"HOME AGAIN! HERE WE ARE!"
The wind was indeed "just right;" but even Dab forgot, for the moment,
that "The Swallow" would go faster and farther before a gale than she
was likely to with the comparatively mild southerly breeze now blowing.
He was by no means likely to get home by dinner-time. As for danger,
there would be absolutely none, unless the weather should again become
stormy; and there was no probability of any such thing at that season.
And so, after he had eaten his breakfast, and, with a genuine boy's
confidence in boys, Frank Harley came on board "The Swallow" as a
passenger, the anchor was lifted, and the gay little craft spread her
white sails, and slipped lightly away from the neighborhood of the
forlorn-looking, stranded steamer.
"They'll have her out of that in less'n a week," said Ford to Frank. "My
father'll know just what to do about your baggage, and so forth."
There were endless questions to be asked and answered on both sides; but
at last Dab yawned a very sleepy yawn, and said, "Ford, you've had your
nap. Wake up Dick, there, and let him take his turn at the tiller. The
sea's as smooth as a lake, and I believe I'll go to sleep for an hour or
so. You and Frank can keep watch while Dick steers: he's a good
steerer."
Whatever Dab said was "orders" now on board "The Swallow;" and Ford's
only reply was,--
"If you haven't earned a good nap, then nobody has."
Dick, too, responded promptly and cheerfully; and in five minutes more
the patient and skilful young "captain" was sleeping like a top.
"Look at him," said Ford Foster to Frank Harley. "I don't know what he's
made of. He's been at that tiller for twenty-three hours by the watch,
in all sorts of weather, and never budged."
"They don't make that kind of boy in India," replied Frank.
"He's de bes' feller you ebber seen," added Dick Lee. "I's jes' proud ob
him, I is!"
Smoothly and swiftly and safely "The Swallow" was bearing her precious
cargo across the summer sea; but the morning had brought no comfort to
the two homes at the head of the inlet, or the humble cabin in the
village. Old Bill Lee was out in the best boat he could borrow, by early
daylight; and more than one of his sympathizing neighbors followed him a
little later. There was no doubt at all that a thorough search would be
made of the bay and the island, and so Mr. Foster wisely remained at
home to comfort his wife and daughter.
"That sort of boy," mourned Annie, "is always getting into some kind of
mischief."
"Annie!" exclaimed her mother indignantly, "Ford is a good boy, and he
does not run into mischief."
"I didn't mean Ford: I meant that Dabney Kinzer. I wish we'd never seen
him, or his sailboat either."
"Annie," remarked her father a little reprovingly, "if we live by the
water, Ford _will_ go out on it, and he had better do so in good
company. Wait a while."
Annie was silenced, but it was only too clear that she was not entirely
convinced. Her brother's absence and all their anxiety were positively
due to Dab Kinzer, and his wicked, dangerous little yacht; and he must
be to blame somehow.
She could not help "waiting a while," as her father bade her; but her
eyes already told that she had been doing more than wait.
Summer days are long; but some of them are a good deal longer than
others, and that was one of the longest any of those people had ever
known.
For once, even dinner was more than half neglected in the Kinzer family
circle. At the Fosters' it was forgotten almost altogether. Long as the
day was, and so dreary, in spite of all the bright, warm sunshine, there
was no help for it: the hours would not hurry, and the wanderers would
not return. Tea-time came at last; and with it the Fosters all came over
to Mrs. Kinzer's again, to take tea, and tell her of several fishermen
who had returned from the bay without having discovered a sign of "The
Swallow" or its crew.
Stout-hearted Mrs. Kinzer talked bravely and encouragingly,
nevertheless, and did not seem to abate an ounce of her confidence in
her son. It seemed as if, in leaving off his roundabouts, particularly
considering the way in which he had left them off, Dabney must have
suddenly grown a great many "sizes" in his mother's estimation. Perhaps,
too, that was because he had not left them off any too soon.
There they sat around the tea-table, the two mothers and all the rest of
them, looking gloomy enough; while over there in her bit of a brown
house, in the village, sat Mrs. Lee in very much the same frame of mind,
trying to relieve her feelings by smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of
her boy's best clothes, and planning for him any number of bright red
neckties, if he would only come back to wear them.
The neighbors were becoming more than a little interested, and even
excited about the matter; but what was there to be done?
Telegrams had been sent to other points on the coast, and all the
fishermen notified. It was really one of those puzzling cases, where
even the most neighborly can do no better than "wait a while."
Still, there were more than a dozen people, of all sorts, including Bill
Lee, lingering around the "landing" as late as eight o'clock that
evening.
Suddenly one of them exclaimed,--
"There's a light coming in!"
Others followed with,--
"There's a boat under it!"
"Ham's boat carried a light."
"I'll bet it's her!"
"No, it isn't"--
"Hold on and see."
There was not long to "hold on;" for in three minutes more "The Swallow"
swept gracefully in with the tide, and the voice of Dab Kinzer shouted
merrily,--
"Home again! Here we are!"
Such a ringing volley of cheers answered him!
It was heard and understood away there in the parlor of the Morris
house, and brought every soul of that anxious circle right up standing.
"Must be it's Dab!" exclaimed Mrs. Kinzer.
"O mother!" said Annie, "is Ford safe?"
"They wouldn't cheer like that, my dear, if any thing had happened,"
remarked Mr. Foster; but, in spite of his coolness, the city lawyer
forgot to put his hat on, as he dashed out of the front gate and down
the road towards the landing.
Then came one of those times that it takes a whole orchestra and a
gallery of paintings to tell any thing about: for Mrs. Lee as well as
her husband was on the beach; and within a minute after "Captain Kinzer"
and his crew had landed, poor Dick was being hugged and scolded within
an inch of his life, and the two other boys found themselves in the
midst of a perfect tumult of embraces and cheers.
Frank Harley's turn came soon, moreover; for Ford Foster found his
balance, and introduced the "passenger from India" to his father.
"Frank Harley!" exclaimed Mr. Foster. "I've heard of you, certainly; but
how did you--boys, I don't understand"--
"Oh! father, it's all right. We took Frank off the French steamer, after
she ran ashore."
"Ran ashore?"
"Yes. Down the Jersey coast. We got in company with her in the fog,
after the storm. That was yesterday evening."
"Down the Jersey coast? Do you mean you've been out at sea?"
"Yes, father; and I'd go again, with Dab Kinzer for captain. Do you
know, father, he never left the rudder of 'The Swallow' from the moment
we started until seven o'clock this morning."
"You owe him your lives!" almost shouted Mr. Foster; and Ford added
emphatically, "Indeed we do!"
It was Dab's own mother's arms that had been around him from the instant
he had stepped ashore, and Samantha and Keziah and Pamela had had to
content themselves with a kiss or so apiece; but dear, good Mrs. Foster
stopped smoothing Ford's hair and forehead just then, and came and gave
Dab a right motherly hug, as if she could not express her feelings in
any other way.
As for Annie Foster, her face was suspiciously red at the moment; but
she walked right up to Dab after her mother released him, and said,--
"Captain Kinzer, I've been saying dreadful things about you, but I beg
pardon."
"I'll be entirely satisfied, Miss Foster," said Dabney, "if you'll only
ask somebody to get us something to eat."
"Eat!" exclaimed Mrs. Kinzer. "Why, the poor fellows! Of course they're
hungry."
"Cap'n Kinzer allers does know jes' de right t'ing to do," mumbled Dick
in a half-smothered voice; and his mother let go of him, with--
"Law, suz! So dey be!"
Hungry enough they all were, indeed; and the supper-table, moreover, was
the best place in the world for the further particulars of their
wonderful cruise to be told and heard.
Dick Lee was led home in triumph to a capital supper of his own; and as
soon as that was over he was rigged out in his Sunday clothes,--red silk
necktie and all,--and invited to tell the story of his adventures to a
roomful of admiring neighbors. He told it well, modestly ascribing every
thing to Dab Kinzer; but there was no good reason, in any thing he said,
for one of his father's friends to inquire next morning,--
"Bill Lee, does you mean for to say as dem boys run down de French
steamah in dat ar' boat?"
"Not dat. Not zackly."
"'Cause, ef you does, I jes' want to say I's been down a-lookin' at her,
and she ain't even snubbed her bowsprit."