donald's heart beat violently as he hastened towards the cottage. before he could reach it, another doctor drew up at the door, and it was painfully certain that one of the family was very sick—dangerously so, or two physicians would not have been summoned. it might be his father, his mother, or his sister barbara; and whichever it was, it was terrible to think of. his legs almost gave away under him, when he staggered up to the cottage. as he did so, he recalled the fact that his father had been ailing when he went away in the sea foam. it must be his father, therefore, who was now so desperately ill as to require the attendance of two doctors.
the cottage was a small affair, with a pretty flower garden in front of it, and a whitewashed fence around it. but small as it was, it was not[64] owned by the boat-builder, who, though not in debt, had hardly anything of this world's goods—possibly a hundred dollars in the savings' bank, and the furniture in the cottage. though he was as prudent and thrifty as scotchmen generally are, and was not beset by their "often infirmity," he had not been very prosperous. the business of ship-building had been almost entirely suspended, and for several years only a few small vessels had been built in the city. ramsay had always obtained work; but he lived well, and gave his daughter and his son an excellent education.
alexander ramsay's specialty was the building of yachts and boats, and he determined to make a better use of his skill than selling it with his labor for day wages. he went into business for himself as a boat-builder. when he established himself, he had several hundred dollars, with which he purchased stock and tools. he had built several sail-boats, but the sea foam was the largest job he had obtained. doubtless with life and health he would have done a good business. donald had always been interested in boats, and he knew the name and shape of every timber and plank in[65] the hull of a vessel, as well as every spar and rope. though only sixteen, he was an excellent mechanic himself. his father had taken great pains to instruct him in the use of tools, and in draughting and modelling boats and larger craft. he not only studied the art in theory, but he worked with his own hands. in the parlor of the little cottage was a full-rigged brig, made entirely by him. the hull was not a log, shaped and dug out, but regularly constructed, with timbers and planking. when he finished it, only a few months before his introduction to the reader, he felt competent to build a yacht like the sea foam, without any assistance; but boys are generally over-confident, and possibly he overrated his ability.
with his heart rising up into his throat, donald walked towards the cottage. as he passed the whitewashed gate, one of the neighbors came out at the front door. she was an elderly woman, and she looked very sad as she glanced at the boy.
"i'm glad you have come, donald; but i'm afraid he'll never speak to you again," said she.
"is it my father?" gasped the poor fellow.[66]
"it is; and he's very sick indeed."
"what ails him?"
"that's more than the doctors can tell yet," added the woman. "they say it's very like the cholera; and i suppose it's cholera-morbus. he has been ailing for several days, and he didn't take care of himself. but go in, donald, and see him while you may."
the young man entered the cottage. the doctors, his mother and sister, were all doing what they could for the sufferer, who was enduring, with what patience he could, the most agonizing pain. donald went into the chamber where his father lay writhing upon the bed. the physicians were at work upon him; but he saw his son as he entered the room and held out his hand to him. the boy took it in his own. it was cold and convulsed.
"i'm glad you've come, donald," groaned he, uttering the words with great difficulty. "be a good boy always, and take care of your mother and sister."
"i will, father," sobbed donald, pressing the cold hand he held.
"i was afraid i might never see you again," gasped mr. ramsay.[67]
"o, don't give up, my man," said dr. wadman. "you may be all right in a few hours."
the sick man said no more. he was in too much pain to speak again, and dr. wadman sent donald to the kitchen for some hot water. when he returned with it he was directed to go to the apothecary's for an ounce of chloroform, which the doctors were using internally and externally, and had exhausted their supply. donald ran all the way as though the life of his father depended upon his speed. he was absent only a few minutes, but when he came back there was weeping and wailing in the little cottage by the sea-side. his father had breathed his last, even while the doctors were hopefully working to save him.
"o, donald, donald!" cried mrs. ramsay, as she threw her arms around his neck. "your poor father is gone!"
the boy could not speak; he could not even weep, though his grief was not less intense than that of his mother and sister. they groaned, and sobbed, and sighed together, till kind neighbors led them from the chamber of death, vainly endeavoring to comfort them. it was hours before they were even tolerably calm; but they could[68] speak of nothing, think of nothing, but him who was gone. the neighbors did all that it was necessary to do, and spent the night with the afflicted ones, who could not separate to seek their beds. the rising sun of the sabbath found them still up, and still weeping—those who could weep. it was a long, long sunday to them, and every moment of it was given to him who had been a devoted husband and a tender father. on monday, all too soon, was the funeral; and all that was mortal of alexander ramsay was laid in the silent grave, never more to be looked upon by those who had loved him, and whom he had loved.
the little cottage was like a casket robbed of its single jewel to those who were left. earth and life seemed like a terrible blank to them. they could not accustom themselves to the empty chair at the window where he sat when his day's work was done; to the vacant place at the table, where he had always invoked the blessing of god on the frugal fare before them; and to the silent and deserted shop on the other side of the street, from which the noise of his hammer and the clip of his adze had come to them. a week wore away[69] and nothing was done but the most necessary offices of the household. the neighbors came frequently to beguile their grief, and the minister made several visits, bearing to them the consolations of the gospel, and the tender message of a genuine sympathy.
but it is not for poor people long to waste themselves in idle lamentations. the problem of the future was forced upon mrs. ramsay for solution. if they had been able only to live comfortably on the earnings of the dead husband, what should they do now when the strong arm that delved for them was silent in the cold embrace of death? they must all work now; but even then the poor woman could hardly see how she could keep her family together. barbara was eighteen, but she had never done anything except to assist her mother, whose health was not very good, about the house. she was a graduate of the high school, and competent, so far as education was concerned, to teach a school if she could obtain a situation. mrs. ramsay might obtain work to be done at home, but it was only a pittance she could earn besides doing her housework. she wished to have donald finish his education at the[70] high school, but she was afraid this was impossible.
donald, still mourning for his father, who had so constantly been his companion in the cottage and in the shop, that he could not reconcile himself to the loss, hardly thought of the future, till his mother spoke to him about it. he had often, since that bitter saturday night, recalled the last words his father had ever spoken to him, in which he had told him to be a good boy always and take care of his mother and sister; but they had not much real significance to him till his mother spoke to him. then he understood them; then he saw that his father was conscious of the near approach of death, and had given his mother and his sister into his keeping. then, with the memory of him who was gone lingering near and dear in his heart, a mighty resolution was born in his soul, though it did not at once take a practical form.
"don't worry about the future, mother," said he, after he had listened to her rather hopeless statement of her views.
"i don't worry about it, donald, for while we have our health and strength, we can work and[71] make a living. i want to keep you in school till the end of the year, but i—"
"of course i can't go to school any more, mother. i am ready to go to work," interposed donald.
"i know you are, my boy; but i want you to finish your school course very much."
"i haven't thought a great deal about the matter yet, mother, but i think i shall be able to do what father told me."
"your father did not expect you to take care of us till you had grown up, i'm sure," added mrs. ramsay, who had heard the dying injunction of her husband to their son.
"i don't know that he did; but i shall do the best i can."
"poor father! he never thought of anything but us," sighed mrs. ramsay; and her woman's tears flowed freely again, so freely that there was no power of utterance left to her.
donald wept, too, as he thought of him who was not only his father, but his loving companion in study, in work, and in play. he left the house and walked over to the shop. for the first time since the sad event, he unlocked the door[72] and entered. the tears trickled down his cheeks as he glanced at the bench where his father had done his last day's work. the planes and a few other tools were neatly arranged upon it, and his apron was spread over them. on the walls were models of boats and yachts, and in one corner were the "moulds." donald seated himself on the tool-chest, and looked around at every familiar object in the shop. he was thinking of something, but his thought had not yet taken definite form. while he was considering the present and the future, samuel rodman entered the shop.
"do you suppose i can get the model of the sea foam, don john?" inquired he, after something had been said about the deceased boat-builder.
"i think you can. the model and the drawings are all here," replied donald.
"we intend to build the maud this season, and i want her to be as near like the sea foam as possible."
"who is going to build her?" asked donald, his interest suddenly kindled by the question.
"i don't know; we haven't spoken to any one about it yet," replied samuel. "there isn't any[73]body in these parts that can build her as your father would."
don john wants a job. page 73. don john wants a job. page 73.
"sam, can't i do this job for you?" said donald.
"you?"
"yes, i. you know i used to work with my father, and i understand his way of doing things."
"well, i hadn't thought that you could do it; but i will talk with my father about it," answered samuel, who appeared to have some doubts about the ability of his friend to do so large a job.
"i don't mean to do it all myself, sam. i will hire one or two first-rate ship carpenters," added donald. "she shall be just like the sea foam, except a little alteration, which my father explained to me, in the bow and run."
"do you think you could do the job, don john?" asked samuel, with an incredulous smile.
"i know i could," said donald, earnestly. "if i had time enough i could build her all alone."
"we want her as soon as we can get her."
"she shall be finished as quick as my father could have done her."[74]
"i will see my father about it to-night, don john, and let you know to-morrow. i came down to see about the model."
samuel rodman left the shop and walked down the beach to the sail-boat in which he had come. donald was almost inspired by the idea which had taken possession of him. if he could only carry on his father's business, he could make money enough to support the family; and knowing every stick in the hull of a vessel, he felt competent to do so. full of enthusiasm, he hastened into the cottage to unfold his brilliant scheme to his mother. he stated his plan to her, but at first she shook her head.
"do you think you could build a yacht, donald?" she asked.
"i am certain i could. didn't you hear father say that my brig contained every timber and plank that belongs to a vessel?"
"yes, and that the work was done as well as he could do it himself; but that does not prove that you can carry on the business."
"i want one or two men, if we build the maud, because it would take too long for me to do all the work alone."[75]
"the maud?"
"that was the yacht that father was to build next. i asked sam rodman to give me the job, and he is going to talk with his father about it to-night."
mrs. ramsay was rather startled at this announcement, which indicated that her son really meant business in earnest.
"do you think he will let you do it?" she asked.
"i hope he will."
"are you sure you can make anything if you build the yacht?"
"father made over three hundred dollars on the sea foam, besides his day wages."
"that is no reason why you can do it."
"all his models, moulds, and draughts are in the shop. i know where they are, and just what to do with them. i hope you will let me try it, mother."
"suppose you don't make out?"
"but i shall make out."
"if mr. rodman refuses to accept the yacht after the job is done, what will you do?"
"i shall have her myself then, and i can make lots of money taking out parties in her."[76]
"your father was paid for the sea foam as the work progressed. he had received eight hundred dollars on her when she was finished."
"i know it; and captain patterdale owes four hundred more. if you let me use some of the money to buy stock and pay the men till i get payment on the job, i shall do very well."
"we must have something to live on. after i have paid the funeral expenses and other bills, this money that captain patterdale owes will be all i have."
"but mr. rodman will pay me something on the job, when he is satisfied that the work will be done."
the widow was not very clear about the business; but she concluded, at last, that if mr. rodman would give him the job, she would allow him to undertake it. donald was satisfied, and went back to the shop. he opened his father's chest and took out his account book. turning to a page which was headed "sea foam," he found every item of labor and expenditure charged to her. every day's work, every foot of stock, every pound of nails, every article of brass or hardware, and the cost of sails and cordage,[77] were carefully entered on the account. from this he could learn the price of everything used in the construction of the yacht, for his guidance in the great undertaking before him. but he was quite familiar before with the cost of everything used in building a boat. on a piece of smooth board, he figured up the probable cost, and assured himself he could make a good job of the building of the maud.
the next day was saturday—two weeks after the organization of the yacht club. there had been a grand review a week before, which donald did not attend. the yachtmen had taken their mothers, sisters, and other friends on an excursion down the bay, and given them a collation at turtle head. on the saturday in question, a meeting of the club at the head had been called to complete the arrangements for a regatta, and the committee on regattas were to make their report. donald had been requested to attend in order to measure the yachts. he did not feel much like taking part in the sports of the club, but he decided to perform the duty required of him. he expected to see samuel rodman on this occasion, and to learn the de[78]cision of his father in regard to the building of the maud.
after breakfast he embarked in the sail-boat which had belonged to his father, and with a fresh breeze stood over to turtle head. he had dug some clams early in the morning, and told his mother he should bring home some fish which he intended to catch after the meeting of the club. as the boat sped on her way, he thought of his grand scheme to carry on his father's business, and everything seemed to depend upon mr. rodman's decision. he hoped for the best, but he trembled for the result. when he reached his destination, he found another boat at the head, and soon discovered laud cavendish on the bluff.
"hallo, don john!" shouted the swell, as donald stepped on shore.
"how are you, laud? you are out early."
"not very; i came ashore here to see if i couldn't find some clams," added laud, as he held up a clam-digger he carried in his hand—a kind of trowel fixed in a shovel-handle.
"you can't find any clams here," said donald, wondering that even such a swell should expect to find them there.[79]
"i am going down to camden to stay over sunday, and i thought i might fish a little on the way."
"you will find some farther down the shore, where there is a soft beach. do you get off every saturday now, laud?"
"get off? yes; i get off every day. i'm out of a job."
"i thought you were at miller's store."
"i was there; but i'm not now. miller shoved me out. do you know of any fellow that has a good boat to sell?"
"what kind of a boat?"
"well, one like the skylark and the sea foam."
"no; i don't know of any one around here. do you want to buy one?"
"yes; i thought i would buy one, if i could get her about right. she must be cheap."
"how cheap do you expect to buy a boat like the sea foam?" asked donald, wondering what a young man out of business could be thinking about when he talked of buying a yacht.
"four or five hundred dollars."
"the sea foam cost twelve hundred."[80]
"that's a fancy price. the skylark didn't cost but five hundred."
"do you want to give five hundred for a boat?"
"not for myself, don john. i was going to buy one for another man. i must be going now," added laud, as he went down to his boat.
hoisting his sail, he shoved off, and stood over towards searsport. donald walked up the slope to the head, from which he could see the yacht club fleet as soon as it sailed from the city.
