The Rover Boys on the Ocean Part 2

"You can't prove I ran you down."

"Don't you dare to have us hauled up," put in Bill Goss. "It was an accident, jest as John says. I reckon as how it will teach ye a lesson not to follow us ag'in."

By this time the two yachts were once more so far apart that talking from one to the other became difficult. Besides this, the Rover boys felt that they must turn their whole attention to the _Spray_, so no more was said.

The yacht had been struck just at the water line and the hole made in her side was all of six inches in diameter. Through this the water was pouring into the hold at a lively rate.

"We're going down as sure as guns," groaned Tom. "Steer her right for the sh.o.r.e, Sam." This was done, and just as the _Spray_ began to settle they ran upon a muddy and rocky flat about thirty feet from the river bank proper.

"There, we can't go down now," said d.i.c.k, with something of a sigh of relief. "Let us lower the mainsail and jib before the wind sends us over on our beam ends."

The others understood the value of the advice, and soon the mainsail of the yacht came down with a bang, and the jib followed. The _Spray_ seemed inclined to list to port, but stopped settling when her deck line touched the surface of the river.

"That settles yachting for the present," said d.i.c.k in deep disgust.

"And the worst of it is, we haven't even a small boat to go ash.o.r.e in," added Sam. "What's to do?"

"There is a rowboat putting out from the sh.o.r.e now," cried Tom.

"Hullo, there!" he shouted, and waved his hand.

The shout was returned, and the rowboat was headed, in their direction. As it came closer they saw that its occupant was a middle-aged man of pleasant appearance.

"So you had a smash-up, eh?" shouted the man, as soon as he came near. "Anybody hurt?"

"Our boat is hurt," answered Tom dryly.

"Much of a hole?"

"Big enough to put us on the bottom."

"So I see. Want me to take you ash.o.r.e?"

"Yes," put in d.i.c.k, "if you will be kind enough to do it."

"Certainly; always willing to aid anybody in distress. That other craft run you down in short order, didn't she?"

"Did you see it?" burst out Sam eagerly.

"To be sure I did."

"Then you know it was her fault."

"I do. She had no right to follow you up as she did."

"I'm glad you saw the mix-up, Mr..."

"Martin Harris is my name. I'm an old boatman around here--keep boats to hire, and the like. And who is this I'm to take ash.o.r.e?"

"My name is Sam Rover. These are my two brothers, d.i.c.k and Tom."

"Do you know who it was ran into you?"

"It was the _Falcon_, a yacht owned by a Mr. Fenwick. His son and a man he called Bill Goss were aboard."

At this Martin Harris drew down his mouth. "A bad set, those. I know 'em well."

"And we know, Fenwick, too," put in d.i.c.k, "He's a regular sneak."

"That's right--takes after his father, who did his best to defraud me in a boat deal. And that Bill Goss is a sneak, too, and worse," and Martin Harris shook his head decidedly.

"Well, we can't talk about those people now," said d.i.c.k. "We're in a mess and must get out of it the best way we can. As you are an old boatman, what would you advise us to do?"

"Come ash.o.r.e with me and then get Dan Haskett to take your boat in charge and fix her up. He can stop that leak somehow and pump her out and have her all right inside of twenty-four hours."

"Where can we find this Haskett?"

"Come into my boat and I'll take you to him."

The rowboat was now close at hand, and one after another the Rover boys stowed themselves away in the craft. Then Martin Harris took up the oars and started for the river bank. He turned down the stream a bit and landed them at an old dock over which hung the sign: "Daniel Haskett, Boat Builder and Repairer jobs Promptly Attended to--Charges Small."

Dan Haskett proved to be an elderly man, who was somewhat deaf, and it took the boys some time to make him understand the situation.

"We've had a smash-up," began d.i.c.k.

"Cash up?" said the deaf man. "Cash up for what?"

"We've had a smash-up!" repeated the boy in a louder tone. "We want our boat mended."

"What's ended?" asked the boat builder. "Your boat?"

"Almost ended," roared Tom. "We--want--you--to--fix--up--our--boat,"

he yelled.

"Oh, all right. Where is she?"

d.i.c.k pointed with his finger, and at once the boat builder understood. "There's a hole in her side," bawled the boy. "We want it patched up."

"All right; I can do that."

"Can we have her by tomorrow?"

"How's that?" And Dan Haskett placed his hand to his ear.

"Can--we--have--her--by--tomorrow?" yelled d.i.c.k.

"I guess so. I'll have to see how badly she is damaged first."

Haskett got out a small boat of his own and, taking d.i.c.k with him, rowed over to the wreck. He p.r.o.nounced the injury small and said the boys could have their boat by noon the next day. The charges would be twelve or fifteen dollars.