looked sadly toward the receding shore. The quilts which they had thrown
around them had been fastened at the waist with rope-yarns, and
these, in the exercise of letting go the anchor, had fallen from their
shoulders, leaving them exposed from their waists upward. They looked
ruefully at one another as they thought of this, burst out laughing, and
then drew the quilts, toga fashion, over their shoulders again.
“It was bad enough this morning,” said Arthur, at last, “but it was a
joke to this. What can we do for something to eat?”
“There’s not a morsel on board.”
“The last mouthful of bread we ate before we waded ashore.”
“If we only had a fish-hook we might hope to catch something.”
“Fish-hook! Why, man, we haven’t any kind of bait.”
“Well, all we’ve got to do is to hope for some one to pick us up.”
“Is that all? No,” said Bart. “I, for one, am not going to sit down
and float away, goodness knows where. I move that we up sail and go
somewhere.”
“Up sail!”
“Of course. Why not?”
“But can we--can you--?”
“O, we can scrape along. I’d rather have a small accident than drift
off in this style, doing nothing. You all understand my knowledge of
sailing, for you’ve had a fair specimen of it, and if you’re willing
to risk my steering again, I’m ready to take hold; if not, then you
or Bruce take hold, and I’ll keep at the sails. It don’t make any
difference, though, which of us is captain, for I suppose one knows just
as much as another. But, at any rate, I’m bound to have the sails up.”
“So am I,” cried Bruce, “whatever happens.”
“And I too!” cried Arthur.
“Bart, you be captain, old fellow. We won’t take your office from you.
You’ve had more experience than we have had, at any rate, for you’ve
steered her already. But we must get up the piece of an anchor first.”
“Of course we must, and the sooner the better.”
Upon this they all went to work at the windlass. It was hard work, but
after some time it was successfully accomplished. By this time they had
drifted out several miles, and the beach still lay before them, but it
was faint in the distance. The headland was then somewhat toward the
right, and this served as an excellent guide. The vessel’s head was
still turned toward the shore, in the way in which she had drifted out.
“My idea,” said Bart, “is, that we sail straight back again.”
“It’s a pity we hadn’t the other fellows on board,” said Bruce, “for we
might try some place where there might be houses.”
“Well, in that case, I’d give you the helm,” said Bart. “As long as I’m
here, I will only go where I know my ground. I don’t care to try the
Five Islands again, nor would I like to turn the schooner. It’s lucky
for us that she’s heading in shore. So come, boys, let’s hurry up with
the sails, or else she may turn off in some other direction; and then
how we can get her round again, will be more than I can say.”
Hoisting the sails was arduous work, but they succeeded. The wind had
moderated, and the vessel glided slowly back toward the beach. Bart was
so anxious to rejoin Tom and Phil, that he did not venture to try any
experiments in sailing, but simply kept the schooner’s head toward the
place where he supposed they might be standing. The wind was favorable,
the vessel drew nearer and nearer, and at last the beach again became
distinctly visible.
A shout of joy escaped them as they recognized Phil and Tom again.
“I wonder how they felt when they saw us drifting,” said Bruce.
“They must have given us up for lost.”
“1 wonder whether they expected that we would raise the sails.”
“I don’t believe they thought of that.”
“That’s not surprising, after all; especially as we didn’t think of it
ourselves till the last moment.”
“That’s odd, too. It seems now as though it ought to have been the very
first thing to think of.”
“Well, the fact is, we had such a tough time this morning off that
headland,” said Bart, pointing to the dark rocks which were full before
them on their right, “that it’s no wonder if we gave up all ideas of
ever hoisting sail again. However, it’s all right. And now what ought we
to do?”
“There’s only one thing that we can do.”
“What’s that?”
“What? Why, what else can we do but run ashore, just as we did
before.”
“I suppose we can’t do anything else; but it’s a pity, too. Still we
must take Tom and Phil. Though, if they were on board, we could at least
find a better part of the coast. This is so remote, and I haven’t seen
any houses near the place at all.”
Bad as it was, there was no help for it; and so Bart had to keep the
schooner straight on. On account of the currents, however, and the
loss of way, the Antelope could not come within a mile of her former
landing-place. Phil and Tom saw this, and ran down the beach, carrying
the bundles; and just as they came opposite to their companions, the
Antelope grounded about a hundred feet from the beach. Without waiting
another instant, Phil and Tom threw off their clothes, and waded out.
They got on board without any adventures, and celebrated the restoration
of their companions by dancing like wild creatures about the deck. Long
explanations followed from both sides, after which they discussed their
future prospects.
“Hallo!” said Arthur, as the schooner sank a little on one side. “She’s
aground. No farther drifting till next tide. And now what can we do, or
where can we fasten her?”
“We’ll have to try and use the chain and line, as we did before.”.
“I wonder if we are not too far out.”
“No; I think not,” said Phil.
“There’s a good stump up there to fasten a line to,” said Tom.
“I dare say we can get a line up. If not, we can bury the anchor in the
mud, and put stones over it.”
“And what can we do about exploring the country?”
“Some of us must stay by the schooner to attend to the fastenings.”
“Two can stay, and three go.”
“No, three had better stay, and two go. It’s too hard work.”
“Pooh! two will be enough. But who will they be?”
“Well, we must toss up for it. That’s the only plan. We must do it at
once. There’s no time to lose.”
“Suppose, before we do anything more,” said Bart, “that we all slip
ashore and put our clothes on. For my part, I’m chilly; and though I
could easily get some more quilts, yet it seems unnecessary to do so
when I have my own clothes so near. Besides, here are Phil and Tom,
whose teeth are already chattering.”
A loud laugh followed; after which they all sprang, one after the other,
into the water, and hurried to the shore. There they dressed themselves;
and as the vessel was fairly aground, with the tide rapidly going out
past her, they threw themselves on the beach, and prepared to decide on
the ones that would stay behind.
“There!” cried Phil, suddenly springing to his feet. “I knew it was!”
“What? what?” exclaimed all the others.
“A sail!--out there by the headland!”
“So it is,” said Bart. “Phil, you’ve got a good pair of eyes in your
head.”
“It’s a sail-boat,” said Bruce.
“And heading this way,” said Bart.
“Hurrah!” cried Tom. “They’ve come for us at last.”
“Come, now, boys,” said Arthur, “don’t let us get excited again. I tell
you that boat is some fisherman, and it is passing by here. Those on
board won’t see us, and there’s no use doing anything. Let’s sit down
and finish the toss-up, and send Phil to the top of the bank to watch,
and make what signals he can.”
“Not a bit of it!” cried Bart; and springing forward, he dashed into the
water toward the schooner with his clothes on. The water had fallen so
far, however, that he did not get wet much above his knees. Clambering
on board, he lowered the flag of the “B. O. W. C.,”--which had waved
there through all their vicissitudes,--and tearing off his red flannel
shirt, he fastened it close beneath the flag. Then he pulled it up
and then kept lowering and hoisting, with the utmost rapidity, the
extraordinary signal. Nor was this all. He had not yet lost confidence
in his pistol, in spite of its signal failure in the case of the
schooner some time before, but drew it forth now with a certain solemn
decision. By this time all the others had come on board, and were waving
all sorts of quilts and blankets from the stern. In the midst of all
this agitation Bart fired his pistol. The smart pop! rang out bravely
enough; but as the sail-boat was at least three miles away, it cannot be
said to have produced any very extraordinary result. Bart, however,
was satisfied. He had already given charge of the “ensign” to Tom, and,
standing on the starboard quarter, he fired again. After this he rested
for a while, and waited for the boat to come nearer.
Nearer she was certainly coming, in spite of the scepticism of Arthur.
To guard against the pain of disappointment, Arthur was trying, with all
his might, not to hope, and to prevent any of the others from hoping.
Yet he could not help being as sanguine as the others, in spite of his
efforts.
“Boys,” he cried, “be careful now. Remember this boat don’t see us, and
don’t intend to. She’s a fishing-boat, out after sturgeon. She’s sailing
straight across, past us, to--Hurrah! here she comes straight down to
us.”
“Ha, ha, ha! Hurrah! She sees us! Up and down with the flag, Tom! Fire
away, Bart! Bring up that fog-horn, somebody, and blow till you burst.
I’ll content myself with a sociable yell.”
Whereupon a yell, so loud, so harsh, so penetrating, burst forth from
Bruce, that it seemed to penetrate even to the boat. White signals
certainly were waving from those on board, and a tall figure in black
stood upright in the bows waving a hat.
“Ha, ha!” cried Bart, as he fired his pistol again, and danced joyously
about. “And you call that a fishing-boat, do you, Arthur? So you
think the fishermen here go out to throw their nets, dressed in black
broadcloth and silk hats, do you? Well, I call that good. A fisherman!
Who would think of Mr. Long being taken for a fisherman!”
All was now the wildest joy. There was no more doubt, and no longer any
mistakes. The boat saw them, and had returned answer to their signals.
It was bearing swiftly down toward them. It was filled with people. Who
were they all?
The question was soon answered. Nearer came the boat, and nearer, and
still-nearer. At last it came close up, and grounded under the vessel’s
quarter. Mr. Long was first on board, wringing all the boys’ hands, and
pretending to scold them. After him came Mr. Simmons, then Bogud, then
Billymack, then the two captains. Hearty was the greeting, and deep and
fervent the joy, at finding that all had turned out so well. The “B. O.
W. C.” had to tell all about their adventures. They concealed nothing
whatever. Bart related, with the utmost frankness, the story of his
navigation experiments, interrupted by the laughter of the other boys,
and the criticisms of Captain Corbet, who would insist on explaining
what ought to have been done. Then followed the story of the
“shovel-mouth shark,” which produced an immense sensation. Captain
Corbet shook his head solemnly at the sight of the jaws, which Phil had
run ashore to get. But their last adventure, when they were drifted away
from their clothes, was considered about the most singular of all.
“But how did you manage to find us?” asked Bart, as he ended his story.
Mr. Long related all about his first discovery of their accident up to
the time that he had left with his party for the “pint.”
“When we got there,” continued he, “we saw a schooner sailing, and made
it out with the glass to be the Antelope. We watched you as you sailed
toward the Five Islands. You must have been on your second tack then.
We could not imagine where you were going. Captain Corbet thought you
didn’t know your way. I thought you were letting the vessel go wherever
the wind might take you. As it happens, I was not very far wrong.
“At last we saw you turn, and the performance of the schooner showed
us all very plainly that you couldn’t sail her. It filled us with
the deepest anxiety. We could have got a boat, but your course was so
strange, that we delayed until we could see where you might finally
bring up. We didn’t expect any accident exactly, but hoped that you
would come nearer. At last you sailed so close to that headland that we
thought you were lost. Immediately afterward you passed behind it from
sight. We waited some time to see if you would reappear, but you did
not. So we at once put off in the boat which belonged to a fisherman who
lived near, and came here as fast as possible. The last time that you
drifted off we saw you; but perhaps you were too excited to see us--or
perhaps we were too far off to be seen very easily.
“And now,” concluded Mr. Long, “I’ve found you again, and it’s my fixed
determination not to let any of you go out of my sight. You’re all a set
of Jonahs. The only comfort is, that you come out all right at last.”
“I’m sure, Mr. Long,” remonstrated Bart, “you oughtn’t to blame us. It
wasn’t our fault. I’d much rather not drift away if I could help it. I
don’t enjoy going about in the fog, or among these tides. I’m sure Bruce
don’t. Neither does Arthur, nor Tom, nor Phil.”
“Blame you? Of course I don’t blame you,” said Mr. Long. “How can I? It
wasn’t your fault, of course. I only mean that your fortunes have been
very peculiar. I don’t know but, if I believed in omens, I’d say that
your black flag up there has brought us all this run of bad luck. But
come, we’ve been thoughtful about you. We knew you’d be starving, and so
we brought along with us something for you to eat.”
“Starving! Mr. Long, we’re in that condition that we could eat
horseshoes.”
With a good-natured laugh, Mr. Long turned away, and jumping into the
boat, handed up the eatables that he had brought for them..
XVIII.
_Wanderings about the Beach.--Science and Sport.--Back Home.--Frightful
Tale of Poison.--A Visit to the Afflicted._
THE eatables which Mr. Long had brought with him were not such as would
have been welcome to a fastidious taste or a dainty appetite; but to
these long-fasting, hard-working, and half-starving, and altogether
ravenous boys, anything that was eatable was precious. The brown
ship-bread and salt pork, which Mr. Long handed up to them, were seized
as eagerly as if they had been roast beef and plum pudding, and soon
disposed of. A knife drawn from Phil’s belt served very quickly to
cut the pork into slices, after which the pork and the brown biscuit
vanished.
“What a pity,” said Mr. Long, as he looked around, “that we didn’t
get here an hour earlier! The water’s going out fast; the schooner is
aground, and we’ll have to wait till the next tide before we can start
for the cove.”
“It’s a pity that we can’t do something while waiting, so as not to
throw our time away,” said Mr. Simmons.
“There don’t seem to be much prospect of doing anything just here, but
we can try.”
“Nor do I see that there are any people living about here.”
“No: Captain Corbet told me there were no inhabitants within eight
miles.”
“These banks are not very inviting to a mineralogist--are they?” said
Mr. Simmons, with a sigh, as he looked along the beach.
“No; we’ll have to lay out our strength on the mud flats. Perhaps we may
find some interesting footprints at low tide.”
“Well, we may as well go ashore now, I suppose. It’s rather monotonous
standing here on an inclined plane, with the vessel aground on her side.
I think I’ll climb the bank, and take a general view of the country.”
“Very well; I’ll go with you,” said Mr. Long. “And now, boys,” he
continued, “remember this: don’t go out of sight. This beach is long,
and it will soon be wide, for the tide will leave it all uncovered.
This will give space enough for even such extensive and wide-spreading
desires as yours. Now, don’t go off the beach or the flats. Don’t go up
in the woods, and get lost; don’t go into the water, and get drowned;
don’t blow yourselves up with that pistol; don’t get into any more
fights with ‘shovel-mouth sharks,’ or, if you do, be sure to call me;
don’t get into air-holes if you can help it. As to going adrift again, I
don’t see how you can manage that, as there is nothing afloat just yet;
but, dear hoys, if you can possibly help it, don’t do it. Try and see if
you can’t manage’ to keep your clothes on. It’s much better, as a
general thing, to do so.”
All this the hoys greeted with loud laughter; after which they sprang
over the vessel’s side, and scattered themselves along the beach.
Captain Corbet stood looking after them, with a beaming smile
irradiating his venerable countenance.
“Yes,” he ejaculated, standing near Mr. Long. “Yes, sir; I allus knowed
it, an’ I allus said it, that them there boys would turn up all right.
Lor’ bless your heart, you can’t wreck ’em, an’ you can’t drown ’em.
The fish doesn’t swim that can tetch ’em. They’re allus bound to turn
up all straight. That’s the confidin’ belief that reigned in my boosom,
an’ sustained me when we watched, ’em in the Antelope, up there at the
pint. As to that there anchor, ef it had been a bran new one, it would
have been broken off jest the same, for that there schooner was bound to
lie on it an’ crack it, an’ them there boys was bound to have that there
adventoor.”
Mr. Long now landed with Mr. Simmons, and went up to the top of the
bank, where they sat down for some time, gazing upon the wide-spread
scenery of the Basin of Minas. After this they descended and walked
about the beach. At first, they hoped to obtain some shells; but nothing
of the kind could be found. In fact, there were scarcely any pebbles;
indeed, none but the most common kind. For all the waters of the Bay of
Fundy and its adjacent harbors are singularly bare of the more delicate
shell-fish. Lobsters abound, and so do clams; so also do many kinds of
seaweed; but as for the more exquisite forms of sea life, such as we
love to put in the aquarium, they must be sought for elsewhere. Here
are swift currents, fierce rapids, strong tides, vast mud flats or sand
flats, rivers that empty and fill themselves with every ebb and flood;
and it is not amid such scenes that we may look for those graceful, yet
fragile creatures,-whose abode is amid stiller scenes.
As the tide went down, Messrs. Simmons and Long walked over the flats,
hoping to find something which would reward their trouble. From the
surface of the sea bottom thus uncovered, many interesting things might
be obtained. On these mud flats are found many marks, which are the
counterparts of others that have been turned into stone, and buried in
the adjacent earth. Here may be seen the patter of rain-drops, and the
footprints of birds or beasts made on the very day of their discovery,
while among the strata of the neighboring shore there may lie traces of
a similar kind made many ages ago, which thus have been graven on the
rock, and treasured up for our eyes.
The boys dispersed themselves everywhere, extending their wanderings as
the tide left more and more of the shore exposed. Far down they could
see the weirs, placed there by the fishermen, and they waited long for
these to become uncovered, so that they might visit them, and inspect
their contents. But it grew later and later, and finally it became too
dark to do anything. Then the voice of Mr. Long was heard summoning them
to the shore.
Thus the remainder of the day passed without anything to reward them
except the general excitement which had been produced among them. It
would be many hours yet before they could get afloat, and they amused
themselves by making fires at the foot of the bank. A modest and frugal
repast of brown biscuit and pork, washed down with cold water, concluded
the day. For some time longer they sat round the fire, until, at last,
excessive weariness overcame them. Then they went on board the schooner,
and retired to bed.
Some time after midnight the Antelope was afloat again. None of her
passengers waked. She moved away from the shore without accident.
Morning came, and she had not yet reached her destination. The wind had
been unfavorable, and she had lost that tide. As she could not anchor,
Captain Corbet had run her ashore. They had to wait patiently, and get
off at midday, with the rising tide; after which they resumed their
voyage, and in three hours more they were in Captain Pratt’s house.
Of the five boys who had been left behind, one was not visible, and the
other four met them with pale, woe-begone faces. They showed no joy at
seeing the return of the wanderers; no curiosity to learn what they had
been doing; and even the sight of the jaw of the “shovel-mouth shark”
produced upon them no effect whatever.
It was seen that something had happened, and the unhappy four were
closely cross-questioned. At first they refused to answer. At last, on
being pressed, they confessed that they had all been poisoned.
“Poisoned!” cried Bart, in horror. “How was that?”
“_Clams!!!_” said Jiggins.
“Yes, clams!” said all the others.
“Clams?” cried Bart. “What rubbish! How could clams poison you! Pooh!”
“Ah, you don’t know,” said Jiggins. “You ask Mrs. Pratt. Haven’t you
heard the old saying,” he continued, with an air of peculiar solemnity;
“the old saying, that they have about these shores:”
“’ In the months without the “R,”
Clams and oysters poison are?’”
“Never heard it,” said Bart; “and I don’t believe it. I’ve eaten lots of
oysters in May myself.”
Jiggins shook his head.
“Never do it again,” said he.
“Do you mean to say that it was clams that upset you so?”
“Clams, and clams alone,” said Jiggins. “We owe our lives to Mrs. Pratt.
She’s been a mother to us.”
“Why! What do you mean?”
“You see we had a stew. Pat ate them raw, and fell down in horrible
agonies. The torments which he suffered were so excruciating that he had
to be carried to the house, and went nearly mad with pain. Mrs. Pratt
attended him, and as soon as he was easier she took us in hand. We had
eaten after Pat, and our pains had not yet begun. Mrs. Pratt got out all
her medicines, and tried them on us one after the other.”
“What! not all! not _all_ her medicines!”
“Yes, _all!_” said Jiggins, in a dismal voice. “I can’t tell you all
that we took; but first there was opodeldoc, then ginger, then Crabb’s
cordial, then magnesia, then paregoric, then blue pills, then a mustard
plaster, after which there was rum and onions, brimstone and molasses--”
“Stop, stop!” cried Bart. “What’s all that? You don’t mean to say that
you took all that?”
“Yes, _all!_” ejaculated. Jiggins, his face growing at once longer and
paler at the recollection of hiss sorrows.
“And you’re alive yet--all of you? Then you need never be afraid of
poisons. Yes my poor Jiggins, you have been poisoned; that’s a fact,
though not by clams.”
Mr. Long, who was present, had listened to all this in consternation.
“And where’s Pat?” he asked. That young gentleman’s name was Michael,
but everybody called him Pat, and so did Mr. Long. “And where’s Pat?”
“In bed yet, sir.”
“Poor Pat! Has he been dosed, too?”
“Yes, sir; but he was taken worse than any of us;” and with this Jiggins
went on to tell all about Pat and the raw clams.
“Dear, dear, dear!” cried Mr. Long. “He must have eaten a bushel, and
all raw. Dear, dear, dear! What did he think he was made of? O, how is
it possible for me to keep you all out of mischief? I go after one half
of you who are in peril, and come back to find the rest of you half
poisoned. But poor Pat--where is he? I must see him, for we have to
start for home to-night.”
“I’ll show you, sir,” said Jiggins; and he took him to the room where
Pat was. He was lying in bed, looking pale and exhausted. He greeted Mr.
Long with a faint smile, and the kind-hearted teacher did his utmost to
soothe the afflicted boy.
XIX.
_Complaints of a disappointed Savant.--The humble Confession of Pat.--A
buried Treasure, and a great Search after it by Torchlight’._
“PAT,” said Mr. Long, kindly, “do you think you will be able to start
to-night?”
“To-night, sir?” said Pat, dolefully. “Yes, the recess is over. Our time
is up, and we must all be back to-morrow. We ought to have been there
Saturday night. Do you think you can come?”
“I suppose I’ll have to, sir.”
“If you’re too weak, or if it pains you to walk, we can carry you down,
you know.”
“What time are ye afther lavin’ at, sir?”
“About one o’clock.”
“O, thin, surely I’ll be betther by that time,” said Pat. “I’ll get a
wink of sleep, and wake up meself again.”.
“Do so, Pat. Is there anything I could get you?”
“No, sir, thank ye kindly. I don’t know of anything.”