‘take care of the babby.’ He’s dreadful fond of me. Won’t be fed by
nobody else. I ginrally feed him at nights when he wakes. An’ a dreadful
high-sperited creetur is that child’s mother. An’ they shan’t abuse
him. No-o-o-o,” he added, abruptly, turning his conversation toward the
“babby” himself, who began to make faces and utter sounds premonitory of
a howl.
Mr. Long turned abruptly away.
“The man’s an idiot!” said he to Mr. Simmons. “We’ll have to get some
one else to go with us.”
“See here,” said he, turning to Captain Corbet, who was stirring up some
pap to feed his “babby;”
“I’ve engaged your schooner, and I mean to start in her. All our
things are on board, and we can’t lose a whole day. You’ve broken your
engagement; so I’ll go without you. I’ll find somebody that can sail
her. I’ll go to Captain Pearson, or old McNeil, or somebody.”
“There ain’t a skipper in the place. You won’t find anybody. I’m the
on’y schooner here. Everybody is got off to Bosting with taters. I’d
been off, too, on’y for the babby.”
“Well, when can you go?”
Captain Corbet shook his head.
“O, it’ll be all right. I’ll be along--some time. I dare say Mrs. Corbet
’ll be home soon. Don’t be alarmed about me. I’ll put you through.”
“See here, Captain Corbet; I’ll go off now and find somebody to take me.
You’ve deceived me, and disappointed me.”
Saying this, Mr. Long strode out of the house, followed by his
companion, and drove away rapidly in search of some one to navigate the
schooner.
All his efforts were vain. It was as Captain Corbet said. There wasn’t
any one in the place. Every seafaring man had gone off in some kind of
potato craft to Boston, allured by the high prices of potatoes. Fortunes
were being made, and nothing but the desperate imbecility of Corbet
prevented him from having his share in the golden harvest. Time passed.
The tide fell rapidly, and the vessel was again left aground by the
retreating waters. It would be necessary to postpone their departure
until the following day, for they did not care about starting in the
night.
There was no help for it. They would have to wait. Mr. Long went up
again to see Captain Corbet, and extorted from him a promise to leave
at nine o’clock on the following morning. Before he left he had the
satisfaction of seeing Mrs. Corbet arrive home, and got her to promise
that her husband should go. As this was the only thing that could be
done, he went back to make known the state of the case to the boys.
As to the boys, though disappointed, they were not at all cast down.
They had possession of the vessel, with beds and provisions, and on the
vessel they were bound to remain. Mr. Long found that they had eaten
an excellent dinner, and were preparing their evening repast in the
schooner’s hold, which they now considered their home. They did not want
to go to the Academy to eat or to sleep. They were navigators, and their
life was on the ocean wave, their home on the rolling deep.
So they passed the night on board, and found the first experience of
wild life very pleasant. Songs and laughter arose until late, and it was
midnight before the merry voices ceased to rise into the still air.
Early the next morning Mr. Long was down, and found that the boys had
already finished breakfast, and were eagerly awaiting the next turn in
the proceedings of the day. He communicated to them his anxieties about
Corbet, and gave them to understand that they might not get off at all,
unless they could secure the dawdling skipper. He urged them all to
accompany him to Corbet’s house, so as to bring a moral power to bear
which he would not be able to withstand.
This proposal the boys received with three stunning cheers.
Off, then, started all the boys, headed by Mr. Long, who, in his
excitement, no longer cared about the ragged regiment at his heels. For
three good miles they footed it bravely, and at length stood in front of
Captain Corbet’s door. Mr. Long entered, and found the navigator seated
in his kitchen by the fireplace, dandling the babby. The wife of his
bosom was setting the breakfast table.
“Good morning,” said Mr. Long.
“Why, it’s Mr. Long! Railly now,” said Captain Corbet. “An’ it shall see
Mr. Long, too,--so it shall,” he continued, holding up the babby, who
fastened its large blue eyes upon the visitor.
Mr. Long turned away, and spoke aside with Mrs. Corbet. Rightly
considering that she was the true head of the house, he begged her
not to let them be disappointed again. He was successful. Mrs. Corbet
assured him that the moment breakfast was over she would send him off.
“And we will wait,” said Mr. Long.
So they waited patiently; and at last Captain Corbet tore himself away
from his house, his wife, and his babby, and went to the schooner,
accompanied by the ragged regiment of boys.
It was about ten o’clock, and the schooner was afloat. All tumbled on
board. The hawswrs were unloosed. Captain Corbet had to go ashore to
get a man whom he called his “mate;” but as Mr. Long went with him but
little time was lost.
At last the sails were hoisted. The wind filled them, and the Antelope
moved slowly from the wharf. A loud, ringing cheer arose as the schooner
started. Before the last notes died away, however, a man was seen
running down toward the wharf. He was short and fat, and panted heavily.
Reaching the wharf, he cast one look of consternation at the place where
the garden wall had been, and another at the schooner.
“They’ve done it, by jingo!” he exclaimed. “Hallo there!” he screamed.
“Did you go and take my fence for ballast, Corbet?”
“No, I didn’t!” yelled Corbet.
“You did, you scoundrel! Harris saw those young reprobates passing the
stones on board. Bring them back at once, every one of them, or I’ll
make you sup sorrow!”
Here Mr. Long stepped forward.
“It’s all right,” said he. “It’s no matter--”
“What!” cried the owner of the fence. “I say it is _not_ all right; and
it _is_ matter. Bring me back my fence!”
“I’ll bring it back.”
“I’ll have the law of you!”
“All right. We’ll replace it.”
“Bring it back!”
“All right.”
“Bring--back--my--fence--!”
Further and further away the schooner moved, and fainter and fainter
grew the voice that called after them, till at last but a low and
scarcely audible tone could be heard.
As the vessel moved away, Bart stood at the mainmast. He had worked hard
the day before, running some lanyards through the truck, and now the
moment had come for his reward. Bruce Rawdon fired his pistol, and as
the report died away, up to the mast head went the black flag of the “B.
O. W. C.”
And all the boys greeted it with a cheer.
IV.
_Blomidon.--Tides and Fogs.--Songs and Seasickness.--The Five Islands,
and a Race up a Précipice._
WINDING on through the tortuous channel of the creek, they reached its
mouth without accident, and passed out into the bay. The morning was
bright and beautiful, the wind blew fair, and all gave themselves up to
the joy of the occasion. The Antelope, it is true, was of ancient build
and model; she was short, and broad, and round, but the wind was of such
a kind as to bring out whatever capacity for sailing she might have. The
sun shone brightly, and all around them sparkled the blue waves of the
bay. Behind them was the long level of Grand Pré, beyond which the hills
arose, whose slopes were dotted with white houses. Before them was the
wide bay bounded by the Parrsboro’ shore, while conspicuous, as usual,
arose the grand form of Blomidon.
“Is Blomidon a French name?” asked Bart of Mr. Simmons.
“No. It is said to be a corruption of the words _Blow me down_, and it
is spelled that way on old maps. A good many old coasting skippers
pronounce it in that way. The winds that prevail out there off the cape
are a sufficient cause for such a name.”
“Are there more winds off Blomidon than in other parts of the bay?”
“O, yes. It is seldom calm there. It seems as if all the winds of the
Bay of Fundy and of the Basin of Minas struggled together there. It is a
sort of funnel through which they all pour backward or forward. Then the
sea out there is often quite heavy. The meeting of different currents
and different winds causes this. Seldom will you find a place where such
fierce currents rush to and fro.”
“Shall we land at Blomidon first?”
“I do not think we can with this wind. It will be better, I think, to
wait till we come back. We will go across the Basin to the Five Islands
first.”
“Where are the highest tides of this Basin?”
“Do you see away there,” said Mr. Simmons, pointing far away toward the
right, “where the land seems to sink down?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there the water runs up till it ends in the Shubenacadie River.
It is there that the tide runs highest, and I suppose there is no part
of the world where the rise is so great.”
“Do you believe it rises ninety feet?”
“I have heard so,--at spring tides,--but I rather think it is an
exaggeration. It is difficult to get a fair and accurate measurement. I
do not think that it rises much over seventy feet.”
“That is high enough to surpass all other tides, I should think. But
see--hallo! what’s that?”
“And Bart darted to the side of the vessel, attracted by a shout. A
large schooner was approaching, on board of which all were staring with
grinning faces at the Antelope.
“Is that Captain Kidd’s craft?” shouted one of the sailors.
“Yes,” screamed Bart.
“We’re going to dig up a little buried treasure.”
A yell of derision and laughter was the answer, to which the boys of the
Antelope responded by wild, unearthly shouts; and so the vessels passed
each other.
In commemoration of this little incident, one of the boys commenced to
sing a doleful ditty, known in literature as “The Dying Confession of
Captain Kidd,” of which the following lines will give a good idea:
“O, my name is Captain Kidd,
As I sailed, as I sailed;
O, my name is Captain Kidd,
As I sailed.
O, my name is Captain Kidd,
And much wiekedness I did,
And a heap of gold I hid,
As I sailed.”
One song started another, and one by one their favorite school songs
came out. One of these was the following:
1st Verse. (Brisk.)
“Three blue-bottles,
Three blue-bottles,
Three blue-bottles sat
On a milestone.”
Recitative.
“One flew away.”
2d Verse. (Slow.)
“Two blue-bottles,
Two blue-bottles,
Two blue-bottles sat
On a milestone.”
Recitative.
“Another flew away.”
3d Verse. (Slower.)
“One blue-bottle,
One blue-bottle,
One blue-bottle sat
On a milestone.”
Recitative.
“That one flew away.”
4th Verse. (Very slow, very sad, and very solemn.)
“No blue-bottles,
No blue-bottles,
No blue-bottles sat
On a milestone.”
Recitative.
“One came back.”
5th Verse. (Less sad.)
“One blue-bottle,
One blue-bottle,
One blue-bottle sat
On a milestone.”
Gradually the blue-bottles of the song come back, till finally, on the
return of the three, the song comes to a triumphant conclusion.
Standing at the helm, Captain Corbet gave directions from time to time
to the “mate” about sailing the vessel, and listened to the songs of
the boys with a patriarchal smile. He had already shown himself so
accessible, that all the boys had chatted with him; and at last they
insisted that he should sing. Captain Corbet did not need very much
solicitation; Standing at the helm with his eyes half closed, he began
in a thin, shrill, piping, nasal voice, full of queer tremolos and grace
notes, to drone out several melodies of a varied character. The first
one was an ancient ballad, called “The Farmier’s Boy,” which began as
follows:
“O, the sky was black, the day was cold,
And the winds did loud-ly roar,
When cold and sad there corned a lad
Into a farimier’s door.
“‘Can you tell me,’ says he, ‘if any there be
Who want to give emplo-o-o-o-o-o-y
For to plough and to sow, and to reap and to mow,
And to be a farmier’s bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-y--
To--be--a--farmier’s bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-y?’”
Another song referred to the charms of domestic life, and was evidently
directed with a fell, satirical purpose against Messrs. Simmons and
Long, who were both hardened bachelors, and who, in Captain Corbet’s
estimation, had shown a degree of callousness and indifference to the
sweet attractions of domestic happiness which could not be too strongly
rebuked.
Meantime the Antelope was drawing nearer to Blomidon, and while
listening to Captain Corbet’s dulcet strains, they were gazing
with admiration at the dark promontory. None noticed that they were
approaching a place where the water, agitated by the wind, and driven by
conflicting currents, was tossing itself up into foaming waves; but all
stood carelessly about, and the song and the laugh went on. Suddenly
the vessel seemed to give a jump, and then a plunge downward. At that
instant a wave came dashing over the bows, saturating to the skin a
little crowd that had gathered there. Then, with a rush, and a crack,
and a wild singing among the rigging, a squall struck the vessel. Over
she went on one side, while fresh waves dashed over her gunwale. In an
instant all was confusion. Every boy grasped some rope, and held on for
his life. The boys who had been drenched at the bows looked forlornly
at their companions. Then--poof! came another blast, and away, away went
five dark objects careering through the air to leeward. A cry from the
“B. O. W. C.” followed this last mishap. They had lost their hats,
their beautiful plumed felt hats, their pride, their joy--lost them
ingloriously and beyond all hope of recovery. With doleful faces they
looked at one another, wondering what they could do. There were no more
hats on board. They thought of handkerchiefs, and so one after another
bound his handkerchief around his head. But now there was not much
chance for lamentation over wet jackets or lost hats. A more dismal fate
was lowering over them. Each one knew it, saw it, felt it in his inmost
soul. For the sea was rough, and the little schooner pitched and tossed
every way, rolling, and leaping, and jumping, more than flesh and blood
could bear. At any rate, their flesh and blood could not bear it. A
feeling of wretchedness came to every heart; every face grew pale,
and assumed an expression of woe. Suddenly Messrs. Long and Simmons
disappeared into the cabin. This was the signal for others. Many
followed. A few, however, preferred the deck, with its fresh air, to
the close air and the sickening smell of bilge-water and potatoes, that
predominated below. But the scene had changed for them as for all, and
the grandeur of Blomidon, and the magnificence of an iron-bound coast,
were forgotten. Hushed was the merry laugh, silent the melodious song.
Gone were the joyous young faces that but a short time before had looked
out from the vessel upon the sea and sky. Faded were the bright eyes,
scattered the bright visions of enjoyment. Alas, how changed!
And now, as they, went on farther, the wind grew fresher, and the waves
grew rougher, and the little schooner danced about like a mad thing; and
the booms creaked against the masts, and the sails flapped furiously,
and the blast went singing through the rigging. The wretched voyageurs
paid no attention to it. Their thoughts were all turned inward. Little
did they think now of that which they had recently been celebrating so
joyously:
“A life on the ocean wave,
A home on the rolling deep,
“Where the scattered waters rave,
And the winds--and the wi-i-i-i-inds--and the w-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-nds
their re-e-e-e-e-vels keep!”
Time passed, and still the Antelope went tossing, and rolling, and
pitching onward.. How long a time no one knew. Not one of the voyageurs
kept any account of that. Whether minutes or hours, they could not tell.
It seemed to them all one long duration, involving days or months. But
at last the motion of the vessel ceased, and she went on more smoothly.
Most of the boys below mustered up their courage, and began to think of
going on deck once more. Soon the joyous voice of Bart Darner summoned
them up.
“Come along, boys. We’re going to anchor. We’re at Five Islands.
Hurrah!”
“Hurrah! Hurrah!”
A loud cry arose. Up went the boys scrambling to the deck, and there the
scene before them was sufficient to drive away all suffering. The water
was smooth, the wind was quieter. Before them lay the outlines of Five
Islands, rising beautifully out of the water between them and the main
land, the nearest one being not more than a mile away. These islands
were of different and peculiar shapes. The two more distant were rounded
and well wooded; the third, which was midway among the group, had lofty,
precipitous sides, and the summit was dome-shaped; the fourth was like
a table, rising, with perpendicular sides, to the height of two hundred
feet, with a flat, level surface above, which was all overgrown with
forest trees. The last, and nearest of the group, was by far the most
singular. It was a bare rock, which rose irregularly from the sea,
terminating at one end in a peak, which rose about two hundred feet
into the air. As they approached it, this rock had a very peculiar
appearance. It resembled, more than anything else, a vast cathedral
rising out of the sea, the chief mass of the rock corresponding with the
main part of the cathedral, while the tower and spire were there in all
their majesty. For this cause the rock has received the name of Pinnacle
Island. This lonely and desolate rock, that thus rose out before them,
grew more distinctly revealed as they drew nearer. At the base they saw
the white foam of breaking surf; while far on high, around its lofty,
tempest-beaten summit, they saw myriads of sea-gulls. Gathering in great
white clouds about this place, they sported and chased one another; they
screamed and uttered their shrill yells, which sounded afar over the
sea.
Nearer and nearer they came, till at last they reached a smooth place on
the lee of the second island. This one was so close by Pinnacle Island,
that it seemed as though they might be joined at low water. Before them,
within a moderate distance, lay a gravelled beach, which extended as
far as they could see at the verge of the island, above which the dark
cliffs towered precipitously.
“There!” said Mr. Simmons, pointing, with sparkling eyes, to the dark
and sombre rocks,--“there, boys, is the place for minerals! I have found
on those rocks the most beautiful specimens, that have ever been seen,
of crystals, of jasper, and of chalcedony. I have found onyx, spar, and
hundreds of other stones; all kinds of agates, fragments of copper ore,
barytes, beautiful petrifactions, and footprints of birds among masses
of sandstone. From those cliffs came the famous amethyst that was once
among the crown jewels of Louis XV. Come, boys, be diligent; use your
eyes, and you will find something worth remembering. David Digg, don’t
forget your hammers.”
His enthusiastic speech was interrupted by a loud shout from Captain
Corbet.
“Let go!” he cried.
Down came the sails; and shortly after, rattle--rattle--rattle--rattle,
and with a plunge and a splash, the anchor rushed to the sea bottom.
“And now for the boats,” said Mr. Long.
The boat was brought up alongside. It was short, wide, and round, and
appeared to have been constructed after the identical tub which had
evidently served as a model for the Antelope. There was but one oar,
which was used to propel the boat by sculling. Not more than five or six
could get into her with safety.
“We can’t all go ashore in that,” said Mr. Simmons.
“Why not?” asked Captain Corbet.
“Why, she won’t hold us.”
“Yes, she will.”
“O, no.”
“Excuse _me_, sir,” persisted Captain Corbet. “Of course you don’t all
mean to go at once.”
“O, I see,” said Mr. Simmons, whose mathematical mind began to grasp the
solution of the difficult problem. “You’ll make two or three trips with
her.”
“Of course.”
“O, that quite alters the case.”
“Bless your heart, of course it does.”
“Will we want any provisions?” asked Bart.
“Provisions! What for?”
“Are we going to camp out?”
“O, no. We’ll return to the vessel. But provisions! O, yes, we’ll want a
lunch ashore, of course.”
And now began the process of disembarkation. Messrs. Simmons and Long,
with two boys, went first. A number of baskets of provisions were thrown
in, and the mate sculled them ashore.
On his return five more boys were ready. The “B. O. W. C.” generously
waited till the last. The loss of their hats had been a sore grievance,
but the handkerchiefs were not a bad substitute. Bart had his pistol
in his belt, and a sailor’s knife. Bruce Rawdon had a beautiful little
hatchet. The others had knives. When the boat returned, they were quite
worn out with impatience, and were almost ready to jump overboard and
swim ashore. But their time of waiting ended at last, and the boat
landed them on the gravelly beach..
It was about two o’clock when the party landed on the island. They had
started at ten, three hours before high tide. The tide was therefore
already beginning to turn, and would of course continue to run out till
seven or eight. On this account, the schooner could not come any nearer
for fear of being stranded. As they did not intend to pass the night on
the island, it was necessary, at all hazards, to keep the vessel afloat.
Captain Corbet had selected a place where he knew the vessel could ride
at all times of tide; and though it was inconveniently distant, yet it
was the only place for her under the circumstances. Mr. Simmons had
told Captain Corbet that he would leave the island in three hours, after
which the schooner was to sail to a port a few miles off on the main
land, and anchor for the night. He had also taken care to let all the
boys understand these arrangements perfectly, and had warned them not to
be too far away when the hour for leaving might come.
As the last of the passengers landed, they walked about the beach,
looking up at the gigantic cliffs, picking up the stones and shells, and
exulting in the novelty of their situation. The island was about half a
mile long, and about half that width. The beach was narrow; and the boys
began to look, with longing eyes, to the summit of the island. In their
wanderings they came across their companions. Mr. Simmons, followed by
Bogud, was busy at the rocks in one place. Mr. Long, with Billymack,
was working away near him. The baskets lay open, and all could help
themselves to lunch. After satisfying their hunger, the “B. O. W. C.”
quickly determined to explore the island thoroughly, with the hope of
finding a way to the top. With this intention they started off, and at
length found a place which seemed to promise what they desired. It
was at the end nearest to Pinnacle Island. A torrent had made a rough
pathway for itself in that place, and though the stones were somewhat
insecure, yet it seemed safe enough for active lads.
Up this place, then, they tried to climb. The footing was very insecure,
the loose stones constantly rolling down, and making it dangerous for
one to go behind another. It was so steep that they had to climb with
hands as well as feet. They clutched the roots of trees, the long, tough
grasses, and the thick ferns. Thus pulling, pushing, clutching, dodging
stones, and forcing a way up through all difficulties, they-managed to
scramble to the summit.
V.
_Exploring a desert Island.--Tumbling over a Cliff.--Peril of Bruce.--A
mad Row over the waves.--Adrift in the Fog._
ON reaching the summit, the triumphant, climbers gave vent to
their feelings in loud shouts. Looking out from their lofty perch, a
magnificent scene unfolded itself before their eyes. There was the broad
expanse of water. In the distance, a kind of haze rested over the
hills, which, to experienced eyes, would have been significant of
an approaching fog, but it gave no such warning to them. There rose
Blomidon, always the supreme monarch of the scene. Around them were
clustered the other islands; and here, directly opposite them, and
beneath them, was Pinnacle Island, with its cloud of screaming gulls.
Yet it was not to these, or to any one of these, that the eyes of the
boys were most attracted. There, beneath them, lay another object, which
had for them a greater charm. It was the Antelope. There she swung at
her anchor, while ever and anon the passing breeze, as it came by, swept
out the folds of the black flag, from which that benevolent face,
which it bore, seemed to look up at them with a grin of welcome,
encouragement, and sympathy.
It was another proud moment for the “B. O. W. C.”