"IT'S THEM."
"Wal," said the master, "reckon that arn't quite such a good stick as I
thout it war."
I sat looking despondently at the wreck, for the accident had happened
just as I felt sure of our overtaking the schooner, which was rapidly
gliding away from us again, when Esau caught hold of my arm.
"I say, arn't going to the bottom, are we?"
"All our trouble for nothing, I'm afraid, my lads," said Gunson.
"What are yew two looking at?" roared the master. "Going to let them
two sails drag down under the boat? Haul 'em in, will yew!"
These words startled the two men into action, and they began to loosen
the ropes and haul in the sails rapidly, prior to getting the broken
mast on board.
"Wal, might ha' been worse," said the master, giving his head a scratch;
"but there goes your dollars, mister, for a new stick."
"I'll pay for it," said Gunson, quickly. "Could you rig up the broken
spar afresh?"
"Guess I'm going to try."
"Do you think they could hear us on the schooner if we all shouted
together?"
"No, I don't, my lad. If I had, I would have opened my mouth to onced.
Here, let me come by; them two's going to sleep. I want to fix that
stick up again. I won't be able to give the schooner a tow this time.
He's beat me, but I'll do it yet."
He set to work getting out the broken stump, which was standing jagged
above the thwart, and looked at it thoughtfully.
"Make a nice bit o' firewood for the old woman," he said, as he laid it
down forward before beginning to examine the broken end of the mast.
"Guess yew arn't got such a thing as a saw in your pocket, hev you,
either on yew?" he continued, with a grim smile. "Not yew! One never
has got what one wants in one's pocket. Lend a hand here, Elim, never
mind about them stays. Don't shove: them sharp ends 'll go through the
bottom. If they do, one of you youngsters 'll hev to putt your leg
through the hole to keep the water out. Now, Zeke, never mind the sail.
Hyste away."
Between them they raised the broken mast, which was now about three feet
shorter, tightened the ropes, and, just as the schooner was coming back
on the next tack, to pass us about half a mile away, the master said--
"They ought to see as we're in trouble, but I 'spect they're nearly all
asleep. Here, all on yew be ready, and when I cry, _hail_! open your
shoulders, and all together give 'em a good _ahoy_! Not yet, mind--not
till I speak. Lot o' little footy squeaks arn't no good; we must have a
big shout. Guess we shan't haul up the sail till we've tried whether
they'll lay to."
The schooner came nearer and nearer, with her sails growing so plain
that even the ropes that held them glistened white in the moonlight, and
looking so beautiful as she glided smoothly onward, that for the moment
I forgot our predicament; but I was roused up at last by the master's
voice.
"All together!" he said, quietly. "Hail!"
Our voices rose high in a discordant shout.
"Now again," cried the master.
Our voices rose once more, and then another shout broke the stillness of
the soft night air; but the schooner glided on, her sails hiding
everything, so that we did not see a soul on board save the man at the
wheel, whose white face gleamed for a few moments as it emerged from the
black shadow cast by the great mainsail.
"They're all asleep," cried the master, fiercely. "Here, lay holt,
Zeke. I say, squire, take holt o' the tiller, and keep her straight.
Hyste away, Elim, we'll show 'em the rope's end yet."
"Look!" cried Gunson, quickly.
"Eh? Why, they did hear us," cried the master, in a disappointed tone.
"Why didn't they hail back? Shan't show him the rope's end arter all."
For the schooner glided slowly round till she was head to wind; and
instead of her sails curving out in the moonlight, they were now dark,
save where they shivered and flapped to and fro, so that a part of the
canvas glistened now and then in the light.
"Ahoy!" came faintly from her decks, for she was a quarter of a mile
away; and in a few minutes a boat dropped over the side with a splash,
and four men began to row toward us.
"There you are," said the master, grimly; "they'll take you aboard now.
Going up the Fraser, arn't you?"
"Yes, I hope so," said Gunson, as he thrust his hand into his pocket,
and then handed some money to the old man, who took it with a
dissatisfied grunt, and turned it over in his rough hand.
"What's this?" he said roughly; "ten dollars. There, we said five.
Take them back." He held out half the money. "No, no: bargain's a
bargain. Lay holt."
"But the broken spar?"
"Don't you fret yewrself about that. I'm going to show it to him as
sold it to me, and make him take it again. There, good luck to you all.
Good-bye, youngsters; and if you find any gold up yonder, bring me back
a little bit to make a brooch for my old missus."
Gunson pressed him to keep the money, but he refused angrily.
"Shake hands, all on yew, and good-bye. I meant to put you all aboard,
and I've done it, arn't I?"
"Indeed you have," I said; "and we are very grateful."
"That's right, lad," he said, shaking hands warmly; after which the
others held out their hands, and to my great satisfaction Gunson said--
"Will you let me give these two a dollar each?"
"Oh, very well," grunted the master. "If yew've got so much money to
throw away, yew can dew it."
"Hillo!" came from the fast-nearing boat, "what's the matter?--sinking?"
"No," roared the master. "Sinking indeed! What yer going off and
leaving all your passengers behind for?"
"Oh," said a gruff voice, "it's them."
It was the skipper of the schooner who spoke, and a quarter of an hour
later we were on board his vessel, waving our caps to the master and his
two sturdy fisher-lads, as, with their shortened sails now filling, the
boat began to glide rapidly back, while the schooner's head was turned
once more for the open sea.
"Thought you warn't coming," said the skipper, gruffly, after seeing
that the little boat was swinging safely from the davits.
"Yes, it was a close shave," replied Gunson, who hardly spoke again to
us, but went below; and soon after we two were fast asleep, forgetful of
all the past troubles of the day.