PHIL’S UNCLE AND CHAP’S SISTER.
We must now return for a time to Hyson Hall and its neighborhood, where
the families of our three young friends were naturally much disturbed
at their long-continued absence. On the morning of the day which Chap
Webster had fixed for his return from the Breakwater, Mr. Godfrey
Berkeley, Phil’s uncle, rode over to the Webster place, and found
Chap’s mother already wondering what train the boys would come up in.
“Now, Mrs. Webster,” said Mr. Godfrey, “don’t you expect them by any
train to-day. When boys start off on an expedition like that, they
cannot fix a date for their return. It is impossible for them to know
exactly how long it will take to get to the Breakwater; how many delays
will occur while there and on their return. I do not expect them until
to-morrow, or perhaps the day after.”
These very sensible remarks comforted Mrs. Webster for the time being,
but when two more days passed, and her son did not return, she became
greatly troubled. Mr. Poole, the father of Phœnix, also sent over to
Hyson Hall to know if Mr. Berkeley had heard anything from the boys.
Mr. Godfrey himself began to think it was quite time that the young
fellows had returned, or made some report of their doings. If they had
been delayed at the Breakwater, they should have telegraphed.
While he was considering this matter, and blaming Phil a good deal for
his negligence, a messenger came to him from the city, sent by one
of the members of the tug-boat company, with whom he was acquainted,
telling him how the boat had gone to sea and had never returned, and
begging him to break the matter as well as he could to the Webster and
Poole families.
Poor Mr. Godfrey had grief enough of his own when he heard this
intelligence, but he did not give up hope, and hurried away to do what
he could to help and encourage his afflicted neighbors.
The Poole family were very willing to listen to Mr. Berkeley’s hopeful
words, and promised to keep up good hearts until they could hear from
him again, and even Mrs. Webster, although terribly shocked, did not
entirely despair. There never was a man who could put a brighter side
to dreary things than Mr. Godfrey Berkeley.
“But I shall die upon the spot,” she said, “if something is not done.
If I can know that somebody is doing something, I can wait in hope; but
if we are to sit here with our hands folded, I shall go crazy. I should
start off this minute myself if I knew what to do or where to go, and
if there were not so many things that make it almost impossible for me
to leave home just now.”
Mr. Godfrey assured her that something was to be done instantly, for
he was going to start for the city by the very next train; thereupon,
Helen, Chap’s only sister, who was even more grieved by the dreadful
news than her mother, although she did not say so much about it, begged
that she might go with Mr. Godfrey.
“I want to hear any news as soon as it comes,” she said. “I don’t think
I can sit still here and wait. And then, if anything is heard from
them, Mr. Godfrey may want to stay down in the city, and I can come
up and tell you. That will be ever so much better than letters and
telegrams.”
Mr. Webster was absent in the West, and as Mrs. Webster thought it very
proper that some of the family should do something in the matter, she
gave Helen permission to accompany Mr. Berkeley, who was very glad to
have for a companion this sensible and courageous girl.
In the city they heard the full particulars of the occurrence as far as
they were known.
“Has nothing been heard of the vessel which the tug-boat went out to
offer to bring in?” asked Mr. Godfrey Berkeley.
“She never came into the Breakwater at all,” was the answer. “She must
have concluded to lie-to that night, for the wind was dead against her.
She was the Cygnet, bound to Norfolk, Virginia, and we heard yesterday
that she was spoken the next day by a coasting vessel coming North.
The gale had pretty well gone down by that time, and she’d rigged up a
jury-mast, and was making her way to her port with a fair wind.”
“Mr. Godfrey,” said Helen, who had been listening attentively, “don’t
you suppose that ship might have picked up the people on the tug-boat
if they were wrecked? Perhaps Chap and the others are on board of her
now.”
“I am afraid there is not much hope in that direction,” said the agent
of the company, “for the tug and the disabled schooner do not appear
to have had anything to do with each other. Our belief is that the
tug-boat was driven out to sea by the storm, on account of some of her
machinery getting out of order, and that the persons on board were
probably picked up by some passing vessel, from which we may hear at
any day.”
“But I think,” persisted Helen, “that we ought not to wait for that.
I believe that we ought to go to Norfolk and meet that one-masted
schooner. If Chap and the other boys are on board, I’d like to be there
when they come in.”
Mr. Berkeley had been quietly thinking about the matter, and although
he was very much afraid that there was little reason for supposing that
his dear Phil and the other boys were on board the Cygnet, still he
felt that nothing should be left undone, and that even this little ray
of hope should not be abandoned, and he therefore determined to go to
Norfolk, and as Helen plead so earnestly to go with him, he agreed to
take her.
She asserted that her valise contained everything she needed, and
he assumed the responsibility of taking her upon this trip, feeling
sure that nothing would satisfy Mrs. Webster so much as to know that
something was still being done. He therefore telegraphed to Boontown,
and he and Helen set off for Norfolk as soon as possible.
When they reached Norfolk, the Cygnet had not yet come in. Her passage
down the coast had probably been very slow, and she might have been
also delayed by additional accidents to her sailing-gear, which, from
all accounts, must have been in a very bad condition.
Mr. Godfrey and the young girl walked about the piers and wharves all
the afternoon, and as night approached, and no Cygnet had come in,
Helen went back to the hotel with a fear that the boys had suffered a
second shipwreck.
But early in the morning, word was brought to Mr. Berkeley that the
disabled Cygnet lay in the Roads, and it was not long before he and
Helen were being rapidly rowed out to the schooner.
But when they went on board, they saw no Chap, no Phil, no Phœnix. The
boys had never been on the vessel.
Poor Helen sank down on something, she knew not what it was, and
covered her face with her hands, but in a few minutes afterward Mr.
Godfrey stood before her, and put his hand on her head.
“Helen!” he cried, “look up. I have splendid news!”
Helen gave a start, and looking at Mr. Berkeley, she saw that his eyes
were sparkling, and that his face was glowing with delight.
“Just think of it, Helen!” he cried. “The captain here tells me that
the next morning after the tug-boat came out to meet him, he saw her,
with his glass, tossing about on the waves a long way off. He knew she
must have been blown out to sea by the storm, and he kept watch on her.
She was so far away that the people on board of her could not have seen
his vessel if they had not a good ship’s glass. He was sure she was
disabled, and would have gone to her assistance if he had not been
disabled himself. But now, hear this--this is the splendid part. Some
time afterward, he saw a steamship come along, and as he kept his glass
on the spot he saw the steamer lie-to and take people off the tug-boat.
Of course, she took everybody. And then she started on her way South.
He says he is quite sure she is a Savannah steamer.”
“Oh, Mr. Godfrey,” cried Helen, clapping her hands, “this is glorious!
Let’s go straight to Savannah!”
“Why, you madcap girl,” laughed Mr. Berkeley, “I believe you would
follow those fellows all round the world!”
“Indeed I would,” said Helen, “if I could only be sure of meeting dear
Chap at last!”
When they went back to the hotel, Mr. Berkeley actually considered this
plan of going to Savannah. He calculated that the steamer should have
arrived at that port some days before, and if the boys were there, they
were probably in trouble, for, otherwise, they certainly should have
been heard from.
He could not imagine why they had not telegraphed or written. His joy,
therefore, at the news given him by the captain of the Cygnet, was
much dampened after this careful consideration of the case. At any
rate, he determined to go to Savannah. If the steamer was really bound
there, the boys ought to be looked after, and he felt, as well as Mrs.
Webster, that something ought to be doing until they were found.
Of course, he had to take Helen with him, as he could not send her home
alone, and having telegraphed the Cygnet’s news to Boontown, the two
started for Savannah that afternoon.
When they reached that city, Mr. Berkeley made diligent inquiries in
regard to the arrival of three shipwrecked boys, but he heard that only
two steamers had come in within a week, and that neither of these had
fallen in with a disabled tug-boat.
When even his stout heart was beginning to despair, and poor Helen
looked as if she had been ill for a month, there came a telegram from
Boontown. It was from Mr. Welford, a banker of that place, and a friend
of Mr. Berkeley’s, to whom the telegram had been addressed which the
boys had forwarded by the sportsman they had met on the Indian River.
Mr. Welford lived in the town, and a telegram sent to him would be
immediately delivered, and the boys knew he would lose no time in
notifying their families.
The telegram now received from Mr. Welford informed Mr. Godfrey
Berkeley that the boys were on the Indian River, Florida, and were
coming North as fast as possible.
This news made the world seem like a different place to Phil’s uncle
and Chap’s sister. This was something real and tangible.
“It seems as if we knew just where the boys were,” cried Helen.
“Yes,” said Mr. Godfrey, laughing, “we might take the map, and almost
point out the exact spot where they ought to be by this time; but, most
probably, we would make a mistake, and we won’t do it. It is enough to
know that they are in Florida, and we shall probably see them soon.”
“Shall we wait here for them?” said Helen.
“I have not made up my mind about that,” replied Mr. Berkeley.
But before he made up his mind a telegram came from Mrs. Webster, which
read thus:
“Please go and meet my boy. He has not a cent, and scarcely any
clothes.”
“All right,” said Mr. Berkeley, when this characteristic message had
been read and considered. “I shall be very glad to take a trip into
summer land, for it is getting very bleak and cold up our way. Of
course, your mother means that I shall take you with me, Miss Helen,
and it will do you good, for if ever a girl needed to have plumpness
and rosiness brought back to her cheeks, you do. The boys are bound
to come down the St. John’s River to Jacksonville, and we can’t miss
them.”
And so the two started for Florida.
“Won’t they be surprised when they see us?” said Helen, when she and
Mr. Godfrey had taken their seats in the car.
“I hope so,” said Mr. Godfrey. “Half our pleasure will be lost if we
don’t astonish them.”
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