the cask."
"You might as well stop this foolish work first as last," sneered the would-be captain of the Woodville. "I was going to tell you how to raise her."
"Go on; we'll hear you, and work at the same time," said Ethan.
"I should get two of those canal-boats, having about eight feet depth of hold," continued Ben.
"Where would you get them?" demanded Lawry.
"Get them? Hire them, of course. You can get plenty of them at Port
Henry."
"Have you any money in your pocket?"
"They wouldn't cost more than a hundred dollars."
"I haven't got even fifty dollars," said Lawry.
"They would trust you on the security of your steamer."
"I don't want to be trusted for any such purpose. What would you do with your canal-boats when you had got them?" asked Lawry.
"I would moor one on each side of the steamer, put a couple of timbers across them, pass a chain under the bow and stern of the sunken hull, and make fast to the timbers. Then I would let the water into the canal-boats, and sink them down to the rails. When I got them down as deep as I could, I would tighten the chains, till they bore taut on the timbers. Do you understand it, Lawry?"
"Certainly; I know all about the plan," replied the young pilot, with a smile.
"I don't believe you do," said Ben incredulously. "What would you do next?"
"Pump the water out of the two canal-boats, which would take about two days' time."
"You could rig extra pumps."
"Three of us, with three pumps, couldn't pump them out in two days."
"Well, the job is done when you have pumped them out."
"When you get the water out of the boats, you will have raised the steamer but three or four feet at most."
"Six feet, at least, for the canal-boats will come up where they were before."
"No; they won't; the weight of the steamer will press them down two or three feet."
An excited discussion followed upon this question; but Lawry and Ethan carried their point. It was plain that the buoyant powers of the two boats, as the water was pumped but of them, would raise the steamer three or four feet, leaving her suspended half-way between the surface and the bottom of the lake. Lawry wanted the aspirant for the captaincy of the Woodville to tell him what he would do next, for she could not be repaired while she was under water; but Ben was "nonplussed" and unable to answer.
"I can finish that job for you," said Lawry.
"She could be moored on the ways, and then hauled up."
"Perhaps she might, but I should rather put her on the ways from the top of the water. When I got her three feet from the bottom, I should move her toward the shore till she grounded."
"What then?" asked Ben.
"I should sink the canal-boats again, pump them out once more, and thus raise her three feet more; but it would take about three days every time we lifted her three feet. Ben, I think we could get her to the top of the water in about a fortnight by your plan. By mine, I shall have her up by to-morrow night."
"I'll bet you won't; or in a month, either. You know too much,
Lawry," said Ben.
"I don't bet; but you shall see her at the ferry-landing by seven to-morrow evening if you are there."
The older brother, finding himself only a cipher on the raft, had consented to run the ferry in the afternoon, when the horn sounded; and the pilot and engineer were thus enabled to continue their labor without interruption.