Harry and Donald had begun to despair of getting afloat, because, of course, when crews were made up, stronger arms than boys’ were picked, and the boats had no room for outward-bound passengers, every inch of room being needed for the poor people they were going to rescue. But the Doctor had a ramshackle old four-oared tub, in which he sometimes pottered about in the creek by himself. It was rowing under difficulties, for the Doctor found it hard work to lug the heavy old literal “torpid” along, and every now and then he had to stop pulling, and set to work at baling. For some reason, however, the Doctor was very proud of his tub; and, the instant the creek began to rise, he had her hauled up his garden, which sloped down to the creek, and laid up in ordinary in his verandah.
There she was lying when the boys came upon two men, who were looking at her somewhat disconsolately. One was the landlord of the “General Bourke,” and the other was the Jerry’s Town shoemaker.
“I doubt if she’d float, Tommy,” said the landlord; “and besides, she hain’t got ne’er a rudder.”
“Oh, we could stuff summat in here and there,” answered the shoemaker, “an’ we could steer her better with a oar, an’ some little cove will be game to bale.”
Harry and Donald at once offered their services, but just then the Doctor came out.
“I’m willing to risk the boat,” he said, “but I must pull stroke.”
“No, Doctor, you must stay ashore,” replied the landlord with a grin. “There’s plenty as can pull a oar your fashion, but you’re the only one than can do doctor’s work. An’ it ain’t so much about risking the boat, as risking the lives of them as goes in her. Hows’ever, one o’ these young coves from Wonga-Wonga will do to bale, an’ then we only want two to pull and another to steer—that’s three; an’ surely there must be three men besides yourself, Doctor, in Jerry’s Town game enough to jine us, though it _ain’t_ much better than a sieve.”
But such was the reputation of the Doctor’s tub that the three were not forthcoming. Harry and Donald, however, were more eager than ever to embark.
“Do you know anything about a boat, boys?” asked Boniface solemnly, as if he was putting a question out of the Catechism.
“I should think we did,” answered Harry, “a precious sight more than a good many of your Jerry’s Town loafers; we’ve got a boat of our own at Wonga-Wonga.”