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.