A HARD-WON VICTORY

Phil’s further explorations below, which occupied perhaps half an hour, convinced him that the pumps, if worked to their utmost capacity, were capable of emptying the hold of water within three or four hours, possibly somewhat sooner, as the tarpaulin was doing its work better, now that the flatboat was cast loose. The current was no longer interfering, as the boat was now moving with the stream, and the weight of the craft was pressing it closer to the canvas beneath.

Phil realized that to keep the pumps at work to the full for so long a time would fearfully tax the crew’s strength, taxing it perhaps even beyond its capacity of endurance. But he saw no alternative. The water simply must be got out of the hold. Till that should be done there would be no possibility of finding and stopping the leaks.

So going again on deck, he said to his comrades:—

“I’ll tell you what, boys, we’ve got to work for all we’re worth now for the next two or three hours. We must get at the inside of the bottom of the boat and find these leaks. We can’t do that till we empty her of water, or get her pretty nearly empty.”

“But how in the world are we to get at the leaks under all our freight?” asked Will Moreraud.

“We have got to move the freight,” said Phil.

“But where?” asked Irv.

“Well,” said Phil, “we’ve got to throw part of it overboard, I suppose, in order to give us room. Then we’ve got to shift the rest of it little by little from one spot to another, exposing a part of the bottom each time. We must find every leak that we can, and stop every one that is capable of being stopped. It will take two or three hours to pump the water out, and, I suppose, it will take two or three days to get these leaks fully stopped. In the meantime, we are all going to be enormously tired, and of course—”

“And of course we’ll all be as cross as a sawbuck,” said Irv Strong; “tired people always are; what we’ve got to do is to look out and not quarrel.”

“Oh, well,” said Phil, “I will take care of that. I am as cross as two sawbucks already, but I haven’t quarrelled with anybody yet, and I don’t mean to. And I’ll keep the rest of you too busy to quarrel. We will postpone all that until we get to New Orleans—”

“If we ever do get to New Orleans,” said Ed.

“Ever get to New Orleans? Why, we have got to get to New Orleans. We have undertaken to do that job for the owners of this cargo, and we are going to do it, if we have to pump the Mississippi River three times through this boat in getting there. Our present task is to reduce the necessity for pumping as much as we can.”

Phil found by experiment that one boy at each pump was nearly as efficient as two, and as the work of pumping was exhausting, he decided to keep only two boys at it, one at each pump. Then, taking the other two with him, he went below and with buckets they began dipping water from the hold and pouring it overboard at the bow. In this way they added largely to the work of the pumps, and every fifteen minutes or so two of the boys handling buckets would go to the pumps, and the two tired fellows at the pumps would come below and work with buckets.

It was wearisome work, but there was at any rate the encouragement of success. By one o’clock in the afternoon the water in the hold was so far reduced that it was no longer possible to dip it up with buckets with any profit. So Phil stopped that part of the work, and decided to keep the boys on very short shifts at the pumps, leaving them to rest completely between their tours of duty. He let two of them work for ten minutes. Then another pair took their places for ten minutes. Then the fifth one of the party—for Phil did his “stint” like the rest—became one of the relief pair, thus giving one boy twenty minutes’ rest instead of ten. This extra rest came in its turn of course to each of the boys, so that each boy worked forty minutes—ten minutes at a time—and rested sixty minutes out of every one hundred minutes or every hour and two-thirds.

About five o’clock in the afternoon Phil made one of his frequent journeys of inspection in the hold. He came on deck with an encouraged look in his tired face.

“We’ve got the water pretty nearly all out now, boys. Our next job is to keep it out by stopping leaks. We’ll work one pump all the time. I think that will keep even with the leaks, or pretty nearly so. If we find the water gaining on us, we’ll set the other pump going for a while.”

“And what’s your plan for stopping leaks, Phil?” asked Irv.

“First of all we’ll find the leaks,” said Phil. “Then we’ll do whatever we can to stop them.”

“Oh, yes, we know that,” said Irv, with a touch of irritation in his voice, “but you know I meant—”

“Come, Irv, no quarrelling!” said Will Moreraud. “You’re tired and cross, but so are the rest of us.”

“I own up, and beg pardon,” said Irv, regaining his good nature by an effort, but instantly. “Phil, may I take time for a cold plunge before you assign me to my next duty?”

“Certainly,” said Phil. “And I’ll take one with you. Come, boys, we’ll all be the better for the shock of a shockingly cold bath. Jump in, all of you!”

And they all did, for, to the surprise of every one, Ed leaped overboard with them and swam twice around the boat before coming out of the very cold water and into the still colder air.

“Ed’s getting well, Phil,” said Irv.

“Yes,” said Phil, as he watched his brother rubbing himself down. “Two weeks ago he would have come out of that water shivering as if with an ague, and the color of a table-cloth. Now look at him! He’s as red as a boiled lobster, and he’s actually laughing as he rubs the skin off with that piece of sanded tarpaulin that he has mistaken for a Turkish towel. Here, Ed, take a towel, or would you rather have some sandpaper or a rasp?”

“Thanks, old fellow,” said Ed, who had of course heard all the remarks concerning himself, “but this cloth feels good. I believe I am getting better. I’ve quit ‘barking’ anyhow.”

“That’s so,” said Irv. “You haven’t dared utter a cough since that morning when The Last of the Flatboats tried to make the last of herself by quitting the river and coming off on this little picnic in the Mississippi swamps.”

“If you young gentlemen have quite finished your discussion of past happenings, and are ready to give attention to present exigencies,” said Phil, in that mocking tone which he sometimes playfully adopted, “you’ll please put your clothes on and report for duty in the hold, where there’s some important work to be done. It’s your turn at the pump, Constant. Get thee to thy task, and don’t forget to remind me when your time’s up.

“Now,” said Phil, when they threw open the forward door of the flatboat to open a passage for taking out freight, “I suppose we ought to divide up the loss by throwing out about an equal quantity of each owner’s freight. But we can’t do it, so there’s an end of that.”

“Oh, the law will take care of all that,” said Ed.

“The law? How?”

“Why the law requires everybody interested in the boat or the cargo to share the loss, when freight must be thrown overboard to save the ship.”

“But how can that be done?” asked Irv.

“Why, we must keep account of what we throw overboard. When we sell the rest at New Orleans, we shall know just what was the value of the part jettisoned,—that’s the law term for throwing things overboard, I believe,—and that loss must be divided among the owners of the boat herself, the owners of cargo on board, and the insurance companies, if any of the freight is insured. Each one’s share of the loss will be in precise proportion to his interest.”

“Illustrate,” said Will Moreraud.

“Well,” rejoined Ed, “suppose we find the boat and her total cargo to be worth one thousand dollars—”

“Oh, rubbish! It’s worth many times that,” broke in Will. “Why, I should value—”

“Never mind that,” said the other. “I’m ‘supposing a case,’ as Irv says, and simply for convenience I take one thousand dollars as the total value of the boat and everything in her. Now, suppose we have to throw overboard one hundred dollars’ worth. That is one-tenth of the whole. That tenth must be divided, not equally, but proportionally, among all the persons interested. Suppose the boat is worth two hundred dollars. That is one-fifth the total value, and so the boat owners must bear one-fifth of the one hundred dollars’ loss. That is to say, we fellows should have to ‘pony up’ twenty dollars among us, or four dollars apiece. A man owning three hundred dollars’ worth of freight would be charged thirty dollars, and so on through the list.”

“Oh, I see,” said Phil, who in the meantime had been studying ways and means of accomplishing the practical purpose in hand. “And a very good arrangement it is. Now stop talking, and let’s heave out some of these bales of hay.”

“Why not take some of the other things instead?” asked Irv. “They are heavier, and to throw them over would lighten the boat more.”

All this while the boys were at work getting the hay out.

“We aren’t trying to lighten the boat,” replied Phil. “We’re only trying to make room, and the hay takes up more room, dollar’s worth for dollar’s worth, than anything else. So it’s cheapest to ‘jettison’ hay—thanks for that new word, Ed. Now, heave ho!” And the first bale of hay went over the bow into the water.

“Now, another!”

In a brief time a considerable space was cleared.

“That will do, I think,” said Phil. “We shan’t have to ‘jettison’ anything more, if you fellows will stop your chatter and get to work. If you don’t, I’ll jettison some of the crew.”

This brought a needed smile, for the boys were by this time almost exhausted with work and loss of sleep. Phil thought of this. He had not himself slept a moment since his discovery that the boat was sinking at midnight of the night before, while all the rest had caught refreshing little naps between their tours of duty at the pumps. But he left himself out of the account in laying his plans.

“See here, boys,” he said, “there isn’t room for more than one of you to work here with me at these leaks. One must stay at the pump on deck, of course, but the other two might as well go to sleep till we need you to move freight again.”

“Oh, I like that,” said Irv. “But why shouldn’t you do a little of the sleeping, instead of shoving it all off on us, as you’ve done all day?”

“Oh, never mind about me. I shan’t sleep till we get things in shape, so you and Ed go to sleep. You go and relieve Constant at the pump, Will, and let him come and help me.”

“You said there was to be no quarrelling,” said Irv, “and I have thus far obeyed. I have even stood Ed’s exposition of the law about throwing freight overboard, without a murmur, but now I’m going to quarrel with the skipper of this craft, if he doesn’t consent to take his full and fair share of the sleeping that simply has to be done. He always takes his full share of the work, even to the cooking. It was only yesterday that he made the worst pot of coffee we’ve had yet. I insist that he shall not be permitted basely to shirk his fair share of the sleeping.”

The other boys echoed the kindly sentiment that Irv had put in that playful way, and Phil was touched by their consideration. Instinctively holding out his hands to them, he said:—

“Thank you, fellows. It’s awfully good of you. But I simply could not sleep now. I cannot close my eyes till I see this work of stopping leaks so well advanced as to be sure that the boat is safe. I promise you that just as soon as that is accomplished I’ll let you fellows go on with the work, and I’ll take even a double turn at sleeping.”

“You’ll promise that?”

“Yes. And by way of compromise, and to keep you from quarrelling, Irv, I’ll let you postpone your first sleeping turn till you can get me something hot to swallow—a canned soup with an egg in it, or something else sustaining. I’m hungry.”

During the day’s excitements there had been no regular meals served on the boat, but as there happened to be a cold boiled ham in the larder and plenty of bread, the boys had indulged frequently in sandwiches. But it now occurred to them that Phil, in his anxiety, had quite forgotten to do this, and had, in fact, eaten nothing whatever for more than eighteen hours. So Irv hastened to prepare him some food of the kind he had asked for.

In the meantime, Phil and Constant, armed with hammers and nails, and bits of board which they from time to time sawed or cut to fit spaces, were busy at the leaks. When they had done all they could in that way within the space laid bare by the removal of the hay, they rolled other freight into that space, thus exposing another part of the bottom.

A TOUR OF INSPECTION.
“‘Hello! Irv; we’ve found the crevasse at last.’”

In this way the work went forward during the night, all of the boys except Phil securing some sleep in brief snatches, and all of them ministering, so far as they were permitted, to their captain’s need for tempting food.

About daylight, in making a shift of freight, Phil suddenly came upon something that made him call out:—

“Hello! what’s this? I say, Irv,”—for Irving was then working with him,—“we’ve found the crevasse at last.”

“I should say so,” said Irv, with a slower drawl than usual, as he held up his lantern and looked. “The Mississippi River and all its large and interesting family of tributaries seem trying to come aboard here.”

Just where the gunwale joined the bottom planks of the boat a great seam had been wrenched open, and the water was actually spouting and spurting through it.

“There’s one consolation,” said Phil. “There isn’t any other leak like this anywhere.”

“How do you know?”

“Why, if there were two such, we should have gone to Davy Jones’s locker long ago.”

Then the two boys set to work trying to fasten a board over the open seam, but their efforts failed completely. Their united strength was not sufficient even to press the board against the timbers, much less to hold it in place long enough to nail it there. For the whole weight of the boat and cargo was pressing down into the river and forcing this jet of water upward through the opening.

“Call the entire crew, Irv,” said Phil. “We shall need them all for this job—including the fellow at the pump.”

Then, while Irv went to summon the boys, Phil secured a piece of plank three inches thick, very green and very heavy, which had been purchased at Vevay to serve as a staging over which to roll freight in taking it on or discharging it.

“Get me the brace and bit, Will—the quarter-inch auger bit. And, Ed, see if you can find the spikes that were left over in building the boat. Bring the heaviest hammers we’ve got too, some of you.”

All this while the boy was measuring, calculating, sawing, and hewing with an axe to fit his great plank to its place. He bored holes in it at intervals, to facilitate the driving of spikes through its tough and tenacious thickness.

When all was ready, the boys made a strenuous effort to force the timber down against the crack, but to no purpose. Their strength and weight were not sufficient.

Presently a happy thought struck Will Moreraud.

“Wait a minute,” he said, and with that he rolled several barrels of corn meal into the open space.

“Now,” he cried, “three of you stand on one end of the plank while I drive it into place. Let the other end ride free of the bottom, but one of you hold it so that it can’t slew away from the gunwale.”

The boys did this, and Will succeeded in driving one end of the timber into place while three of his comrades stood upon that end of it. The other end was held up by the waterspout a foot from the bottom of the boat, but Ed was holding it against the gunwale, in the place where it was desired to force it down.

“Now, hold it so,” said Will, “and I’ll force it down.”

With that he turned a two-hundred-pound barrel of meal on end upon the plank just beyond the point where the three boys were standing. This pressed the timber down somewhat, and Will helped it with another barrel. Then he began bringing heavy sacks of corn and oats, so heavy that he could scarcely handle them. These he piled high on top of the meal barrels, and the combined weight forced the plank down to within an inch of the bottom.

With one end securely weighted down, he began piling freight in the same way upon the other. Now and then the resisting water would push the heavy and heavily weighted plank away from the gunwale and force a passage for itself between. But when the plank was securely weighted down upon the bottom, two or three of the boys, acting together, were able, with axes and heavy hammers, to drive it finally and firmly against the side of the boat.

Then with the long wrought-iron spikes it was firmly secured in its place, but Phil decided not to remove any of the freight that was piled on top of it, lest the tremendous water pressure from below should force even the great iron spikes out of their sockets and set the leak going again. Indeed, to prevent this he directed his comrades to pile all the freight they could so that its weight should fall upon the protecting timber.

By the time that all this was done it was eleven o’clock in the morning, and Irv Strong turned to Phil with an earnest look in his eyes, and said:—

“We claim the fulfilment of your promise, Phil. You must go to sleep now.”

The other boys stood by Irv’s side with faces as earnest as his own. It was obvious that he spoke for all of them and as the result of an understanding. Phil hesitated for a moment. Then he said:—

“Thank you, fellows, all of you. I’ll do as you say.”

As he almost staggered toward the cabin in his exhaustion, he paused, still thoughtful of the general welfare, and said:—

“Irv, you take charge while I sleep, and call me if anything happens.”

Two minutes later the lad was deeply slumbering.