greatly relieved and strengthened. He now could walk along, where Bruno
led the way, without stopping to rest at all. So the boy and the dog
went on together, until they safely reached the bottom of the garden.
Here they were met by Tony’s mother, who was almost beside herself with
joy when she saw them coming. She ran to meet Tony, and conducted him
into the house, while Bruno, as soon as he found that his charge was
safe, turned back, and, without waiting to be thanked, ran off into the
woods again.
And where do you think he was going, reader?
He was going to get Tony’s fishing-pole.
Tony’s mother brought her boy into the house, and, after she had bathed
his face, and his hands, and his feet with warm water to refresh and
soothe him, agitated as he was by his anxiety and terror, she gave him
a comfortable seat by the side of the kitchen fire, while she went to
work to get ready the supper. As soon as Tony had arrived, she blew
the horn at the door, which was the signal which had been previously
agreed upon to denote that he was found. Thomas and Tony’s father heard
this sound as they were wandering about in the woods, and both joyfully
hastened home. Tony, in the mean time, dreaded his father’s return.
He expected to be bitterly reproached by him for what he had done. He
was, however, happily disappointed in this expectation. His father did
not reproach him. He thought he had already been punished enough; and
besides, he was so glad to have his son home again, safe and sound,
that he had not the heart to say a word to give him any additional pain.
[Sidenote: Bruno lies down to sleep.]
Bruno himself came home about the same time that Thomas did, bringing
the fishing-pole and line with him. The apparatus was all safe, except
that the hook was gone. It had got torn off by catching against the
bushes on the way. Bruno brought the pole and line to Tony. Tony took
them, and when he had wound up the line, he set the pole up in the
corner, while Bruno stretched himself out before the fire, and there,
with his mind in a state of great satisfaction, in view of what he had
done, he prepared to go to sleep. The bright fire glanced upon the
hearth and about the room, forming a very cheerful and pleasant scene.
[Sidenote: Tony’s reflections.]
How shameful it is, thought Tony, as he looked upon Bruno by the fire,
that while a dog can be so faithful, and seem to take so much pride and
pleasure in doing his duty, and in making himself as useful in every
way as he possibly can, a boy, whose power and opportunities are so
much superior to his, should be faithless and negligent, and try to
contrive ways and means to evade his proper work. You have taught me a
lesson, Bruno. You have set me an example. We will see whether, after
this, I will allow myself to be beaten in fidelity and gratitude by a
dog.
* * * * *
This story reminds me of another one about a boy named Antonio,
who got away from home, and was in trouble to get back, though the
circumstances were very different from those which I have just related.
The name of this new story is “Boys Adrift.”
BOYS ADRIFT.
Boys are generally greatly pleased with seeing ships and the water.
In fact, the view of a harbor, filled with boats and shipping, forms
usually for all persons, old as well as young, a very attractive scene.
There was once a boy named Antonio Van Tromp. They commonly called him
Antony. Sometimes they called him Van Tromp. He lived in a certain
sea-port town, where his father used to come in with a ship from sea.
His father was captain of the ship. Antonio used to be very fond of
going down to the pier while his father’s ship was unloading. One day
he persuaded his cousin, who was several years younger than himself, to
go down with him.
[Sidenote: Antonio and his cousin amuse themselves on the pier.]
The boys played about upon the pier for an hour very happily. The
seamen and laborers were unloading the ship, and there were a great
many boxes, and bales, and hogsheads, and other packages of merchandise
lying upon the pier. There were porters at work carrying the goods
away, and sailors rolling hogsheads and barrels to and fro. There was
an anchor on the pier, and weights, and chains, and trucks, and other
similar objects lying around. The boys amused themselves for some time
in jumping about upon these things. At length, on looking down over
the edge of the pier, they saw that there was a boat there. It was
fastened by means of a rope to one of the links of an enormous chain,
which was lying over the edge of the pier. On seeing this boat, they
conceived the idea of getting into it, and rowing about a little in the
neighborhood of the pier.
[Sidenote: The boat.]
There were no oars in the boat, and so Van Tromp asked a sailor, whom
he saw at work near, to go and get them for him on board the ship.
[Sidenote: Conversation with the sailor.]
“Not I,” said the sailor.
“Why not?” asked Van Tromp.
“It is ebb tide,” said the sailor, “and if you two boys cast off from
the pier in that boat, you will get carried out to sea.”
“Why, I can _scull_,” said Van Tromp.
“Oh no,” said the sailor.
“At least I can pull,” said Van Tromp.
“Oh no,” said the sailor.
The boys stood perplexed, not knowing what to do.
All along the shores of the sea the tide rises for six hours, and while
it is thus rising, the water, of course, wherever there are harbors,
creeks, and bays, flows _in_. Afterward the tide falls for six hours,
and while it is falling, the water of the harbors, creeks, and bays
flows _out_. When the water is going out, they call it ebb tide. That
is what the sailor meant by saying it was ebb tide.
[Sidenote: Sculling and pulling.]
_Sculling_ is a mode of propelling a boat by one oar. The oar in this
case is put out behind the boat, that is, at the stern, and is moved
to and fro in a peculiar manner, somewhat resembling the motion of the
tail of a fish when he is swimming through the water. It is difficult
to learn how to scull. Antony could scull pretty well in smooth water,
but he could not have worked his way in this manner against an ebb
tide.
_Pulling_, as Antony called it, is another name for rowing. In rowing,
it is necessary to have two oars. To row a boat requires more strength,
though less skill, than to scull it.
The boys, after hesitating for some time, finally concluded at least
to get into the boat. They had unfastened the painter, that is, the
rope by which the boat was tied, while they had been talking with the
sailor, in order to be all ready to cast off. When they found that the
sailor would not bring them any oars, they fastened the painter again,
so that the boat should not get away, and then climbed down the side of
the pier, and got into the boat.
[Sidenote: The boat adrift.]
Unfortunately, when, after untying the painter, they attempted to make
it fast again into the link of the chain, they did not do it securely;
and as they moved to and fro about the boat, pushing it one way and
another, the rope finally got loose, and the boat floated slowly away
from the pier. The boys were engaged very intently at the time in
watching some sun-fish which they saw in the water. They were leaning
over the side of the boat to look at them, so that they did not see
the pier when it began to recede, and thus the tide carried them to
a considerable distance from it before they observed that they were
adrift.
At length Larry--for that was the name of Antony’s cousin--looking up
accidentally, observed that the boat was moving away.
“Antony! Antony!” exclaimed, he, “we’re adrift.”
As he said this, Larry looked very much terrified.
Antony rose from his reclining position, and stood upright in the
bottom of the boat. He looked back toward the pier, which he observed
was rapidly receding.
[Sidenote: Adrift.]
“Yes,” said he, “we’re adrift; but who cares?”
When a boy gets into difficulty or danger by doing something wrong, he
is generally very much frightened. When, however, he knows that he has
not been doing any thing wrong, but has got into difficulty purely by
accident, he is much less likely to be afraid.
Antony knew that he had done nothing wrong in getting into the boat.
His father was a sea-captain, and he was allowed to get into boats
whenever he chose to do so. He was accustomed, too, to be in boats on
the water, and now, if he had only had an oar or a paddle, he would not
have felt any concern whatever. As it was, he felt very little concern.
His first thought was to call out to the sailor whom they had left on
the pier. The boys both called to him long and loud, but he was so busy
turning over boxes, and bales, and rolling hogsheads about, that he did
not hear.
“What shall we do?” asked Larry, with a very anxious look.
[Sidenote: The sail-boat.]
“Oh, we shall get ashore again easily enough,” replied Antony. “Here is
a large sail-boat coming up. We will hail them, and they will take us
aboard.”
“Do you think they will take us on board?” asked Larry.
“Yes, I am sure they will,” said Antony.
Just then the boat which the boys were drifting in came along opposite
to a large sail-boat. This boat was sloop-rigged; that is, it had one
mast and a fore-and-aft sail. She was standing up the harbor, and was
headed toward the pier. The sail was spread, and the sail-boat was
gliding along smoothly, but quite swiftly, through the water.
There were two men on board. One was at the helm, steering. The other,
who had on a red flannel shirt, came to the side of the boat, and
looked over toward the boys. We can just see the head of this man above
the gunwale on the starboard side of the boat in the picture.
[Illustration]
[Sidenote: Antony calls for help. He receives none.]
“Hallo! sail-boat!” said Antony.
“Hallo!” said the flannel shirt.
“Take us aboard of your boat,” said Antony; “we have got adrift, and
have not got any oar.”
“We can’t take you on board,” said the man; “we have got beyond you
already.”
“Throw us a rope,” said Antony.
“We have not got any rope long enough,” said the sailor.
As he said these words, the sail-boat passed entirely by.
“What _shall_ we do?” said Larry, much alarmed.
Larry was much smaller than Antony, and much less accustomed to be in
boats on the water, and he was much more easily terrified.
“Don’t be afraid,” said Antony; “we shall get brought up among some of
the shipping below. There are plenty of vessels coming up the harbor.”
[Sidenote: The boys float down the channel.]
So they went on--slowly, but very steadily--wherever they were borne by
the course of the ebbing tide. Instead of being brought up, however, as
Antony had predicted, by some of the ships, they were kept by the tide
in the middle of the channel, while the ships were all, as it happened,
on one side or the other, and they did not go within calling distance
of any one of them. At last even Antony began to think that they were
certainly about to be carried out to sea.
“If the water was not so deep, we could anchor,” said Antony.
“We have not got any anchor,” said Larry.
[Sidenote: The grapnel.]
“Yes,” replied Antony, “there is a grapnel in the bow of the boat.”
Larry looked in a small cuddy under the bow of the boat, and found
there a sort of grapnel that was intended to be used as an anchor.
“Let us heave it over,” said Larry, “and then the boat will stop.”
“No,” replied Antony, “the rope is not long enough to reach the bottom;
the water is too deep here. We are in the middle of the channel; but
perhaps, by-and-by, the tide will carry us over upon the flats, and
then we can anchor.”
“How shall we know when we get to the flats?” asked Larry.
“We can see the bottom then,” said Antony, “by looking over the side of
the boat.”
“I mean to watch,” said Larry; and he began forthwith to look over the
side of the boat.
[Sidenote: They see the bottom.]
It was not long before Antony’s expectations were fulfilled. The tide
carried the boat over a place where the water was shallow, the bottom
being formed there of broad and level tracts of sand and mud, called
flats.
“I see the bottom,” said Larry, joyfully.
Antony looked over the side of the boat, and there, down several feet
beneath the surface of the water, he could clearly distinguish the
bottom. It was a smooth expanse of mud and water, and it seemed to be
slowly gliding away from beneath them. The real motion was in the boat,
but _this_ motion was imperceptible to the boys, except by the apparent
motion of the bottom, which was produced by it. Such a deceiving of the
sight as this is commonly called an optical illusion.
“Yes,” said Antony, “that’s the bottom; now we will anchor.”
[Sidenote: Anchoring.]
So the two boys went forward, and, after taking care to see that the
inner end of the grapnel rope was made fast properly to the bow of the
boat, they lifted the heavy iron over the side of the boat, and let it
plunge into the water. It sank to the bottom in a moment, drawing out
the rope after it. It immediately fastened itself by its prongs in the
mud, and when the rope was all out, the bow of the boat was “brought
up” by it--that is, was stopped at once. The stern of the boat was
swung round by the force of the tide, which still continued to act upon
it, and then the boat came to its rest, with the head pointing up the
harbor.
“There,” said Antony, “now we are safe.”
“But how are we going to get back to the shore?” inquired Larry.
[Sidenote: The boys wait for the tide.]
“Why, by-and-by the tide will turn,” said Antony, “and flow in, and
then we shall get up our anchor, and let it carry us home again.”
“And how long shall we have to wait?” asked Larry.
“Oh, about three or four hours,” said Antony.
“My mother will be very much frightened,” said Larry. “How sorry I am
that we got into the boat!”
“So am I,” said Antony; “or, rather, I should be, if I thought it would
do any good to be sorry.”
[Sidenote: Captain Van Tromp misses them.]
In the mean time, while the boys had thus been making their involuntary
voyage down the harbor, Captain Van Tromp, on board his ship, had been
employed very busily with his accounts in his cabin. It was now nearly
noon, and he concluded, accordingly, that it was time for him to go
home to dinner. So he called one of the sailors to him, and directed
him to look about on the pier and try to find the boys, and tell them
that he was going home to dinner.
In a few minutes the sailor came back, and told the captain that he
could not find the boys; and that Jack, who was at work outside on the
pier, said that they had not been seen about there for more than an
hour, and that the boat was missing too; and he was afraid that they
had got into it, and had gone adrift.
“Send Jack to me,” said the captain.
When Jack came into the cabin, the captain was at work, as usual, on
his accounts. Jack stood by his side a moment, with his cap in his
hand, waiting for the captain to be at leisure to speak to him. At
length the captain looked up.
“Jack,” said he, “do you say that the boys have gone off with the boat?”
“I don’t know, sir,” said Jack. “The boat is gone, and the boys are
gone, but whether the boat has gone off with the boys, or the boys with
the boat, I couldn’t say.”
The captain paused a moment, with a thoughtful expression upon his
countenance, and then said,
“Tell Nelson to take the glass, and go aloft, and look around to see if
he can see any thing of them.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said Jack.
The captain then resumed his work as if nothing particular had happened.
[Sidenote: Mr. Nelson discovers them by means of his spy-glass.]
Nelson was the mate of the ship. The mate is the second in command
under the captain.
When Nelson received the captain’s order, he took the spy-glass, and
went up the shrouds to the mast-head. In about ten minutes he came down
again, and gave Jack a message for the captain. Jack came down again
into the cabin. He found the captain, as before, busy at his work. The
captain had been exposed to too many great and terrible dangers at sea
to be much alarmed at the idea of two boys being adrift, in a strong
boat and in a crowded harbor.
“Mr. Nelson says, sir,” said Jack, “that he sees our boat, with two
boys in it, about a mile and a half down the harbor. She is lying a
little to the eastward of the red buoy.”
A buoy is a floating beam of wood, or other light substance, anchored
on the point of a shoal, or over a ledge of rocks, to warn the seamen
that they must not sail there. The different buoys are painted of
different colors, so that they may be easily distinguished one from
another.
The captain paused a moment on hearing Jack’s report, and looked
undecided. In fact, his attention was so much occupied by his accounts,
that only half his thoughts seemed to be given to the case of the boys.
At length he asked if there was any wind.
“Not a capful,” said the sailor.
“Tell Nelson, then,” said the captain, “to send down the gig with four
men, and bring the boys back.”
[Sidenote: The gig.]
The gig, as the captain called it, was a light boat belonging to the
ship, being intended for rowing swiftly in smooth water.
[Sidenote: Nelson fits out an expedition to relieve the boys.]
So Nelson called out four men, and directed them to get ready with the
gig. The men accordingly lowered the gig down from the side of the ship
into the water, and then, with the oars in their hands, they climbed
down into it. In a few minutes they were rowing swiftly down the
harbor, in the direction of the red buoy, while Captain Van Tromp went
home to dinner. On his way home he left word, at the house where Larry
lived, that the boys had gone down the harbor, and would not be home
under an hour.
[Sidenote: The boys watch the progress of the tide.]
While these occurrences had been taking place on the pier, the boys
had been sitting very patiently in their boat, waiting for the tide
to turn, or for some one to come to their assistance. They could see
how it was with the tide by the motion of the water, as it glided past
them. The current, in fact, when they first anchored, made quite a
ripple at the bows of the boat. They had a fine view of the harbor,
as they looked back toward the town from their boat, though the view
was so distant that they could not make out which was the pier where
Captain Van Tromp’s vessel was lying.
[Illustration]
Of course, as the tide went out more and more, the surface of the water
was continually falling, and the depth growing less and less all the
time. The boys could easily perceive the increasing shallowness of
the water, as they looked over the side of the boat, and watched the
appearance of the bottom.
[Sidenote: A new danger. A discussion.]
“Now here’s another trouble,” said Antony. “If we don’t look out, we
shall get left aground. I’ve a great mind to pull up the anchor, and
let the boat drift on a little way, till we come to deeper water.”
“Oh no,” said Larry, “don’t let us go out to sea any farther.”
“Why, if we stay here,” said Antony, “until the tide falls so as to
leave us aground, we may have to stay some hours after the tide turns
before we get afloat again.”
“Well,” said Larry, “no matter. Besides, if you go adrift again, the
water may deepen suddenly.”
“Yes,” said Antony, “and then we should lose hold of the bottom
altogether. We had better not move.”
“Unless,” added Antony, after a moment’s thought, “we can contrive to
_warp_ the boat _up_ a little.”
[Sidenote: Warping the boat.]
So saying, Antony went forward to examine into the feasibility of this
plan. He found, on looking over the bow of the boat, that the water was
very shallow, and nearly still; for the tide, being nearly out, flowed
now with a very gentle and almost imperceptible current. Of course, as
the water was shallow, and the rope that was attached to the anchor was
pretty long, the anchor itself was at a considerable distance from the
boat. The boys could see the rope passing obliquely along under the
water, but could not see the anchor.
Antony took hold of the rope, and began to draw it in. The effect of
this operation was to draw the boat up the harbor toward the anchor.
When, at length, the rope was all in, Antony pulled up the grapnel,
which was small and easily raised, and then swinging it to and fro
several times to give it an impetus, he threw it with all his force
forward. It fell into the water nearly ten feet from where it had lain
before, and there sinking immediately, it laid hold of the bottom
again. Antony now, by pulling upon the rope, as he had done at first,
drew the boat up to the anchor at its new holding. He repeated this
operation a number of times, watching the water from time to time over
the bows of the boat, to see whether it was getting deeper or not.
While Antony was thus engaged, the attention of Larry was suddenly
attracted to the sound of oars. He looked in the direction from which
the sound proceeded, and saw, at a considerable distance, a boat coming
toward them.
[Sidenote: “Here comes the gig!”]
“Here comes a boat,” said Larry.
Antony looked where Larry pointed.
“Yes,” said he, “and she is headed directly toward us.”
“So she is,” said Larry.
“I verily believe it is our gig,” said Antony.
“It is,” he added, after looking a moment longer, “and there is Jack on
board of her. They are coming for us.”
In a few minutes more the gig was alongside. Two of the sailors that
had come down in the gig got on board of the boys’ boat with their
oars, and then both boats rowed up the harbor again, and in due time
the boys reached home in safety.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Moral.]
The moral of this story is, that in all cases of difficulty and danger
it is best to keep quiet and composed in mind, and not to give way to
excitement and terror. Being frightened never does any good, excepting
when there is a chance to run away; in that case, it sometimes helps
one to run a little faster. In all other cases, it is best to be
cool and collected, and encounter whatever comes with calmness and
equanimity.
BRUNO AND THE ROBIN.
“Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.”
[Sidenote: Hiram and Ralph. The robin.]
At one time Bruno had for his master a boy named Hiram. Hiram had a
friend and companion who lived in the next house to him, whose name was
Ralph. This Ralph had a robin. He kept the robin in a cage.
[Sidenote: The loft.]
There was a small building near the bottom of Ralph’s father’s garden,
which was used as a place of deposit for gardening implements, seeds,
bundles of straw, matting for covering plants, and other similar
articles employed about the garden. This building was called the
“garden-house.” In the upper part of it was a loft, which Ralph had
taken possession of as a storehouse for his wagons, trucks, traps, and
other playthings. He used to go up to this loft by means of a number of
large wooden pins, or pegs, that were driven into one of the posts of
the frame of the garden-house, in a corner. Somebody once recommended
to Ralph to have a staircase made to lead up to his loft, but he
said he liked better to climb up by these pins than to have the best
staircase that ever was made.
Ralph used frequently to carry his robin to this garden-house when he
was playing about there, and on such occasions he would sometimes hang
the cage on a nail out of the window of his loft. He drove the nail
himself into the edge of a sort of a shelf, which was near the window
on the outside. The shelf was put there for doves to light upon, in
going in and out of their house, which was made in the peak of the
roof, over Ralph’s loft.
[Sidenote: Account of Ralph’s robin.]
Ralph caught his robin when he was very young. He caught him in a net.
He saw the nest when the birds were first building it. About a week
after the birds had finished it, he thought it was time for the eggs to
be laid. So he got a ladder, which was usually kept on the back side of
the tool-house, and, having planted it against a tree, he began to go
up. Just then, his little brother Eddy, who was walking along one of
the alleys of the garden near where the bird’s nest was, saw him.
[Sidenote: Eddy’s advice.]
“Ralph,” said Eddy, “what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get the eggs out of the nest,” said Ralph.
“No,” replied Eddy, “you must not do that.”
Ralph paid no regard to this, but went on slowly mounting the ladder.
The top of the ladder, resting as it did against some of the branches
of the tree, was not very steady, and so Ralph could not go up very
fast. Besides, Ralph was somewhat afraid of the old birds; for they,
seeing that their nest was in danger, were flying about him with
very loud chirpings, being apparently in a state of great terror and
distress.
“Ralph,” said Eddy, “you must not trouble those birds.”
Ralph went steadily on.