_Daybreak.--Startling Discovery.--The Boat gone.--Where are Bruce
and Bart?--Dismay.--The long Row.--The distant Ship.--Below
the Horizon.--Deep in the Water.--The shattered
Sails.--Waterlogged!--Boarding the Stranger.--Discoveries of a Kind
which are at once exciting and pleasing._
WITH the break of day the boys were all on deck. Their first impulse
was to take a look around. They saw the reddening eastern sky and the
smooth water all around them, and their hearts sank within them as
they perceived that the wearisome calm still continued. They noticed,
however, that the ship was still visible, and this was some consolation.
It seemed now a little nearer than the day before.
“Captain,” said Tom, “we’ve got nearer to her: don’t you think so?”
The captain made no reply. Tom looked up, and repeated his remark. As
he looked up, he saw Captain Corbet standing astern with a puzzled
expression, and looking down into the water and all around.
“What’s the matter?” asked Tom.
“The boat,” said Captain Corbet.
“What of her?”
“Some one’s been and stole her, or else she’s gone to the bottom, only
the rope’s gone, too.”
“What! the boat!” cried Tom. “You don’t mean to say the boat’s gone!”
The other boys were startled at this, and hurried aft to look for
themselves.
“I’m glad I wasn’t in her this time, at any rate,” said Tom, and then
added in a melancholy voice, “but I suppose it wouldn’t make much
difference now.”
The boys stood in silence for some time, not quite knowing how to take
this new incident. At length Phil looked all around.
“Where’s Bart?” he asked, “and Bruce?”
“They’re not up,” said Tom. “Don’t wake them. Let them sleep as long as
they can.”
“Up? They’re not down, either,” said Phil. “Their berths are empty.”
The boys all stared at each other. A suspicion flashed across their
minds.
“Sure and if they’re not up nor down, they must be in the boat, and
there you have it,” said Pat, dryly. “And it’s meself,” he added, “that
’ud be proud to be with thim this day.”
“The boat? But what for?” asked Phil.
“They must have started off for the ship,” said Tom, who-now understood
all.
At this they all looked with eager eyes over the water in the direction
of the ship. All thought that they could see a shadowy spot, but it was
too indistinct as yet to be resolved into anything. After a few minutes
Phil went below, and returned with the glass, through which he looked
long and attentively.
“It’s them,” said he at last, passing the glass to Arthur.
Arthur looked, and then Tom, and then Pat, and then Captain Corbet.
It grew brighter and brighter every moment, and at length, as Corbet
looked, he saw the boat plainly for an instant; but the next moment the
glare of the rising sun drove his eyes away. The sun rose and ascended
higher, and still they could see the boys rowing with quick strokes very
far away, while beyond lay the strange ship.
It was still as low down as ever, “below the horizon,” as Captain Corbet
said, but was very much larger and plainer. Every one of them wondered
how she could be in reality so far away as twenty miles. None of them
spoke, however, but stood with varying feelings, staring in silence
after their companions.
Of them all the most affected was Captain Corbet. At the first mention
of the fact he had started, and after having assured himself of
its truth with his own eyes, he exhibited every mark of the deepest
agitation.
“Wal,” said he, as he stood with his head bowed upon his breast. “I
never! Who’d a thought it! Why, its ravin madness. And them, too,
thinkin of rowin to a ship that’s below the horizon. Twenty mile in that
thar boat, if it’s an inch, and two mile an hour’s the most they can
do. Why, it’s temptin fate. It’s flyin in the face of Providence. That’s
what it is. That thar ship’s twenty mile away. The wind’ll come up
before they get half way. They’ll never get there--never. And stealin
off in this way, too! Why didn’t they get me to go with them? Why didn’t
they ask my advice? And them, too, a trustin of their two perecious
lives in that thar ferrail bark, that hadn’t ought ever to go more’n
a mile at the furthest. And here am I, chained to this post, and can’t
move, and them a rushin on to utter ruination. O, boys, dear boys,” he
concluded, in a kind of wail, “for your sakes I want the wind to rise,
but for their sakes I want it to contennew a calm.”
“O, captain, never fear,” said Arthur, cheerfully. “They’ll take care of
themselves easy enough; and, in fact, the more I think of it, the better
it seems.”
“I only wish I was in the boat,” said Tom, heartily.
“So do I,” said Phil.
“Sure and that same I said meself at the first,” said Pat.
Meanwhile Solomon had stood a little apart from the rest, looking after
the boat, but manifesting very different emotions. His occupation being
gone, he had come upon deck to see what the prospects might be, and had
heard everything. Taking advantage of a moment when the glass was not
in requisition, he had given a look towards the receding boat, and
had assured himself by actual inspection of the facts of the case. The
moment that he had done this he drew a long breath, laid down the glass,
and then stood looking after the boys with a gentle smile irradiating
his ebony face. From time to time he would close his eyes, sigh gently,
and his lips would move as though whispering to himself, while once or
twice a half audible chuckle escaped him.
“Tell you what it is,” said he at length; “don’t you go on. Dem yer
boys is goin to save der blessed selves and us too. It’s my pinion
dey’ll bring us luck, fust rate, too, fust chop, tip-top, prime. Hooray!
Dey’ll quaint dem yar seamen ob our difficulties, an dey’ll come back a
flyin wid a big boat-load of pro-visium. O, you can’t drown dem blessed
chilen. Dey’re boun to tak car ob demselves, and dey’ll work dar way
ober de oceum foam, to sabe de libes ob all aboard, and’ll be back
to-night to tea. Hooray! Mind, I tell you!”
The gayety and hopefulness of Solomon did not fail to be communicated to
all the rest, until at length even Captain Corbet was willing to admit
that it was just as well, after all, that they had gone, though he still
professed to feel hurt that his advice had not been asked.
To the boys their situation seemed now in every way more endurable.
They had at least something to hope for, and the adventure of their
companions formed a perpetual subject for thought or conversation. Even
the calm was now welcome, for as long as this continued it would be
favorable to the boat. On the other hand, should the ‘wind arise, they
could up sail and after them. They all thought that Captain Corbet’s
estimate of a distance of twenty miles was extravagant; and even if the
ship was “below the horizon,” they concluded that at the farthest it
could not be more than eight or ten miles away. Allowing two miles an
hour for the boat, they thought that Bruce and Bart might reach their
destination by nine or ten o’clock in the morning, and thus have the
greater part of the day still before them.
As the hours passed away, the boys thus beguiled the time by various
speculations about the progress of their companions. The calm continued;
and they were not sorry, for they saw in this the best chance for a
successful issue to the enterprise. Phil made a sort of chart, with the
schooner and the ship in proper position, and marked off ten intervals
which he estimated at a mile each. For hour after hour they watched
this, and amused themselves by indicating on it the progress of their
friends. At length it was ten o’clock, and all the boys felt quite sure
that the boat had reached the ship.
Meanwhile the two adventurous boys had been going on their expedition.
At a hundred yards from the schooner they had stopped, as we have seen,
and looked anxiously around in the direction where they supposed the
stranger to lie. For some time they could see nothing; but at length,
as it grew lighter, they detected her masts through the gloom, and were
overjoyed at finding that she was nearer than on the previous day. They
had made a mistake, however, as to the right direction, for the ship lay
very much more to one side.
“We’ve drifted nearer together during the night,” said Bruce, “and I
don’t believe she’s over three miles away.”
Saying this, he changed the boat’s course, and heading for the ship,
pulled with all his might.
“I say, Bruce,” said Bart, “you’d better not pull so hard at first;
you’ll tire yourself.”
“O, it’s only till we get further from the schooner. I want to get well
out of the reach of hearing before the fellows see us. I’ll take it easy
after a time.”
Saying this, he pulled on, watching the schooner, and succeeded in
getting so far away, that by the time they came on deck he could only
distinguish the moving figures. Then he slackened his efforts somewhat.
“There isn’t a bit of prospect of any wind,” said he. “I tell you
what it is, my boy: I’d far rather be here this minute than aboard the
Antelope.”
“So would I,” said Bart; “but can you imagine the state of mind that
the fellows must be in?”
“O, they’ll be glad after the first excitement’s over.”
“I wonder if they saw us.”
“Of course.”
“They didn’t shout, or anything.”
“We were too far off to hear them.”
“No, we weren’t; but I suppose we were so far off that they thought it
would do no good.”
For about half an hour Bruce pulled quite leisurely, for he wished to
husband his strength as much as possible, and then Bart took his turn at
the oars. Not much was said, partly because the exertion of rowing did
not allow of any prolonged conversation, and partly because they were
too much filled with their own thoughts, arising out of the suspense of
the occasion.
At length, after rowing for another half hour, Bart handed the oars to
Bruce, and took his seat in the stern.
The moment he did so he uttered a cry of surprise.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bruce.
“Why, how near we’re getting!” said Bart.
“Of course we are.”
“I haven’t looked since I took the oars, on purpose to see what our
progress is. And now--why, really, Bruce, it seems as if we must be half
way already.”
“Of course we are,” said Bruce, “and more too.”
“Why, she’s as low in the water as ever.”
“I know; there’s something queer about her.”
“She looks as though she’d been in a heavy gale.”
“She must have been.”
“I don’t see a soul on board.”
“I haven’t seen any one, either.”
“Perhaps no one is up yet. It’s early, you know.”
“I hope it’s that,” said Bruce.