1 “ Peppermint.
1 “ Beeswax.
1 “ Boot ginger.
1 “ Cloves.
1 “ Alum.
1 “ Magnesia.
1 “ Balm of Giles
1 “ Horseradish.
1 “ Flagroot.
1 “ Sarsaparilla.
1 “ Sassafras.
1 “ Soap.
1 pot Pomatum.
1 box Lard.
1 bundle Lint.
1 parcel Senna.
1 pot Mucilage.
1 parcel Salts.
1 “ Cotton wool.
1 “ Diachylon.
1 pot Mustard.
1 parcel Calomel.
1 box Blue pills.
1 “ Cantharides.
1 “ Garlic.
1 “ White lead.
And a great many other things, which had accumulated in her closet, and
which she now brought forth for the especial benefit of the four boys.
Having selected some from among these, she sat calmly awaiting their
return.
When the boys came back from the bank,--. where they had been enjoying
their clam stew,--. this was the sight that greeted their eyes on
entering the kitchen: a table filled with bottles and vials, another
table filled with parcels and bundles, and on the floor jugs, boxes,
kegs, firkins, and bags, in the midst of all of which sat Mrs. Pratt,
with her eyes gleaming, from behind her spectacles, upon them, and an
expression of benevolent yet unshakable resolution upon her face.
The boys entered one by one, and took their seats, looking suspiciously
around. There was something in the general appearance of things which
did not altogether satisfy them.
“Ehem--ehe-e-em!” said Jiggins, at last, to whom the suspense was
becoming intolerable.
A long silence followed.
“Ehem!” he remarked again; but Mrs. Pratt made no answer.
“Ehe-e-em!” he remarked a third time. “Is--ah--is Pat--ah--any better?”
“Considerable,” said Mrs. Pratt. “Yes, _con_siderable.”
“That’s right--that’s good. I feel very much relieved. I’ve blamed
myself very much for letting him do as he did.”
Mrs. Pratt gave a long sigh.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “You all had clams, as well as he. You
had a clam stew. Why should he suffer more’n you’ns?”
The boys started, and looked at one another. How in the world had Mrs.
Pratt found out about the clams? They felt uneasy at first, but soon
recollected that, after all, cooking clams was no harm. So they regained
their courage.
“Why, you see,” said Jiggins, at last, “it was different with Pat. We
had them cooked, but he ate them raw.”
“And you think that makes any difference,” said Mrs. Pratt, grimly.
“Why, certainly--of course,” said Jiggins, looking at Mrs. Pratt
anxiously; while all the other boys stared at her in dire anticipation
of some fearful disclosure.
“Not a mite,” said Mrs. Pratt. “There isn’t a mite of difference between
you,--_all_ of you, mind, and him,--on’y he was kind o’ took bad
at onst, an’ you’re a waitin’. Let me sec. How long is it since you
finished eatin’?”
“O, only a few minutes,” said Jiggins, nervously.
“Well, I supposed so. Ye-ry well,” repeated Mrs. Pratt, in the tone of
a cool physician, who feels gratified when a disease takes the form he
suspected, even when it is attended with pain and danger to the patient.
“Yes, that’s it; and now can you remember how long a time it was after
Pat had done eating the raw clams to the fust pain he felt?”
The boys looked in fearful anxiety at one another, and then all eyes
turned to Jiggins. He turned pale, and all the expression of his face
changed to one dismal blank.
“Can’t any of you remember?” repeated Mrs. Pratt. “How long was it?”
“Well--as near as I can remember,” said Jig-gins, in a faltering voice,
“it’s--about--I should think--somewhere near--perhaps--the neighborhood
of half an hour--that is, more or less.”
“About half an hour. I thought so,” said Mrs. Pratt, remorselessly.
“Somewhere about that,” said Jiggins.
“Till he felt his fust pains?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Pratt, with a benevolent smile, “somewhere about half
an hour from this you’ll feel the same.”
She paused, and watched the effect of this fearful announcement.
The effect was powerful. Four pale faces looked, with awful eyes, at
her, and at one another. Not a word was spoken in reply.
“Yes, every one of you. You’ve all eaten, I s’pose.”
Jiggins nodded mournfully.
“And plenty, too.”
Another nod.
“Very well. You’ll have it hot and heavy, mind I tell you. Pat will be
beginning to feel quite comfortable just as you begin to get took.”
“But--but,” ‘said Jiggins, rousing himself despairingly, “I
thought--that is, I always heard--that clams were good stewed--and I
never heard that even raw clams were bad, except when you took too many
of them.”
“Shows how your parients neglected your edication,” said Mrs. Pratt,
loftily. “They didn’t understand the natur’ of the clam, certain. It
isn’t the cooking, or the not cooking, of the clam that makes it so
dangerous; it’s the clam itself--or rather, the clam at this season of
the year. That’s what makes it dangerous.”
“This season of the year? Why, what’s that got to do with it?”
“Haven’t you ever heard of that? Dear! dear! dear! An’ yet you go to the
Academy, and don’t know about clams. Dear! dear! dear!”
“They don’t teach about clams there,” said Jiggins, morosely.
“So you don’t know the danger there is in eating them now.”
“No.”
“Well, I’ll tell you--they’re _pison!_”
“Poison!” ejaculated the others, in horror at the thrilling whisper in
which Mrs. Pratt hurled this word at them.
“Yes, _pison!_ Hain’t you ever heerd the old lines,
‘In the months without the “R,”
Clams a deadly pison are’?
That means May, June, July, and August. Another verse, says,
‘In August, May, July, and June,
All shell fishes lead to ruin.’
That means, you see, that in the summer months these things are as bad
as pison.”
“What shall we do?” cried Jiggins, after a long, despairing silence, in
which these fearful words sank deep into the hearts of all. “What shall
we do?”
“Well,” said Mrs. Pratt, with a benevolent smile, “you’d ort ter be
thankful that you’ve got me. I am jest the person to treat your case.
I’ve got the medicine all ready. If you take it in time, you may avoid
trouble. As there’s only been a few minutes sence you ate the pison
clams, p’raps you may get off without much pain. I’ve jest got some herb
tea, some drinks of different kinds, some mustard poultices, and two or
three more mixtures for you. I won’t bleed any of you if I can help it.
Only jest give yourselves up to me, and trust to me. But there must be
no delay. I have the mixtures all ready.”
Saying this, Mrs. Pratt rose like an ogress, and advanced upon the
unhappy boys. Filled with fears of poison, looking upon her as their
only safety, they made no resistance, but swallowed, one by one, the
nauseous mixtures which were given. And still she stood over them,
talking about the danger before them, and forcing upon them more
medicaments.
Then came the mustard plasters.
But enough. Let us draw a curtain over the sufferings of the unhappy
four.
XVI.
_New Hopes and Plans.--A Sail!--A bitter Disappointment.--A hazardous
Adventure, and a Fright.--Quilts for Togas.--Another tremendous
Casualty._
THERE, on the top of the bank, sat the five boys of the “B. O. W. C.,”
waiting patiently. “Only an hour more, boys,” repeated Bruce. “Well, if
they don’t come, we’ll survive it,” said Bart.
“I suppose we shall start off at once, if they don’t come.”
“Yes, as soon as the tide begins to fall.”
“I wonder if it will carry the schooner with it.”
“I think that it will.”
“Perhaps it will leave it aground.”
“All right. That will be so much the better for us. It would be a pity
to lose the schooner so soon.”
“O, she won’t be lost.”
“Yes, she will. What’ll prevent her? She’ll be carried ashore on some
rocks and broken to pieces, or she’ll drift out into the Bay of Fundy.”
“O, she has other chances in her favor. She may drift on some mud-flat
like this, or she may be picked up on the basin, or, if she does get out
into the Bay of Fundy, she may get picked up there.”
“That may be; but, after all, it’ll be hard on Corbet; and he’s rather
poor.”
“It’ll serve him right,” exclaimed Tom Crawford. “He must have known
that his anchor was broken.”
“Well, it certainly does serve him right, if he knew that; but he’s a
careless fellow, and I dare say he didn’t know anything about it.”
“I wonder where this coast goes?” asked Phil Kennedy.
“Well, it goes in two directions,” said Bart. “Which way do you mean?”
“The right.”
“O, that goes to Parrsboro’ Village; the left leads up to Pratt’s Cove.”
“How do you know?”
“I can’t tell just where Pratt’s Cove is, but I know the direction in
which it must lie from here,” said Bart. “You can tell that by seeing
the way the Five Islands lie toward us. If they come for us, they’ll
have to come from behind that headland.”
“I wonder if they’ll come by land or water.”
“I don’t see how they can come by land.”
“There’s a road, I suppose.”
“O, ever so far back. How could any one find anything about us on the
road? No; they’ll come by water, so as to find us either afloat or
ashore.”
“There isn’t any boat at all in Pratt’s Cove.”
“O, there must be other coves near, where they can get other boats.”
“It will be hard for us, if they don’t happen to have a boat.”
“O, they’ll get one.”
“And meanwhile we must act for ourselves; for I don’t believe they’ll
get one to-day, at any rate.”
“Yes, we may as well prepare for an expedition along the coast.”
“Shall we separate, or go together?”
“O, together, by all means. But, hallo! what’s that?”
At this exclamation from Bart, all looked where his eyes were turned.
“A schooner!” they cried; “a schooner! There they come! Hurrah, boys!
we’re all right.” Instantly every one sprang to his feet. “Come, boys,
take off your shirts,” said Bruce, as he pulled off his own. “Let’s get
ready a supply of red bunting to make signals to them.” Instantly all
of them tore off their shirts, and waved them wildly from the top of the
bank.
Yes, it was a schooner. It had come thus suddenly upon them as they were
talking; and even though they had been on the constant lookout, yet its
appearance had startled them all. It was twice as large as the
Antelope, of a bright green color; its masts were yellow, and its sails
beautifully neat. Spreading its snow-white wings to the breeze, it
came bounding over the waves from behind the headland, and directed its
course in toward the shore.
“She’s not heading for us at all,” said Bruce. “If she keeps on in that
direction, she’ll be a mile down beyond us before we know it.”
“She don’t see us,” said Bart.
“Wave your signals, then! Ah, what a pity we hadn’t a good signal-post!”
“I’ll climb a tree,” said Phil, looking around.
“There isn’t any tree fit for the purpose. The highest ones are hidden
by the smaller ones in front. This is as conspicuous a place as we can
find.”
Meanwhile the schooner kept on at an angle with them, and pursued her
way without taking any notice’ of them, heading toward a point far down
to the right of the place where they were standing.
With a face of stern determination, and the air of a captain of a
battery, Bart drew his pistol.
“I’ll fire,” said he, solemnly.
The next instant, bang! or, rather, pop! went the pistol.
But the schooner took not the smallest notice even of that overpowering
demonstration. On the contrary, it kept straight on without altering its
course.
“They’re blind, and deaf, too; and that’s all about it,” cried Phil
Kennedy, in deep disgust.
“I wonder what’s the matter with them,” said Bruce. “They don’t keep a
very good lookout, or they’d surely see us. There’s red flannel enough
here to be seen five miles off.”
“I wonder who is steering.”
“I wonder who those two chaps are in the bow. Can it be Bogud and the
mate?”
“I wonder who that old boy in a pea-jacket can be? It surely can’t be
Mr. Simmons?”
“It’s Captain Corbet.”
“Nonsense! Captain Corbet is steering.”
“No, that’s the mate.”
“It isn’t, either. Don’t you see the mate on the bow?”
“That the mate! That’s Mr. Long.”
“Bah! Mr. Long don’t generally go in his shirtsleeves.”
“Why shouldn’t he? I s’pose he is helping the others. He’d just as soon
take off his coat as not, if he had anything to do.”
“It isn’t Mr. Long, any way.”
But these wonders and conjectures were now interrupted by a movement on
the part of the schooner. She had already gone beyond the spot where the
boys were standing, and had come to within half a mile of the beach.
She now wore round. Flap went the sails! there was a quick movement
on board, and then away she went on another tack, with her head turned
toward the opposite shore.
“She’s leaving us!” cried Bruce, aghast.
For a few moments all stood in silent dismay. This was a thing which
they were not prepared for. If no schooner had come at all, they could
easily have borne up; but now, since one had come, they had not for
a moment doubted their speedy deliverance. There was not hope, but
certainty, in her appearance. But now this was dashed to the ground, and
the reaction was extreme.
Bart was the first to break the silence.
“1 tell you what, boys,” he cried, “I don’t believe it was them at all.”
“O, yes, it was,” said Arthur. “I recognized Captain Corbet.”
“No; you may depend upon it, you were utterly mistaken. Why, do you
suppose, if they were after us, they would have come and gone so coolly?
There wasn’t the slightest sign of any anxiety, or curiosity about them.
If it had been our friends, they’d have seen our signals soon enough.”
“Yes, and the Antelope down there nearly ashore.”
“Well, I don’t know. But I certainly thought I recognized Captain
Corbet.”
“I thought I saw Bogud.”
“Not a bit of it. They were strangers, and that accounts for
everything.”
“And now,” said Tom, “all that we’ve got to do is to wait for a few
minutes more, and then start.”
“I say, boys,” said Bart, after a fit of musing, “what a pity it is that
we can’t fasten the vessel somehow, and keep her here! There’s an old
tree at the bottom of the bank big enough to moor a ship at. If we could
only get a line around it from the schooner, we could keep the vessel
here till they did come.”
“Yes, that would be the best plan,” said Bruce; “for I’ve-been thinking
that we may find some people here who would sail the schooner back to
the cove. It would be a great pity to let her drift.”
“It’s a pity that we can’t get at her,” said Arthur.
“And why can’t we?” asked Bart.
Why! The question at once made every one stare and think. Each one could
answer in his own mind why such a thing could not be done, but no one
stated such a reason. All were silent.
“It’s not very far,” said Bart.
“No.”
“Not so far as it was to wade when we landed.”
“That’s a fact.”
“And I move that we try, it.”
“Ah, that’s all very well!” said Phil. “But who _will_ try it?”
“Well, then, _I_ will,” said Bart.
“O, then, if it comes to that, I’ll go too,” said Bruce.
“So will I,” said Arthur.
“And I,” said Phil.
“And I’ll be with you, boys,” said Tom.
“Of course you will,” said Bart.-“But what’s the use of all of us going.
Two of us will be enough. Bruce and I can take our poles and do it. It’s
not much any way.”
“And I’ll go with my handspike,” said Arthur. “In fact, I don’t think we
need even boat-hooks,” said Bruce. “The bottom is hard sand just there,
all the way out to the vessel. It’s as safe as a floor.”
“Yes, except for one thing,” said Arthur, holding up the jaw of the
fish.
“Hm!” said Bruce. “For my part, I don’t believe there’s any danger just
here. It’s too near the bank, I never heard of them coming in so near
high-water mark; but, at the same time, I dare say it will be better to
take the boat-hooks.”
“O, yes. We’ll feel safer,” said Bart, “and that’s something. One
advantage will be, that we won’t be bothered with our bundles.”
“How do you propose to do?” asked Bruce.
“Well, to board her and get a line.”
“Will any of the lines be strong enough?”
“Well, my idea is, to let down the chain, fasten the rope to the anchor
stump, and all of us can then drag it ashore. We can then wait till
the tide brings the vessel near enough for us to pass the line, or the
chain, around the tree.”
“That ought to hold it,” said Arthur.
“Of course it will.”
“Very well then. Let’s start. And first of all, let’s strip.”
“I’ll take the pistol, Bart,” said Phil, as Bart laid it down before
taking off his belt; “and if anything happens, I’ll fire.”
“All right, my son,” said Bart.
They all went down then to the beach below, where they stripped, and the
adventurous five went into the water, although only three were going on
board; for Tom and Phil, felt bound in honor to share the possible peril
of the others.
The water had risen a little up the steep declivity of the pebbled
beach, and the vessel was some distance nearer than she had been when
they first climbed the bank. It was a favorable time for starting, but
not so much so as it would be in the course of half an hour. But they
were too impatient to delay, and so they started. As it was, they had
not more than fifty yards to go.
The bottom was not muddy just here, but composed of hard’ sand, like
the sand-spit on which they had landed. The water was quite smooth, only
disturbed by a gentle ripple, which, farther out, rose into small waves.
The descent, like that farther out, was but very gradual, and it was
only by almost imperceptible degrees that the water deepened.
Bruce and Bart went first, with their poles held in their hands in such
a way that they were able to splash the water before them, so that if
there should chance to be any more “shovel-mouth sharks” near by, they
might take notice and govern themselves accordingly. For they firmly
believed that all fish are frightened by any splashing, and deterred,
just as wild animals are frightened and deterred, by the flashing of
flames.
Tom and Phil followed more slowly, the former armed with a boat-hook,
and the latter with the pistol. The distance was quickly traversed. The
water grew deeper and deeper, until it was up to Bruce’s armpits and
Bart’s shoulders. By that time they touched the schooner’s bows.
At that instant a splash was heard close by them, and the movement of
some body was felt amid the waters.
“Up! Quick!” cried Bruce.
“You go first,” said Bart.
“I won’t,” cried Bruce.
“Nor will I,” said Bart.
Bruce said no more. He stooped down, and clasping Bart in his brawny
arms, he jerked him up out of the water. Bart clambered on board, and
held out his hand to Bruce. Another instant and the latter stood by his
side. Arthur followed at the same time.
“Did you see that?” asked Arthur.
“Yes. Did you?”
“Yes. What was it?”
“Another shovel-month shark--wasn’t it?”
“I don’t think so. It wasn’t the same color. It was white.”
“Perhaps it turned over to bite.”
Arthur shook his head.
“‘No. It came between us. It was not so large as that other fellow. It
dashed off at once.”
“Perhaps it was only a codfish,” said Bart.
“Well, it was a large one, then. It might have been a porpoise. I wonder
if porpoises come so near the shore.”
“Sometimes, but not often.”
“I shouldn’t wonder if it was a sturgeon,” said Arthur. “After all, it
may only have been a codfish. At the same time I’d much rather be here
than down there.”
“Boys!” shouted Bruce to Tom and Phil. “Boys, you may as well go ashore.
and dress. We’ll stay here a little while. It’ll take some time to get
things ready.”
At this Tom and Phil went back and dressed.
The fish which they had last seen had produced a very solemnizing effect
on their minds. There came over them a horror of that treacherous water.
They felt an aversion toward venturing in again, and were sorry that
they had come. But there was no help for it. There they were now, though
each one felt that he could not venture back again into the water
very readily. It might have been a sturgeon, or a porpoise, or even a
codfish; but the horror of its presence was still there, whatever it
was. It was some time before they could rally from the panic which had
filled them as they tumbled on board. And though each said but little
about it, and alluded to it very lightly, yet each one understood pretty
truly the feelings of the others.
“Come, boys, hurry up!”
This was the cry that Phil and Tom sent them from the beach. They had
dressed, and were watching them with impatience.
“We’re going to wait till she gets nearer,” cried Bruce. “At high tide
she will be close to the beach, and we won’t have to drag the chain so
far.”
“You’d better come now,” said Phil.
“No,” said Bart; “the chain won’t reach so far.”
“All right,” said Tom. “We’ll go up the bank again till you’re ready.”
Saying this, the two boys clambered up the bank, when they rambled a
little into the woods. Arthur and Bart then found a line, one end of
which they fastened, to the anchor. It was their intention to take
the line ashore, and let go the whole chain, which they hoped could
be pulled to the beach as far as the tree. Before that could be done,
however, it would be necessary for the schooner to be much nearer. The
water was already rising, and there yet remained many feet to be covered
before the tide would reach what they considered as high-water mark.
“I don’t believe it will be high tide for an hour yet. It will be an
hour later than we calculated,” said Bruce. “Hang it, it’s too cold
here. I wish we had our clothes.”
“Well, I’m not going to freeze any longer,” said Bart, jumping down
into the hold. He was absent for a few minutes, and soon returned with
a quilt gracefully wrapped around him like a Roman toga. With a laugh,
Arthur and Bruce jumped down, and imitated his example. Then coming
on deck again, they joined Bart, and the boys professed to be very
comfortable, considering all things.
They now took their seats at the stem, and looked out to sea, watching
for any signs of relief. This occupied them for a longer time than they
thought.
“I wonder what’s become of Tom and Phil,” said Arthur, suddenly jumping
up and looking toward the shore.
The others did the same.
Scarcely had they done so, when a cry of dismay burst from them.
The shore was at least five hundred yards away. Phil and Tom were
scrambling down the bank, gesticulating wildly.
“What’s all this?” cried Arthur.
For a moment no one answered; but at last Bart said, in a voice
tremulous with agitation,--
“We’ve mistaken the high-water mark altogether, boys. It must have been
high tide when we came on board. We’ve been drifting off ever since.”
“Couldn’t we wade ashore?” said Arthur.
Bruce seized a boat-hook, and plunged it over the vessel’s side into the
water.
“Couldn’t do it,” he said, slowly. “There are eight or nine feet of
water.”
“Can’t we swim?”
“Will you try it?”
Each one looked at the other, but there was no assent to this. It was
not the mere distance, but the other perils of the deep that deterred
them, and more than all, the remembrance of their last panic.
XVII.
_On the briny Deep, and on the muddy Shore.--The Fisherman’s
Boat.--Reappearance of old Friends.--Remonstrances, Explanations, and
Confessions._
MEANWHILE,--even while they were speaking,--every moment drew them
farther away from the shore. They saw Tom and Phil standing on the
beach, which they had reached by this time, and waving their hands
with frantic gesticulations. They heard them, shout, “Come back! You’re
adrift!” and other words not intelligible. They shouted back again to
encourage them, though they, themselves had but little hope.
“We haven’t any anchor, boys,” said Bart; “but let’s put down what we
have. It may hold, or, at least, prevent our drifting so fast.”
“Well, there’s nothing else to be done,” said Bruce; “so I suppose we
may as well try it. Come along, boys. We must do what we can.”
Saying this, he led the way to the windlass, and the remnant of the
anchor was let go.
They waited a little while to see what effect this would have, but in a
few moments saw that very-little was produced.
“No go,” said Bruce. “Suppose we give her the whole chain.”
“Yes,” said Bart. “It may hold her if it is all out.”
“At any rate,” said Arthur, “it will prevent her drifting somewhat.”
“Down she goes, then,” said Bruce, as the chain ran out. Soon it was out
at its fullest extent, and they again watched to see what effect would
be produced. By this time they had gone very much farther from the
shore, and Tom and Phil were just discernible.
“It checks her a little,” said Bart, “yet very little. As to holding
her, that is out of the question.”
“And yet there can’t be much of a current here.”
“I don’t know as to that. It is difficult to tell anything about it.
There are currents in all sorts of places around the bay.”
“Perhaps, if we let it drag for a while,” said Bruce, “it may catch
somewhere and hold. I’ve heard, of such things.”
“There’s very little chance, I’m afraid,” said Bart, in a despondent
tone. “If we only had half a fluke I wouldn’t care; but as it is, we
have no fluke at all, and that’s why we can’t do anything.”