So saying, he turned angrily on his heel and left the fisher-boy, who again turned his attention to his wood-pile. Tom bent his steps toward Mr. Graves's ship-yard, and the first thing he saw, as he entered the gate, was the Storm King, riding proudly at her moorings in the harbor, with her sails hoisted, all ready for the start. Three or four men, who comprised the crew that was to manage her during the trial trip, were lounging about the decks, and Mr. Graves stood on the beach talking to a crowd of eager, excited boys, who were examining the yacht with critical eyes, and begging the boat-builder to reveal to them the name of the owner. Although Tom could not hear what was said, he had no difficulty in guessing the subject of the conversation, and his heart swelled high within him when he thought what a commotion would be occasioned in that crowd of boys, when it became known that he was the captain and owner. Drawing himself up to his full height, throwing back his shoulders, and assuming what he considered to be a very commanding air, he walked leisurely down to the beach. The boys, seeing him approach, made way for him, and Mr. Graves called out:
"Good morning, captain! We are all ready, as you see."
Since the vessel was completed and ready for sea, the boat-builder thought there was no further necessity for keeping the affair a secret. If Tom wanted to create a sensation what better chance could he have?
"Captain!" chorused all the boys, crowding up around Tom. "Do you own that beautiful yacht, Newcombe?"
"Well, you're a lucky fellow," exclaimed one.
"You've got the best father in the world!" said another.
"Are you ready, captain?" asked Mr. Graves, stepping into a skiff and picking up the oars. "If you are, we'll go aboard!"
"Are you going to sea, Newcombe?" eagerly inquired a dozen boys. "Let us go with you!"
Tom's time for revenge had come at last. There were, perhaps, thirty or forty boys present, a good portion of whom had belonged to the Night-hawks, and the remainder were "Spooneys," with whom he never associated. He had several times run his eye over the group, but he could not discover a single friend in it. Every one of the boys, at some time or other, had failed to treat him with the respect due the son of the wealthiest man in the village, and now Tom had an opportunity to show them that he had not forgotten it. Without taking the trouble to reply to their request, he jumped into the skiff, turned his back to the boys, and said: