_All aboard.--A Welcome of the best Kind.--The Invitation.--The
Banquet.--Amazement of the Visitors.--The Repast.--Solomon in
his Glory.--The Manuscript found in a Bottle.--The Fate of the
Petrel.--Captain Corbet has an Idea.--He begins to brood over it.--A
Question of Salvage.--How to make one’s Fortune._
GRADUALLY they became acquainted with the whole truth of the situation.
They had thought thus far that the ship, though waterlogged, was still in
the possession of her captain and crew. Boundless was their astonishment
at learning that it was in the possession of Bruce and Bart alone, and
the astonishment which they experienced at this amazing discovery for
a time drove away all other thoughts. But Nature at length asserted her
supremacy, and the pangs of hunger, for some time past kept in abeyance,
now awaked in full force.
“Haven’t you found anything to eat?” asked Arthur, in a low voice,
tremulous with emotion.
Bruce did not reply, but looked at Bart. The other boys turned pale. For
a moment the awful thought occurred that there was nothing; but the next
instant there was wafted to their nostrils the savory odor of broiled
ham, which overpowered that mournful thought, and drove it away
effectually.
“Well, I don’t know,” said Bart, “but that we may manage to scare up
something. I suppose you’re not very particular. Come in here, and I’ll
see what I can do for you.”
With these words he entered the cabin, and all the others followed.
One by one they entered the cabin, and one by one each, as he entered,
stood rooted to the spot, and stared around in dumb amazement. Captain
Corbet came last. He took one look, and then exclaimed, in a low,
prolonged, and tremulous voice,--
“Good gerracious!”
And indeed there was every reason for surprise. They had come in
expecting to enter the ruinous cabin of a half-wrecked ship, with
perhaps a few mouldy ship’s biscuit to be divided among the hungry
company. Instead of this they saw a table set out to its fullest extent,
with a white cloth spread, and on that table a repast which was nothing
less than sumptuous. Tea, coffee, biscuit hard and toasted, Welsh
rarebit, broiled ham, potted shrimps, game pie, pickled oysters,
lobster, potted salmon, tomatoes, potatoes hot, steaming, and mealy,
apples, raisins, nuts, figs, raspberry vinegar, lemon sirup, and
numerous other dainties which Bart and Bruce had discovered and drawn
forth from the rich store that lay accumulated in the pantry of the
Petrel. The lavish abundance of everything, as well as the astonishing
variety, overwhelmed the hungry new comers, and, except the exclamation
of Captain Corbet, not one word was spoken. It was a moment when words
were useless.
For an instant or so Bruce and Bart enjoyed the astonishment of their
friends, and watched the effect with a triumphant smile. They had
been purposely lavish in this first entertainment of theirs, and had
succeeded in placing upon the table a specimen of every individual
article for food or drink which the ship contained. They had worked hard
in anticipation of this moment, and now that it had come, they found it
a complete success.
“Come,” said Bruce, at last, “you can’t eat with your eyes, you know.
Come, noble captain, do you preside at this festive board. Tom, sit on
the captain’s right, Bart on his left. I’ll take the foot of the table,
with Phil on my right. Ward, my bold mate, sit next to Bart; Pat and
Phil, fall in. Solomon, you go and install yourself in the cook’s
galley, where you’ll find as much as you can eat for the rest of the
day.”
Upon this they all took their places, and began to eat with appetites
such as those only can possess who have fasted for twenty-four hours on
the sea. Bart and Bruce had already satisfied their own wants; so while
their friends were eating they gave a full, complete, and exhaustive
account of their own adventures, and their doings aboard of the Petrel.
The dinner passed off most delightfully, and a far longer time was spent
at the table than the boys generally gave to their repast. Ample justice
was done to the bountiful and varied supply that graced the board.
After the first pangs of hunger were appeased, there were a thousand new
questions to be asked and answered, in addition to those which they had
already made. Captain Corbet alone said nothing. He sat and ate, and
listened, and from time to time leaned back in his chair with a sigh of
happiness, and surveyed the company with a smile that spoke of inward
peace.
“My dear young ferriends,” said the venerable captain, at length, taking
advantage of an opening in the conversation to express his feelings, “it
is with feelings of no ordinary deskeription that I now address you.
We have sailed over the briny and billowy main far and wide, and have
encountered parls and dangers more’n any ordinary people, but never have
we been in such a position, or reduced to such extremities, as in these
last few days. And now look at us. Here we air. What kind of an abode is
this? Is it a ship? Scacely. Is it a island? Not quite. It’s enchanted
gerround! Here we air, an we’ve been led by the kind hand of Providence
to this secluded spot in the midst of the wide waste of waters. We come
here in a state of starvation, with our minds in a kine of despair;
we come here, and we found, as it were, a table spread for us in
the wilderness. So far, so good; and I know, my dear young Christian
ferriends, you all rejice with me, and feel as I do, full of gladness
and gerratitood. But secondly, my dear ferriends,” continued the
captain, insensibly increasing his tone and manner to a sermonizing
intensity, “there air things about this here craft, that begin to occur
to my mind, that go beyond the present fleetin moment, and interweave
themselves with our footoor destiny. I ain’t a goin to say jest now what
these things air, but I want, fust and foremost, to browse round, and
inspect, and cogitate, and meditate, till I kin hit on some kind of a
plan for workin out what I want. I’ll tell you when I get it all thought
out, but for the present I am dumb.”
After this very mysterious conclusion, Captain Corbet rose and left the
cabin. For the remainder of the day he kept by himself. He wandered
all over the ship, and inspected every part most carefully. Then he
retreated to the quarter-deck, and, seating himself there, lost himself
in his own absorbing thoughts. What he was thinking about the boys did
not know, nor did any of them inquire; for they were all far too much
taken up with the novelty of the situation to pay any attention to him.
Meanwhile Solomon had followed the commands of Bruce, and had taken
himself off to the cook’s galley. There, two hours afterwards, on
leaving the cabin, the boys found him. He had that expression on his
face, and had installed himself in that particular attitude, which might
have belonged to one who had lived and labored here for years. He had
eaten a huge repast, and was meditating over a roaring fire.
“Hurrah, Solomon,” said Bart, who was the first to visit him. “How goes
it, my prince of darkies? This is a little ahead of the Antelope--isn’t
it? Now you can begin to live again; and I tell you what, you’ll find
enough stuff aft there to give us a first-rate bill of fare every day,
and different every time.”
Solomon jumped up with a grin..
“Is de dinna oba, Mas’r Bart?” he asked.
“O, yes.”
“Well, den, I mus go aft an clar away de tings, and spect for myself, to
see what we got roun us in dis yer craft. I been a tryin to cogitate an
contrive for suppa, but I can’t manage it nohow till I know zacly what I
got to put my ole hands un. I s’pose you’ll take all de tings aboard de
Antelope right away?
“Aboard the Antelope? Indeed, we don’t intend to do anything of the
kind.”
“Why, what are you a goin to do?”
“Do? Why, we’ll stay here for ever so long. It’s a kind of desert
island, you know--only it’s ten times better.”
The rest of the boys now came streaming forward, wandering all over
the ship. Solomon went to the cabin, while Bart and Bruce proceeded to
examine the mattresses. These were very much dryer than they had been,
but still were so damp that several of them would require two or three
days to become fit to sleep on. Others, however, were already nearly fit
for use. Bart noticed that the wet ones came from the port side of the
ship, and he remembered that the state-rooms on that side were much
damper than those on the other. Water seemed to have penetrated there.
He accounted for this on the supposition that this had been the leeward
side in a gale, and, when the ship was filling, it had lain low down,
and had received the washings of the waves. Fortunately, the storeroom
and the pantry were on the other side, and thus their contents
had escaped without injury. But the wet mattresses themselves were
afterwards taken in hand by Solomon, who opened them, and dried their
contents partly in front of the galley stove and partly in the open air.
To assist in this process he kindled a roaring fire in the cabin, which
served a double purpose, for it not only dried the mattresses but it
also dried the cabin itself, and drove away the last vestige of dampness
from the state-rooms on the port side.
While busy in one of these, Bart saw a bottle lying on the floor. It
was corked. On taking it up, he held it to the light to see what liquid
might be inside. To his surprise he saw no liquid, but some folded
paper. With a loud cry he rushed forth upon deck, displaying his bottle,
and calling upon all the boys to come.
In a few moments the eager boys had all collected around Bart, and even
Captain Corbet was roused from his abstraction, and came to the centre
of interest.
“Has any one a corkscrew?” asked Bart.
“There’s one in the pantry,” said Bruce.
“I’ll go and get it,” said Phil.
“Pooh!” said Tom; “break the bottle. You’ll never get at the paper if
you don’t.”
“Sure enough,” said Bart; and the next instant he struck the bottle
against an iron belaying-pin, and shivered it to atoms. The paper fell
on the deck.
Bart snatched it up, and opened it. It was a piece of coarse paper, that
looked as though it had been hastily torn from some book. On it some
writing was hurriedly scrawled with a pencil. It was as follows:--
_Ship Petrel, of Liverpool, from Quebec, with timeber. Fog for two
weeks, and violent gales. Lost reckoning. Took an observation last in
lat. 46° 5’ 22”, long. 59° 8’ 2”. Ship waterlogged, on beam-ends, and
going to pieces. Taking to boats.