THE EARLY MORNING VISITOR
Martin and Larry were roused the next morning at daylight by the
dogs who were barking excitedly in their shed outside. Evidently
some animal was approaching the hut too close for their approval. So
Larry, hoping for a pot shot from the window, slipped out of bed,
took down his rifle stealthily, and cautiously opened the port on
the landward side. Just then he heard voices outside, and the next
moment some one pounded sharply against the door and turned the
latch. In the doorway stood Mr. Ware, with half a dozen sailors
crowding behind him.
With a shout Martin was out of his bunk, while Larry, dropping his
gun, collided with the old hunter as they rushed together into Mr.
Ware’s outstretched arms, and for five minutes the three were locked
together in a tangled embrace dancing about like happy children,
each asking questions which no one answered. Then Larry discovered
that one of the sailors was an old acquaintance from the crew of the
yacht, and the sailor came in for a similar wild demonstration,
while Mr. Ware stood laughing and gasping for breath. And all this
time the dogs, recognizing that something quite out of the ordinary
was taking place inside, were adding their voices to the din, and
struggling madly to get out of their shed.
Finally Martin disengaged himself and sank into a chair overcome
with exhaustion and emotion. For the coming of Mr. Ware was like one
risen from the dead. And then followed a flood of questions and
explanations.
Mr. Ware and his companions in the boat had escaped quite as
miraculously as had Martin and Larry, although they had suffered far
greater hardships in the storm. They had left the shore in their
boat and were making an exploratory trip along the mouth of the
inlets of the bay just before the storm broke that destroyed the
yacht. The fury of the gale drove them helplessly along the coast,
and pitched them about, breaking their oars and tearing loose their
rudder, so that they were completely disabled. Fortunately they had
rounded the point of land that marked the entrance to the bay, so
that instead of being blown against the rocks they were driven along
parallel to the coast-line for a time, and thus saved from the
breakers.
But they were hurried from this peril into another quite as great,
as the boat was in danger of swamping at any moment in the waves.
For now the wind shifted and blew them steadily out to sea, as they
were without means of controlling or steadying the boat, which
filled with water continually, and was only kept afloat by ceaseless
bailing with the pots and pans of their cooking outfit.
All that night they worked, buffeted by the gale, with no idea where
they might be drifting. But when morning came and the gale subsided
there was no land in sight. That made little difference to them, as
without oars or sails they could not have reached it in any event.
Fortunately the boat was supplied with a box of sea biscuit and a
keg of water--a precaution against emergencies always taken by Mr.
Ware in manning his boats. So that while they were almost frozen,
they were not hungry or thirsty during the six days and nights of
their aimless drifting. But their days seemed numbered, as they had
little hope of being picked up so late in the season.
Imagine their delight, therefore, when on the seventh morning they
discovered a three master heading almost directly for them. The
captain of the vessel had seen them, and changed his course to pick
them up.
As soon as he was safely on board Mr. Ware made tempting offers to
the captain to turn about and attempt to find the yacht. But his
efforts were unsuccessful. The schooner was far out of her course
and must make the best time possible to her English port, and no
offer could tempt the captain to turn back. Moreover, as he pointed
out, it would do little good to return if the yacht was lost;
whereas if she were safe, she would make her way back to New York
and would be waiting for Mr. Ware on his return.
So he was forced to curb his impatience for three long weeks while
the schooner floundered her way across the ocean, and two weeks more
before he reached his home. By that time winter had set in and it
would be madness to attempt to approach the frozen Labrador coast at
that time, even if he had hoped to find any of his party alive.
But he laid his plans for an early start in the spring, and the
moment he could do so with reasonable safety he secured a staunch
little steamer and started on his search. They had arrived near the
entrance of the little bay the night before, but it grew dark before
they rounded the point where they could make observations. Shortly
after this the man in the lookout reported what he believed to be a
light up among the rocks on shore. It was so faint that it could
barely be made out through the glasses; and presently it
disappeared.
This discovery kept Mr. Ware awake all night; and as soon as it was
near daylight, he had come off in a life-boat to investigate,
leaving the steamer to follow cautiously by daylight. Imagine his
delight, then, at finding the snug little hut, with Martin and Larry
safe inside.
When Mr. Ware had finished his recital Martin told him in detail the
experiences that he and Larry had had during the winter; of their
start for home, the blizzard, his encounter with the moose, and
their final return to the coast and the comfortable time spent in
the little hut.
“And you got here just in the nick of time, Mr. Ware,” he commented.
“In another week we should have been footing it cross-country for
home; and no knowing where we should have landed.”
While they had been talking the little steamer had come into the bay
and dropped anchor half a mile off shore ready to receive her
passengers. The captain, anxious to be away from the dangerous
locality as quickly as possible, kept signalling repeatedly with
short blasts of the whistle, and at last Mr. Ware decided that it
was time for all hands to be off. But the snug little hut, tucked
away up under the rock among the spruces, appealed strongly to his
fancy; and Martin and Larry actually seemed reluctant to leave it
now that their long-looked-for chance to do so had come. They had
spent many happy hours in their tight little room, and it seemed
like treachery to an old friend to turn their backs upon it forever.
The old hunter said nothing of his thoughts on this score, however,
and set about gathering together the articles he was to take away.
But Larry, with a lump rising in his throat, found it difficult to
repress his feelings.
“I wish it could go with us,” he said, stopping in his work to take
a wistful look at the many familiar objects they were leaving. “It
will be pretty lonesome for the little house standing up here all
alone year after year and never seeing any of us again.” And the boy
leaned over his work again to hide his emotions.
“We’re not going to desert it for good, Larry,” said Mr. Ware,
patting the boy on the head kindly. “This is the best little
shooting lodge I know of. So every year we will come up here for a
hunt, and Martin will take us to the best hunting places, and keep
us out of mischief generally, as he always does. What do you say,
Martin?”
But the old hunter shook his head.
“I’ll be mighty glad to come every year, Mr. Ware,” he said
laughing; “but I leave the hunting and guiding to a younger fellow
who can do it just as well, or better. That’s the ‘younger fellow’ I
mean, right here,” and he pointed to Larry. “He knows the country as
well as I do, and he can follow a trail, shoot a rifle, and run a
camp with the best of them. And if you ever get into a tight place
out there in the woods, he’ll steer you out of it safely every time.
For he’s learned his trade up here this winter. He’s a regular
forest pilot now--a real woodsman, sure enough.”
THE END.