0083
There was a mixture of attraction and repulsion in the first sight of the ship, which affected the boys very peculiarly. She lay waterlogged. Her decks were on a level with the sea. But her bulwarks rose six feet high above the water, and the deck itself afforded a spacious area on which to walk. The deck was white with the washing of many waters, and dry in the warm sun, which had shone upon it for some days past. All the boats were gone except one, which hung at the starboard davits, and looked like the captain’s gig. The cook’s galley stood amidships, and astern there was a quarter-deck. The cabin doors were open wide. The forecastle was also open. The main hatchway was open, and the boys, looking in, could see the cargo. It consisted of enormous pine logs.
The sight of this cargo explained all. This was a timber ship, no doubt, from Quebec, which had encountered a storm in the gulf, and sprung aleak. On becoming waterlogged, she had been deserted and left to her fate; yet her cargo, which was of wood, prevented her from sinking, and the huge sticks of timber served to give her stiffness as well as buoyancy, and preserve her from breaking up. To Bart a timber ship was the most familiar thing in the world, for he had been brought up in a timber port; his father sailed timber ships, and the whole situation was one which he perfectly understood at the very first glance.
The boys walked about the decks. To their delight, they saw several water casks lashed behind the mainmast, and a row of barrels that looked as if they contained provisions, for they all bore the eloquent inscription:—
Going into the cook’s galley, they saw the cooking-stove in good working order, and the inmost thought and spontaneous expression of each was,—“Won’t Solomon rejoice when he sees this!” They then went aft.
They entered the cabin.
There was a passage-way about three feet wide. On each side there was a door which was open. Looking in, they saw on one side a room full of ropes, and sails, and oakum, while on the other was another room full of ship’s stores.
Passing on, they reached the cabin itself. It was a room about twelve feet wide and sixteen feet long. A door at one end opened into another cabin aft. On the sides of both cabins were doors opening into state-rooms. Two of these were very well furnished, and in the after cabin there was a large and comfortable state-room, which both the boys decided to have been the captain’s. The furniture was all confused. The carpet was damp. It seemed as though the sea had been careering through these cabins and state-rooms. But the upper parts had been spared; and in the pantry where the boys at length found themselves, they saw, with a pleasure that cannot be described, the contents of the upper shelves as dry as when they were first put there.
At this they rejoiced more than at anything else.
Bruce and Bart on board the deserted Ship.—New Discoveries.—The Cook’s Galley.—A sumptuous Repast.—Observations.—A Return baffled.—Back again.—The Antelope.—The Ripple in the Water.—Speculations.—The Sail to the Ship.—Puzzle about the lost Ones.—Nearer and nearer.—Unexpected and astounding Welcome!THE state of mind and body in which Bruce and Bart found themselves was of such a kind that the discovery of a well-stocked pantry and store-room gave them more delight than they had known for a very long time. They themselves were ravenously hungry; for the appetite which had been quickened by their long fast had been sharpened by exercise, and they also could not forget that their friends on board the Antelope were depending upon this expedition as much as themselves. Under such circumstances they looked around upon the well stocked shelves, and as, one after another, they recognized well-known and favorite articles of food, tears of joy started to their eyes.
Tea, and coffee, and sugar, and butter, and potted meats, and hams, and pickles, and many other delicacies of a similar kind, showed that their predecessors had not been indifferent to the pleasures of the table. In taking leave they seemed to have been very modest in their requirements, since they had taken away but little. As they continued their researches, they found other articles which increased their delight. There were a barrel of apples, boxes of raisins, drums of figs, bags of nuts, bottles of raspberry vinegar and of lemon sirup, a demijohn full of lime juice, and a delicious Cheshire cheese. Leaving the pantry and going into another store-room, they saw numerous barrels, some of which contained beef, and others pork. Opening another door, they looked in, and saw a chamber lined with tin and filled with pilot bread.
“I say, Bruce,” said Bart, “let’s postpone any further searches now, and get breakfast.”
“All right. What shall we have?”
“Well, I feel strongly inclined for some tea, broiled bacon, toasted biscuit, and Welsh rarebit.”
“Why don’t you add a few other things?” said Bruce, with a laugh. “How can we cook anything?”
“Why, in the cook’s galley.”
“But there isn’t any fuel.”
“Why, there’s a lot of coal in that front storeroom, and fagots of wood. Didn’t you see them?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“Well, I did, and I’m going to make a fire.”
“Have you any matches?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you make the fire, and I’ll set the table.”
“O, no; don’t set the table here. Let’s eat on the quarter-deck. It’s rather close in here.”
“Very well; I’ll gather the dishes and eatables.” Bart now went about his task. Going into the store-room, he found the fuel, and carrying a supply to the cook’s galley, he succeeded in a few minutes in producing a roaring fire. Then he filled the kettle, and before long the water began to boil.
By that time Bruce was ready with his part of the business. The teapot was brought forward, and the tea set to draw. Then a few slices of very superior ham were placed over the coals and broiled. While Bruce attended to this, Bart soaked some pilot biscuit in water till they were quite soft, after which he fried them in butter on the stove. He then proceeded to try his hand at a Welsh rarebit. He cut up some thin slices of cheese, added butter, and then allowed it all to liquefy over the fire. Having accomplished this, the two adventurers conveyed their things to the quarter-deck, and sat down to breakfast.
Even had they been less hungry they would have enjoyed that breakfast. True, they had no milk in their tea, but they had long since grown accustomed, on board the Antelope, to dispense with that. The tea was of a very superior quality, the fried biscuit was most savory, the broiled ham was a great success, and the Welsh rarebit was pronounced delicious.
Already they had turned occasional glances over the water, and had seen the Antelope, lying apparently three or four miles away, in the same place where they had left her. Now, after they had satisfied their appetites, they began to look at her more closely, and to discuss the time of their return. They felt anxious to go back as soon as possible, but decided that they might as well postpone it until they were thoroughly rested.
It was evident to the boys that the ship which they had boarded had been deserted very hastily, and they thought that her company must have boarded some other ship. In this way only could they account for the numerous things which had been left behind. Among these was a very good spy-glass. Bruce had seen this while preparing breakfast, and had brought it on deck with the other things. As they now sat on the deck after breakfast, they amused themselves for some time with looking at the Antelope. They could see several figures on the deck, but could not distinguish one from another. They tried to tell by watching their movements who each one might be. A solitary figure, that stood motionless at the stern, they were certain was Captain Corbet, while another figure, which indulged in rather eccentric movements, seemed to be Solomon. The rest could not be guessed at.
They had already found out the name of the ship. They saw it in many places, on a row of buckets that hung in front of the cabin, on the captain’s gig, on the cook’s galley; they saw it engraved on a brass plate on the cabin door, on the capstan, and on the spy-glass; and this name, which they thus saw in so many places, was,—
In discussing her fate, they concluded that she had loaded with timber at Quebec, had encountered a severe gale in the gulf and sprung a leak, and that another ship had hove in sight, to which the captain and crew of the Petrel had fled in their boats, without taking anything off their ship. They must have deserted her under the impression that she was going down.
Thus they accounted for the present situation.
They decided to leave at eleven o’clock for the Antelope, and return with the schooner as soon as possible. Nearly an hour still remained, and they thought it would be a good idea to prepare the Petrel for the reception of visitors, so as to afford as cheerful an impression as possible. This could be effected by making the cabin more “shipshape.” It seemed to have been entered by rolling seas, for the furniture was lying confusedly about, and there was some dampness in the air. The bedding also was all wet. They devoted themselves now to this. They opened the skylight, so as to secure ventilation, and the stern-ports. Then they brought all the bedding out, and spread it over the quarter-deck, where the hot sun and dry wind might do their work. Then they swept out the cabin, and arranged the furniture as neatly as possible. At the end of this a great change was produced, and the cabin of the Petrel assumed an appearance not only of comfort, but almost of comparative luxury.
At length eleven o’clock came, and they began to prepare for their return to the Antelope. These preparations consisted simply in filling a bag with pilot bread, and putting this on board the boat; to which they added a ham, with some tea, sugar, and butter. They then embarked, and, pushing off, began to row.
But scarcely had they rowed a dozen strokes when they became sensible of a breeze. It was a gentle breeze, and it was blowing against them. Bart, who was rowing, at once stopped, and Bruce at the same moment uttered a cry which made him look round. It was a joyous sight that they saw—a sight which assured them that they would be spared the long effort of pulling back again, for there, away over the water, they saw the Antelope spreading her white wings to catch the gentle breeze. If that breeze continued, it would bring her up to them in an hour, and though light, it promised to be steady enough.
“I wonder if it’s going to last,” asked Bart thoughtfully.
“O, I think so.”
“Perhaps it may be as well not to pull any farther just yet.”
“Certainly not. This breeze’ll bring the Antelope here faster than we can row towards her, and we will not be gaining enough time to pay for our trouble.”
“But the wind might stop, and in that case it Would be a pity to lose the time.”
“O, it can’t be of much consequence. If the wind does die away, we can start off. We can watch the Antelope all the time.”
“Well,” said Bart, “if you’re agreed, I am, I’m sure; and besides,” he added, “I should like to do a little more to make the Petrel more presentable, and in better order for receiving our visitors.”
“Capital,” said Bruce. “I didn’t think of that. Yes, that will be far better than wasting time in unnecessary rowing.”
“My idea,” said Bart, “is to set the table in the cabin, and cook a sumptuous breakfast to receive the starving Antelopers.”
“Hurrah!” cried Bruce, with enthusiasm; “that’s just the thing.”
“The cabin’s a little damp, but not so bad as it was, and by the time they get here, it’ll be dry enough. They won’t be particular. We’ll set the table regularly, bring out the best china, and cook some ham, trot out some of those potted meats, and have both tea and coffee.”
“And Welsh rarebit.”
“Well, yes, if we have time; but the fact is, I wasn’t altogether satisfied with my last effort, and we can try it again some other time.”
This new project was a most fascinating one to both the boys, who returned to the Petrel, and hauled up their boat on the other side, so that it could not be seen from the Antelope. This was merely to heighten the surprise which they intended to give. They then went to work to prepare the repast with which they wished to welcome their friends; and their only fear now was that the Antelope would reach them before they were ready. Fortunately, this was not the case. The breeze lasted, but it was light, and the progress of the Antelope, though steady, was slow, so that the two boys were able to complete their preparations.
Meanwhile, the time on board the Antelope had passed very slowly. The boys had felt full of hope about the result of the expedition of Bart and Bruce, but they were all ravenously hungry, and hope could not take the place of bread and butter. As the time passed they all felt more and more impatient, and after they had settled for themselves that the boat had reached the ship, they began to look for its return.
But from these thoughts they were all roused by a sudden cry of joy. It burst forth from Captain Corbet. Every one started and turned to see what had happened. They saw an exhilarating sight, which at once roused them from their gloom. There at the stern stood their venerable friend, a smile of exultation on his aged face, tears of joy in his mild eyes, one hand waving his hat in the air, and the other pointing over the water.
“It’s come! It’s come! Hooray!”
This was what he said, and as he said it the boys looked, and saw all over the water a gentle ripple. Then they knew it all. The long-wished-for wind had at last come, and they were freed from their long and irksome imprisonment. In an instant they all rushed to hoist the sails. As they hoisted them they felt the gentle air on their faces, and they saw the sails swelling at its touch. Soon all sail was hoisted, and Captain Corbet, with an exultant smile, stood once more at the helm, and the Antelope began to move through the waters.
“I knowed it,” said he, “I knowed it all along, and I said it, I did. That thar wind was bound to come. I felt it in my bones; yea, down to my butes. I saw how down in the mouth you all felt, and didn’t like to make you too san-goo-wine, but I knowed it, I did, I knowed it, all the same; and here, it has come at last, sure enough.”
The progress of the Antelope was slow, but it was progress, and that was enough. All the boys stood watching the ship, which they were gradually approaching. Solomon stood watching with the rest. Once he suggested the subject of dinner; but though before the wind came they had all been so hungry, they seemed now to have lost their appetites. The excitement of suspense was too strong, and none of them felt able to eat until they had reached the ship, and joined their friends again. And so they moved slowly over the water.
They soon perceived that the ship was not half so far away as they had supposed, and then they discovered, not long after, the truth of her situation. They could see this better than Bart and Bruce had been able to do, for they had been sitting low down in a boat, while these were standing on the deck, or the taffrail of the schooner, and thus could make out the true character of the stranger more easily.
As they came within sight, and learned this, they began to look eagerly about for signs of life. That the ship was waterlogged they could see, but whether there was any one aboard or not they could not see. What had become of the boat? Where were Bruce and Bart? They could see no signs of any boat whatever. But signs of life at length did appear in the shape of smoke from the cook’s galley. Arthur, who was examining the ship through the glass, was the first to detect this, and it was not long before all the boys could see it with the naked eye. Smoke of itself would have indicated human life; but smoke from the cook’s galley indicated something more, and was eloquently suggestive of those joys of the table to which they had too long been strangers. It served to assure them that their difficulties were approaching an end, and that smoke from the cook’s galley was of itself enough to drive away the last vestige of despondency.
But, in the mean while, what had become of Bruce and Bart? That was the question which every one asked himself, without being able to answer. Where was the boat? They could not see it anywhere. Could the boys have gone on board the ship? They must have done so. The water had been too calm to admit of the probability of any evil happening to them. They must have boarded the ship.
But where were Bruce and Bart now?
No one could tell.
The Antelope drew steadily nearer, and all on board watched with indescribable eagerness the strange ship. Now they could see her disordered rigging, her yards bare of sails, her open hatchway. They could see bedding lying on the quarter-deck, and the open skylight. All these things indicated life on board; yet of that life there was no other sign. Where was the captain? Where were the crew? Where was the cook, who kept up such a roaring fire? It was all a puzzle. Above all. where were Bruce and Bart? Who could tell?
Nearer and nearer.
Every moment brought them closer, but disclosed no living being.
Solomon crept up slowly to Arthur, and gently touched his arm.
Arthur started, and turned.
“Hallo, Solomon! what’s the matter with you?”
“Mas’r Atta, I donno bout dis yer craft,” said Solomon, in a tremulous voice, with his eyes rolling wildly.
“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Arthur, in surprise.
“Donno; dar’s somethin drefful curous bout dis yer craft,—beats all eber I see,—floatin under water; full ub water, an not sinkin; fire a burnin like de old boy in de cook’s galley, an not a livin man aboard. I don’t like it. Tell you what, now, I don’t like it.”
“Pooh! nonsense,” said Arthur. “Don’t be absurd, Solomon. You’ll take your turn in that cook’s galley, perhaps, before sundown, and make acquaintance with the cook of the ship.”
Solomon shuddered and shook his head.
They were now within a stone’s throw of the ship.
Suddenly Captain Corbet, put both hands to his mouth, holding the tiller between his legs, and shouted, in a loud voice,—
“Ship, ahoy!”
Then came an answer.
At last!
And what an answer!
Out of the cabin bounded two well-known forms. They rushed out dancing, and capering, and flinging their hats in the air. They shouted, and yelled, and hurrahed. They ran up to the quarter-deck, and repeated these actions there. Those on board the Antelope were so astounded that they looked on in dumb bewilderment.
“Haul up alongside!” cried Bruce. “Fetch her round! I’m captain of this craft, and Bart is mate; I’m steward, and he’s cook; I’m boatswain, and he’s the crew. Hurrah! Haul up alongside, and heave us a line, my hearties.”
It was some time before Captain Corbet could recover sufficiently from his bewilderment to be capable of doing anything. Half mechanically he managed to bring the Antelope around, and man-. aged it just in time to cause her to move gently up alongside. Wade, who had all along been perfectly stolid, then proceeded to secure the schooner to the ship in the most matter-of-fact way in the world, just as if he had been securing her to the wharf in Grand Pré. But long before he had taken the first turn in the rope, the boys had bounded on board the Petrel, and proceeded to overwhelm Bruce and Bart with countless questions.
All aboard.—A Welcome of the best Kind.—The Invitation.—The Banquet.—Amazement of the Visitors.—The Repast.—Solomon in his Glory.—The Manuscript found in a Bottle.—The Fate of the Petrel.—Captain Corbet has an Idea.—He begins to brood over it.—A Question of Salvage.—How to make one’s Fortune.GRADUALLY they became acquainted with the whole truth of the situation. They had thought thus far that the ship, though waterlogged, was still in the possession of her captain and crew. Boundless was their astonishment at learning that it was in the possession of Bruce and Bart alone, and the astonishment which they experienced at this amazing discovery for a time drove away all other thoughts. But Nature at length asserted her supremacy, and the pangs of hunger, for some time past kept in abeyance, now awaked in full force.
“Haven’t you found anything to eat?” asked Arthur, in a low voice, tremulous with emotion.
Bruce did not reply, but looked at Bart. The other boys turned pale. For a moment the awful thought occurred that there was nothing; but the next instant there was wafted to their nostrils the savory odor of broiled ham, which overpowered that mournful thought, and drove it away effectually.
“Well, I don’t know,” said Bart, “but that we may manage to scare up something. I suppose you’re not very particular. Come in here, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
With these words he entered the cabin, and all the others followed.
One by one they entered the cabin, and one by one each, as he entered, stood rooted to the spot, and stared around in dumb amazement. Captain Corbet came last. He took one look, and then exclaimed, in a low, prolonged, and tremulous voice,—
“Good gerracious!”
And indeed there was every reason for surprise. They had come in expecting to enter the ruinous cabin of a half-wrecked ship, with perhaps a few mouldy ship’s biscuit to be divided among the hungry company. Instead of this they saw a table set out to its fullest extent, with a white cloth spread, and on that table a repast which was nothing less than sumptuous. Tea, coffee, biscuit hard and toasted, Welsh rarebit, broiled ham, potted shrimps, game pie, pickled oysters, lobster, potted salmon, tomatoes, potatoes hot, steaming, and mealy, apples, raisins, nuts, figs, raspberry vinegar, lemon sirup, and numerous other dainties which Bart and Bruce had discovered and drawn forth from the rich store that lay accumulated in the pantry of the Petrel. The lavish abundance of everything, as well as the astonishing variety, overwhelmed the hungry new comers, and, except the exclamation of Captain Corbet, not one word was spoken. It was a moment when words were useless.
For an instant or so Bruce and Bart enjoyed the astonishment of their friends, and watched the effect with a triumphant smile. They had been purposely lavish in this first entertainment of theirs, and had succeeded in placing upon the table a specimen of every individual article for food or drink which the ship contained. They had worked hard in anticipation of this moment, and now that it had come, they found it a complete success.
“Come,” said Bruce, at last, “you can’t eat with your eyes, you know. Come, noble captain, do you preside at this festive board. Tom, sit on the captain’s right, Bart on his left. I’ll take the foot of the table, with Phil on my right. Ward, my bold mate, sit next to Bart; Pat and Phil, fall in. Solomon, you go and install yourself in the cook’s galley, where you’ll find as much as you can eat for the rest of the day.”
Upon this they all took their places, and began to eat with appetites such as those only can possess who have fasted for twenty-four hours on the sea. Bart and Bruce had already satisfied their own wants; so while their friends were eating they gave a full, complete, and exhaustive account of their own adventures, and their doings aboard of the Petrel.
The dinner passed off most delightfully, and a far longer time was spent at the table than the boys generally gave to their repast. Ample justice was done to the bountiful and varied supply that graced the board. After the first pangs of hunger were appeased, there were a thousand new questions to be asked and answered, in addition to those which they had already made. Captain Corbet alone said nothing. He sat and ate, and listened, and from time to time leaned back in his chair with a sigh of happiness, and surveyed the company with a smile that spoke of inward peace.
“My dear young ferriends,” said the venerable captain, at length, taking advantage of an opening in the conversation to express his feelings, “it is with feelings of no ordinary deskeription that I now address you. We have sailed over the briny and billowy main far and wide, and have encountered parls and dangers more’n any ordinary people, but never have we been in such a position, or reduced to such extremities, as in these last few days. And now look at us. Here we air. What kind of an abode is this? Is it a ship? Scacely. Is it a island? Not quite. It’s enchanted gerround! Here we air, an we’ve been led by the kind hand of Providence to this secluded spot in the midst of the wide waste of waters. We come here in a state of starvation, with our minds in a kine of despair; we come here, and we found, as it were, a table spread for us in the wilderness. So far, so good; and I know, my dear young Christian ferriends, you all rejice with me, and feel as I do, full of gladness and gerratitood. But secondly, my dear ferriends,” continued the captain, insensibly increasing his tone and manner to a sermonizing intensity, “there air things about this here craft, that begin to occur to my mind, that go beyond the present fleetin moment, and interweave themselves with our footoor destiny. I ain’t a goin to say jest now what these things air, but I want, fust and foremost, to browse round, and inspect, and cogitate, and meditate, till I kin hit on some kind of a plan for workin out what I want. I’ll tell you when I get it all thought out, but for the present I am dumb.”
After this very mysterious conclusion, Captain Corbet rose and left the cabin. For the remainder of the day he kept by himself. He wandered all over the ship, and inspected every part most carefully. Then he retreated to the quarter-deck, and, seating himself there, lost himself in his own absorbing thoughts. What he was thinking about the boys did not know, nor did any of them inquire; for they were all far too much taken up with the novelty of the situation to pay any attention to him.
Meanwhile Solomon had followed the commands of Bruce, and had taken himself off to the cook’s galley. There, two hours afterwards, on leaving the cabin, the boys found him. He had that expression on his face, and had installed himself in that particular attitude, which might have belonged to one who had lived and labored here for years. He had eaten a huge repast, and was meditating over a roaring fire.
“Hurrah, Solomon,” said Bart, who was the first to visit him. “How goes it, my prince of darkies? This is a little ahead of the Antelope—isn’t it? Now you can begin to live again; and I tell you what, you’ll find enough stuff aft there to give us a first-rate bill of fare every day, and different every time.”
Solomon jumped up with a grin..
“Is de dinna oba, Mas’r Bart?” he asked.
“O, yes.”
“Well, den, I mus go aft an clar away de tings, and spect for myself, to see what we got roun us in dis yer craft. I been a tryin to cogitate an contrive for suppa, but I can’t manage it nohow till I know zacly what I got to put my ole hands un. I s’pose you’ll take all de tings aboard de Antelope right away?
“Aboard the Antelope? Indeed, we don’t intend to do anything of the kind.”
“Why, what are you a goin to do?”
“Do? Why, we’ll stay here for ever so long. It’s a kind of desert island, you know—only it’s ten times better.”
The rest of the boys now came streaming forward, wandering all over the ship. Solomon went to the cabin, while Bart and Bruce proceeded to examine the mattresses. These were very much dryer than they had been, but still were so damp that several of them would require two or three days to become fit to sleep on. Others, however, were already nearly fit for use. Bart noticed that the wet ones came from the port side of the ship, and he remembered that the state-rooms on that side were much damper than those on the other. Water seemed to have penetrated there. He accounted for this on the supposition that this had been the leeward side in a gale, and, when the ship was filling, it had lain low down, and had received the washings of the waves. Fortunately, the storeroom and the pantry were on the other side, and thus their contents had escaped without injury. But the wet mattresses themselves were afterwards taken in hand by Solomon, who opened them, and dried their contents partly in front of the galley stove and partly in the open air. To assist in this process he kindled a roaring fire in the cabin, which served a double purpose, for it not only dried the mattresses but it also dried the cabin itself, and drove away the last vestige of dampness from the state-rooms on the port side.
While busy in one of these, Bart saw a bottle lying on the floor. It was corked. On taking it up, he held it to the light to see what liquid might be inside. To his surprise he saw no liquid, but some folded paper. With a loud cry he rushed forth upon deck, displaying his bottle, and calling upon all the boys to come.
In a few moments the eager boys had all collected around Bart, and even Captain Corbet was roused from his abstraction, and came to the centre of interest.
“Has any one a corkscrew?” asked Bart.
“There’s one in the pantry,” said Bruce.
“I’ll go and get it,” said Phil.
“Pooh!” said Tom; “break the bottle. You’ll never get at the paper if you don’t.”
“Sure enough,” said Bart; and the next instant he struck the bottle against an iron belaying-pin, and shivered it to atoms. The paper fell on the deck.
Bart snatched it up, and opened it. It was a piece of coarse paper, that looked as though it had been hastily torn from some book. On it some writing was hurriedly scrawled with a pencil. It was as follows:—
Ship Petrel, of Liverpool, from Quebec, with timeber. Fog for two weeks, and violent gales. Lost reckoning. Took an observation last in lat. 46° 5’ 22”, long. 59° 8’ 2”. Ship waterlogged, on beam-ends, and going to pieces. Taking to boats.
Henry Hall, Master.
There was another scrawl that seemed intended for a date, but the boys could not make it out. It looked like “Tuesday, March,” but it might have been anything else.
Such, then, was the writing. The captain had believed that the ship was actually going to pieces, and had hurried off evidently in the greatest possible haste, and had probably thrown into the boats a few of the barest necessaries of life.
But Bart suggested another theory. It was that the captain had put this writing in the bottle, and had got it all ready to throw over, when perhaps a sail had hove in sight, and thus the bottle had been left in the cabin.
Another theory was, that, in his hurry or panic, he had forgotten all about the bottle, which had floated about in the cabin, and been left in one of the state-rooms by the retreating waves.
It was evident to all that the captain, “Henry Hall,” had lost his head. In his terror he had believed that the ship was “going to pieces;” whereas nothing of the sort was going on. She might possibly have been on her beam-ends, since he said so, but even here his fears might have exaggerated the danger. Captain Corbet thought that she had been struck over on her beam-ends, and held down by her sails, and, when these were torn away, she had eventually righted herself.
“That thar skipper,” said he, sententiously, “was frikened out of his seven senses, and fancied the craft was brakin up. So he rushed to the boats, chucked in a bag of biscuit and a few bottles of water, and rowed away for his life.”
Captain Corbet paused for a moment, and looked at the boys with a very singular expression on his face.
“And now,” said he, “my dear young friends, do you know what you air and what you’ve ben an gone an done?”
“What?” asked Bruce, in some surprise at the captain’s tone and manner.
“Wal, only this—you’re salvors.”
“Salvors!” repeated Bruce, to whom this word conveyed no meaning in particular.
“Salvors!” repeated Captain Corbet, impressively. “Yes, you’ve found this here ship on the broad bosom of the deep, deserted; you’ve took possession—she’s yours.”
“Well, what of that?” said Bruce. “For that matter, she belongs to all of us.”
“She belongs to all them that bear a hand to bring her into port.”
“Into port!” cried Bart, in great surprise.
“Yes, into port,” said Captain Corbet. “That thar was the very fust idee that entered into my head as I sot foot on this here deck. This noble ship, this valable cargo,—is this to be given up, or surrendered to the tender mussies of the pitiless and ragin ocean? Not if I knows it. If we can manage to navigate this here craft into port, she’s ours! We can sell her. We can sell her cargo. It’s a val’able cargo. It’ll give each of us enough, if the proceeds air divided, to set us up for life. For my part, I’m an old man, with one foot in the grave; but I never forget that I am a feyther, and never did the parential heart beat more wildly than it did at the identical moment when this thought came like fire into my brain. That’s so.”
“But how in the world can we get her into port?” cried Bart, in astonishment and excitement.
“Wal,” said Captain Corbet, “that thar’s the very identical pint that I’ve been a cogitatin over the hull arternoon. I’ve gone about this here craft on all sides, an I’ve sot an surveyed her from a distance. I’ve shot my eyes an meditated her all over. But thar’s one grand and overpeowerin obstacle in the way to a fair navigation, and that is, she hasn’t got a rag of a sail except that jib.”
“‘So what can we do?” said Bruce. “We can’t get her to move an inch without sails.”
“Couldn’t we rig up the sails of the Antelope?” asked Tom.
Captain Corbet shook his head mildly.
“’Tain’t possible,” said he, “no how. Fust an foremost, the spread of canvas on the schewner ain’t over an above sufficient to fetch her along, and on this here ship it wouldn’t be a succumstance. Why, this here ship is a thousand tonner, an more too. Besides,” added the venerable captain, with mild suggestiveness, “the canvas of the Antelopemightbe stronger.”
This was a statement the truth of which was at once felt and acknowledged by all the boys.
“Wal,” said Captain Corbet, “there ain’t no use doin things up in a hurry—not a mite. We’ve got to deliberate, cogitate, turn it all over in our minds, and be precious keerful how we decide. There’s a good deal at stake, and this here hour may be a goin to make or mar our fortins. I intend to brood over it this night, an p’aps by mornin I’ll see my way. The only trouble is,” he added, in a pensive tone, “that I don’t quite know how I can ever see my way to navigatin this here vessel without sails.”
“Perhaps we can drift to some place,” suggested Phil.
Captain Corbet looked at Phil for a few moments with mild astonishment.
“Have you ever tried driftin, young sir?” he asked, at length.
“No,” said Phil, “except with you, in the Antelope.”
“Yea, and in the Bay of Fundy. Now, if this was only the Bay of Fundy, I’d feel at home. In that thar bay I’d ventoor to cal’late the exact point to which this here ship would drift. But this ain’t the Bay of Fundy, and, what’s more, I don’t understand the currents of these here waters,—more’s the pity, bein as I’m a pilgerrim an a stranger. As to driftin, why, we’ll drift, course, as long as we’re aboard; but where we may drift to it would take a man with a head as long as a horse to tell. Why, we might drift to Portygal, and that, I think, wouldn’t quite meet the voos of any of us. I’ve knowed, or leastways I’ve heerd tell of ships that’s gone all the way over to Portygal, partly driftin, partly by the wind a blowin of ‘em. But this here ship I want to indooce to go to some home port,—and how to do that is the puzzle that now occoopies this bewildered brain.”
With these words the captain gently passed away from the group of boys, leaving them to think over and to talk over this new and exciting project. It was in conversation about this and about the message in the bottle, that they occupied themselves till bedtime.
That night they concluded to sleep in their old quarters on board the Antelope, as the beds and bedding in the cabin of the Petrel were not dry enough to satisfy the mind of Captain Corbet.
Solomon in his Glory.—The Breakfast a splendid Success.—Out of Starvation and into the Land of Plenty.—Removal of Lodgings.—The Question of Salvage.—An important Debate.—To go or not to go.—Dropping Anchor.—The final Departure.—Corbet bids a fond Farewell.—Alone in the Water-logged Ship.IT was late on the following morning when they awoke. The effect of fatigue and excitement, together with perfect peace of mind, all conspired to make their sleep sound and refreshing. Solomon alone was up early; but it was nine o’clock before they sat down to the sumptuous breakfast which he had prepared in the cabin of the Petrel.
Solomon had found himself in command of a very well appointed larder, and he showed no inclination to spare it. He seemed to be endeavoring to make amends for his enforced idleness of the past few days by extraordinary activity and fruitfulness of invention in the culinary department. There was no lack of anything which the ship could supply; nay? there was even more than any of the boys had expected, for, to the amazement of all, they saw on the table before them several dishes of hot rolls; for Solomon had discovered among the ship’s stores some barrels of flour, and had at once made a raid upon these. He laid before them coffee, tea, hot rolls, delicious fish-balls, broiled ham, stewed tomatoes, baked potatoes, with a variety of potted meats, prepared in manifold ways by his skilful hand.
The breakfast was a splendid success. It made all of them more delighted than ever with their situation. In fact, about that situation there was now an air of luxury; and the first determination of all of them was to move, bag and baggage, on board the Petrel, and live there. Solomon assured them that before the next evening all the bedding would be so dry that the most delicate invalid might sleep upon any one of the mattresses without fear. The boys, therefore, made their decision at once. They determined to take up their lodgings on board the Petrel, and proceeded to select state-rooms. As there was some difference in these apartments, they decided that the fairest way would be to draw lots. Captain Corbet positively refused to leave the Antelope, and so did Wade; so the boys had it all to themselves. Pat and Phil drew the best room (the captain’s); Bart and Tom drew the next best, which was apparently the mate’s; while Bruce and Arthur had the choice of any one out of the four remaining ones. All, however, were sufficiently comfortable to satisfy the most exacting, and none of the party had any cause to find fault with the result. Then followed the removal of their simple baggage, after which the boys began to “fix up” their respective state-rooms with as much care and labor as though they proposed spending the rest of the summer on board.
These preparations did not take up much time; and before long they were all out on deck inspecting the bedding, and examining how far the various mattresses were prepared for being restored to their places. But it was decided to leave all these for the day, until Solomon should be ready to make the beds.
It was a beautiful day. The sky was without a cloud, blue and glorious. The sun shone down warmly and brilliantly. There was a gentle breeze, which tossed up the water into wavelets without making much motion, a breeze which was sufficient for the tranquil movement of some pleasure yacht, and not strong enough to excite any fear. There was a freshness in the atmosphere which was most exhilarating. The air was clear and transparent. Wide around lay the waste of waters, upon which not a single sail was visible.
Solomon cleared away the table, and then relapsed into the galley. The boys gathered into a little group upon the quarter-deck. To them thus assembled appeared the form of the venerable Corbet, a smile on his lips, a glance of benignity in his eyes.
“It’s all about this here salvage,” he began, somewhat abruptly. “You see, boys, I’ve ben a thinkin an a dreamin, asleep an awake, all night long, an my pinion is more an more that we hadn’t ort, none of us, to lose this present blessed chance, if we can possibly make anythin out of it. I’ve ben a cal’latin the valoo of this here ship an cargo. Now, this here ship must have cost at least fifteen thousand pounds. Of course she ain’t wuth that much now, an I can’t tell what she is wuth till I know what damage she’s received. At any rate, she’s wuth a good deal. As for her cargo, why, that’s jest as good as the day it was put inside of her. Timber ain’t like grain or cotton; it don’t spile. Here, then, we have a couple of thousand tons or so of fust-rate white pine timber, wuth lots of money, and we have this ship, wuth thousands of pounds. Why, boys, at the smallest cal’lation, the proceeds of the sale of this here ship and cargo would amount to over a thousand pounds apiece for every one of us, includin Solomon.
“’Tain’t myself I’m a thinkin on,” resumed the captain, after a pause, in a tone of mild melancholy, and with a pensive sigh; “’tain’t myself at all. I’m old, sere, an yaller. I don’t want money; I got enough for all my needs and pupposes. But it’s the babby, dear boys, the babby. That thar infant is the true cause of my present wanderin life. He drives me to the ocean wave when I might be toastin my shins in front of my own stove. I want to airn somethin to leave to him when I’m dead an gone. I got the house an the farm; but I want somethin more for the infant. All my cares are for him. I don’t want to leave him to the cold world, to sturruggle an to sturrive. I want to give him a eddication, to make a man of him an a scholyer, a joy to his parient, and an honor to his country.
“Wal, now’s the chance. Here we have it thrown into our very hands. We’ve got it, an all we’ve got to do is to make use of it. Here’s this here ship an cargo. If we can only get her into some port, it’ll be wuth over a thousand pounds apiece to every one of us, Solomon included. Each one of you boys’ll have enough, dear knows, to keep you in pocket-money all your born days, or to buy you a fine schewner all to yourself. Solomon’ll have enough to raise him far above the humble attitood of a ship’s cook; an I will have enough to raise the babby above want, an rair him to be a gentleman an a scholyer.”
Partly from the idea of getting plenty of pocket-money, partly to help old Solomon, partly to assist the respected Corbet in acquiring the means of giving an “eddication” to the “babby,” but more than all because they were moved by his earnestness, the boys universally chimed in with his wishes, and urged him most enthusiastically to do all that he could to save the ship. Captain Corbet listened with his usual mildness, and then suggested that perhaps there might be some sails stowed away on board; upon which he at once went off to search for himself.
His search, however, was not successful. One sail was found, but it was quite inadequate to the needs of the ship. It really seemed to be, as the captain asserted, that the Petrel had encountered violent gales, in which her sails had been lost, and all her spare ones made use of only to be lost in turn. Certain it was that, though of other things there was no lack, of sails there was a total want; and the discovery of this reduced Captain Corbet once more to his former meditative mood.
While Captain Corbet thus meditated, the boys talked over the situation. If sails were wanted, it seemed to them that the best thing that could be done would be for some one to go and get them. There was wind enough. The Magdalen Islands were not far away, and no doubt a sufficient supply could be obtained there. Some one might remain on board the Petrel. The question then arose, Who should go and who should stay? As to that there was no doubt. Every one of the boys determined to stick to the Petrel at all hazards, and thus Captain Corbet himself could go in the Antelope.
It was with words to this effect that Bart broke in upon the musings of Captain Corbet.
The captain listened to his remarks, and, though he was evidently struck by them, still there arose in his mind certain scruples, which under the circumstances were very natural.
“O, no! no, no!” said he; “railly, now, you mustn’t try to persuade me.”
“Why not?”
“O, it would never do!”
“Do? Yes, it would.”
“O, I couldn’t bring myself to leave youns! Who could tell what might happen!”
“Nonsense! Are we babies? Can’t we take care of ourselves? Of course we can! We’ve been in far worse situations than this. Think of what we’ve all gone through at different times! Think in particular of Tom and Phil, what they’ve gone through! Are we the fellows that could meet with any harm if you were to leave us?”
“Yes, you air; it’s jest that,” said Captain Corbet. “You’ve all got a natral-born, innate talent for gettin into difficulties. You don’t caitch me lettin you go out of my sight.”
“Nonsense!” said Bart. “See here, now, captain. There isn’t and there can’t be the slightest danger. It’s all safe. We’ll be as safe here as if we were on an island. This ship? can never sink. Why, I know all about these timber ships. My father owned one that got waterlogged just like this, in the middle of winter, in the Atlantic, and in the course of several tremendous gales she was blown over, to Europe. Mind you, she couldn’t sink. She got into Liverpool, and was broken up there, and her cargo was sold for the benefit of the underwriters. Captain Beyea, who commanded her, told me all about it. Of course at this season of the year we’re all right, for there’s no likelihood of any storms; and besides, you’ll only be gone a few days.”
Captain Corbet did not answer for some time.
“O, boys,” he said, at length, in a hesitating way, “if you only could! If I only dar’d!”
“If we only could?” said Bruce. “Why, captain, you don’t seem to know us! You think that we’re a parcel of helpless children.”
“I only wish,” said Tom, “that I may never have anything worse to do than to stay in a place like this—a floating palace, where we feed on the fat of the land. When I think of Ilee Haute, I consider this a sort of Paradise.”
“I think I have known worse places,” said Phil. “I could tell you of a burning forest, in comparison with which every other situation isn’t worth being mentioned. Why, boys, this is going to be a sort of picnic—a pleasure party.”
“Captain,” said Arthur, “we are all settled here now. Each of us has his state-room. We’ve got plenty of provisions. We’ve made up our minds to spend a couple of weeks here at least. So you may as well knock under. While we’re aboard, it will be much better for you to go off, and try to get some sails, than to wander up and down, moping, day after day, with the Antelope alongside doing nothing.”
“Sure, an it’s meself,” said Pat, “that would be willing to sail off in the Antelope single-handed, if Captain Corbet is afraid, only I’ll want one man to give a hand in navigatin, so I will.”
“O, two could easily sail the Antelope,” said Bruce.
“And what shall Solomon do?” asked Arthur.
“Do?” said Bart. “Why, he’ll stay with us. What could we do without Solomon? We need him here more than anywhere else. Without him our life here would become flat and insipid. I could do the cooking once; but as a general thing, I should beg to be excused. Without Solomon we should not be able to eat.”
‘“Yes, yes,” said Captain Corbet, meditatively. “Thar’s no trouble about me an Wade navigatin the Antelope. We don’t want Solomon. He’ll be best here with youns. If I could only leave you—”
“But that’s already settled,” said Bart, decisively. “You are going to leave us.”
“Wal,” said Captain Corbet, “here we air, some-whar nigh onto fifty mile north of the Magdalen Islands. I steered doo north; an I don’t think we’ve made much of a muve since the calm began. Now, my idee is, that if we were to drop anchor here, this here craft would stay till I come back, an I know I could find her easy.”
“Drop anchor? Of course,” said Bart. “I didn’t think of that. In fact, this was my only trouble—the possibility of drifting from this place. But if we were to drop anchor, why, of course it stands to reason that we shouldn’t move from this place; and so, of course, you could find us again, as you say, without any difficulty.”
“Her anchors air all right,” said Captain Corbet. “I’ve seen em. There’s sixty fathom of chain if there’s an inch.”
“Well, come now. We’d better drop anchor at once,” said Bart.
“You tempt me, boys,” said Captain Corbet, with evident emotion. “You tempt me awful. I feel as though I hadn’t ought to go; but you’ve got a kind of a sort of a way of puttin things that makes it seem all so safe, an pleasant, an easy like that I’ve half a mind to resk it, an go off at all hazards. For there’s so much at stake! My babby! He pulls even now at my paternal heart-strings! His voice, even now, is a soundin in my aged ear! ‘Father,’ he seems to say, ‘go off, an hurry up with them thar sails.’ An then,” continued the captain, after a pause, everything seems favorable. The breeze is fair; the sea is calm; the sky is blue; an I’ll only be gone a couple of days at the farthest. ’Tain’t likely there’ll be another calm. The wind is fair for the Magdalen Islands. There’s provisions enough aboard here for months: An, as you say, there railly ain’t any danger.
“You’re quite right, Bart. This here ship can never sink. Her timber cargo’ll keep her afloat till dumesday, an, what’s more, it’ll hold her together. An I’ve so much at stake! The babby! His fortune may now be made. It needs only one bold stroke, an all is done. Then we have the ship for our own, an the cargo, an we’ll sell em both, an divide the proceeds. It’ll be more’n a thousand pounds apiece, an the babby’ll be independent. He can receive a college eddication; he can grow up to be a gentleman an a scholyer; an he’ll live to bless the memory of the aged parient who now doos violence to his own conscience for the sake of the footor interests of his offspring. Yes, yes, it must be done. An, boys, I rayther guess, on the whole, that p’aps I’d best go, as you say.”
The decision of the captain thus announced was received with acclamation by the boys, and these marks of approval served to drive away the last vestige of hesitation from Captain Corbet’s mind.
“Wal,” said he, “if we’re goin to do it, we’d best do it as soon as possible. So, fust an foremost, we’d best let go the anchor.”
Calling Wade, the captain then went forward, followed by all the boys.
The anchor was let go.
Rattle, rattle, rattle went chain and windlass, and at length the anchor stopped.
“That’ll hold, I guess,” said the captain, “Now you’re hard an fast. Now I’ll know where to find you. You’re no longer aboard a ship. You’re on a fixed and immovable spot,—an island of the sea,—an here you’ll stay patient and quiet till I come back.”
These remarks the boys heard with the utmost placidity, and accepted them as absolute fact.. They had flung themselves headlong into this somewhat dangerous project, and were now more eager than ever for its successful completion.
After letting go the anchor, the next thing was to prepare the Antelope for her trip.
“We’re out of provisions, boys, over there,” said the captain, “as you may, perhaps, be aware, an we’ll have to make a re-qui-sition on you. We don’t want much; none o’ yer potted meats an chicken-fixins; none o’ yer luxoories an sweetmeats. All we want is a modest supply of good honest biscuit, with a little pork, a ham or two, an a pinch of sugar, an a drawin o’ tea. Wade an me, we don’t go in for scientific cookery; we only want somethin to chaw at odd times.”
They now proceeded to transfer to the Antelope a sufficient supply of food. All the boys lent a hand. A dozen hams, a barrel of pork, a barrel of beef, and six barrels of ship bread were put on board the schooner, in spite of the remonstrances of the captain, who assured them that they only wanted a tenth part of all these stores. But the boys would not be balked in their hospitable intentions.
At length the stores were all on board the Antelope, and nothing more remained to be done. The last moment had come. Captain Corbet was deeply affected, and seemed inclined to change his mind, after all, and stay. But the boys were eager in urging him off. So the good captain allowed himself to be persuaded against his better reason, and he and Wade got on board the Antelope, and the lines were cast off.
The sails of the schooner were hoisted, and the breeze filled them, moving the schooner slowly away.
Captain Corbet stood at the stern of the Antelope, holding the tiller. His face was turned towards the boys, who stood in a group on the quarter-deck of the Petrel. He seemed melancholy and miserable.
“Boys,” said he, in a tremulous voice, “dear boys, take care of yourselves.”
“All right,” cried Bart, cheerily.
The Antelope moved farther off.
Captain Corbet stood looking at the ship, and his face had an expression of despair. At times he called out to them; but the Antelope moved farther and farther off every minute, and at length his voice could no longer be heard.
It was evening when the Antelope left. In about an hour she was lost to view.
The boys were alone on the ship.