During the days which followed we elaborated our idea, and the _Idlewild_ became more of a reality than is to be easily understood by those who have not indulged in a similar fancy. We looked upon the shop as a trusty ship with a wheel at the stern, where the millwright, an Irishman by the name of Cullen, ran the giant plane, and an anchor at the prow, where the engine-room was. And there was a light in the captain’s eye at times which, to me at least, betokened a real belief. It is so easy to enter upon a fancy, especially when it is pleasing. He would stand in the doorway of his small, hot engine-room, or lean out of the window which commanded the beautiful sweep of water so close to our door, and at times I verily believe he thought we were under way, so great is the power of self-hypnotism. The river was so blue and smooth these summer days, the passing boats so numerous. We could see the waters race to and fro as the tides changed. It was such a relief from the dull wearisome grind of shoveling in shavings and carrying out ashes or loading cars, as I was occasionally compelled to do--for my health, in my own case, I should explain. I am sure that, as an ordinary fifteen-cent-an-hour-shaving-carrier, I valued my title of mate as much as I ever valued anything, and the smith, “the village smith,” was smilingly proud to be hailed as “Bos’n.” Little Ike being of an order of mind that fancied the world ended somewhere abruptly in the Rocky Mountains, and that you really could shoot buffaloes after you left Buffalo, New York, did not grasp the meaning of it all at once, but at last it dawned upon him. When he got the idea that we really considered this a ship and that he was the bos’n’s mate with the privilege of lowering the boats in case of a wreck or other disaster, he was beside himself. “Hully chee!” he exclaimed, “me a bos’n’s mate! Dat’s de real t’ing, ain’t it! Heave ho, dere!” And he fell back on the captain’s locker and kicked his heels in the air. “You want to remember, though, Ike,” I said, once in an evil moment--what small things regulate the good and evil fortunes of all things!--“that this is the captain’s cabin and bos’n’s mates are not much shucks on a vessel such as the _Idlewild_. If you want to retain your position you want to be respectful, and above all, obedient. For instance, if the captain should choose to have you act as stoker for a few minutes now and then, it would be your place to rejoice at the request. You get that, do you?” “Not on yer life,” replied Ike irritably, who understood well enough that this meant more work. “That’s right, though,” chimed in big John, pleased beyond measure at this latest development. “I’m captain here now, an’ you don’t want to forget that. No back lip from any bos’n’s mate. What the mate says goes. The shovel for yours, bos’n, on orders from the captain. Now jist to show that the boat’s in runnin’ order you can chuck in a few shovelfuls right now.” “Na! I will not!”