some one had done this so as to play a trick on him, and this thought
only heightened his passion. So, without thinking of anything but his
own wrongs, he seized the unoffending stones by handfuls, and angrily
threw them over the bank into the water. Then he sat down gloomily, and
tried to conjecture which of the boys it had been who had wrapped all
those stones in paper for the sake of tricking him. At first his impulse
was to go around among them fiercely and inquire; but at length, from
fear of being laughed at, he decided to say nothing about it, but wait
and see what would turn up.
He was roused from his reverie by a touch on the shoulder.
He started hastily, and saw Johnny Blue, looking very mysterious, with
something under his jacket.
“Hallo! Where, are-the others?” said Pat. “Couldn’t you catch anything?”
“The others are up the brook, fishing. I caught _something_,” said
Johnny, with a more mysterious look than ever.
“What is it? What, have you got under your arm?”
“See,” said Johnny, triumphantly; and lifting his jacket, he displayed,
to Pat’s astonished gaze, the form of a duck.
“A duck!” cried Pat, with a shout. “Where did you get it?”
“H-s-s-s-s-h!” said Johnny, warningly. “I caught it.”
“Caught it?”
“Yes, with a fish-hook. I trailed the hook, baited with a bit of bread,
and the duck bit--and here he is.”
“We’ll cook him!” cried Pat.
“That’s it; but we’d better get away where they won’t see us.”
“Sure nobody ‘ll see us here, at all, at all.”
“Won’t they?”
“Surely no. There’s lots of wood here, an’ I’ll start the fire in a
jiffy. Come along. Hurroo, boys!”
So Pat and Johnny set the fire going, and then they picked the
duck,---which was previously killed, of course,--and they had him all
ready to lay on the coals, when suddenly, their attention was arrested
by a low, muffled, piteous squeal close by them behind the wood-pile.
“H-s-s-s-s-h!” said Johnnie.
“Botheration!” said Pat, hiding the duck under a log of wood.
“What is it?” said Johnnie.
“Sure it’s a pig--that’s what it is,” said Pat.
A rustle was heard now in the bushes, and then Sammy walked out from
behind the wood-pile. His face had a bright expression of satisfaction,
and he, too, had something under his arm.
“It’s another duck!” said Pat, with a wild laugh.
“Sammy’s been out fishin’, too,” and he went off into a peal of
laughter.
“Stop your noise,” said Sammy. “I thought you were somebody else, and
that’s why I had to come through the trees, and behind the wood-pile.”
“Is it a duck ye’ve got, thin?” asked Pat. “Sure, haven’t we one
oursilves?”
Sammy said nothing, but drawing his jacket aside, showed the little
white head and twinkling eyes of a pig of very small size--a roaster, in
fact, in excellent condition.
“It’s a pig ye’ve got. Didn’t I know the squale of it? Didn’t I say it
was? It’s me that knows the voice of a pig. Hurroo, boys! we’re goin’ to
have a banquet, so we are. Where did ye get it, thin, Sammy, jewel?”
“Don’t talk so loud,” said Sammy, looking cautiously all around.
“They’ll hear you.”
“It’s mum I’ll be, thin. But where did ye get it, darlin’?” said Pat, in
a soft, coaxing whisper.
“Up there.”
“Where? Pratt’s?”
“No.”
“Where thin?”
“O, never mind. It wasn’t near any house. It was in a field. There were
a dozen of them; and I was so hungry I couldn’t help it.”
“Faith, thin we may as well have the young roaster as the old pork,”
said Pat. “Ye’re well here. We’re in luck this day. See here.”
And he pulled out the duck and showed it to Sammy.
“How nicely you’ve picked it and fixed it!” said he. “I wish we could
manage the pig. I don’t know what to do with it.”
“Many’s the pig I’ve kilt,” said Pat, loftily.
“Have you then? And will you do this one?”
“Will I do it? Faith, it’s me that will,” said Pat. “But won’t he
squeal?”
“Squale is it? Not a squale you’ll hear.”
On this Sammy handed the pig to Pat, who disappeared with it among the
bushes. No sound was heard; but after a short absence Pat returned in
triumph, having accomplished his object.
“And now we’ll have two roasts, instead of one.” Driving two forked
sticks into the ground, he made another with a sharp point, and ran it
through the duck and the pig; then he laid the stick with its burden
upon the two forked sticks, and knelt down by the fire.
“The coals are just right,” said Pat. “I’ll sit here an’ give it a
turrun till I’m tired, an’ thin ye’ll relave me.” So he kept on turning
the spit, and soon a rich aromatic fragrance filled the air.
“Isn’t there any salt?” asked Pat, after a time.
“Of course,” said Johnny; “and there’s pepper too. I’ll get the
castors.”
“Do, thin, and quick too,” said Pat.
The castors were soon forthcoming, and Pat sprinkled a little salt and
pepper over the roaster and the duck.
“That’s the way,” said he, “to bring out the full fleevour.”
At length they were done, and taken off the fire. The plates, knives and
forks, upon which Pat had looked so contemptuously shortly before, were
now brought forth. A pleasant place was found in a secluded spot, and
here they sat down to dine.
They had scarcely begun when footsteps were heard. Pat went out to
reconnoitre.
It was Jiggins and Muckle.
“Have ye caught any fish?” was his first address to them.
“No,” said they in a discontented tone; “and we’re starving.”
“Is it starvin’ ye are? Thin will ye just step in here, for we’ve got
the most illegant dinner ye ever sot eyes on.” And saying this he led
them to the little secluded nook, where the table was spread on the
grass.
At six o’clock they went up to tea, and Mrs. Pratt sympathized deeply
with the poor boys, who had lost their appetites from anxiety.
XIII.
_Adrift.--Skilful Navigators.--Breakers ahead.--A narrow Scratch.--Stuck
in the Mud._
LET us now return to the unfortunate “B. O. W. C.” who had met so
unexpectedly with another adventure.
On going on board of the schooner, they found the water low; and the
tide had just begun to float her in rising. As they had slept but little
the preceding night, they retired almost immediately, and soon were
buried in a profound slumber. The next morning Phil was awake first. He
went up on deck, and the next instant gave a loud cry.
“Hallo, boys!” he cried. “Get up! We’re adrift. Hurry up--quick!”
Awaking instantly at this startling news, they tumbled up on deck
without a moment’s delay; and there, true enough, they found themselves
far out in the bay, adrift, apparently, as Phil had said.
“This is queer,” said Bruce. “Here’s her anchor down, as usual.”
The others walked to the bows where Bruce was, and saw the chain hanging
down, just as though she were anchored.
“We are anchored, sure enough,” said Arthur.
“No, we’re not; we’re drifting,” said Bart.
“Look at the land.”
A look at the land satisfied all that the vessel was actually moving
through the water.
“Let’s try the anchor. It must be dragging,” said Bart.
So they all went to work at the windlass, and in course of time found
the anchor raised. As they worked, they found it lighter than they
expected; and when at length they had ended, they ran to the bows. All
was explained. The anchor was broken off short at the fluke.
“That’s how it happened,” said Bart. “And so we’re in for another
adventure.”
“What shall we do now?”
“Sail the vessel, of course,” said Bruce.
“Where to?”
“Back to Pratt’s Cove.”
“And where is that?”
No one could answer that. Each one looked around carefully, in order to
see if he could find any place which looked like Pratt’s Cove. But there
were two difficulties in the way of any such discovery. In the first
place, they had approached Pratt’s Cove in the dark, and did not know
how it looked; and in the second place, they could not see any spot that
looked like a cove at all.
All around them was the bay. Before them was the Parrsboro’ shore.
Behind them was Blomidon. On one side, and a little in front, were the
Five Islands about six miles distant; beyond which the waters of the
bay extended, till they faded away into a low, indistinct lino of coast.
They could understand, in a general way, that Pratt’s Cove lay somewhere
in front of them, but they could not guess within twenty miles of the
place.
“Let’s up sail,” said Tom, “and run up there. It looks like a cove;” and
he pointed to a hollow in the line of hills.
“O, the hills around Pratt’s Cove are higher than that,” said Bruce.
“Suppose we sail over and ask O’Rafferty.”
“Very well. I agree to that,” said Bart. “Bruce, you can steer.”
“No. You may as well steer,” said Bruce.
“I don’t particularly care about it,” said Bart. “Don’t any of you
fellows want to?”
“O, no. We don’t care. You steer, Bart. We’ll hoist the sails.”
So Bart turned away with rather a blank expression on his face, and
walked slowly to the rudder. The wind was moderate, and the water only
a little ruffled. The other boys, with immense confusion and shouting,
toiled away at the sails one after the other, and at last managed to get
them set.
“Perhaps we’d better not have the foresail up,” suggested Bart.
“O, yes. Why not?” said Bruce. “Come, boys--up she rises!”
And shouting out a sailor’s song which he had once heard, he completed
his work.
The vessel moved gently through the water, and Bart pointed her head
towards the island which he considered to be O’Rafferty’s. The wind was
fair, and the vessel came around very easily, and then headed away for
the island.
Now, it happened that, as Bart belonged to a seaport town, and as his
father was a merchant, and as Bart himself had once experienced a sea
fever, and had been almost on the point of running away to sea,--he had,
very naturally, been always regarded among his companions as a great
authority on all matters connected with seamanship. And so, to a certain
extent, he was. He knew all about the rigging of a ship, and understood,
in a general way, the principles on which she sailed. He was also a good
oarsman; but in point of fact, he had never handled a sail-boat in his
life. This was owing to his father’s prudence, who allowed him to go out
rowing whenever he pleased, but never permitted him to have a sail-boat.
And so it happened that Bart knew no more about sailing than any one on
board.
However, there was no help for it; and he had to take the tiller and
assume the responsibility of the situation. After a time he began to
gain confidence. The wind was moderate, the schooner was going in a
straight course, and O’Rafferty’s Island was full before him.
They went on for a long time, when at length Bruce exclaimed,--
“Well, I don’t see how it is. We’ve been going to O’Rafferty’s for
full half an hour, and we are no nearer. And here we are, with Pinnacle
Island coming between us.”
“It’s the currents,” said Bart, coolly. “Nobody can sail in this bay,
unless he understands all about them. I’m sure I don’t.”
“Hadn’t we better bring her about, and stand off on the other tack? We
could then steer so as to make allowance for the current, which seems to
be setting off there.”
“Here, Bruce, you steer,” said Bart. “I’m tired.”
“O, well, let’s bring her around first. Port your helm, Bart.”
Bart tried to obey; but as he turned the helm in exactly the opposite
way, some confusion was the result.
“Port! I said port!” cried Bruce.
“O!” said Bart; and seeing that he had made a mistake, he proceeded to
rectify it by turning it starboard. The vessel had turned partly; but as
Bruce had expected it to turn in the opposite direction, he had checked
Bart’s mistake. But Bruce himself knew as little about sailing as Bart,
and so he had swung the sails the wrong way.
The vessel caught the wind as she came round; and Bart, who had tried to
obey Bruce’s correction, finding that the vessel was all right, and
was doing very well, checked himself, and let her go. Bart now saw that
Bruce had made a mistake, and Bruce suspected that Bart had. But they
said nothing, and the other boys thought that both Bruce and Bart were
first-rate navigators.
The schooner now held on straight ahead on what Bart supposed to be
the other tack. Bruce and the others were very well satisfied with the
proceedings.
“I think we’d better come round again, Bart,” said Bruce.
“Very well,” said Bart, who had been looking forward to this.
“Port your helm, then,” said Bruce.
Bart turned the helm a-starboard, as he had done before, while Bruce and
Arthur swung the booms to assist the vessel. She came round that time
all right.
“Why, Bart! why didn’t you port the helm?”
“Because I had to put the helm starboard to bring her round. It’s all
right.”
Bruce looked grave. He felt that he had committed a blunder. After all,
which was port and which was starboard he hardly knew. He concluded
after this to intrust the care of the vessel to one who knew, like Bart,
and felt quite grateful to Bart for his delicacy in not exposing his
ignorance.
Away went the schooner--faster this time, for the wind had sprung up
fresher. This was what Bart dreaded. But there was no help for it; so
he kept on, with a vague expectation of some disaster. He now headed, as
before, for O’Rafferty’s Island, and watched very anxiously to see how
they were progressing.
“You’d better head her a little to the north’ard, Bart,” said
Arthur--“hadn’t you? so as to allow for that current.”
“Very well,” said Bart; and he put the vessel a little closer in the
direction indicated.
But in doing so, the vessel began to stagger, and the sails began to
flap and rattle, and Bart was filled with consternation. Hastily he
restored the helm to its former position, but without any result. Then
he tried the old manouvre, by means of which he had already turned her
twice. It was of no use. The sails flapped, and the vessel danced, and
Bart was about confessing his complete ignorance of everything, when
suddenly her sails filled again, and to Bart’s amazement and delight
she sailed off away from the island and back on the other tack.
Bart’s heart was full of thankfulness, but he said not a word. He looked
ahead as coolly as possible, and held the tiller as before.
“Well, Bart, what are you up to now? Why don’t you head for
O’Rafferty’s?”
“Can’t,” said Bart, laconically.
“Why not?”
“Why, there are tides and currents about those islands enough to sweep
away a line-of-battle ship. I don’t understand them. Didn’t you see what
a scrape I got into just now? I won’t try O’Rafferty’s again in a
hurry; but if any of you fellows choose to try it, I don’t care.”
“O, no,” said Bruce, “we can’t do it if you can’t, Bart. But where are
you going now?”
“Well, I don’t know. We must make up our minds. I’m keeping my eye on
the coast; and if I can find any place that looks like Pratt’s Cove,
I’ll run in. The fact is, we must do something, or they’ll be frightened
out of their wits about us.”
“Pratt’s Cove? But how can we ever find the place?”
“Perhaps, when we get in a little closer to the land, we may see it.”
“I’m confident,” said Bart, “that it’s somewhere along this coast; for
it seems to me, as near as I can remember, that this is the coast we
sailed to. Look at the Five Islands. There’s O’Rafferty’s; and there are
the others. You see we came out from this side of O’Rafferty’s, and then
sailed up somewhere along there. I think, when we get nearer, we’ll see
an opening; and perhaps we’ll hit the cove itself.”
The others seemed impressed by Bart’s words; and as none of them had
anything better to suggest, they said nothing.
And now the wind blew still more freshly, and Bart looked around with
dismay. On went the schooner; but the long line of coast showed no
opening whatever, and he had no idea what to do to extricate himself
from the position in which he was. What made it worse was the confidence
which all now felt in him.. He felt that the end would come--the moment
when he would stand revealed in his true colors, and lose his prestige
forever.
More freshly still blew the wind, and the sea around rose higher,
tossing up now into white-capped waves, which every little while dashed
over the bows and scattered their spray about the decks. Yielding to the
wind, the vessel lay over; and on she scudded, dashing through the
water in a style which excited all on board, and intoxicated them with
delight.
“Hurrah!” cried Bruce. “Boys, isn’t this glorious?”
“Glorious!” cried the boys; and some of them swung by their hands from
the rigging, and others danced about the deck, shouting as each wave
came splashing over the bows, and roaring with laughter when any one got
a ducking.
Hurrah! and Hurrah again!--and yet again! Their wild mirth only added
new anguish to the dismay of poor Bart, who found himself now face to
face with an inextricable problem.
In their last stretch across from the Five Islands, they had drawn near
to the main land, and were now moving nearer and nearer every moment.
What was to be done? It was already time to turn; but where could he
turn, or where would he go when he did turn? or, for that matter, how
could he venture to turn at all? His last experience in turning the
schooner had filled him with despair. What was the meaning of those
kickings, and flappings, and jumpings? What was the reason that she
didn’t mind her rudder at all? And now the wind was stronger, and the
sea was rougher. Could he venture to turn the vessel with such a wind
and such a sea? He felt that he could not. Anything would be better. So
he thought while taking counsel with his own soul.
And while taking counsel with his own soul, he saw before him the coast
extending invitingly. There was a long line of sand, or of mud,--which
was just as good,--into which he longed to run the vessel. Which would
be best--to run the vessel ashore, or to make the desperate attempt
to turn her again, and set her kicking and plunging? He preferred the
former. Yes, to run her ashore would solve the whole difficulty. He
might be disgraced by it, but he could not help it. He felt that he
was doomed to disgrace, in any event; and it would be better to incur
disgrace on a mud bank, and in safety, than when tossing and drifting
he didn’t know where. His mind, then, was made up; and he kept the
schooner’s head straight towards the shore.
But as he approached it, he was aware of one very startling fact, and
that was, that the schooner, while going forward, was also drifting
rapidly to leeward. In the course of that sidelong motion, she was
losing way so rapidly, that, instead of striking the mud flats, she
might run upon a very different kind of place; for there, on the lee
bow, was a headland of dark, stern rock, at the base of which the waves
were breaking into foam. In his fixed attention to the mud flats, he
had’ not noticed this till just now, when it was full before him, and
not very far away. Below this headland the mud flats appeared again.
What could he do?
All seemed lost; for the headland, and the foaming waves, and the
frowning, jagged rocks were full before him. With a bitter feeling of
despair, and a pang of anguish for the coming fate of the friends who
had given him their trust, and who even now were singing and shouting
in their uproarious glee, he stood for a moment paralyzed, looking with
white lips at his fate.
Suddenly, and just as all seemed lost, he jerked the helm a-port. The
schooner swung half round. The wind took her astern, and drove her
forward. Her sails flapped and banged about. Then a current seemed to
seize her and carry her on for a score of yards. Suddenly there was a
thump, a grinding noise, and another thump dull and heavy.
In an instant all was confusion.
“The rocks! the rocks!” cried all. “She’s struck!”
Then the schooner was once more swept on, and a wave, striking her
stern, dashed the tiller out of Bart’s hands, and he fell. Springing up,
he seized it again, not knowing how he moved it, or when. At that moment
the sails filled again, the schooner bounded forward, and in a few
minutes it was beyond the headland, and moving on toward the lower mud
flat; and before they knew that they were saved, she drove hard and fast
into the mud, with a shock that knocked them all down..
Picking themselves up, they looked around at the shore in bewilderment.
Then they looked at Bart.
“What’s all this?” they asked.
“O, nothing,”’ said Bart. “I found we couldn’t do anything, and so I ran
her ashore.”
“By Jove!” cried Bruce, “that was a pretty narrow scratch we had of it
on those rocks. After this, Bart, I’ll always brag on you. You’ve saved
our lives, Bart. I thought we were gone for it. I never saw anything
done so splendidly.”
For a moment Bart was silent. Here was a chance for fame. He might avail
himself of the lucky accident, and turn it to his own glory. But the
thought was only a passing one. It was at once dismissed.
“No, boys,” said he; “the only thing I did was nearly to destroy your
lives. In fact, I don’t know any more about sailing a vessel than any of
you. It’s been a very narrow escape. I was a fool to try it; and I can
only make amends by confessing it. I don’t believe in being a humbug,
and I won’t be one any longer.”
At first the boys wouldn’t believe him, but after a while he explained
all about it. After this confession, Bart was as much esteemed by his
friends as ever.
XIV.
_In Mud and Water.--A Sea Monster.--A terrific Fight.--Wonderful Pluck
of the “B. O. W. C.”--Swallowing a Sculpin.--The Trophy.--Waiting for
Deliverance._
FINDING themselves thus fixed in the mud, they looked around to see the
place at which they had thus unexpectedly arrived. In front of them
was a bank about sixty feet high, which extended for some miles away,
commencing with the rocky headland, and covered with trees on the top;
while beyond this, the country rose into hills. As far as they could
see, there was no opening in the shore to indicate the presence of a
cove or a harbor. From the appearance of the water, it seemed as
though the mud flat extended for miles along the shore. The water was
comparatively smooth, and the headland kept off the wind, so that after
they had lowered the sails, the schooner remained quite still.
It was now about noon, and they knew that the tide was rising. A wide
space of the mud flat lay still uncovered by the water. Their position
was a safe one as yet, though not at all pleasant on many accounts.
“The tide’s rising,” said Phil; “isn’t it, Bart?”
“Yes.”
“When will it be high tide?”
“About three.”
“I wonder if they’ll come after us.”
“Of course they will.”
“There doesn’t seem to be much chance of our getting ashore.”
“Well, it doesn’t make much difference, for we couldn’t do anything if
we did get there.”
“I say, boys,” said Arthur, “the schooner’s beginning to float again.”
All stood waiting in silence, and in a few moments they felt a slight
motion.
“Yes,” said Bruce, “the tide has risen since we struck, and is floating
us in. At high tide we shall be close up under the bank.”
“And then what shall we do? We must either choose to fasten the vessel
ashore if we can, or float out again and sail for it, or drift.”
“I don’t think we’ll care about sailing again, particularly as the tide
will be going out, and the night coming on.”
“My idea is,” said Bruce, “to fasten her to the shore if we can, and
then go along the beach or the bank till we find some people and get
help.”
“That’s about all we can do,” said Bart. “We can’t think of going
adrift, and none of us can sail the vessel; so, if they don’t come after
us, we had better land, and leave the vessel; or some of us can go for
help, and others stay on board.”
“I wonder if the vessel is safe here.”.
“O, safe enough--if a gale don’t spring up in that case she might get
knocked on the bank.”
“We don’t seem to have been hurt by our knocking up there,” said Arthur.
“There’s no water in the hold.”.
“O, she’s all right,” said Bruce; “and she’s a gallant, gallant ship, as
the song says.”.
The vessel was steadily floated nearer and nearer to the shore as the
tide rose, and the boys watched her progress with close attention. At
about three o’clock they could expect to be up to the bank, and then
they would have to find some way to fasten her.
Suddenly Bart, who had been looking down the shore, pointed to
something, and said,--
“Look, look! Do you see that?”
“What?”
“Don’t you see a line--running along about a mile away?”
“What, a thin, dark line? Yes. What of it?”
“Why, it’s a wier for fish. It shows that people must be living not far
from here. It shows, too, that we can get something to eat at low tide,
even if there are no people. So, hurrah, boys we’re all right yet.”
“The fact is,” said Bruce, solemnly, “I must confess that I’m starving.
I’ve felt the pangs of hunger for the last two hours, and I can’t stand
it any longer. I’m going to have a regular rummage down below, for I’m
bound to find something.”
All the rest followed Bruce as he went below, and they began to overhaul
the whole vessel. For some time they found nothing but a beggarly array
of empty boxes, and loud were their murmurs and complaints.