_The Denizens of Bailey’s Den--Morning.--A Sail upon the Surface of the
Sea.--The Spyglass.--Exciting Discovery to the lost Ones.--The strange
Schooner.--Exchange of Signals.--The Excitement increases.--The Schooner
draws nearer.--New Signals.--They take to the Boat.--Out to Sea.--Rough
Water.--Another Sail.--A strange Suspicion.--Old Friends.--Pleasant
Greetings.--Mrs. Corbet.--Obloquy heaped upon the Antelope and its
venerable Commander.--Away to the Rescue._
BAILEY’S den was a particularly well sheltered recess in the rock, open
to no wind, except a sou’-wester. The wind that blew while Bailey and
his guests slumbered inside, came from the north-west, and therefore the
sleepers knew nothing of it. Out in the sea, indeed, the waters felt
its power, and the foaming waves on the following morning told them the
story of the night; but during that night they knew nothing at all about
it. Far down the side of the cliff, under the rocky precipice, out of
the way of the wind, the occupants of Bailey’s den slumbered on the soft
spruce brush and softer moss. All night long the fire burned outside,
for Bailey had piled up the fuel generously, yet carefully, and had so
arranged it, by making alternate layers of green wood and dry, that it
would burn all night long, and yet send forth sufficient flame to be
visible at sea.
Morning came, and the wind and sea had gone down. Upon rising, the
denizens of Bailey’s den looked forth upon the water, and saw that it
was very much the same as it had been on the preceding day. At this
Arthur and Tom shook their heads, but Bailey was sanguine, and spoke
encouragingly.
“The wind has hauled round a pint or two,” said he, “and I shouldn’t
wonder if it was to come round a little more; and if so, it’ll be
all right for us. A moderate north or north-east wind’ll be jest the
cheese.”
They now replenished the fire, after which they sat down to their
breakfast.
“So you got all this out of the Petrel,” said Bailey. “Well, only
think! Why, what gormandizers them captains an mates in the cabin must
be--feedin on potted meats! an only think what we eats before the mast!
Hard tack, salt junk, an dish-water, that’s what we eats before the
mast; but aft, my gentlemen won’t be satisfied with nothin less than
Yorkshire game pie, and Oxford sassage--and, what’s this?--Bolony
sassage, an all them other condyments what you’ve got done up in them
there tin pots. Wall, they’re precious good eatin on a desert island,
whatever they be in a ship’s cabin, only they seem most too good for the
likes of me.”
“You?” said Arthur. “Why, you have a better right to them than we have;
for we haven’t any right at all. And, as to the Petrel, if you can
manage to save her, I hereby agree to deliver up and surrender to you.
all my right, title, and interest in and to any part or portion of the
so-called salvage.”
“And I too,” said Tom, chiming in with the utmost gravity; “and hereby
make known by these presents, to all whom it may concern, and anything
to the contrary hereof in any wise notwithstanding.”
Bailey was evidently much impressed by these legal formulas. He bowed
very gravely.
“Your servant, young gents, and my ’umble dooty to both of you; but,
at the same time, I don’t want any more’n fair an honest wages, and, if
so be as you ain’t in the position to give it, why, well and good, says
I; but, if so be as you can, why, I’ll take what’s fair, and right, and
lawful, and no more--”
But at this point this interesting conversation was abruptly terminated
by a loud cry from Tom. His eyes were fixed upon the sea, and were
fascinated by something there.
“A sail! a sail!” he cried. “A sail! O, a sail! Look, look, look!”
Arthur and Bailey sprang to their feet, and looked in the direction
where Tom was pointing. Tom seized the spy-glass, wrhich they had
brought into the den, and examined more closely, while Arthur and Bailey
watched the distant sea.
And there, on the distant sea, several miles away, a sail appeared,
unmistakably. It was a schooner, and she was not more than five miles
away.
“She’s heading away from us,” said Tom; “she’s going away, out to sea.”
“Don’t be too hasty,” said Bailey; “she may p’raps be only beatin up
agin this here wrind. It’s a head wind for her.”
“I wish it may turn out so,” said Tom.
They now watched in silence for some time longer. The schooner held
on her way steadily. At length she tacked, and, wearing round, headed
towards the shore.
“I knowed it!” said Bailey, triumphantly. “She’s a coastin along, and is
beatin up agin the wind. Just hand us that there glass for a minute, if
you please, and let us git a squint at her.”
Tom handed the glass to Bailey, who took it, and looked at the schooner
long and carefully.
At length he returned it to Tom. “It’s a fisher,” said he; “a Yankee
fisher. I knows the cut of her jib; there’s no mistakin her.
You don’t find any of yer Province fishermen git up such a turnout
as that there. Why, she’s a cross between the best class of Liverpool
pilot-boat and a nobleman’s yacht; and I don’t believe there’s a
pilot-boat or a yacht afloat that can lick that there fisherman in a
fair race.”
Arthur now took the glass, and looked at her long and earnestly.
“I say, Tom,” said he.
“What?”
“Do you know what I’m thinking?”
“I dare say it’s the very thought that I had.”
“What? The Fawn?”
“The very thing.”
“Of course it’s all nonsense. I suppose all the Yankee fishermen, or,
at any rate, a great many, are just like the Fawn; but, at any rate,
wouldn’t it be fun if it should turn out to be her?”
“Well, it’s too much to hope for,” said Tom; “it’ll be fun enough for me
if she only takes us off--if she only sees us. Hadn’t we better pile on
more fuel, Bailey?”
“No; ’tain’t no use. The fire’s makin as much smoke as it can, an
that’s the best thing by daytime. If that there vessel’s beatin up the
coast, she’s bound to see us on the next tack, if she don’t see us
now; and it’ll only take three more tacks to bring her right
opposite--Hallo!”
An abrupt exclamation terminated Bailey’s remarks. He seized the glass
without a word of apology, and took a hasty glance.
“They’re a histin an a lowerin of the flag! They’re a signalizing, as
sure as I’m a born sinner! and to us! Hooray!”
This Bailey shouted, quite beside himself, and then dropping the
spy-glass, at the imminent risk of its destruction, he seized a pole
that lay near, and scattered the fire about in all directions.
[Illustration: 0325]
“I’m a tryin to answer their signals,” said he. “They see us! They know
that were a signalizin to them, and they’re a tellin us that they’ll be
along! Hooray!”
The schooner now tacked, and stood out to sea.
“All right,” said Bailey; “the next tack’ll bring her nearer.”
This reassured the boys, who did not like even the appearance of
desertion. They watched her now in silence, and at length had the
gratification of seeing her taking her next tack, and standing in
towards the shore. This time she was very much nearer. Bailey rushed
off, and gathered a quantity of dry spruce twigs and moss. As the
schooner neared the shore, her flag rose and fell rapidly, and the
report of a rifle sounded over the waters. At this Bailey flung his
moss and spruce twigs upon the fire, and a vast cloud of smoke shot up,
intermingled with sparks and flame.
“We’re gradooly a comin to a understandin,” said Bailey, as he rubbed
his hands in immense glee, and watched the schooner. “And I do believe
that the next tack’ll bring her here. Boys, let’s get ready with the
boat.”
Saying this, Bailey hurried down, followed by the boys. They hurried
as fast as possible to the boat, and began to launch her. As she was
uncommonly high and dry, this was a work of time; but it was at length
accomplished, and the boat was afloat.
The wind was still off the land, to a certain extent, and the water had
become far smoother. Besides, for a quarter of a mile or so from the
land, it had never been much affected by the wind. They were too eager
to wait, and so in a short time the sail was up, and Bailey, at the
stern, headed the boat so as to meet the schooner on her return tack.
As the wind caught the sail, the boat moved through the water, at
first slowly, but gradually more swiftly. While the boat moved out, the
schooner seemed to be sailing away, and leaving them behind; but this
gave them no trouble, for they knew that before long she would wear
round, and come to meet them. And so, with eager eyes, they watched her,
and waited impatiently for the moment when she would turn.
Suddenly Arthur gave a cry, and pointed down the coast. There, as they
looked, to their great amazement, they saw another sail, far away,
emerging from the land, and standing out to sea.
“Wall--this--doos--beat--my--grandmother!” cried Bailey. “Or, in other
words, boys, it never rains but it pours. We’ll have the whole fishing
fleet yet.”
Arthur and Tom said nothing. Tom seized the glass, and looked for a few
minutes. Then he handed it to Arthur in silence.
Arthur looked for some time most earnestly and most curiously.
“It’s queer!” said he.
“What?” said Tom.
“I don’t believe there’s another vessel in the world like that.”
“Do you think that?” said Tom. “It’s the very idea that I had.”
“What! Not the Antelope?”
“Yes; the Antelope--her own very old self.”
“The Antelope!” cried Bailey. “You don’t mean it. If it is her, then
it’s all explained. So he’s come arter you--has he? So that’s it.
Wal, it’s the least he could do, arter gittin you into such a precious
scrape.”
“O, it’s only a fancy. It mayn’t be her, after all.”
“O, but to my mind, it’s more likely to be her than any one else. No one
but a friend, in search of a friend, would ever think of beatin up this
here way along the coast of Anticosti. That’s my idee.” This assurance
of Bailey’s tended to strengthen the idea which the boys had formed.
After all, it was not impossible; nay, they thought it was not even
improbable; for had they not been on the lookout for this very Antelope?
and what vessel was more likely to come after them than this one? and
why should she not come even to Anticosti?
“There she comes!” cried Bailey.
It was the fishing schooner. She was tacking. She wore round easily and
gracefully, and headed straight towards them. They saw her draw nearer
and nearer every moment, her bows rising, and tossing the water aside in
showers of spray. They also stood boldly out now, for Bailey was at the
helm, and was a far different sailor from Arthur or Tom. The little boat
plunged soon into the rough water, and occasionally a torrent of foam
dashed on board; but this was nothing, for all their eyes and all their
thoughts were centred upon the approaching schooner.
At length they met--the schooner driving through the sea under a cloud
of canvas. There was a man at the bow--a well-known form--the form of
Captain Tobias Ferguson. The graceful Fawn wore round; the boat came
up; a line was thrown, and Bailey seized it. The boys clambered up her
sides, and the instant they reached her deck, they found themselves
seized by Ferguson, who said, in a voice broken by agitation,--“Hooray!
We’ve got--we’ve got you--at--at last! Where are the others? Why didn’t
they come off too?”
“All right,” said Arthur. “They are all safe in a cove about twenty
miles west of this.”
Then followed a torrent of questions from Ferguson, which the boys
answered. Their answers brought peace to his soul, for it appeared that
he had been full of terror at the coming of these two, and two only,
and had feared that they were bringing some disastrous tidings about the
others.
The boat was towed astern. Bailey was welcomed right royally, as was
befitting one whom the boys introduced as their friend. At length the
mind of Captain Tobias Ferguson was at rest; and the Fawn, rounding on
another tack, stood out to sea, on her way towards the cove, where the
rest of the party were encamped.
“But you haven’t told us how you heard about us,” said Arthur, as soon
as he had a chance to ask a question.
Ferguson seized his arm, and pointed over the water to the sail that
Arthur and Tom had already noticed.
“Do you see that?”
“Yes; that schooner?”
“No; that tub, that wash-basin, that horse-trough, anything but a
schooner. Well, do you know what that is?”
“The Antelope?” suggested Tom.
“Yes; that’s what she is called by her commander--that old woman, Mrs.
Corbet, Mrs. Captain Corbet--old woman! Why, I can find fifty old women
down our way that would take better care of a vessel than him--_her_, I
mean. Well, boys, I was at Magdalen Islands when Mrs. Corbet came there
in her wash-tub. I felt uneasy about you; knew something had happened;
asked him--_her_, I mean--all about it; but Mrs. Corbet wouldn’t answer.
Well, I followed her. I was bound to see what had become of you. And
where do you think that old woman went? Where? Why, to Miramichi! Well,
I followed her there and back, and come up to her, to find her in the
middle of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, at her wit’s end; for she had come
there thinking that you would be anchored there, and waiting for her.
Now, what do you think of that for an Old Woman?”
The boys were very much surprised at this, and questioned him more
closely. At first they thought that he was too hard on the venerable
captain; but when they learned how the venerable captain had actually
gone all the way to Miramichi, leaving them in their perilous position,
they thought that the V. C., aforesaid, had gone too far, and that he
merited all the contumely which Ferguson heaped so lavishly upon him.
“Anybody else,” he continued,--“anybody else but me, Tobias Ferguson,
would simply have gone mad at trying to keep that old woman and her tub
in sight. It’s taken two days to do what might have been done in one.
I’ve sailed back a dozen times to keep her in sight; and look at her
now! There she is, losing as much as she gains at every tack; standing
still, as I’m a living sinner. I sailed off, that very day I was telling
you about, for Anticosti, and got to East Point. There I waited for Mrs.
Corbet, inspecting the coast at odd times, and it was nearly the end of
the next day before she came up; and even then I had to sail back ever
so far to find her. Then we began to beat up along the coast, against
the wind, watching all the time, not only the shore, but Mrs. Corbet.
And there she is! At any rate, I won’t bother about her any longer. I’ll
hurry up to the cove to get the rest of the boys, and let Mrs. Corbet
come along as well as her venerable limbs’ll carry her.”
“But how did you know so well that we had drifted to Anticosti?”
“Well, for various reasons. Partly because I found out from Mrs. Corbet
all about her crazy experiment at anchoring the ship; partly because I
understood the general set of the tide; partly because I knew how the
wind had been; but chiefly, I may say, because I had a presentiment all
along that you were bound to get ashore on the worst place in all the
gulf; which was Anticosti, and no other place. I knowed it. I was sure
of it.”
Meanwhile the Fawn was careering through the waters. The boys had no
regret at leaving Bailey’s den, even though a number of cans of meat had
been left behind. Bailey was on the broad grin, and felt no homesickness
whatever. Arthur and Tom could not help contrasting the Fawn with the
Antelope, greatly to the disadvantage of the latter, and began to
think that in choosing Captain Corbet for their guide, they had made
a mistake. But all these thoughts were swallowed up in the one great
thought of the deliverance which they were bringing to their friends
in the cove--a deliverance so much better than anything which they had
hoped for, since it was in the form of old familiar friends, and
not through the medium of strangers. Even the Antelope, and the
much-maligned Corbet, as they followed far behind, seemed like
additional elements in their joy.