About six miles east of Bayville was a rocky island, around which perch were abundant. Paul had often been there with his father, and was familiar with the locality. He knew just where to moor his boat to have good luck in fishing; and was acquainted with all the channels, currents, and bars in the bay. He was not only a skilful seaman, but a good pilot, and felt as much at home on the bay as in the streets of Bayville.
It would be low tide in the bay at seven o'clock, and Paul made his calculations accordingly. The best time to fish was on the "young flood," or soon after the tide had turned to come in; and, if the wind should happen to be light or contrary, it would take him a long time to run down to Rock Island, as the place was called; therefore he must go down with the tide. To accomplish his purpose it was necessary that he should start by five o'clock in the morning, which was an hour before his usual breakfast time.
He did not sleep very well that night, for the great idea to which we have alluded was creating an immense commotion in his mind. He had reasoned out the certainty of his being able to support the family, and he felt as proud of his great resolution as though he had achieved its full fruits. When, at last, he dropped asleep, it was only to dream of great speculations, and of the satisfaction he should have in giving his mother money enough on Saturday night to pay all the expenses of the family for a week.
He woke very early in the morning, and as he jumped out of bed he heard the clock on the Town Hall strike four. He did not mean to disturb his mother, and therefore cautioned John not to make any noise. He was not like some boys, who growl and grumble at their mothers if their meals are not ready when they want them. Stealing softly down stairs, he went to the back kitchen, and made a fire in the stove.
"Now, John, you go down to the boat, and bale her out," said he to his brother, as the latter joined him.
"Are you going without any breakfast?" asked John.
"No; breakfast will be ready by the time you have baled out the boat."
"You haven't called mother yet?"
"I don't mean to do so."
"Where will you get your breakfast, then?"
"I will get it myself."
"You don't know how to cook," replied John, incredulously.
"You see if I don't; now go ahead, and don't make a noise, or you will wake mother."
Paul then went down cellar, and brought up a few potatoes, which he washed and put into the kettle. A piece of pork and a slice of veal were deposited in the frying pan, ready to be cooked at the proper time. The coffee, not omitting the important bit of fish skin, was put in the coffee-pot, and operations in that quarter were suspended till the water in the tea-kettle should boil. Though our hero had never actually performed these man[oe]uvres with his own hands, he had seen them executed so many times that he was perfectly familiar with the routine.
Everything upon the stove was doing very well, and he pulled out the table, which he proceeded to cover with the proper articles for the morning meal. Each article was carefully disposed in its proper place, for Paul had already learned that food tastes better in the midst of order and neatness, than when taken in dirt and confusion. It is true, he made some mistakes for the want of experience, and was frequently obliged to stop and think what articles were required; but when the table was set, he was satisfied with its cheerful and neat appearance. By this time the tea-kettle was spouting out long jets of steam, and the lid was rattling under the influence of the commotion beneath it. Paul poured a littleof the boiling water into the coffee-pot, and then came an appalling difficulty—he did not know how much to put in, and was not sure that he had taken the proper quantity of coffee. At a venture he filled the pot half full, and then proceeded to cook the meat. After the coffee had boiled ten or fifteen minutes, he tested its strength, and added more water. He was delighted with his success, and when John returned from the beach, he was putting the breakfast upon the table.
"Breakfast is ready," said Paul.
"Did you cook it, though?"
"I did; I told you I could."
"I'll give up now. Why don't you hire out for a cook?"
"Perhaps I shall, one of these days."
"Wouldn't mother's eyes stick out if she should happen in about this time!"
"I guess not much."
But they did, for just as the boys were seating themselves at the table, Mrs. Duncan entered the room.
"Why, boys! what have you been doing?" exclaimed she, astonished at the regularity with which everything seemed to be proceeding in her absence.
"Only getting something to eat before we go," replied Paul.
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I thought I wouldn't get you up so early; besides, I could get breakfast just as well myself."
"I declare you are a good cook, Paul. Your potatoes and meat look as nice as can be. How is your coffee? Did you put a piece of fish-skin in the pot?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Did you put any salt on the meat?"
"I did; come, mother, sit down and eat your breakfast."
Mrs. Duncan accepted this polite invitation, and seating herself in her accustomed place, began to pour out the coffee. It was clear, and of the right strength, and she liberally praised Paul for his culinary skill, and declared that her son was a jewel about the house. The breakfast seemed even better than usual that morning, and our hero was as proud as though he had built a meeting house.
"Come, John, we must bear a hand; there isn't a breath of wind, and it will take us some time to make Rock Island," said Paul, as he rose from the table. "Have you filled the jug with water?"
"No, but I will."
"Here is some gingerbread and cheese for luncheon," added Mrs. Duncan, as she handed Paul a basket she had filled for their use. "Now, be very careful, and don't run any risk. Look out for squalls, and don't carry sail too long."
"I'll be very careful, mother. You may trust me to go round the world," replied Paul.
"But I wish you had a better boat."
"She'll do very well, mother, though I hope to have a better one some time or other."
The jug was filled at the pump, and with their provisions and water the boys set off with light hearts for the work of the day.
Paul felt the responsibility of the trust which Captain Littleton had imposed upon him. He was going to make some money by the operation, and upon this day's success depended the hopes which he had been cherishing in regard to his new scheme.
There are always some drawbacks to disturb the best-laid plans, and when Paul reached the bluff, he discovered the boat adrift at some distance from the shore.
"You are a careless fellow, John," he cried. "You didn't make fast the boat."
"That's too bad, Paul; I didn't mean to do that," replied John, vexed at the accident.
"I don't suppose you did; but you are careless."
"I thought I made her fast. What shall we do, Paul? I would rather given anything than had this happen."
"So would I; but there is no use of crying about it. There isn't a skiff within half a mile of here."
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Paul," said John, putting down the jug and throwing off his jacket. "I'll swim out to her and scull her in."
Paul made no objection to this plan, and in half aminute more, John had stripped and was swimming with all his might after the boat, which was perhaps fifty rods from the shore. He was a vigorous swimmer, as self-possessed in the water as on the land, and his brother had no fears in regard to his safety, or his ability to reach the boat.
It did not take the little fellow long to catch the boat, and the accident did not make more than half an hour's delay. The stores were taken on board, and before John had time to dress himself, the boat was under sail, and working slowly down the bay. A light breeze from the west had sprung up, and a gentle ripple at the bow assured the young fisherman that everything was progressing in a satisfactory manner.
"I should like to be a fisherman, Paul," said John, who sat on the bottom of the boat opening clams for bait.
"Perhaps you may be one of these days," replied Paul, moodily. "I think I shall do something in that line right off."
"You, Paul?"
"Yes, but don't you say a word about it to anybody, above all, not to mother. I have been thinking about it all night."
"What do you mean, Paul?"
The ambitious youth had a great idea in his mind, which was struggling to be actualized. More than twenty times since the preceding evening had the words of Captain Littleton crossed his imagination,and kindled up a great blaze of possibilities and probabilities. "I will give you twenty cents a dozen for them," the captain had said. If he would buy perch others would buy them. He had a boat, and there would not be many days when he could not catch as many as five or six dozen. Even at a shilling a dozen he could make a dollar a day.
This was his scheme—to supply Bayville with fresh fish. He had as good a chance to sell them as the men who went through the place blowing their tin horns. He should have an advantage over them, for his fish were certain to be fresh, and he was sure the people would be willing to patronize him. The plan promised exceedingly well, and he wished to talk it over with some one, though he was not quite ready to have it made public. It was true, John was only ten years old, and didn't know much; but he wanted to talk with somebody about it, and so he concluded to take his brother into his confidence.
"What do I mean, John?" said he. "Why can't I catch perch every day, and sell them in town?"
"Sure enough, why can't you?" replied John, delighted with the idea, and perhaps bringing some selfish motives to bear upon it.
"We can haul 'em in as fast as we can throw over the line off the rocks, and there are rich folks enough in Bayville to buy them."
"It's a first-rate idea," exclaimed John, withenthusiasm. "You might go down farther, and catch cod and haddock."
"I would if I had a good boat."
"Father used to go out after cod and haddock in this boat."
"I know, but she is getting rather shaky."
The great idea was discussed in all its bearings till they reached Rock Island, when Paul carefully selected his position, and let go the anchor. The hooks were baited and the lines thrown over, and never before had Paul taken his fishing apparatus when so much seemed to depend upon the success of his efforts. His heart beat as the sinker touched the bottom, and he pulled it up the proper distance. All his fortunes for the future appeared to hang upon the result.
"Hurrah! I've got one!" shouted John, as with childish eagerness he pulled in his line.
It was a sculpin!
Was this a type of his own success? Was he to watch his chance on the great sea of life, and finally, after all his anxious watching and toil, was he to pull in only a sculpin? These were painful thoughts to Paul, and his heart almost sunk within him, as he considered the possible failure of his favorite scheme. If he failed in this, he must accept the paltry two dollars and a half a week, and let his mother drudge like a slave. He could not tolerate the thought of failure, and——
A bite!
Paul did not whistle till he got out of the woods, and announced his success to John by slapping a monster perch upon the bottom of the boat. If that was a type of his success he was satisfied. Before he had time to follow out the reflections suggested by the event, John hauled in the mate to the big fish, and another had taken hold of his own hook.
By ten o'clock there were six dozen perch in the basket, besides three handsome tautog and half a dozen sea flounders. The young fisherman was satisfied, hauled up killock, and made sail for home. His heart was as light as the upper air, and he was confident of the success of his grand scheme.
"Now, John you must steer, while I skin the perch," said Paul, as he resigned the helm to his brother.
"That I will," replied he, with alacrity, for he did not often get a chance to handle the boat, and was fond of the amusement.
"But you must be careful, and keep your eyes open, for we have no time to spare," added the youthful skipper.
"Do you think I don't know how to steer a boat?" asked John, hurt by the insinuation.
"You know how well enough, if you will pay attention to it, and not be fooling with her."
"I'll keep her right."
Paul took from under the thwart an old shoe-knife which had been ground down to one third of its original width. It had been well sharpened for this important occasion, but he had provided an old whetstone as a further precaution against a dull blade. To skin a perch neatly and expeditiously is a nice operation; but Paul had had sufficient practice in the art to render him a skilful hand. Seatinghimself on the lee rail, he commenced work in earnest, occasionally glancing up to see that the boat was doing her best in the way of sailing.
"How much will you make, Paul, if you sell all your fish?" asked John.
"The perch will bring a dollar and twenty cents, if I get twenty cents a dozen for them."
"The tautog are worth something."
"They are worth a quarter apiece."
"You have done a good day's work then?"
"If I sell the fish, I shall," answered Paul, with a smile of satisfaction. "Come, John, the sail is shaking, and you have lost the wind," he added as his brother carelessly luffed her up.
"I was adding up the perch and the tautog."
"You must mind the boat; you must stop talking, if you can't do your duty without."
John promised to be more careful, and Paul had no further occasion to complain of his inattention. The younger fisherman was a good boy, but he had not yet been trained to that steadiness of purpose which is necessary to success. He was only ten years old, and it was not to be expected that he should fully appreciate the earnestness of his brother's purpose, though he was beginning to realize that close attention was necessary in order to accomplish great deeds. He was fond of trying experiments, just for the fun of the thing; and when he had been permitted to take the helm on other occasions, he wanted to do something besides keep her in a directcourse—to see how close she would lie to the wind without letting the sail shake, to run down a floating mass of seaweed, or chase a stick of wood; but on this trip, he was guilty of no greater indiscretion than carelessness.
Long before the boat reached Bayville, Paul had skinned and strung the fish; and their appearance on the line was creditable to his skill. Leaving John to secure the boat, he took the fish and hastened up to the house of Captain Littleton. He found that gentleman in his garden with his guests.
"Well, Paul, what luck?" asked he, as the young fisherman came in sight.
"First-rate, sir."
"How many have you got?"
"Six dozen."
"Just the number I want. Carry them into the kitchen, Paul. I declare, you have dressed them very nicely."
"I tried to have them right, sir, and I am glad they suit you," replied Paul, modestly, as he walked towards the rear of the house.
"Stop, Paul; what have you got there?" said Captain Littleton.
"Tautog, sir; and if you will permit me, I will leave them in the kitchen with the perch."
"You are a lucky fisherman Paul; those are handsome fish, and if you will leave them, I will make it all right when you come out. That is a luxury I did not expect."
Paul was delighted by the commendation of his friend, and the splendid scheme of his future operations increased in importance with every word that was uttered. With a light heart he ran into the kitchen with his stock, and then returned to Captain Littleton.
"Here is two dollars, Paul," said he, handing him a bill.
"That is too much, sir," stammered Paul, overwhelmed at the idea of having made two dollars in one day.
"It is right, my boy; take it. You mustn't be bashful if you are going to fight your way through the world."
"You are very kind, sir, but this is more than the fish come to," answered Paul, taking the bill.
"No, it isn't; the perch come to a dollar and twenty cents, the tautog to seventy-five, which make a dollar and ninety-five cents. So we will call it square, and I am very much obliged to you besides."
"I didn't mean to charge you any thing for the tautog, sir."
"Look here, Paul; when you get rich I will accept your gifts; but now, my boy, I will take the will for the deed, and I feel just as grateful to you as though you had presented me a service of plate. You have done well, and I am glad of it."
"Thank you, sir; I am very much obliged to you for this, and for all you have done for my mother," replied Paul, as he put the bank bill in his pocket.
"By the way, how about that place in the lawyer's office, Paul?" said Captain Littleton, as the young fisherman turned to go home.
"If you please, sir, I had rather not take the place."
"You are going to do better, then?"
"Yes, sir, I think I am. I am very much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken."
"Not at all, my boy; I didn't think the situation would be large enough to suit your ambition. What are you going to do, Paul?"
"I am going to catch fish, and sell them in town, sir," replied Paul, boldly, though he could hardly keep down the emotions that swelled in his bosom.
"Good, my boy! I like an enterprising spirit and I dare say you will do very well. You may put me down for two dozen perch every Saturday."
"Thank you, sir."
"I will speak to my neighbors, and I have no doubt you will find a market for all the fish you can catch."
"You are very kind."
"What does your mother say about the plan?"
"I haven't told her yet. It is a new idea. I am afraid she will not like it very well."
"She will not object very strongly."
"If you would speak to her about it, if you please, sir; she will think everything of what you say."
"I will, Paul. When you catch any more tautog, be sure and bring them to me."
"I certainly will, Captain Littleton," answeredPaul, as he bounded towards home, his heart filled with gratitude to his friend, and with hope for the success of his darling scheme.
Half a dozen times on the way, he put his hand into his pocket to feel of the old black wallet, that contained the proceeds of his first day's work. He had never done a job before which produced more than half a dollar, and the immense sum in his pocket seemed enough to make or break an ordinary bank. Such a run of luck was almost incredible. Wouldn't his mother be astonished when he handed her that two dollar bill!
He had some misgivings in regard to his mother's consent; for like all good mothers, who love their sons, she did not like to have him exposed to danger. But that two dollar bill, and the brilliant promise of success which the future held out to him, would be strong arguments in favor of the scheme, and he hoped to triumph over every objection she could present.
Before he reached the cottage, Paul contrived to subdue some of his enthusiasm, and walked into the kitchen, where his mother was getting dinner, as coolly and indifferently as though nothing extraordinary had happened. It was hard work for him to keep down the excitement that was raging within, but he had determined not to made a fool of himself.
"Well, Paul, have you had a good time," said Mrs. Duncan, as he entered the room.
"First-rate, mother," he replied; though he was not exactly pleased to find that she regarded the trip to Rock Island in the light of a pleasure excursion.
"Did you get as many fish as Captain Littleton wanted?"
"Yes, more too; I left six dozen perch and three handsome tautog in his kitchen just now."
"You were lucky."
"I am good for as many as that every day. Look here, mother;" and he pulled out his wallet, and took therefrom the two dollar bill. "What do you think of that?"
"Did he give you all that?"
"He did."
"He is very liberal."
"That he is; but the fish came to about that; the tautog are worth a quarter apiece."
"You have done bravely, my boy. If you could make half as much money as that every day, we should have all we want, and more too."
"I can, mother; and I mean to do so," replied Paul, thinking this a good opportunity to announce his magnificent intentions.
"You mustn't be too confident, Paul."
"I know I can."
"And, pray, what do you mean to do?" inquired Mrs. Duncan, with an incredulous smile.
"I am going into the fishing business, mother."
"Into what?"
"Into the fishing business."
"What in the world do you mean by that?"
"I mean just what I say, mother!"
"Is the boy crazy?" demanded Mrs. Duncan, suspending her culinary operations, and looking with interest into the animated face of her son.
"I am as regular as I ever was in my life. I've thought it all over, and spoken to Captain Littleton besides; and he says go ahead," replied Paul, making an early use of the captain's encouraging words.
"But I don't understand what you mean? Going into the fishing business?"
"Yes, ma'am; we've got a boat, and I mean to go down to Rock Island every day, Sundays excepted, and catch perch. I mean to sell them here in Bayville, and Captain Littleton told me to put him down for two dozen every Saturday. That's the idea, mother."
"But, Paul——"
"If I can get a shilling a dozen for them, I can make a dollar a day as easy as you can turn your hand over," added Paul, who was not disposed to let his mother speak upon impulse.
"You would have to be on the water every day."
"What of that, mother? The water is a good thing to be on, and just as safe as the land, if you are only a mind to think so."
"Rather dangerous, I'm afraid."
"O, no, mother; it's only a notion some folks have, that the water isn't safe."
"Hundreds of people are drowned every year."
"And hundreds smashed up and killed on the railroads. Why, Captain Mitchell don't think it is safe to go about much on the land. He only feels secure when he is in his old whale boat. He won't get into a chaise or a wagon—don't think it is safe to ride in them; but he knocks about the bay in all sorts of weather. Please don't object to it, mother, for I've set my heart upon the business, and I'm satisfied I shall do well," said Paul, with kindling enthusiasm.
"Well, if you are set upon it, I don't want to say too much against it," replied Mrs. Duncan, doubtfully.
"Captain Littleton will speak to you about it, and he understands these things."
"I know he does; but after all, I would rather have you safe on land."
"I shall be safe enough, mother; and I shall be able to take care of the family without your making bags."
"You are a good boy, Paul," added his mother, turning from him to wipe away the tears that moistened her eyes, for in the loneliness of her widowhood she realized what it was to have such a noble and devoted son.
Paul was delighted to think he had so easily smoothed over matters with her. He had expectedto have a hard beat to windward in reconciling her to his plan, but she had proved much more reasonable than he anticipated. He attributed his ready victory in a great measure to the influence of Captain Littleton's name, and he was confident he would remove any remaining doubts she might harbor.
After dinner Paul went up to his room, and taking from his drawer a little account book, which had long been waiting to be used, he entered the amount of the day's sales upon the first page.
"Little by little," said he, as he returned the book to the drawer, "and one of these days I shall be rich."
This was a very comforting reflection, and notwithstanding the possible slip between the cup and the lip, he enjoyed the full benefit of it.
Before night, all the arrangements for the next day's trip were completed, and Paul retired at an early hour, so as to be up in season in the morning. The excitement which his great project created in his mind, however, would not let him sleep till he was actually exhausted with thinking. He did not wake till five o'clock in the morning, which made him so ashamed of himself, that he could hardly conceal his vexation, especially as he found his mother was up, and his breakfast was nearly ready, when he went down-stairs. But on reflection he found he was early enough, for it would be low tide nearly an hour later than on the preceding day.
While he was eating his breakfast, his brother John came down. It was an unusually early hour for him to rise, and it was evident from the haste with which he completed his toilet, after he found Paul had not gone, that he had an idea of his own, as well as his brother.
"Mayn't I go with you, Paul?" asked he.
"You must go to school."
"Mayn't I stay away from school to-day, mother?" added he, turning quickly to Mrs. Duncan.
"I'd rather you wouldn't, John."
"Why not, mother?" whined he.
"I don't want you to stay out of school a single day, when it can be prevented."
"I should think I might go with Paul. I can catch as many fish as he can."
"Paul is older than you are, and he always kept close to his school till he left."
"I want to do something towards supporting the family, as well as he."
Mrs. Duncan laughed, and so did Paul; for however ambitious the young gentleman might have been to bear his full share of the burden of the family, it was too evident that his taste for boating and fishing was the dominant motive for absenting himself from school.
"Let me go with you, Paul."
"Mother says you must go to school, and I think you had better be there."
"Who will steer the boat while you skin the fish?" demanded John, who had a proper idea of the value of his services, and was not at all pleased at the thought of having them undervalued.
"I shall try to get along some way without you. I should like to have you go, first rate, John; but I don't think you ought to stay out of school. You will have a vacation next week, and you may go every day then, if you want to."
"You ought to take me with you, Paul," continued John, resorting to the persuasive, now that the argumentative had failed.
"I tell you I should like to have you go with me, if it were not for your school."
John exhausted his store of arguments and persuasions without effect, and then fled to his room to cry over his defeat. Paul sympathized with his brother in his disappointment, but as the head of the family, he could not, on principle, yield the point. Taking his jug of water and his lunch, he left the house and hastened to the beach. The wind was light, as on the preceding day, and it took him nearly two hours to run down to Rock Island, for the old boat was a very heavy sailer even under the most favorable circumstances.
Paul did not feel quite so nervous as on the day before, for he was so confident of success that he did not feel uneasy even when he did not get a bite for quarter of an hour. The perch were accommodating in the main, and did not disappoint him, for at twelve o'clock—as he judged it to be by the height of the tide—he had seven dozen in the boat, and they were still biting as greedily as when he first commenced. He had two lines on board, and he tried the experiment of using them both at the same time, though without much success; for perch are fastidious, and require a great deal of attention. While he was pulling in a fish upon one line, the sly rogues in the brine stole his bait fromthe other, and he came to the conclusion it was not best to have too many irons in the fire at once.
Paul did not like to abandon the field while it was yielding such a rich harvest; but he was a prudent fisherman, and not disposed to run any risks. The tide would turn in less than two hours, and he knew it would be impossible to run up to Bayville against both wind and tide. The old boat was not equal to any such emergency, and he reluctantly wound up his line and made sail for home.
The seven dozen perch were to be cleaned, and when he got fairly under way he missed John, for it was difficult for him to skin fish and work the boat at the same time. Seating himself in the stern he passed his arm round the tiller,—for there was no comb to keep it in place,—and commenced his labors. He soon found that he was working at a great disadvantage, and he exerted his ingenuity to devise a plan for overcoming the difficulty. Taking a small line, he made the middle of it fast to the end of the tiller; then passing it round the cleets, he tied the ends together. This apparatus kept the tiller in its place, and he could change it to any required position by pulling the line. Resuming his labors upon the fish, he found his plan worked very well, and the perch were in readiness for market when he reached the shore. After securing the boat, he hastened with the fish to the cottage, where his dinner was waiting for him. His mother congratulated him upon his success, and told himthat Captain Littleton had been to see her during his absence, and that she was entirely reconciled to his new occupation.
The most difficult part of the business, in Paul's estimation, was yet to come—that of selling the fish. As he left the house with his precious load of merchandise, he could not help feeling that the grand scheme was still an experiment, for it had not been demonstrated that Bayville would buy six or eight dozen of perch every day. It was a large place, containing about six thousand inhabitants; and as he walked along, he brought his mathematical knowledge into use in an attempt to convince himself that the market was large enough to keep him busy during the season. At the least calculation there were six hundred families in the town, and probably a thousand. If each family would buy a mess of perch once in ten days, it would make six hundred dozen in that time, or sixty dozen a day; but, to make allowance for over-estimates, he was willing to reduce the total one half, and call it thirty dozen a day. The fisherman would supply a large portion of the demand, but he concluded that he should have no difficulty in selling all the perch he could catch.
Passing the house of Captain Littleton, the next was that of Major Nettle, and he resolved to make his first attempt to sell. The gentleman, was not at home, and the servants didn't know anythingabout it; and he was just leaving when Thomas Nettle accosted him.
"What have you got, Paul?"
"Perch; do your folks want to buy any?"
"Yes, I guess they do. Where did you catch them?"
"Down at Rock Island; I am going down every day."
"Are you, though? I should like to go with you some time."
"I shall be glad to have you. I have gone into this business."
"What for?"
"Since my father died, I have to do something to help my mother," replied Paul, not caring to announce to his friend the whole of his stupendous plan.
"Do you expect to do anything at this business?"
"Certainly I do; I made two dollars at it yesterday."
"Did you though?"
"Do your folks want any perch to-day?"
"I guess they do; how much a dozen?"
"Seventeen cents," replied Paul, who had decided to be moderate in his prices.
"I will speak to my mother."
Thomas returned in a short time, and took two dozen of the fish, and paid the money for them. Overjoyed at this success, he proceeded to thenext house; but though he was eloquent in regard to the freshness and fineness of his wares, he could not make a trade. He met with no better success at the next three or four places at which he called, and he began to feel a little discouraged. But the next house in his way was a large, genteel boarding-house, and he had the satisfaction of selling four dozen at the price he had before fixed, though he had almost made up his mind to let them go at ninepence. The gentleman who kept the house was pleased to get the perch, and wanted the young fisherman to bring him some three times a week for the present, for his boarders were very fond of them.
Paul could scarcely contain himself for the joy he felt, as he glanced at the only remaining dozen of his stock, and at the very next house he disposed of them. With a dollar and nineteen cents in his pocket, he walked towards home, proud as a lord of his success. The result of this day's work afforded him far more satisfaction than that of the preceding day, though the proceeds were considerably less; for he was conscious of the influence of Captain Littleton's generosity in the transaction. But the second day's triumph was achieved by his own unaided labor and skill. What he had done this day was a fair specimen of what he might hope to do in the future.
"Sold out so soon, Paul?" said his mother, as he entered the kitchen.
"Yes; I had good luck. They took four dozen at the boarding-house. I think if I had had twenty dozen I could have sold them all. There is a great deal of difference between perch just out of the water, fresh and good, and perch which have been dragged about in a fish cart, under a hot sun, for two or three days."
Mrs. Duncan fully agreed with this sage remark, and did not think it improved any kind of fish to keep them a great while after they were caught.
"One dollar and nineteen cents, mother; here is the money," continued Paul, emptying the contents of the wallet into her lap. "What do you think of the fishing businessnow, mother?"
"It has proved to be a very good business so far: but you must not expect people to eat perch all the year round, Paul. They will get sick of them after a while."
"Then I shall go farther off; but there are other fish besides perch, and I don't intend to confine my operations to one kind. There are eels, and smelts, and cod, and haddock; and if worse comes to worse, I can go into the clam trade."
"What a boy!" laughed Mrs. Duncan. "You are so determined that I have no doubt you will succeed."
"If I don't, it shall not be my fault," replied Paul, complacently.
"But you don't mean to follow this business all your life?"
"Why not?"
"The life of a fisherman is not the pleasantest in the world."
"That's according to one's taste. If I only had a good boat, I can't think of anything that would suit me better."
"It is hard work."
"So much the better. You said that five dollars a week would support the family. Now, if you have no objection, I will save up all I make over that sum, till I get enough to buy a boat."
"Certainly, Paul; and if you give me three dollars a week, or even two, I can get along very well."
"I shall not do that, mother. I am going to support the family, anyhow; and I wish you wouldn't take any more bags to make."
"You mustn't think of doing too much, Paul."
"Too much! I shall be idle half the time, at this rate. Here I am, with my day's work done at three o'clock in the afternoon. I don't want you to do anything, mother, but take care of the house, as you always used to do."
"There will certainly be no need of it, if you get along as well as you expect. How much will such a boat as you want cost, Paul?"
"Well, I don't know; when I buy I want to get a first-rate one."
"How much do you think."
"Fifty to seventy-five dollars; but I won't think of such a thing yet a while. The old one will do very well for the present. I can save up something every week, and little by little, I shall make up enough to get just such a boat as I want."
"You might take the money from the life insurance; for Mr. Freeman will perhaps sell us the house, if we pay nine hundred dollars down."
"I won't do that, mother. My boat shall be bought with my own earnings."
"I will lend you the money, then."
"No, I won't get in debt."
"But a new boat would be safer."
"The old one is safe enough; all the fault I find with her is, that it takes her so long to get down to the fishing ground."
Paul resolutely refused to run in debt, or to touch the money which had been appropriated for the purchase of the house. He intended, when he had time, to fix up the old boat, and rig a jib on, which he thought would overcome his principal objection to her.
When he went to bed that night, he entered the proceeds of this day's work in his book, and then with pardonable pride, he congratulated himself on the sum total of the earnings of the two days.
The limits of our little volume do not permit us to follow Paul Duncan into the minutiæ of his prosperous business, and we are reminded that great events in his experience are yet to be introduced. He was successful in his undertaking, though, like all in this inconstant world, he was subjected to trials and disappointments. There were some days when it was so rough off the rocks that he could not fish; and there were others when he had to travel many miles before he could sell his fish. During John's vacation, his receipts amounted to about two dollars a day, which went a great way in counter-balancing the ill luck of the next week. On an average, he earned about a dollar a day.
He had won a reputation in Bayville which helped him a great deal in disposing of his merchandise. People saw him working hard to supply the place of his father, and they were glad to encourage him, as there are always found enough who are willing to help those that help themselves. The sympathy and kindness of his neighbors were a great assistance tohim, and no doubt without them his fish would have oftener been a drug in the market.
Paul inherited some portion of his father's mechanical skill; and on the first stormy day after he set up in business, he commenced his contemplated improvements upon the old boat. She was a very poor subject to work upon, but he got out the wood for building a half deck over her, which he fitted on as he had opportunity. A short bowsprit was added to her rig, and his mother made him a jib, which he cut out himself. Thus refitted, the old boat, though her main defects could not be remedied, was much improved, and worked better than before. She was far from coming up to the young fisherman's ideal of a trim craft, and he cherished a strong hope that before many years had passed away, he should have the satisfaction of sailing such a boat as his fancy had already clearly defined. The time was closer at hand than he suspected.
One day, early in the month of July, Paul was making his way home from the rock in a smart blow. While he was fishing, the wind had hauled round to the northeast, and continued to freshen till it became a reefing breeze. He had got but a small fare of fish, for the heavy sea had interfered with his operations. He disliked to leave the fishing ground, but it was sufficiently evident to him that a storm was approaching. He had often promised his mother that he would be very careful, and the present seemed a proper time to exercise that caution. John waswith him, and in spite of this bold youth's most earnest protest, he got up the anchor and made sail for home.
"What are you afraid of, Paul?" demanded John, with evident disgust.
"You are a pretty sailor! Don't you see it is going to blow a young hurricane?"
"What if it does? I should like to be out in a blow once. I want to know what it's like," replied the reckless boy.
"You may know now, before you get home. Don't you see the white caps on the waves off to windward?"
"I like the looks of them, and it's fun to skip over them."
"I don't want to worry mother. She's at the window by this time, looking out for the boat. Do you think there is any fun in making her uneasy? Besides, I don't think it is safe to stay here any longer. There comes the Flyaway under jib and mainsail."
"What of it?"
"She went down to be gone all day. What do you suppose she's coming back for at this early hour?"
"I suppose Captain Littleton didn't want to make the women seasick," promptly replied John.
"Would the foresail make them sick? She has taken the bonnet off her jib too. Captain Littletonknows when to expect a gale, and we shall have it soon."
So it seemed by the working of the little boat, for she tossed up and down on the waves like a feather, and thrust her bows under so far, that John had to waste some of his enthusiasm upon the baling kettle. Paul had not hoisted the jib, for the mainsail was all the old craft could stagger under, and her youthful skipper expected soon to be obliged to reef. The Flyaway was at the eastward of the island, driving over and through the waves like a phantom. The spray was dashing over her bows, and her jib was wet several feet above the boltrope. She was working to windward till she could clear the island, when she would have the wind free into Bayville Harbor. Perhaps some of my non-nautical young readers will need to be informed that working to windward means sailing in a zigzag line in the direction from which the wind blows.
The Flyaway ran close in to Rock Island, and tacked at the very spot where Paul had just been lying at anchor, and his boat was not more than the eighth of a mile distant from her. The boys could distinctly see the ladies and gentlemen on board of her, and replied to signals of recognition that were made to them. There were several children on her deck, and Paul identified Carrie Littleton in a little girl of ten, who was waving her handkerchief to him. As the yacht came up into the wind, and before the boom swung over, the young lady jumpedupon the taffrail to obtain a better view of them. To the horror of all who saw the accident, the heavy spar struck her on the shoulder, and she was knocked overboard. The Flyaway, catching the wind, flew from the spot, and when the little girl rose to the surface of the water, she was out of the reach of those on board of her.
"Heavens and earth!" shouted Paul, jumping up from his seat, as he beheld the catastrophe. "There is Carrie Littleton knocked overboard by the boom!"
"O, dear! She will be drowned!" gasped John.
"Take the helm, John! Don't blubber! Quick!" cried Paul, as he leaped forward, and brailed up the sail. "Now, hard down! Lively!"
The boat, which was making very good headway, came about, and was headed towards the island. Shaking out the sail again, she bore down towards the unfortunate girl. In the meantime, the Flyaway had luffed up; though she was nearer to Carrie than Paul's boat, she was rapidly drifting to leeward. Her tender, which was a light canoe, had been placed upon deck, and the crew were launching her; but as they did so, by the clumsiness of some one engaged in the operation, she filled as she struck the water, and they were obliged to haul her up again with the halliards.
Before they had made fast to the painter of the canoe, Paul had reached the scene of the disaster,but poor Carrie had sunk beneath the angry waves. She had evidently been injured by the blow of the boom, and was unable to make any exertion.
"Now mind your eye, John!" shouted Paul as he dashed off his coat and shoes. "When I dive, throw her up into the wind."
"Look out, Paul; don't do that," remonstrated his brother. "You will be drowned yourself. Fish her up with the boathook. Mother will——"
The intrepid youth, disregarding the terror of his brother, dived over the bow of the boat the moment he saw the form of the poor girl, which was revealed to him by the white dress she wore. John obeyed the instructions he had received, but before Paul reappeared, with the drowning child in his arms, the boat had drifted some distance from the spot.
"Haul aft your sheet!" gasped Paul, when he had regained breath enough to speak.
John obeyed, but his terror had almost paralyzed his arm, and his action was not so prompt as it might have been; but the boat slowly gathered headway, and moved towards the struggling youth. Paul battled manfully with the big waves, which repeatedly swept him under, and determined to die rather than drop his helpless burden.
As the boat came down upon him, Paul supported Carrie with one arm, and grasped the gunwale with the other.
"Luff up!" said he. "Now, catch hold of her,and help haul her in," he added, as the boat came up into the wind.
John did his best, but he was not strong enough to draw the lifeless form into the boat. Bidding him hold on for his life, Paul leaped into the boat, and drew her in.
"Keep her away for the yacht," cried Paul, as he placed the form of the poor girl—for he was not certain that it was still animated by the vital spark—in the bottom of the boat.
Turning her face down, in order to let the water run out of her mouth, he used all the efforts his knowledge and his means would permit to promote her restoration. In a few moments the boat came alongside the Flyaway, though John, in the excitement of the moment, stove her gunwale in, and had nearly added another calamity to the chapter of accidents.
Captain Littleton jumped into the boat as she struck the side, and seizing the beloved child in his arms, leaped back upon deck, and then rushed into the cabin.
"Hand up your painter, Paul, and come on board, both of you," said Captain Gordon, the skipper of the Flyaway.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied Paul, too much interested in the fate of poor Carrie to think of parting company with the yacht.
The fishing boat was made fast at the stern of the Flyaway, and she stood off again to clear the rocksaround the island. All the party on board had followed Captain Littleton into the cabin, to learn the condition of his child, or to render assistance in restoring her. It was very fortunate that Dr. Lawrence was one of the company, for he was a very skilful man, and under his direction the measures for the relief of Carrie were conducted.
The Flyaway had reached her berth at the mouth of the river before the efforts for the child's restoration promised to be effectual. It was found that the blow of the boom had not seriously injured her. In an hour after the yacht reached her moorings, she was able to speak, and the doctor ordered her to be taken home.
Before the yacht reached her berth, a pair of anxious eyes, from the chamber window of the cottage, had discovered the dingy old boat towing at her stern. The mother's heart almost failed her, as her imagination pictured some dreadful calamity that had happened to her boys. Filled with dreadful forebodings, she seized her shawl and bonnet, and hastened to the landing, in the rear of Captain Littleton's house. They were bringing home the boat in which her boys had gone out, and she feared that one or both of them had been lost. She tried to believe that the yacht had overtaken them, and that Captain Littleton had invited them on board; but her fears were stronger than her hopes.
When she reached the landing place, she saw that the gunwale of the old boat was stove, and herheart sank within her. There were several persons at the landing, and she told them what she feared. One of them took a skiff and rowed out to the yacht. Paul and John were both in the cabin, and when the messenger came alongside, the captain called them on deck. Seeing Mrs. Duncan on the shore, they got into their boat, and soon joined her.
"I never was so glad to see you before in my life!" exclaimed the delighted mother, clasping them both to her bosom. "Why, Paul, you are as wet as a drowned rat! You have been overboard; I know you have!"
"That's so, mother; but I didn't upset nor fall overboard. I went over of my own free will."
"Yes, he did, mother," interrupted John. "Carrie Littleton was knocked overboard by the boom, the Flyaway's boat got swamped, and she drifted to leeward, and we came about, and bore down on her, and Paul dived after her, and I worked the boat, and we hauled her in, and took her on board the Flyaway—didn't we, Paul?" and John sputtered as though his own mouth had been full of salt water.
"We did," replied Paul.
"You will catch your death a-cold, Paul. Do come home now."
"I must take the boat round."
One of the bystanders, all of whom had listened with eager interest to the particulars of the accident, volunteered to perform this service for him;and Paul, shivering with cold, ran home, followed by his mother and John.
"Where is Paul Duncan?" demanded Captain Littleton, after the doctor had ordered his daughter to be carried ashore.
"Gone, half an hour ago, sir," replied Captain Gordon.
"God bless him!" fervently ejaculated the grateful father; and he proceeded to give directions for the removal of Carrie.
The heroic act of Paul, in saving the life of Carrie Littleton, was the principal topic of conversation in Bayville for the next week. Of course it was the unanimous vote of the people that Paul was a hero, and there was some talk of giving him a complimentary dinner, and making speeches at him; but the good sense of the strong-minded men and women of the place prevailed, and he was not treated with the honors that turn the head of a third-rate politician. But everybody thought something ought to be done, and after a full week had passed by, everybody wondered that Captain Littleton did not do something; that he did not make Paul a present of a gold medal, or give him a check for a hundred dollars. The gossips could not find out that he had done anything more than thank Paul, with tears of gratitude in his eyes, for the noble service he had rendered him. The captain had the reputation of being a very liberal man, but the glory of his good name seemed to be rapidly passing away.
Paul attended to his business as usual, and seemed to give but little heed to the compliments that wereshowered upon him. When any one spoke to him about his gallant deed, he tried to turn it off, declared he had only done his duty, as sentimental heroes generally do, and he did not think he had done any very great thing, after all. But notwithstanding all this seeming indifference, Paul was proud of the act that had made him famous. He was conscious that he had done a noble deed; and his own heart assured him he deserved the praise which was so liberally bestowed upon him.
Above all, he was grateful for the opportunity of serving Captain Littleton, who had been so kind to him and to his mother. He was happy in the thought of having saved that darling child from a watery grave, and he had given the fond father a good reason for being his friend as long as he lived. Paul never thought of any reward; he hoped Captain Littleton would not give him anything, for that would deprive him of one half the satisfaction the act had afforded him.
Another week passed by, and still, to the astonishment and disgust of the gossips of Bayville, Captain Littleton took no further notice of Paul's heroic deed. Mrs. Green, who was Mrs. Duncan's nearest neighbor, ventured to suggest that the captain was a mean man, and she wouldn't have thought it of him.
"What would you have him do?" asked Paul, to whom Captain Littleton's reputation was as dear as that of his mother, or even of his dead father.
"What would I have him do?" repeated the old lady. "Why, he ought to give you a hundred dollar bill, all for your own. At least he ought to give you fifty."
"I don't want anything, Mrs. Green," said Paul stoutly.
"That's nothing to do with it. He could just offer it—couldn't he? He is a rich man, and a hundred dollars is no more to him than a hundred cents to me. It is downright mean, there."
"I don't think so, marm. Captain Littleton has done everything he could for mother and for me, and I'm sure I was glad to have a chance to do something for him."
"That may be; but it don't look well for a rich man like him to let you save his little daughter from drowning, and then only say thank'ee for it."
"I think it does, Mrs. Green, and I hope he will let the matter rest just where it is."
"There is no danger now but what he will. If he ever meant to do anything for you, he would have done it before now."
"I am perfectly contented, marm, and I only wish the neighbors were as easy about it as I am."
"It ain't none of the neighbors' business, I know," added Mrs. Green, a little tartly; "but I can't look on and see such meanness without speaking of it. It don't make no difference who I say it to, neither; I had just as lief say it to Captain Littleton, as say it to you and your mother. That is just what Ithink, and I may just as well speak it as think it."
It was a remarkable fact, under the circumstances, that Mrs. Green never did give Captain Littleton the benefit of her opinion on this subject. Perhaps she wronged him by her silence, thus denying him the practical advantage of her criticism for the direction of his future life. But Paul never liked Mrs. Green so well after this, for she had spoken ill of him whom he honored and esteemed.
Our young fisherman, apparently unmoved by the honors that clustered around his name, pursued his humble avocation with pride and pleasure—with pride, because he had been successful by his own unaided exertions; with pleasure, because he was actually relieving his mother from the entire burden of supporting the family. Since the rescue of Carrie, perch, tom-cod, flounders, and tautog had been in greater demand than ever, for many of the rich people bought fish, even when they did not want them, just for the sake of patronizing the young hero; and the poor people ate fish oftener than they would if their admiration for the little fish merchant had been less.
The long summer vacation had commenced, and the boys were let loose from school for six weeks. John felt as though he had been emancipated from a dreadful drudgery. He could scarcely repress his exuberant joy, as he carried home his books on the last day of the term. Paul reproved him for hisdislike of school, and told him he might see the day when he would appreciate the advantages of a good education.
"I don't dislike school," growled John, though it was a good-natured growl.
"Yes you do; you hate school," added Paul. "If you did not, you would not be so glad to get away from it."
"'Not that I love Cæsar less, but I love Rome more,'" replied John, laughing.
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Paul, amused at the attitude into which his brother threw himself as he uttered the quotation.
"Not that I love school less, but I love fishing more; that's the idea," replied John.
"I hope you will get enough of it in six weeks, then."
"I hope so, but I don't believe I shall. At any rate, I'm going every day, and I'm going to be first mate of the Blowout."
"The what?"
"The Blowout; that's what I have christened the old boat."
"That's a very beautiful name."
"And she's a very beautiful boat," laughed John. "I wish you had a better one."
"So do I; perhaps I may have, one of these days."
"Somebody's got a new one, Paul," added John.
"There is one moored off Mercantile Point. Did you see her?"
"No; whose is she?"
"I don't know; I saw her come up the bay as I came home from school. She's a perfect beauty."
"We will go over and see her by and by," said Paul, for a new boat was an object of interest to him, and he always improved the opportunity to inspect any strange craft that visited the bay. "But, John, we must be off early on Monday morning, and the jib of the Blowout, as you call her, wants mending. We will go down and sew it up."
The brothers repaired to the beach, where the old boat was now high and dry upon the sand and taking a little box containing the thread, needles, and wax for mending the sail, they commenced their labors. Their busy hands soon completed the task, and the Blowout was otherwise prepared for duty on Monday, for Paul never went near the boat on Sunday. They were now ready to visit the new craft; but when they had pushed their boat down into the water, Paul saw a gentleman enter the cottage of his mother.
It was Captain Littleton; and Paul delayed their departure, thinking that he might want to see him. Presently his friend appeared on the bluff.
"Are you busy, Paul?" he shouted.
"No, sir; I will be with you in a moment."
"Stay where you are;" and Captain Littletondescended the steep path which led to the beach. "You were going out—were you?"
"We were, sir; but it is of no consequence," replied Paul. "John says there is a new boat over by the Point, and we were about going to see her."
"Very well, I will go with you;" and Captain Littleton stepped into the boat.
"Our boat is not a very nice one for you to sail in," apologized Paul.
"I have been in worse ones than this, Paul; and I have seen the time when I would have given all I had in the world for even so dingy a boat as this."
"When was that, sir?" asked John, very promptly; for he stood his ground, unawed by the dignity of the richest man in Bayville.
"Get your boat under way, and I will tell you about it," replied Captain Littleton.
Paul shook out the mainsail, and then pushed off the boat, while John hoisted the jib. The former then took his place at the helm, and the latter seated himself amidships, both eager to hear the story of the captain. It was fortunate for them that the old Blowout was a very heavy sailer; otherwise they could not have obtained the whole of the story, which was long and very interesting and exciting. We have not space to repeat the story, but it was all about a shipwreck, and clinging to a broken spar for forty-eight hours, without food or water, and being rescued when life was nearly gone.
"So you see, Paul, I should have been verycomfortable even in a worse boat than yours," added the story-teller, as he completed his narrative.
"I should like to be shipwrecked once," said John, musing.
"Should you, my fine fellow?" exclaimed the captain.
"I should, sir, just to see how it would seem."
"It would seem very uncomfortable, my boy; and I recommend you never to express such a wish again. Many shore people think there is something very fine and romantic about the sea, or even about a wreck; but half a day's experience would teach them better. For my part, I was very glad when I escaped the necessity of going to sea, even as master of a vessel."
"There is the new boat," interrupted Paul, as the Blowout rounded Dog Island, which had before concealed the new craft from their sight.
"Isn't she aripper!" exclaimed John.
"Don't use such words, John," added Paul, in a low tone.
"She's a very fine boat," said John.
"She has a broad beam, but she looks as though she would sail well;" Paul continued.
"Keep her away a little; we will go on board of her if you like," said Captain Littleton.
Paul, though he would not have ventured on board of the new craft if he had been alone, ran the Blowout alongside of her, for he was satisfied that the presence of his friend would free him from thecharge of trespass. John made fast the painter to the new boat, and the party leaped on board.
"Isn't she a beauty!" ejaculated John.
"A perfect beauty," added Paul, with enthusiasm. "She will sail like a bird."
"You see she has air chambers at the bow and stern," said Captain Littleton. "You cannot sink her."
The boys examined her from stem to stern, and their eyes sparkled with pleasure, as they rested upon her useful and elegant appurtenances. John looked over her gracefully rounded stern, and found there the words,Fawn—Bayville, in raised gilt letters; and he immediately gave utterance to his opinion that the Fawn of Bayville couldn't be beaten.
"How do you like her, Paul?" quietly asked Captain Littleton.
"First rate, sir; she is the finest boat I ever saw."
"Do you think she would sail well?"
"I know she would."