“I see it,” said Bruce. “It’s certainly the mast, and the mast of a
ship, for there is the yard and the rigging; but there’s only one mast.”
“It’s a sloop,” said Phil.
“No,” said Tom; “it’s a square-rigged vessel of some sort.”
“Sure an it ain’t got no more ’n one mast,” said Pat; “an be the same
token, there’s no hull at all at all. Be the powers, but it would be a
quare thing intirely if it was to turrun out to be another wather-logged
ship. An if it is, it’s meself that’ll not set fut aboord of her; not
me, so it isn’t.”
“There’s something,” said Bruce, “that may be a hull. I can see it
sometimes quite plain. Now look, boys, carefully, all of you, as we rise
on the top of a wave.”
All this time Arthur had been examining the object through the
spy-glass. As Bruce said this, he handed the glass to him.
“It’s not a ship,” said he, “nor a vessel of any kind. It’s land.”
“Land!” cried all the boys.
“Yes,” said Arthur.
All were silent. Bruce took a look through the glass, and then passed it
to Bart, who, after looking through it, passed it on to the others.
“It’s a fact,” said Bruce. “It’s land; and that’s a flag-staff.”
“It’s very low land,” said Arthur.
“It’s a mere sand-bank,” said Bruce.
“A sand-bank,” said Bart, “with a flag-staff in the middle of the ocean!
It’s queer.”
“Yes,” said Bruce; “and remember this, too, that this sand-bank in the
ocean, with this flagstaff, is probably not very far away from the coast
of Nova Scotia. Now, put this and that together, boys, and where do you
think we are?”
At this question they all looked at one another in silence, and for a
time no answer was made.
“Well,” said Tom, at length, “I’ll tell you what it is, boys. I believe
that another prophecy of Captain Ferguson’s is turning out true. He
prophesied that we’d be thrown upon Anticosti, and so we were. He
prophesied that we’d be thrown on another place, and this is that place.
You all know what I mean. I mean Sable Island.”
The boys made no remark. This thought had been in the minds of all of
them. It was a thought that brought the deepest anxiety and gloom. For,
bad as Anticosti was, there was one worse place; and that place was the
very sand-bank before them--Sable Island!
The boys had all along been hoping for deliverance, either in the shape
of some passing vessel or some sign of land. But this land, which they
had approached unwittingly, seemed to be surrounded by a terror far
worse than anything that was connected with their present situation. For
Sable Island--that treacherous sand-bank in the midst of the sea--had
always been known to all of them as the dread of seamen, the trap of
ships, and the graveyard of shipwrecked sailors. The solitary flag-staff
rose there out of the low island, as though to warn them away, like
a signal of danger; and yet it was impossible for them to move away.
Without sails, and without a compass, they were helpless; and there
seemed now no prospect, except to go ashore there and meet their doom.
Tom was the first to rouse himself. “Captain,” said he, “here’s Sable
Island. Come and take a good look at it, for we’re going ashore.”
Captain Corbet had been so intent upon his work of patching the old
sail, that he had heard and seen nothing of this excitement among the
boys. These words of Tom came, therefore, suddenly and abruptly, and
filled him with a terror equal to theirs. He started as though he had
been shot. His needle dropped from his hands. For a few moments he sat
staring at Tom; and then he rose slowly to his feet, and going over to
where the boys stood, he looked out over the waters to where their eyes
were directed. He stood staring for a long time in perfect silence.
“Sable Island!” he at length said, in a low voice. “Wal, boys,--I didn’t
ever think--I’d ever live--to see--this here day. I’ve ben a tryin all
my life, boys, to keep clar of this here island; but fate’s stronger
than the hand of man,--an here we air!”
“O, see here now,” said Tom. “Come, now, captain, this here sort of
thing won’t do at all, you know. There can’t be any very great danger.
The wind’s gone down, you know. The sea’s ever so much smoother than
it was, and it’s going to be smoother still. All sorts of vessels visit
this island. The Nova Scotia government send supplies here regularly;
and so I don’t see what danger there is. For my part, I think we’d all
better go ashore. The more I think of it, the more convinced I am that
we’ll be better off ashore on Sable Island than we are drifting about
on board of the Antelope. And so I say, Hurrah, boys, for Sable Island!
Let’s go ashore, and get a decent sail for this vessel, and some
supplies.”
These words cheered the boys amazingly. A reaction at once took place.
Tom was right. The sea was calm enough here to admit of a landing
anywhere: and in the face of this fact thoughts of danger were not to be
entertained.
Yet the panic which had been inspired by the very name of Sable Island
may easily be explained; and, in circumstances like these, it was quite
justifiable. For of all places in the world, Sable Island is, perhaps,
most dreaded by seamen. It is a low sand-bank, about twenty miles long
and one mile wide. This much is above water. But besides what is visible
to the eye, there is much more invisible, treacherous, beneath the sea,
extending all around it. Sable Island is, in fact, the crest of a vast
sand-bank or shoal, which rises out of the ocean depths, about a hundred
miles southeast of the coast of Nova Scotia, in the very track of the
vast commerce between England and America. Though the island itself is
not more than twenty miles long, the shoal extends much farther; and it
has been calculated that, for a distance of fifty miles, there is danger
to the ship which ventures too near. Moreover, this shoal runs in a
curved line, and may be said to enclose in a segment of a dangerous
circle all vessels sailing north of it, or between it and the main land.
Approach to it in a storm is always dangerous; and with certain winds
it is positive destruction; wherefore ships always give it a wide berth.
Many are the vessels which are known to have been lost there; but many
more, by far, are supposed to have perished on the outlying shoals,
without leaving a vestige behind to tell of their fate.
Now, however, there was nothing like a storm. The wind, that had
prevailed all day, was gone; and it only needed Tom’s cheery words
to drive away from all of them the terror that for a time had taken
possession of their souls. They therefore roused themselves from the
silence and the gloom into which they had fallen, and began to talk over
the probabilities of a landing. Each one brought forth all that he knew
about Sable Island, and added it to the common stock of knowledge, until
at length a very favorable idea of the place was formed. Bart knew that
there was a regular overseer, or governor, or superintendent of the
island, placed there by the Nova Scotia government. Bruce knew that a
vessel was sent there four times a year to convey supplies, and to take
away any shipwrecked people who might be there. Arthur knew that there
were huts, built for the purposes of refuge, in different parts of the
island. Tom was sure that a landing could be made in ordinary weather,
without much trouble; and Phil was eloquent on the subject of the ponies
which live and thrive on the island, constituting a peculiar breed, well
known in Nova Scotia, where a batch of Sable Island ponies are brought
every year, sold at auction, and dispersed through the country. The
result of this interchange of ideas was, that the boys at length began
to look upon Sable Island as rather a desirable place, and to feel
impatient for the time to come when they might drift near enough to make
a landing.
But this was a thing for which they had to wait. The Antelope was
certainly drifting; yet her progress was slow, and there was no way of
hastening it. For hour after hour they watched the flag-staff, and the
low line of land away on the horizon, without finding themselves near
enough to think of going ashore. By the shifting and changing position
of the flag-staff, they knew that they were drifting past it; and yet
there was no way by which they could prevent this. In the first moments
of their panic, the possibility of drifting clear of Sable Island would
have seemed most welcome to all of them; but now that they had formed
the plan of landing there, such a prospect seemed not at all desirable;
and the slow drift of the schooner, while it baffled their hopes, filled
them all with impatience.
In this way the hours of the day passed away. It was about three o’clock
in the afternoon when they first saw Sable Island. The hours went by,
and sunset came; still they were not near enough. Night was impending,
yet the weather was too calm to allow of uneasiness, and they could only
hope that on the following day they might be able to make the landing
which they all desired so earnestly.
Passing the night in the vicinity of such a place as Sable Island is
what few would choose for any amount of money. On this occasion, most
fortunately, the weather was calm. The wind had died away to a gentle
breeze, and the water was quite smooth. The only motion experienced by
those on board the Antelope was that long rise and fall which is always
felt out at sea, owing to the never-ending undulation of the ocean
waters.
The boys went below and slept. Captain Corbet, however, remained on
deck, and kept his lonely vigil far into the night. The first mention
of Sable Island had produced upon him a profound effect. His first words
exhibited something like a panic terror, which might have communicated
itself to the boys, had it not been for Tom’s cheery exhortation. From
that first terror the captain had managed to extricate himself; yet
still there remained, deep within his soul, the gloomiest anticipations.
The night was not particularly dark. The sky was dotted with innumerable
stars; yet so low was the island, and so destitute of any conspicuous
landmark, that it passed out of view with the early twilight; nor was
the eagle eye of the watchful Corbet able to detect any sign of the
vanished land. At length he determined to guard against the danger of
any further drifting, and accordingly proceeded to let fall the anchor.
It was about two hours after midnight when this was done, and the rattle
of the chains awaked the sleepers below, and announced that at last
their long wanderings were arrested.
On the following morning they were all on deck with the dawn of day, and
looking out eagerly upon the waters. The sight which met their eyes was
one which could have given nothing like pleasure to any others; yet to
them it was indeed pleasant, so far as it went. They saw rising out
of the sea a low, sandy shore, which extended as far as the eye could
reach. About opposite them rose a flag-staff, which they supposed to be
the one that they had seen on the previous evening, though there was a
difference of a most important character between what they saw then
and now. For here they saw buildings which looked like comfortable
residences, perhaps the abode of the keeper of the island. Except this
house and its belongings, nothing else was visible along that sandy
shore.
The Antelope had come to anchor in good time, and the shore was not
quite two miles away from this place. Still, so shallow were the waters,
and so treacherous the sea bottom, that it was not at all advisable to
attempt to approach nearer. If they wished to land, they would have to
do so in the boat. The boat floated astern, all ready, being no other
than that one which they had saved from the ship Petrel. Into this they
prepared to go.
For this voyage all the boys volunteered, and Captain Corbet also. Wade
was to be left aboard with Solomon. Bart noticed that the venerable
African was looking at the island with a pensive gaze, and thought that
he saw disappointment in his face.
“Would you like to come ashore, too, Solomon?” he asked, kindly.
Solomon shook his head.
“Darsn’t,” said he. “Darsn’t, no how.”
“Pooh, nonsense! Why not? Come along,” said Bart, who thought that this
was some of Solomon’s superstitious fancies which were now affecting
him.
“Darsn’t,” said Solomon, again. “Couldn’t ebber leave it agin. An don
you go an try to ’suade dis yer ole man, Mas’r Bart, if you don want
to lose him. Tell you what--dat ar island’s too safe; an ef I foun
myself dar, I wouldn’t ebber leave it.”
“Safe? What from?” asked Bart.
Solomon looked all around with the glance of one who fears pursuit and
capture by some mysterious enemy.
“De ole complaint,” said he at last, with a groan.
“What, rheumatism?” asked Bart, innocently.
“No, sah,” said Solomon. “It’s Broom-atiz--an acute Broomatiz too--what
I notches from de ole woman whenebber she finds a broomstick handy.
It generally attacks me over de back and shoulders. An what’s wuss, dar
ain’t a medicine, or a liniment, or a wash, or a poultice, dat does a
mite ob good. De only cure is for me to go an hunt up some desert island
in de middle ob de ocean, an habit it for do ress ob my days; an so,
ef I was to go shore dar, I might hide, an nebber come back. Too great
’tractium; couldn’t resist it. Safe dar forebbermo from dat ar ole
woman; safe an free; no more knocks an bruises; no more terror. O, Mas’r
Bart, p’raps, after all, dis here ole man better go asho dar, an hab
peace.”
“Nonsense, Solomon,” said Bart, who was astonished at learning the real
cause of Solomon’s strange fancy for Sable Island. “Nonsense. Don’t get
that notion into your head. Your wife ’ll never find you. You come to
Grand Pré, and Dr. Porter will protect you.”
“Dat ar place is de berry place whar I kin nebber be safe. She’s dar
now, a waitin, an a watch-in, an a waitin for me. I know it. I feel it
in my ole bones. Dey allers aches when I think ob her. Ebery mile we go
brings me nearer to her broom-handle; an de longer I stay away, de wuss
I’m goin to cotch it. So, p’raps, Mas’r Bart, I’d better go asho on
Sable Island.”
The idea seemed to have taken full possession of Solomon’s mind, and
to such an extent, that Bart found all efforts to banish it utterly
useless.
He therefore gave it up, and concluded, under the circumstances, that it
was better for Solomon to remain on board.
The boat was now ready. The boys and Captain Corbet were calling for
Bart to hurry up. Bart got on board, and they pulled away. It was a long
pull; but the water was smooth, and they made good progress. At length
the boat touched the shore, and they all leaped out upon the sand.