Читать книгу Partners Three - Ralph Henry Barbour - Страница 7

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Jack was promptly on time the next morning, the Crystal Spring crowding her nose into the basin just as the clock in the white tower of the City Hall struck nine. Behind the water boat came the launch. By the time Jack had made a landing Hal and Bee came down the gangway to the float.

“I got the engine together all right,” explained Jack as the boys viewed the launch from the stern of the sloop, “but I couldn’t make her start. I’m pretty sure the trouble’s in the wiring. I didn’t have time to go over it thoroughly, Hal. If I were you I’d start at the battery and follow it right up.”

“But I couldn’t tell whether it was right or wrong,” Hal objected. “I guess I’d better get a man to come and fix her up, Jack.”

“Well—but he will charge you three or four dollars, Hal.” Jack frowned thoughtfully. Then, “I tell you what I’ll do. You leave her here until noon, and I’ll come back and look her over, Hal. I’d do it now but there are two or three schooners coming in and they may want water. I’ll come back about twelve. Will you be here?”

“I guess so.” He looked enquiringly at Bee. “There’s nothing especial to do, I suppose.”

“Let’s loaf around the wharves,” said Bee, “and come back here at noon. There’s lots I want to see, Hal. I want to know how they dry the fish, and what the difference is between a haddock and a pollock, and why is a codfish and—oh, lots of things! I think it’s dandy of Herrick to take so much trouble with your old chug-chug and the least we can do is to be on hand and encourage him with our cheerful presence. Besides, it’s quite necessary, if we’re to find that buried treasure, to have this thing fixed up so she’ll take us over to the island.”

“Well, I’ll try to get here by twelve,” said Jack, as he pushed the nose of the sloop away from the landing and swung himself aboard. “And if you can be here you’d better. We may have to have some new wiring or connections or something. And, by the way, Hal, why don’t you stop at Whiting’s and buy a folding anchor and some rope? You oughtn’t to go out again without it, you know.”

“I will. And some other stuff, too. She’s got to have lanterns and a fog-horn, I suppose. And a compass, and—”

“A tomato can,” said Bee gravely. “I refuse to trust my young and valuable life to her again without a tomato can.”

“If I put all the things in her that the law requires,” said Hal gloomily, “I’d be broke. Besides, there wouldn’t be any room for me!”

“Did you find those things I couldn’t get back, Herrick?” Bee asked.

“Yes, they were kicking around in a foot or so of rain water. They weren’t important, anyhow,” he continued with a smile. “Just two or three nuts from the cylinder heads and the commutator. Well, see you later, fellows.”

The Crystal Spring swung her long boom outboard and crept away from the landing, leaving Hal and Bee looking after her.

“I like that chap,” said Bee with conviction. “I think I’ll have to have him along when I look for that buried treasure.”

“If you don’t keep still about your old buried treasure,” laughed Hal, “I’ll dump you into the harbor.”

“You will, eh? In the first place, my young friend, you wouldn’t dare to, and in the second place you couldn’t do it. Now lead me to the codfish.”

When they returned to the Town Landing at twelve the Crystal Spring and her skipper were before them. Jack waved his hand in triumph as they came down the gangway. “I found the trouble,” he announced. “It was just a loose connection here at this binding post, where the wire grounds on the engine. I’ve been all over the wiring and tightened everything up and she will run like a breeze now. Want to try her?”

They piled in, Jack put the switch on, threw the fly-wheel over once and the engine started. Then he threw the clutch in and took the wheel. The launch moved briskly out of the basin, swung around the corner of the sea-wall and, Jack advancing the throttle, began to chug down the harbor at a good ten miles. Bee looked on in awe.

“You certainly understand these things, Herrick,” he said admiringly.

“I used to have a little one-cylinder motor boat when I was about twelve,” replied Jack. “She wasn’t anything like this, but the principal is the same with all of them. Hal, you’ll find that she’ll do best with your throttle about there; see? If you advance it any farther she’ll begin to miss a little. If you want more speed open the cut-out, although that really doesn’t make very much difference, I guess. She steers nicely, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, and she’ll turn almost in her length,” said Hal. “Suppose that carbureter gets out of order, Jack, what do I do?”

“Take my advice and don’t do anything,” replied Jack with a smile. “It’s dollars to doughnuts the trouble’s somewhere else and if you monkey with the carbureter you’ll never get it back again where it was. Sometimes on a cold morning you’ll have trouble getting the right mixture. Hold your hand over the air intake in that case; flood the carbureter first, though. You may have to turn her over a good many times, but she’ll start finally. I wouldn’t fuss with the carbureter ever, Hal.”

“Of course not,” said Bee. “Why, even I had sense enough not to touch that yesterday!”

“Then I’ll bet you didn’t see it,” said Hal. “You took everything else to pieces!”

“I know I did. And look how she went afterwards! I guess you never saw a launch drift any faster than she did out there!”

Jack brought the boat around in a long turn and headed back toward the basin. “Well, I guess you’ll find now that she’ll do something else beside drift. She can make a good twelve miles with the tide, Hal.”

At the landing Jack turned the launch over to her owner and scrambled back to the Crystal Spring. “I haven’t had any lunch yet,” he said, “so I’ll have to get busy. You and your friend come over in the launch some time and see me, Hal. I’m usually around after four, and most all day on Sunday.”

“We will,” Hal replied, “and I’m awfully much obliged for everything you’ve done, Jack. Hope I’ll be able to pay you back some day.”

“Oh, that’s nothing; glad I could do it,” answered Jack as he hauled in the sheet. “Hope she’ll go all right, Hal. So long.”

The others waved to him from the float as the Crystal Spring poked her blunt nose harborward and then turned to climb the hill to Hal’s home and luncheon. In the afternoon they installed the anchor in the locker forward under the gasoline tank, fixed the new lanterns where they belonged, stowed a patent fog-horn and a box compass under one of the seats and then went out for a spin. Bee wanted to learn how to steer and Hal gave him the wheel, but not until they were out of the press of boats in the harbor. Bee had one or two narrow escapes from running into the sea-wall, but by the time they were over the bar he had learned the knack of it. Meanwhile Hal sought to acquaint himself with the mechanism of his engine, slowing it down, stopping it and starting again until Bee protested that the engine would get peeved and refuse to go at all. But fortunately nothing like that happened and they went down the shore beyond The Lump, turned seaward there and headed toward Popple Head and the lighthouse. It was a fine day, with plenty of bright sunlight and a brisk southwesterly breeze that kicked up enough of a swell to send the spray flying aboard now and then. Bee was in his element and insisted on singing all the nautical songs he knew, which, however, were not many. After that he amused himself by turning the bow of the boat so that she got the waves on the quarter and wasn’t detected by Hal until that young gentleman had been thrice drenched to the skin by the clouds of spray that swept over him. Bee, crouching low, escaped the worst of them. Hal made him head the boat around again and Bee had to find a new amusement. He finally solved the problem by composing what he called “An Ode to the Sea” and singing it to an improvised tune that, to Hal at least, lacked harmony.

“O Sea! O Sea! O beautiful Sea!

O Sea! O Sea! O Sea! O Sea!

You’re full of salt and wet, I know,

And you kick up a fuss when the wind do blow!

Some say you’re blue; I think you’re green,

But you’re the nicest Sea I’ve ever seen.

You’re full of waves and fishes, too,

And if I had a line I know what I’d do.

O Sea! O Sea! O beautiful Sea!

You make an awful hit with me.

O Sea! O Sea! O——”

Just then Hal threatened him with an oil-can and his muse deserted him. Off the light they turned back toward the harbor, running alongside the gray granite breakwater, and Bee found much to interest him. The tide was low and along the wall the seaweed hung in swaying fringes. Now and then he saw a star-fish or a crab, and once the launch almost bumped into the breakwater when he caught sight of a rock-cod and nearly fell overboard in his excitement.

“Hal, do you realize,” he asked a minute later, “that this noble craft has no name?”

“Yes, what shall we call her?”

That led to a long discussion that lasted until they were around the beacon and chugging past Gull Island, Hal thoughtfully reducing the boat’s speed to something like four miles an hour for fear that Bee might see another rock-cod! All sorts of names were suggested, but none seemed just right, and finally Bee said; “It’s no use. All the perfectly good names I suggest you don’t like. And you can’t think of any good ones yourself. We’ll leave it to Jack Herrick!”

“The dickens we will! I intend to name my own boat!”

“You’re not a good namer,” replied Bee firmly. “Jack Herrick can mend an engine and run it. Any fellow who can do that can find a right name, Hal. We will go after the Crystal Spring and demand a name for your launch.”

But the Crystal Spring wasn’t to be found, although the launch went up the harbor and back again. Then, as it was getting toward five o’clock they decided to give up the search and seek the landing.

“Tomorrow,” said Bee, “is Sunday. We will go over in the morning and call on Jack Herrick. Meanwhile the launch must wait for a name.”

“I like Sea Spray,” said Hal.

“I’m glad you do,” laughed Bee. “You got quite a lot of it!”

“Or, maybe, Mermaid,” added Hal.

“Mermaid! That’s a punk name! You might as well call it—call it—” Bee searched wildly for a simile—“call it Annabel Lee!”

“Who’s Annabel Lee?” asked Hal.

“I don’t know. It’s just a—a name, I guess; I mean, I cal’ate; nothing like speaking the language of the people you’re with.”

“We don’t say ‘cal’ate’,” protested Hal. “We talk just as good English as you Pennsylvania Dutch do!”

“Well, don’t get waxy about it. I like ‘cal’ate’; it—it’s expressive. Say, what do I do when I get to the landing? Run the bow up on the float, or what?”

“No, you don’t, you idiot! Here, let me have the wheel. You climb out there and take the boat-hook—Gee, we haven’t got any boat-hook, have we? Well, take an oar.”

“The oars are in the locker and you’re sitting on it,” said Bee. “I’ll use my feet.”

So he climbed to the bow and sat there until the launch approached the float and then fended her off with his feet, finally jumping ashore with the painter and making it fast quite knowingly. Then, after seeing the launch safe for the night, the two boys went home to dinner, very proud of their seamanship and very hungry by reason of it.