"What are you doing here, Don John?" demanded Captain Shivernock, as he ascended the steps of the piazza.

"I came to see you, sir," replied Donald, respectfully.

"Well, you see me—don't you?"

"I do, sir."

"Have you been talking to Sykes and his wife?" asked the captain, sternly.

"I have, sir."

"Have you told them that you saw me on the island?"

"No, sir; not them, nor anybody else."

"It's well for you that you haven't," added the captain, shaking his head—a significant gesture, which seemed to relate to the future, rather than to the present. "If you lisp a syllable of[118] it, you will need a patch on your skull.—Now," he continued, "what do you want of me?"

"I wanted to talk about the Juno with you. Perhaps I can find a customer for you."

"Come into the house," growled the captain, as he stalked through the door.

Donald followed him into a sitting-room, on one side of which was a secretary, provided with a writing-desk. The captain tossed his cap and overcoat into a chair, and seated himself at the desk. He picked up a quill pen, and began to write as though he intended to scratch a hole through the paper, making noise enough for a small locomotive. He finished the writing, and signed his name to it. Then he cast the contents of a sand-box upon it, returning to it the portion which did not adhere to the paper. The document looked as though it had been written with a handspike, or as though the words had been ploughed in, and a furrow of sand left to form the letters.

"Here!" said the captain, extending the paper to his visitor, with a jerk, as though he was performing a most ungracious office.

"What is it, sir?" asked Donald, as he took the document.[119]

"Can't you read?" growled the strange man.

Under ordinary circumstances Donald could read—could read writing when not more than half the letters were merged into straight lines; but it required all his skill, and not a little of his Scotch-Yankee guessing ability, to decipher the vagrant, staggering characters which the captain had impressed with so much force upon the paper. It proved to be a bill of sale of the Juno, in due form, and for the consideration of three hundred dollars.

"Surely you cannot mean this, Captain Shivernock?" exclaimed the amazed young man.

"Can't I? Do you think I'm a lunatic?" stormed the captain.

Donald did think so, but he was not so imprudent as to say it.

"I can't pay you three hundred dollars for the boat," pleaded he.

"Nobody asked you to pay a red cent. The boat is yours. If you don't want her, sell her to the first man who is fool enough to buy her. That's all."

"I'm very grateful to you for your kindness, Captain Shivernock; and I hope—"[120]

"All stuff!" interposed the strange man, savagely. "You are like the rest of the world, and next week you would be as ready to kick me as any other man would be, if you dared to do so. You needn't stop any longer to talk that sort of bosh to me. It will do for Sunday Schools and prayer meetings."

"But I am really—"

"No matter if you are really. Shut up!"

"I hope I shall be able to do something to serve you."

"Bah!"

"Have you heard the news, Captain Shivernock?" asked Donald, suddenly changing the topic.

"What news?"

"It's in the Age. A man over in Lincolnville, by the name of Hasbrook, was taken out of his bed last night, and severely beaten."

"Hasbrook! Served him right!" exclaimed the captain, with a rough string of profanity, which cooled the blood of the listener. "He is the biggest scoundrel in the State of Maine, and I am much obliged to the man who did it. I would have taken a hand with him at the game, if I had been there."
The Bill of Sale. Page 119. The Bill of Sale. Page 119.

[121]

This was equivalent to saying that he was not there.

"Do you know this Hasbrook?" asked Donald.

"Do I know him? He swindled me out of a thousand dollars, and I ought to know him. If the man that flogged him hasn't finished him, I'll pound him myself when I catch him in the right place," replied the strange man, violently. "Who did the job, Don John?"

"I don't know, sir. He hasn't been discovered yet."

"If he is discovered, I'll give him five hundred dollars, and pay the lawyers for keeping him out of jail. I wish I had done it myself; it would make me feel good."

Donald was entirely satisfied that Captain Shivernock had not done it. He was pleased, even rejoiced, that his investigation had resulted so decidedly in the captain's favor, for he would have been very sorry to feel obliged to disregard the injunction of secrecy which had been imposed upon him.

"Did you fall in with any one after we parted this morning?" asked Donald, who desired to know whether the captain had met Laud Caven[122]dish when the two boats appeared to be approaching each other.

"None of your business!" rudely replied the captain, after gazing a moment into the face of the young man, as if to fathom his purpose in asking the question. "Do you think the world won't move on if you don't wind it up? Mind your own business, and don't question me. I won't have anybody prying into my affairs."

"Excuse me, sir; I don't wish to pry into your affairs; and with your permission I will go home now," replied Donald.

"You have my permission to go home," sneered the strange man; and Donald availed himself of it without another instant's delay.

Certainly Captain Shivernock was a very strange man, and Donald could not begin to understand why he had given him the Juno and the sixty dollars in cash. It was plain enough that he had not been near Hasbrook's house, though it was not quite clear how, if he left home at four o'clock, he had got aground eight miles from the city at the same hour; but there was probably some error in Donald's reckoning. The young man went home, and, on the way, having assured[123] himself, to his own satisfaction, that he had no painful duty in regard to the captain to perform, he soon forgot all about the matter in the more engrossing consideration of his great business enterprise. When he entered the cottage, his mother very naturally asked him where he had been; and he gave her all the details of his interview with Mr. Rodman. Mrs. Ramsay was more cheerful than she had been before since the death of her husband, and they discussed the subject till bed time. Donald had seventy-two dollars in his pocket, including his fees for measuring the yachts. It was a new experience for him to keep anything from his mother; but he felt that he could not honorably tell her what had passed between the captain and himself. He could soon work the money into his business, and he need keep it only till Monday. He did not feel just right about it, even after he had convinced himself that he ought not to reveal Captain Shivernock's secret to her; but I must add, confidentially, that it is always best for boys—I mean young men—to tell their mothers "all about it;" and if Donald had done so in this instance, no harm would have come of the telling, and it[124] might have saved him a great deal of trouble, and her a great deal of anxiety, and a great many painful doubts. Donald thought his view was correct; he meant to do exactly right; and he had the courage to do it, even if thereby he incurred the wrath and the vengeance of the strange man.

I have no doubt, from what indications I have of the character of Donald Ramsay, that he tried to learn his Sunday School lesson, tried to give attention to the sermons he heard, and tried to be interested in the good books he essayed to read on Sunday; but I am not sure that he succeeded entirely, for the skeleton frame of the Maud would rise up in his imagination to cloud the vision of higher things, and the remembrance of his relations with Captain Shivernock would thrust itself upon him. Yet it is a great deal even to try to be faithful in one's thoughts, and Donald was generally more successful than on this occasion, for it was not often that he was excited by events so stirring and prospects so brilliant. A single week would be time enough to accustom the young boat-builder to his occupation and restore his mental equilibrium.[125]

The light of Monday morning's sun was very welcome to him; and when only its light gleamed in the gray east, he rose from his bed to begin the labors of the day. His father had enlarged the shop, so that he could build a yacht of the size of the Maud under its roof; and before breakfast time, he had prepared the bed, and levelled the blocks on which the keel was to rest. At seven o'clock Lawrence Kennedy appeared, and together they looked over the stock on hand, and made out a list of the pieces of timber and plank that would be required. At first the journeyman was inclined to take the lead in the business; but he soon found that his youthful employer was entirely familiar with the minutest details of the work, and knew precisely how to get out every stick of the frame. Donald constantly referred to the model of the Sea Foam, which he had already altered in accordance with the suggestions of his father, using the inch scale on which the model was projected, to get the size of the pieces, so that there should be no unnecessary waste in buying.

Kennedy went with him to the lumber wharf, where the stock was carefully selected for the[126] frame. Before dinner it was carted over to the shop, and in the afternoon the work was actually commenced. The keelson, with the aperture for the centre-board nicely adjusted, was la............