“Ach, be the powers! if that’s all,” said he, good humoredly, “then we
won’t say any more about it. But how did ye’s get here? I didn’t see any
boat. Where did ye land, then?”
“Why, the fact is, we were brought here,” said Bart, who went on to tell
him all about their adventure.
Dennis O’Rafferty listened to every word with intense interest, his face
undergoing a perpetual change of expression, that spoke of conflicting
emotions.
“Be the powers, then,” he exclaimed, as Bart ceased, “it was a narrow
scratch that ye had of it. An’ ye’ve been ashore here two nights. Be
jabers, it’s meself that’s ashamed of what I said till ye about the
goose. Have ye’s had anything till ate thin, at all?”
“Nothing but lobster.”
“Lobster! Well, thin, let me inforrum ye’s that ye’ll find that a
moighty onwholesome diet. An’ you’ve been here all that time wid nothin’
at all to ate. Be jabers, I’m the boy for ye’s. Come along, boys. Ye’ll
find old O’Rafferty can give ye a breakfast, at any rate. Come along.
Ye’re starvin’, so ye are. Me old woman ‘ll be deloighted to set eyes on
ye’s. Never mind the goose; I’ll give ye’s a dozen for nothin’. Lave
it lie there; the old woman ’ll come an’ pick it for ye. Come along,
boys.”
And the old fellow led the way; while the boys, delighted at the turn
which things had taken, followed gayly after.
“And so ye’r Docthor Porther’s boys, are ye’s?” continued Dennis.
“Faith it’s himself ’ll be throubled. It’s a long time I’ve knowed
the docthor. An’ there isn’t his shuparior in the counthry. Arrah, be me
sowl, but it’s meself that’s glad to see ye’s. The sight of yer young,
fresh faces does good till me old bones. Come along, boys. And is the
docthor with ye’s in the schooner? Come along; ye haven’t fur to go.
I’ve got a bit of a house around beyant. Ye’ll see it as soon as iver we
turrun the hill.”
On rounding the hill, they saw a clearing of about thirty acres, with a
boat drawn up on the shore, while close by them was a small house and
a barn. An old woman at the door looked up at them in speechless
amazement.
“It’s the owld woman,” said O’Rafferty. “It’s herself that’s dead bate
at the sight of ye’s.”
“Lard save us, Dinny, what in the wurruld have ye got there, thin?”
cried the old woman, as the party reached the house.
“It’s some of Docthor Porther’s boys, that’s been gettin’ themselves
shipwracked on the other side,” said O’Rafferty, “and haven’t had a bite
to ate for two days, savin’ an’ exceptin’ a bit of cowld lobster, which
isn’t aisy aitin’. An’ however they got ashore on there, widout oars,
bates me intirely,--widout countin’ that thim same has been workin’ like
slaves a day or more, on impty stomachs, buildin’ a camp and carryin’
fire-wood, which is hard enough work to kill a man, let alone boys like
these. And so stir yer stumps, Molly avick, and bring out praties an’
bacon, the best ye have, and a drawin’ of tay, an’ chayse, an’ bread
and butter. It’s starvin’ they all are intoirely, or me name’s not Dinny
O’Rafferty.”
“Ah, thin,” cried the old woman, “the saints stand betune us and harrum.
What’s that ye’r sayin’, Dinny O’Rafferty? Is it shipwracked ye wer’,
thin, ye darlin’s of the wurruld? Sure it’s not much an owld woman like
me can do for the likes of ye; but I’ll give ye the best I’ve got, so I
will. Sure an’.it’s starvin’ ye must be, if ye’ve had nothin’ to ate for
so long.”
Nothing could exceed the kindness and warmth of welcome which O’Rafferty
and his wife gave the boys. The old woman bustled about, and kindled a
fire, and put on the pot and kettle, and laid the table, occasionally
stopping to look at the boys, one after the other, with a peculiar
fondness of expression and a low, crooning noise, such as nurses make
over children.
“Sure it’s like a breath of fresh air to a captive in a dungeon to look
at your swate faces,” she cried. “Niver a boy’s face have I seen since
the dark day when my own boy took his swate face from me eyes foriver.
An’ that was fifteen year ago. An’ we came here, an’ lived here ever
since.”
The old woman gave a long sigh, and sitting down, she held her head in
her hands, rocking herself to and fro.
“Ah, well,” she said, getting up and going out to the barn, “it’s not
much longer to live we have thin.”
“Fifteen years,” said O’Raflerty, as his wife went out. “It’s fifteen
years since we lost the boy. We lived in Parrsboro, an’ had as nice a
house and farm as the likes of us could ever wish for. But whin we lost
him, we lost all heart for the place. The old woman wud have died if she
had staid; an’ so I bought this bit of a place, an’ what with farmin’
an’ fishin’ we manage to grub along, though it’s seldom or niver that we
see anybody but our own two selves. Well, well; wud ye like to look at
the place?” he continued, rising. “It isn’t much of a place; but it’s
not long we have to live, and it’ll do for us.”
They followed the old man about. The place extended over thirty acres,
with a nice beach in front for the boat. It was an easy declivity, with
pasture lands behind the house. The boat was a large whaler, and nets
were spread on the grass to dry. O’Rafferty said that during the summer
he had visits sometimes from old friends, and at other times people
landed to see about the chances for sporting or getting minerals; but
never, since he had been there, had a boy been on shore, and his wife
had not seen a boy since she lost her son. He took them all over the
place, and finally led them to a little enclosure, not far from the
house. Inside was a grave mound, and at the head a white wooden slab,
with these words painted upon it:
In Memoriam.
Michael O’Rafferty,
beloved son of
Dennis and Mary O’Rafferty,
born Aug. 2, 1830,
died June 5, 1845.
Requiescat in Pace.
The old man stood in silence, bareheaded, looking at the inscription.
The boys removed their hats, and looked in solemn sympathy at the
bereaved father, whose love and yearning for his lost boy were still
so manifest, that the sight of a boy’s face could renew his grief after
fifteen vanished years. Standing thus in silence, and reverencing that
grief, they waited till the old man turned away, and then followed him,
without a word, back across the field, and into the house.
As they entered, the savory smell of broiled bacon came gratefully to
their nostrils. The table was spread with delicious mealy potatoes,
brown crusty bread, butter as yellow as gold, and clean, spotless
plates.. If they had the power of wishing and gaining, they would have
desired nothing better than this.
“Mr. O’Rafferty,” said Bart, suddenly, “I forgot to mention that
we left one of our number on the beach. I will take a run across the
island, with your permission, and bring him here, for he is as hungry as
we are, if not more so.”
“Another one!” cried O’Rafferty. “An’ waitin’ on the beach! Why didn’t
ye tell me before?”
“Well, you see we were tired with our scramble, and I wanted to get
rested before starting back. But I’ll go now, if you’ve no objection.”
“Deed, thin, an’ I have an objection,” cried O’Rafferty. “D’ye think I’d
let ye go starvin’ back agin before ye’d got a bite to ate? or, for that
matter, d’ye think I’d let ye go at all? No; I’ll go meself.”
“You? O, no. I won’t allow that,” began Bart. “It’s meself ‘ll go, an’
nobody else,” cried O’Rafferty, positively. “Ye’r all too hungry an’
tired. Besides, ye don’t know a step of the way. Ye came through
the woods, an’ a mighty tough job ye found it; but I know an aisier
way--it’s a path of me own. Ye said it was at the other end of the
island, on the other side.”
“Yes; at a rock with a tree on the edge.”
“I know the place well. My path comes out close by there. I wonder ye
didn’t come across it.”
“It is a wonder. We certainly would have noticed anything like a path,
if we had found one.”
“Well, it’s all the same now. Ye’ll jist stay here, an’ sit down an’ ate
yer breakfasts like Christians, an’ I’ll go an’ bring the boy. Not one
of ye shall stir a step--not one step.”
“Well, Mr. O’Rafferty, I’m sure you are putting yourself to too much
trouble--”
“Throuble! D’ye call it throuble? Sure an’ isn’t it the brightest day
I’ve knowed for iver so long?”
“Deed it is,” chimed in his wife. “Be off wid ye, Dinny dear, and hurry
back with the poor boy. Sure I’ll keep the tay hot for him, an’ the
praties, an’ the bacon.”
Any further remonstrance or objection was out of the question; so
the boys took their seats at the table. The old man started off, and
promised to be back in a “jiffy.”
He ascended the slope behind the house, and entered the woods by a
pathway which, though but little trodden, was yet easy to traverse. Far
different was this from the rough way by which the boys had crossed the
island; and in far less time than they had taken, Denny approached the
other shore. The pathway led down to the beach, about a hundred yards
below the place where they had built their first fire.
As he descended, a singular sight met his eyes.
X.
_New Attempts at Cookery.--Phil on the Lookout.--A Sail! A Sail!--The
Signal of the red Shirt.--The Home of the O’Raffertys._
WE left Phil behind, on the beach.
After the others had departed, Phil occupied himself with making
arrangements to while away the time. First of all, he set to work to try
and make an omelet. After a long search on the beach, he found some clam
shells, which he took up to the platform; and then, selecting some flat
stones, he threw them into the fire. Then he mixed some eggs in one of
the shells, and tried to beat them with his jackknife. His success was
not exactly dazzling; but he was satisfied to a certain extent, and
intensely interested. At length, drawing forth one of the stones, which,
by this time, was red hot, he poured the mixture on its surface. There
was a fizzle, a steam, a hiss, and then a horrible smell of burnt egg.
Phil made an awful face, and giving the stone a kick, sent it flying
down to the beach, omelet and all.
Not at all discouraged, he began again _ab ovo_. Drawing out another
stone, he determined to give it time to cool. So he mixed up some more
eggs in the shell; and after waiting patiently for a long time for the
stone, he at length thought it was cool enough, and poured the mixture
upon it. It certainly had grown cool this time in fact, somewhat too
cool, as Phil gradually learned, when, after waiting patiently, he found
that there was no appearance of any progress whatever in the cookery.
So this, too, was a failure, and Phil disdainfully hurled it after its
predecessor.
But he was not discouraged even yet. Once more he took his shell and
made another mixture, and then drew forth the stone, and carefully
watched it, trying it from time to time with the tip of his finger, to
see if it was of the proper temperature. Having singed the tips of all
his fingers, he concluded that it was time to stop that mode of testing,
and run the risk of an actual trial. So he once more poured the mixture
on the stone. Aha! this time there was no mistake. A pleasant steam
came up, which was grateful to a famished boy. The only trouble was,
the lower part was done before the upper was in the least affected; and
worse still, it began to burn while the upper part was raw. Phil was
not yet disheartened, however; and drawing his knife, he made desperate
efforts to insert it under the omelet, so as to turn it over. But these
efforts were not successful. He only succeeded in intermixing all
together in a mess, and mangling it into a general mush. In trying to
taste some of it, he found in his mouth nothing but a very unpleasant
mixture of raw and burnt egg. With a sigh he relinquished his
experiments, and sent this stone after the others.
He now contented himself with roasting two of them; and having partaken
of them, he sauntered up the hill to the signal station. Here he lay
down, and looked lazily out at the water.
Scarcely had he done so, than he gave a start. An object was before his
eyes which he had not been able to see from the platform. The other end
of the island could not be seen from there, because a projecting bank
shut it out from view; but from here there was a fair view of the other
islands. And there, just coming out from behind Pinnacle Island, was a
schooner of the size and rig of the Antelope, and he did not doubt for
a moment but that it was their schooner. She was now sailing along, and
was not far from that very anchorage where he had seen her last.
With a shout and a wild beating of his heart, he sprang to his feet, and
stared, with eager eyes, upon the schooner.
She was coming on very well, with a good breeze, and was coming in his
direction. Would she continue on her course? If so, she would soon be
there. Would she turn aside, and pass through the channel that separated
the islands, or sail away to the main land opposite? The thought was
intolerable. He had grown weary of desert life; he longed to leave the
island,--or, rather, he longed to get something to eat.
So he rushed away to the pile of brush, and lighting his matches,--a
whole card at a time,--he touched up the kindling wood, and in a few
moments the blaze was spreading through the mass of dry brush. Soon the
flames rose high into the air, bearing with them vast volumes of black
smoke.
Would they see that signal? They could not help seeing it. Would they
understand it? Ah! that was another question. Still it came on in the
same direction, without showing any signs of turning either to the right
hand or the left. And now it had passed the channel between the islands,
and was coming along in a line with the beach below, and not more than
half a mile out.
The brush fire was burning briskly, and could last for half an hour
without replenishing; but something more was needed. What could he do?
At first he thought of running down to the beach and shouting. But then
he feared that he might not be seen on the beach, and that his voice
might not be heard. So that plan was rejected. One only remained, and
that was, to climb the signal-staff. In an instant all this had passed
through his mind, and in another instant it was acted upon. He tore off
his red shirt, tied the sleeves together loosely, and hung it around his
neck, and then, with wonderful agility, climbed the tree till he reached
the top. The stumps of the branches, which remained on the trunk of
the tree, formed a good foothold, and he was able to stand securely,
clasping the tree with one arm, while with the other he took his shirt
from around his neck, and waved it to and fro in the air. Below, and
about thirty feet on one side, the fire blazed; and there, fifty feet
in the air, on that solitary tree, stood the boy, waving, wildly and
incessantly, the brilliant scarlet cloth. He felt that he had done the
best, and if this would not attract attention, nothing would.
All this time the schooner came on, and at length came nearly opposite.
Phil saw the crowd on board. He saw them staring and gesticulating. He
was recognized--he was safe! Yes, there was Mr. Long,--he knew that tall
figure in black,--and he was going to the stern. What for? Aha! wasn’t
that glorious? He had gone and had seized the ropes, and lowered and
hoisted the flag again a score of times. Ha, ha, ha! What flag? What
flag? Why, their own flag,--the flag of the “B. O. W. C.,”--which had’
evidently been waving there ever since their departure, and now saluted
them as it brought them safety.
Phil’s merry laughter rang out loud and clear, as he saw all this, in
his excitement and his joy. He saw the schooner head in straight toward
the shore, then sweep round; and then down rattled her anchor, her sails
fell, and she lay waiting.
Phil gave a final wave and a loud, shout; and then, descending the tree,
he scampered down the slope and along the beach, as fast as his little
legs would carry him, until at last he reached the verge of the shore
opposite the schooner. Here he gave a loud hurrah. His shrill voice
reached the schooner, which was only a short distance off, and was
responded to by a loud cheer from all on board.
“Where are the other boys?” cried Mr. Long.
“In the woods; they’ll be here soon.”
“Where’s the boat?”
“Up there,” said Phil, pointing to where it lay.
“We can’t get ashore. We’ve got no boat.”
“When the tide gets up, and the boys come back, we can get the boat
out,” said Phil.
“How are you all?” cried Mr. Long.
“Very well, but nearly starved.”
Instantly Mr. Long disappeared into the cabin. Returning shortly, he had
a bundle in his hand, around which a string was tied. Then taking one
end of the string, and whirling it violently around, sling fashion, he
hurled it through the air toward the shore. The parcel fell about twenty
feet beyond Phil. He ran to it, and, on opening it, found a quantity of
sandwiches.
The ravenous way in which he devoured the sandwiches showed to those on
board, far more powerfully than words, how famished poor Phil must have
been.
“Will the others be back soon?” asked Mr. Long.
“O, yes. They’ve gone across the island to explore.”
“Were you able to sleep?”
“Sleep? O, yes, first rate.”
“How?”
“In the camp up there,” said Phil, with his mouth full of sandwich,
waving his hand in the direction of the platform. “We’d have enjoyed it
if we’d only had some sandwiches,” he added after a time, as he made a
fresh onslaught on the parcel.
It was now about eleven o’clock, and not quite half tide. The tide was
rising, however, and in due time would be up to the boat; and then, if
the boys did not come, they might get in near enough to throw Phil a
line, and from the schooner pul the boat into the water. For the present
it was necessary to wait; so Phil ate his sandwiches, and talked with
those on board. And this was the scene which met the eyes of Dennis
O’Rafferty as he descended to the beach.
Dennis soon understood it all. Ge saw that the schooner had been
searching for the boys, and had come here in their absence, and had
found this boy. He hurried, without delay, to the beach, and at once
told Phil where his friends were, and explained to those on board the
schooner what they were doing, and why he had come.
“An’ is the docthor on board?”
“No; he didn’t come.”
“Ah, thin it’s mesilf that’s sorry for that same,” said Dennis.
On understanding the difficulty about the boat, he at once set himself
to work remedying it. He found the rollers which the boys had used, and
the poles; and then, with Phil’s assistance, he began to push her down
toward the water. It was far easier pushing her down than it had been
pulling her up, and the boat soon reached the water’s edge.
“We lost our oar, and we were making another. I don’t know whether you
can use it or not,” said Phil. “Wait here, and I’ll go and get it.”
On bringing it, Dennis found it quite rough, of course, but still
capable of working the boat along. So he launched the boat, and Phil
jumped in, and Dennis followed; and in a short time the boat touched
the vessel’s side. The current just here was not strong, for it was half
tide, and the vessel was very close to the shore. Phil was dragged
on board by a dozen hands, and nearly suffocated by their rapturous
greetings.
Mr. O’Rafferty then explained again where the other boys were, and
invited all on board to come to his house and meet them. His invitation
was eagerly complied with. Another oar was found on board, and soon
Messrs. Simmons and Long, with all the boys, were on the beach.
Then they started. Phil insisted on showing the camp and the signal
station, and told them all about their experience in shell-fish and
lobsters.
Then they followed O’Rafferty across the island to his house.
On the way, Mr. Long told Phil all about the dismal voyage of the
schooner after them. After cruising all about the Basin of Minas on the
previous day, they had decided to come back to the Five Islands, and
search along the shores, with the hope of finding them, or at least
some traces of them. They had been watching the shore of this island so
closely, that they had seen the first flash of the fire on the signal
station. When they saw the red shirt by it, and then the figure climbing
the tree, they knew that their search was at last successful. He made
Phil tell him, over and over again, all about his own eventful escape,
and shuddered to think how extreme their peril had been.
The walk over O’Rafferty’s path was a most delightful one to all. The
fearful cloud, that had so long hung over them, was at last dispelled,
and in their reaction from sorrow, they all felt the wildest extreme of
joy. So the boys went on with shouts, and songs, and laughter, till they
reached their destination.
There the others had finished their repast, and were waiting for Phil.
Great was their amazement to see the crowd. At once all was explained.
With a wild cry of delight, they rushed to meet their friends, and their
hands were nearly shaken off by their excited comrades.
Mr. O’Rafferty then left them, and Mrs. O’Rafferty prepared a repast for
the company. But first she set before Phil the good things that she had
been saving for him; and, though that young gentleman had disposed of an
immense quantity of sandwiches, he yet was able--thanks to his
excellent appetite and vigorous constitution--to do full justice to Mrs.
O’Rafferty’s tea and cream, and brown crusty bread and golden butter,
and rich bacon, and mealy potatoes. Then the table was once more spread
for the other guests; and they found the repast an agreeable change from
the ship stores on which they had been feeding. To tell the truth, there
were many among the company who were as famished, and had eaten quite
as little, during the last twenty or thirty hours, as the castaways
themselves.
They then strolled about the fields and along the beach, till suddenly a
shout from one of the boys attracted the attention of all.
There, coming round the point, was the familiar form of the Antelope,
her boat towed behind her once more; Captain Corbet, the mate, and
O’Rafferty on board, and the black flag of the “B. O. W. C.” floating
gloriously aloft.
“It’s been there all the time,” said Billymack. “Wasn’t it odd? Mr. Long
wouldn’t let any one pull it down.”
“And all the schooners laughed at us,” said Bogud. “It was such
nonsense.”
“Nonsense?” said Bart. “Far from it, Bogud. There’s good luck in that
emblem. So long as it floats on the breeze, we’ll turn out all right.”
“If you call this good luck, I should like to know what bad luck is.”
Here the anchor rattled, and all the boys ran to the beach.
When the time came for them to leave, O’Rafferty was in despair. He
wanted them to stay at least one night. But Mr. Long could not. They had
already lost much time, and must make amends for it. They had to go that
evening to Pratt’s Cove. So O’Raflerty consoled himself by extorting
a promise that the next time they came to the Five Islands they would
anchor off his beach, and stop at least two days with him.
Meanwhile the boys had a long debate as to what they could give to
O’Raflerty. To offer money would be an insult. They had to select
from among their possessions something that would be appropriate for
a parting gift. Bart proposed his pistol, but it was considered as not
adapted to be of use to O’Rafferty. At last it was decided to give him
the hatchet. A hatchet would always be useful; and it was so pretty a
little tool, that it would be in itself a graceful keepsake. So Bart,
with his jackknife, cut into the handle, very, neatly, the initials of
the different members of the “B. O. W. C.,” and handed the gift to the
old man.
“You won’t refuse it,” said Bart, “will you, Mr. O’Rafferty?” And he
explained the initial letters to him.
Tears started to the old man’s eyes.
“It’s fairly heart-broken I am to part wid ye; but I’ll take the hatchet
to remember yer sweet faces by, and wid the hope that you won’t forget
owld O’Rafferty. And many’s the drame I’ll be draimin’ about yes, till
me owld eyes gets a look at yes again.”
“An’ may the blessin’s av Heaven go wid yes all, ye darlin’s av the
worruld,” ejaculated the old woman. “It’s meself that’ll pray for yes,
that the Lard ‘ll stan’ betune yes and harrum. I’ll be lookin’ out for
yes all another year, jewels; an’ I’ll have such crame, chayse, an’
such maily taters, as ye never saw the like of before.”
The old couple wrung the hands of all of them, and watched them embark.
Soon all were on board. Then the anchor went up, and up went the sails.
The schooner started, and moved slowly away.