_The Lookout over the Sea.--The missing Ship.--Where are the
Boys?--Where are the Boys?--Where are the Boys?--Where are the
Boys?--Where are the Boys?--Where are the Boys?--An elaborate
Calculation.--Dragging the Anchor.--A Chart on the Cabin Table.--Writ
in Water.--Hope.--The Antelope sails ‘North by East.--Corbet watches the
Horizon.--Midday.--Despair.--Corbet crushed!_
Captain Corbet had arrived at the place where he supposed he had left
the Petrel, and on looking about saw no signs of her, he was filled with
despair. The wind had been blowing all night long, and the sea had been
rising to an extent that might have justified the deepest anxiety; he
had been upheld only by the thought that he was bringing relief to the
boys; and this solitary consolation was taken from him by the first
glance that he cast around.
This was the fifth day since he had left them. He had gone, proposing
and expecting to be back in two days, or in three at farthest. But he
had gone much farther than he had at first intended, and hence had left
them longer than he had said.
And where were they now?
In vain he strained his eyes. The only sail on the water was that
schooner: possibly some fisherman cruising about in this direction.
Where were the boys?
Where were the boys that had been committed to his care,--the boys who
had been intrusted to him,--the boys who had confided in him,--the boys
who had placed their young lives in his keeping?
Where were the boys?
Where were the boys whom he had left; whom he had promised to return for
so promptly?
He had led them into difficulty, and left them there!
He had led them into starvation--that was his first fault. How they had
suffered during those days of calm! He had led them to that waterlogged
vessel! He had gone on board with them; he had caused them to put a
confidence in that wrecked ship which was not justifiable.
Worst of all, he had left them!
And now that he thought of it, what was that ship? She might have been
not water-logged--but sinking! The thought filled him with horror. A
sinking ship! and he had left them there!
No; she was not a sinking ship--he knew that.
He remembered the length of time that he had seen her from a distance.
He recalled the time he had been on board, and all the observations
which he had made. Water-logged she certainly was, but not sinking--no,
not sinking. Timber ships never sink. They cannot sink. A timber ship
is like a solid wooden ship low down in the water, but absolutely
unsinkable.
This thought brought some consolation to him in his despair.
But as he looked out over the sea, as he saw the swelling waves, as he
felt the Antelope toss, and leap, and plunge about, and as he recalled
the long night that had passed, with its storms and billows, he trembled
for the boys in the water-logged ship.