“I’ll make you pay for this, Judge Oglesby, if there is law enough in the land to do it. You have ruined my boat.” No reply was made to this threat, and after temporarily repairing the hole that had been made in the _Spray_, the steamer, with her double cargo of passengers, once more steamed on her way. No one censured the conduct of the officers of the _Spray_. In fact, many tried to find Captain Mercer to extend their praise for his gallant conduct. He was closeted in his cabin with Judge Oglesby and Mr. Montague, so that he was not to be seen for the present. “You behaved nobly, Dean,” declared the judge, dropping the official form of address as he spoke. “I do not see that I did anything unusual. If any praise is deserving it belongs to Jack Carboy. But for his prompt and intelligent action our steamer must have received more damage than she has, if not ruined entirely.” “The old seadog is a diamond in the rough. We can trust him. This will probably make us an hour late at Springfield.” “Better lose an hour than our lives,” said Mr. Montague, though he was as anxious to reach the city as his companions. Nothing further occurred to mar the trip to Springfield. A short stop was made at Landlock, where the _Warrior_ would have to remain. So, leaving the veteran steamer slumbering at her dock, the _Spray_, still carrying all of the through passengers, glided triumphantly on her way. “It will be a month at least before the _Warrior_ can be made serviceable again, if she can be at all,” declared Judge Oglesby to the young commander. “Colonel Darringford, through his folly, has sealed his own ill fortune. Captain Mercer, you have a clear way now, and if this other matter can be settled satisfactorily, your success is assured.” “I suppose I am foolish,” thought the young captain, “but somehow I wish Rodney Darringford had stayed with his father.” Colonel Darringford meanwhile, having urged his son to go to Springfield and find Tim Downey, was devoting all of his time and energies to swallowing huge potations of fiery liquor. As he drank he grew boisterous, so the men became alarmed. Near the close of day he was seen to emerge from his cabin and stagger across the deck to the gangway. Then, drawing his heavy, gold watch from his vest pocket, he gazed unsteadily at its face for a minute or more, when he suddenly blurted out: “Five o’clock and the steamer at her dock here! Where is the crew?” One of the men who had been left to keep watch over the boat while the others were ashore upon one errand or another ventured to approach the delirious speaker, saying: “I am sorry, Colonel Darringford, but there ain’t no crew here but me and the fireman.” “No crew?” fairly roared the colonel. “And the steamer lying here with all those passengers waiting to come aboard for a start. Wake up, you idiot! summon the crew; let on the steam; ye gods! I’ll discharge every man of you at Springfield!”