by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER IV.
A SAD EVENT IN THE RAMSAY FAMILY.
Donald's heart beat violently as he hastened towards the cottage. Beforehe could reach it, another doctor drew up at the door, and it waspainfully 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 terribleto think of. His legs almost gave away under him, when he staggered upto the cottage. As he did so, he recalled the fact that his father hadbeen 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 attendanceof two doctors.
The cottage was a small affair, with a pretty flower garden in front ofit, and a whitewashed fence around it. But small as it was, it was notowned by the boat-builder, who, though not in debt, had hardly anythingof this world's goods--possibly a hundred dollars in the savings' bank,and the furniture in the cottage. Though he was as prudent and thriftyas Scotchmen generally are, and was not beset by their "ofteninfirmity," he had not been very prosperous. The business ofship-building had been almost entirely suspended, and for several yearsonly a few small vessels had been built in the city. Ramsay had alwaysobtained work; but he lived well, and gave his daughter and his son anexcellent education.
Alexander Ramsay's specialty was the building of yachts and boats, andhe determined to make a better use of his skill than selling it with hislabor for day wages. He went into business for himself as aboat-builder. When he established himself, he had several hundreddollars, with which he purchased stock and tools. He had built severalsail-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 andshape of every timber and plank in the hull of a vessel, as well asevery spar and rope. Though only sixteen, he was an excellent mechanichimself. His father had taken great pains to instruct him in the use oftools, and in draughting and modelling boats and larger craft. He notonly studied the art in theory, but he worked with his own hands. In theparlor of the little cottage was a full-rigged brig, made entirely byhim. The hull was not a log, shaped and dug out, but regularlyconstructed, with timbers and planking. When he finished it, only a fewmonths before his introduction to the reader, he felt competent to builda yacht like the Sea Foam, without any assistance; but boys aregenerally over-confident, and possibly he overrated his ability.
With his heart rising up into his throat, Donald walked towards thecottage. As he passed the whitewashed gate, one of the neighbors cameout at the front door. She was an elderly woman, and she looked very sadas she glanced at the boy.
"I'm glad you have come, Donald; but I'm afraid he'll never speak to youagain," said she.
"Is it my father?" gasped the poor fellow.
"It is; and he's very sick indeed."
"What ails him?"
"That's more than the doctors can tell yet," added the woman. "They sayit's very like the cholera; and I suppose it's cholera-morbus. He hasbeen ailing for several days, and he didn't take care of himself. But goin, 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, withwhat patience he could, the most agonizing pain. Donald went into thechamber where his father lay writhing upon the bed. The physicians wereat work upon him; but he saw his son as he entered the room and held outhis 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 withgreat difficulty. "Be a good boy always, and take care of your motherand sister."
"I will, father," sobbed Donald, pressing the cold hand he held.
"I was afraid I might never see you again," gasped Mr. Ramsay.
"O, don't give up, my man," said Dr. Wadman. "You may be all right in afew hours."
The sick man said no more. He was in too much pain to speak again, andDr. Wadman sent Donald to the kitchen for some hot water. When hereturned with it he was directed to go to the apothecary's for an ounceof chloroform, which the doctors were using internally and externally,and had exhausted their supply. Donald ran all the way as though thelife of his father depended upon his speed. He was absent only a fewminutes, but when he came back there was weeping and wailing in thelittle cottage by the sea-side. His father had breathed his last, evenwhile the doctors were hopefully working to save him.
"O, Donald, Donald!" cried Mrs. Ramsay, as she threw her arms around hisneck. "Your poor father is gone!"
The boy could not speak; he could not even weep, though his grief wasnot less intense than that of his mother and sister. They groaned, andsobbed, and sighed together, till kind neighbors led them from thechamber of death, vainly endeavoring to comfort them. It was hoursbefore they were even tolerably calm; but they could speak of nothing,think of nothing, but him who was gone. The neighbors did all that itwas necessary to do, and spent the night with the afflicted ones, whocould not separate to seek their beds. The rising sun of the Sabbathfound them still up, and still weeping--those who could weep. It was along, long Sunday to them, and every moment of it was given to him whohad 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 inthe silent grave, never more to be looked upon by those who had lovedhim, and whom he had loved.
The little cottage was like a casket robbed of its single jewel to thosewho were left. Earth and life seemed like a terrible blank to them. Theycould not accustom themselves to the empty chair at the window where hesat 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 farebefore them; and to the silent and deserted shop on the other side ofthe street, from which the noise of his hammer and the clip of his adzehad come to them. A week wore away and nothing was done but the mostnecessary offices of the household. The neighbors came frequently tobeguile their grief, and the minister made several visits, bearing tothem the consolations of the gospel, and the tender message of a genuinesympathy.
But it is not for poor people long to waste themselves in idlelamentations. The problem of the future was forced upon Mrs. Ramsay forsolution. If they had been able only to live comfortably on the earningsof the dead husband, what should they do now when the strong arm thatdelved for them was silent in the cold embrace of death? They must allwork now; but even then the poor woman could hardly see how she couldkeep her family together. Barbara was eighteen, but she had never doneanything 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 obtaina situation. Mrs. Ramsay might obtain work to be done at home, but itwas only a pittance she could earn besides doing her housework. Shewished to have Donald finish his education at the High School, but shewas afraid this was impossible.
Donald, still mourning for his father, who had so constantly been hiscompanion in the cottage and in the shop, that he could not reconcilehimself to the loss, hardly thought of the future, till his mother spoketo him about it. He had often, since that bitter Saturday night,recalled the last words his father had ever spoken to him, in which hehad told him to be a good boy always and take care of his mother andsister; but they had not much real significance to him till his motherspoke to him. Then he understood them; then he saw that his father wasconscious of the near approach of death, and had given his mother andhis sister into his keeping. Then, with the memory of him who was gonelingering near and dear in his heart, a mighty resolution was born inhis soul, though it did not at once take a practical form.
"Don't worry about the future, mother," said he, after he had listenedto her rather hopeless statement of her views.
"I don't worry about it, Donald, for while we have our health andstrength, we can work and make a living. I want to keep
you in schooltill the end of the year, but I--"
"Of course I can't go to school any more, mother. I am ready to go towork," interposed Donald.
"I know you are, my boy; but I want you to finish your school coursevery much."
"I haven't thought a great deal about the matter yet, mother, but Ithink I shall be able to do what father told me."
"Your father did not expect you to take care of us till you had grownup, I'm sure," added Mrs. Ramsay, who had heard the dying injunction ofher 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 nopower of utterance left to her.
Donald wept, too, as he thought of him who was not only his father, buthis loving companion in study, in work, and in play. He left the houseand walked over to the shop. For the first time since the sad event, heunlocked the door and entered. The tears trickled down his cheeks as heglanced at the bench where his father had done his last day's work. Theplanes and a few other tools were neatly arranged upon it, and his apronwas spread over them. On the walls were models of boats and yachts, andin one corner were the "moulds." Donald seated himself on thetool-chest, and looked around at every familiar object in the shop. Hewas thinking of something, but his thought had not yet taken definiteform. While he was considering the present and the future, Samuel Rodmanentered the shop.
"Do you suppose I can get the model of the Sea Foam, Don John?" inquiredhe, after something had been said about the deceased boat-builder.
"I think you can. The model and the drawings are all here," repliedDonald.
"We intend to build the Maud this season, and I want her to be as nearlike the Sea Foam as possible."
"Who is going to build her?" asked Donald, his interest suddenly kindledby the question.
"I don't know; we haven't spoken to any one about it yet," repliedSamuel. "There isn't anybody in these parts that can build her asyour father would."
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 hisway of doing things."
"Well, I hadn't thought that you could do it; but I will talk with myfather about it," answered Samuel, who appeared to have some doubtsabout 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 twofirst-rate ship carpenters," added Donald. "She shall be just like theSea 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 anincredulous smile.
"I know I could," said Donald, earnestly. "If I had time enough I couldbuild 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."
"I will see my father about it to-night, Don John, and let you knowto-morrow. I came down to see about the model."
Samuel Rodman left the shop and walked down the beach to the sail-boatin which he had come. Donald was almost inspired by the idea which hadtaken possession of him. If he could only carry on his father'sbusiness, he could make money enough to support the family; and knowingevery stick in the hull of a vessel, he felt competent to do so. Full ofenthusiasm, he hastened into the cottage to unfold his brilliant schemeto his mother. He stated his plan to her, but at first she shook herhead.
"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 containedevery timber and plank that belongs to a vessel?"
"Yes, and that the work was done as well as he could do it himself; butthat 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 toolong for me to do all the work alone."
"The Maud?"
"That was the yacht that father was to build next. I asked Sam Rodman togive me the job, and he is going to talk with his father about itto-night."
Mrs. Ramsay was rather startled at this announcement, which indicatedthat 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 daywages."
"That is no reason why you can do it."
"All his models, moulds, and draughts are in the shop. I know where theyare, 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, whatwill you do?"
"I shall have her myself then, and I can make lots of money taking outparties in her."
"Your father was paid for the Sea Foam as the work progressed. He hadreceived eight hundred dollars on her when she was finished."
"I know it; and Captain Patterdale owes four hundred more. If you let meuse some of the money to buy stock and pay the men till I get payment onthe job, I shall do very well."
"We must have something to live on. After I have paid the funeralexpenses and other bills, this money that Captain Patterdale owes willbe all I have."
"But Mr. Rodman will pay me something on the job, when he is satisfiedthat the work will be done."
The widow was not very clear about the business; but she concluded, atlast, that if Mr. Rodman would give him the job, she would allow him toundertake it. Donald was satisfied, and went back to the shop. He openedhis father's chest and took out his account book. Turning to a pagewhich was headed "Sea Foam," he found every item of labor andexpenditure charged to her. Every day's work, every foot of stock, everypound of nails, every article of brass or hardware, and the cost ofsails and cordage, were carefully entered on the account. From this hecould learn the price of everything used in the construction of theyacht, for his guidance in the great undertaking before him. But he wasquite familiar before with the cost of everything used in building aboat. On a piece of smooth board, he figured up the probable cost, andassured 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 yachtclub. There had been a grand review a week before, which Donald did notattend. The yachtmen had taken their mothers, sisters, and other friendson 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 beencalled to complete the arrangements for a regatta, and the Committee onRegattas were to make their report. Donald had been requested to attendin order to measure the yachts. He did not feel much like taking part inthe sports of the club, but he decided to perform the duty required ofhim. He expected to see Samuel Rodman on this occasion, and to learn thedecision of his father in regard to the building of the Maud.
After breakfast he embarked in the sail-boat which had belonged to hisfather, and with a fresh breeze stood over to Turtle Head. He had dugsome clams early in the morning, and told his mother he should bringhome 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 onhis father's business, and everything seemed to depend upon Mr. Rodman'sdecision. He hoped for the best, but he trembled for the result. When hereached his destination, he found another boat at the Head, and soondiscovered 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 kindof trowel fixed in a shovel-handle.
"You can't find any
clams here," said Donald, wondering that even such aswell should expect to find them there.
"I am going down to Camden to stay over Sunday, and I thought I mightfish 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 anyfellow 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. Shemust 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 whenhe talked of buying a yacht.
"Four or five hundred dollars."
"The Sea Foam cost twelve hundred."
"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. Imust 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 theyacht club fleet as soon as it sailed from the city.