_The Tale unfolded to Solomon and to Captain Corbet.--How they took
it.--A New Departure.--A Bee-line for Home.--An Obstacle.--An
old Enemy.--All at Sea literally and figuratively.--Terrible
Calamity.--Striking a Rock.--Perilous Position.--Taking to the
Pumps.--Preparing for the Worst._
TWO of the party in the Antelope had neither heard of the peril of Bart
and Pat, nor known of their escape from it; and to these it was that
the information of these things came last of all, yet not with the
least profound effect. To Solomon the theory of the man Roach seemed
unanswerable, and the very mention of it made his eyes roll about till
nothing was visible except two revolving white disks on an ebon ground.
His fingers clasped one another nervously, and his jaw fell and remained
hanging, as though the owner of it had no further use for it, or had
lost all control of it. From Solomon’s former actions on different
occasions, he had given indications of a nature that was not untinged
with superstition, and a fancy that was ready to kindle and flame up
with all those visions of the supernatural which seem so congenial to
the negro mind.
“O, de sakes alive!” he exclaimed. “An under neaf de groun--an back agin
safe! What! down below dar to dat ar place! Clar, if it don’t make dis
yer ole man go nigh stracted to think of. On dat ar island, down in dat
ar hole, dar’s a hull slew of ghosts an hobblegobblums ob de wustest
sort ob pirates an murderers all lyin in wait, wid de ole boy himself,
an a watchin ober de treasure. How ebber youns managed to git out ob de
clutches ob dem dar hobblegobblums beats me--does so. Clar, if I ain’t
mos ’fraid to think ob it. Darsn’t--no how. Ef I’d ben down dar, I’d
gon mad wid fright. But dar couldn’t be any danger ob me ebber goin
down--no, sah! You may bet high on dat ar. Not for all de treasure dat
Cap’n Kidd ebber buried.”
Captain Corbet heard the harrowing story with a face full of sickening
suspense and terrible anxiety. In his gentle and affectionate nature
he seemed to suffer all that the boys had suffered. He made no remark
whatever, and after it was all told, he remained in silence for some
time, looking, in an abstracted way, at vacancy. The others respected
his evident emotion, and stood regarding him in solemn silence.
At length he raised his venerable head, and surveyed Bart and Pat with
an impressive gaze; after which he looked at each of the other boys.
“Well, well, well!” he said, slowly, and with emphasis; “had I a
knowed--had I a thought--had I a s’posed--had I a dreampt of the
possee-bility of this, I’d never a ventoored into any harbure till I cud
anchor opposite my natyve hum. An I might have expected it--tew. I know
how it allus was, an might have expected how it allus was a goin for to
be. But this here does clap the climax. And whuffore? What upon airth
possessed you to ventoor down under ground on a broken rope, hangin from
a rotten beam? Why, it won’t bar a thinkin on. It’s wuss than anythin
that’s happened among all that long an eventfuel serious of misfort’ns
an clamties that’s ben a befallin of us ever sence we fust assembled
together on board this here schewner.
“And now what am I a goin to do? Do? Me? Why, I’ll tell you what I’m
a goin to do. I’m a goin to take up a bee-line for hum, an never enter
another harbure--no, not so much as look at one, till I get to the wharf
at Grand Pré. This responsibility is tew, tew kerushin. I ain’t a stick,
an I ain’t a stun, an I can’t abear it. A human heart beats in this
aged boosum, an it’s ben wrung on-common. I don’t want to get another
squinge. No--not me. An so I intend this day to hist anchor, an spread
my sail to catch the gale. An them, that wants to go hum by land air
at liberty so to do--an peace an joy go with em; but them as wishes to
stand by the ship ‘ll be welcome to the aged Corbet, an make his path of
life all the brighter for their presence. An, so sayin, I’ll kinclewd.”
The conclusion, thus announced, was one which the boys were not
unwilling to accept. There was nothing more here which they particularly
cared to see. After the adventure of Bart and Pat, the treasure of the
seas and the plunder of the Spanish Main lost that dazzling and alluring
charm which hitherto had been found in those sounding words. The fact
that it was so inaccessible was of itself sufficient to quell their
ardor; but, more than this, they were affected by the information of
past attempts to get at the treasure, and especially by the present
efforts at forming a joint stock company. This at once vulgarized the
whole affair. It put it into the hands of every one. It made it a matter
of shares and shafts, engineers and steam-engines. With such things as
these the boys felt they had nothing to do, and in them they took no
interest whatever. Then, finally, the adventure of Bart and Pat had so
exhausted the possibilities of Ma-hone Bay, that they could hope for
nothing which could surpass it.
The consequence was, that, not long after the happy return of Bart and
Pat, the Antelope once more set sail. The wind was fair, and the ship
was ready. The landlord and Roach watched them as they moved away, and
waved their hats after them as they passed down the harbor. And so
the Antelope went away, leaving behind her, in its resting-place,
undisturbed, the treasure of the sea.
All that day the wind continued fair from the north-west, and all the
night following. The Antelope made a good run, and it was hoped that now
they might reach their destination without any further trouble; but, on
the following day, they found that these hopes were premature, and
that trials yet awaited them; for, on going to the deck, they saw, all
around, and above, and beneath, their old enemy--the enemy that they
detested--the fog.
Yes, the fog was upon them--like some stealthy, vigilant, inexorable
foe, who, finding them thus setting forth on their last voyage for home,
now advanced upon them from all sides, to assail them for the last time.
Bruce saw this first, and groaned. Arthur groaned likewise. So did Tom
and Phil. And so did Bart and Pat. As for Solomon, he took no notice of
it whatever, but devoted himself, as usual, to his pots and pans,
while Captain Corbet had far too philosophical a soul, and far too much
experience of such a situation, to be disturbed in the slightest degree
by so commonplace a matter.
“I don’t like this,” said Bruce, after a long and most unhappy silence,
which told more eloquently than words their opinions as to this last
mischance. “I didn’t expect it.”
“We might have expected it,” said Arthur, “judging from the past. We’ve
had enough of it to make it seem natural. Still, I didn’t expect it, I
must say, any more than you did.”
“For my part,” said Phil, “I had forgotten all about it, and thought
that the Atlantic Ocean would be like Mahone Bay.”
“I wish we had left the Antelope,” said Tom, “and gone off by land, as
Captain Corbet advised, either to Grand Pré, or anywhere else.”
“O, sure an it’ll blow over, so it will,” said Pat. “Not it.”,
“Sure an it’s best to be afther lookin on the bright side.”
“There isn’t any bright side to the fog that I could ever see,” said
Tom.
“Well,” said Bart, “we’ll have to do as we’ve done before--grin and bear
it.”
“But it’s a great deal harder to grin now than it used to be,” said
Phil, plaintively; “and I can’t bear it at all.”
“O, well, Captain Corbet’ll work his way along. He understands fog, at
any rate.”
“Well, I don’t altogether think so,” said Bruce. “After losing himself
so utterly a few days ago, and fetching up at Sable Island, I rather
begin to doubt his power to understand fog.”
“O, well, that was in a strange place.”
“Well, this is a strange place.”
“Not quite. We are getting well on towards the Bay of Fundy.”
“Well, we’re not there yet. As yet, we’re in the Atlantic Ocean. Now,
Captain Corbet got lost once before in this same place,--the Atlantic
Ocean,--and it’s my fixed belief that he’ll do it again.”
“O, we know where the coast of Nova Scotia is now, and we’re all right.
I’m determined to look on the bright side.”
“Well, and I’m determined to be prepared for the worst.”
The event showed that this fog did not have a bright side, and that it
was wiser, in these circumstances, to be prepared for the worst. That
day passed, and the fog still held on. The wind that brought the fog
was strong, steady, and sustained, showing neither violence nor
irresolution, but blowing in a way that promised to last long after
their stock of patience was exhausted. It was a sou’-wester, the wind of
fog and storm.
After another day had passed, Captain Corbet’s face assumed an
expression, the meaning of which was but too well known to all the boys
through sad experience. That meaning was, that he was puzzled, that he
was uncertain, hesitating, and not decided where to go. And the boys
discussed this among themselves, and perceived that once again their
good, their venerable, their modest, but, after all, somewhat incapable
commander had again lost his way.
“Ye see,” said he to Bruce, who mentioned this to him in a mild
way,--“ye see thar’s ben so much tackin backard an forard that I kine o;
got out o’ the knack of it, an thar’s a kink or two in my cal’lations.
Ef we hadn’t got to alius beat up agin this sou’-wester, we’d manage
to keep a better course; but, as it is, we ain’t got no course in
pa’ticular, wuth mentionin. An then thar’s them tides, an currents, an
all that; an what with them, an tackin, an the fog, why, it’s got to be
precious hard navigatin.”
“But why don’t you keep well in to the Nova Scotia shore?”
“Wal, that thar’s the very identical thing I’m a drivin at, an I dar
say, if the fog was to lift, you’d see it quite handy over thar.”
“But where are we now?”
“Wal, as nigh as I can cal’clate, we’ve about got to the end of Nova
Scotia; an I’ve a mind to take a long tack to the nothe-west, next turn,
an hain’t got no reasonable doubt but what we’ll keep on till we fetch
up in old Fundy.”
All this was rather disheartening to the boys. They saw that Captain
Corbet did not even profess to have any exact knowledge of his position,
and, judging from the past, they did not believe that he had any. Still,
the change of course which he announced was something, and it seemed to
afford some slight material for hope.
At length the Antelope came round on her next tack, and, taking a
north-west course, she kept it for some time. At first the captain was
rather watchful; but, after three or four hours, his vigilance began to
relax, and at length he ventured to announce to the boys that they must
be in the Bay of Fundy.
“An when I’m here, in this Bay o’ Fundy, boys, mind you,” said he, with
something of exultation in his tone,--“when I’m here, why, I’m to hum.
These waters was the place whar I sported in boyhood’s days. Here I
matoored into a man. Here I’ve held commoon with the ragin biller, an
rode on the kerest of the toomultus ocean. You can’t disturb me when
I’m in old Fundy. It’s my hum. Fog an tide hev ben my companions from
childhood, an the Bay of Fundy recognizes in the aged Corbet her--”
But what he was going to say was never said, for the word was taken out
of his mouth, and exchanged for the interjection,--
“Hallo!”
The Antelope had come to a sudden stop. The shock was strong enough to
knock Captain Corbet on his knees, and huddle all the boys together in a
startled and struggling crowd.
In an instant Corbet was on his feet, and rushed forward to see what was
the matter. The boys followed. The helm was left to take care of itself,
and the sails snapped and fluttered in the wind. All was confusion.
“Why, I do believe,” said the captain, “I do rail-ly believe she’s
struck! Dear me! Wal, I never! This--doo--beat--my--grandmother!”
This allusion to his grandmother, under such circumstances, far from
reassuring the boys, only excited their alarm the more, and made them
think that their revered commander had lost his senses.
“Boys,” cried Bruce, “the Antelope’s struck, and is sinking. We’ll have
to take to the boat. I’ll fill a keg of water. The rest of you gather a
supply of biscuit for a week, and one of you bring the compass.”
“O, no; don’t trouble yourselves,” said Captain Corbet.
“It’s--it’s--not--the slightest conse-kence. Don’t--don’t--hurry.”
But these and other words were lost on the boys, who, now in the full
conviction that the Antelope was sinking, hurried to do as Bruce had
told them.
But Tom and Pat held back. Pat rushed to the mainmast, and busied
himself with some ropes; and Tom went to the pump, and, after taking a
peep into the hold, began pumping.