THE SEARCH.
The feeling of gloom in the hearts of the boys was reflected in the
dusk which now had settled over all. The sun had disappeared, and the
blaze in the western sky seemed weird and unnatural. The silence that
rested over the river was so intense that it almost seemed as if they
could hear it, if such a thing were possible. For a moment the boys
looked blankly at one another, but no one seemed willing to give
utterance to the fear which evidently possessed them all.
Jock was the first to speak, and as he reached over and grasped the
canoe to make it fast to the skiff, he said in a low voice, "This is
the worst yet, fellows. I'm almost afraid to go on."
"We'll have to go, whether we're afraid or not," said Bob.
His decided tone could not conceal his anxiety, but his suggestion
was so manifestly practical that the oars were at once taken up, and,
with the little canoe in tow, they resumed their way up the river.
The waters were calm now, so calm that scarcely a ripple could be
seen. Lights began to appear in the distant cottages, and the darkness
steadily deepened. Still the boys rowed swiftly on, unmindful of the
long and wearisome day which had gone, and thinking only of their
missing friend. Bert was keeping a careful lookout, though just what
he or his companions expected to see was not evident.
"I think, fellows," said Bert, at last, "you'd better row farther in
toward the shore of the islands. The storm came from the west, and if
Ben landed anywhere, it would be likely to be on one of the islands.
We can go up a mile or two, and then if we don't see or hear anything
we can cut across to the Bay. He may have been picked up by some boat
and carried back there, you know."
The direction of the skiff was quickly changed, for the advice seemed
good, though no one replied to Bert's words, and soon they were
skirting the islands. Again and again they stopped and shouted
together, but only the echoes along the shore or the calls of the
night birds responded.
The slight hope they had cherished was almost gone now. The empty
canoe was a constant reminder of their loss, and the longing in their
hearts was fast becoming changed to despair. Not even the paddle had
been found, and the fear that the canoe had been capsized in the
squall, and its occupant thrown into the water, was becoming almost a
certainty.
"There's one thing, fellows," said Bob, at last, striving somehow to
keep up their courage, "and that is, that Ben, though he is the most
unlucky fellow in some ways that ever lived, in others is the most
lucky. Just think of the scrapes he's been in since we came down here,
and yet he got out of every one. If it had been any one of us, we'd
have gone straight to the bottom of the St. Lawrence, but Ben,
somehow, manages to come right side up with care, and I'll not give up
yet."
Bob endeavored to speak confidently, but his words failed to cheer his
companions. The lights of Alexandria Bay could now be seen in the
distance, and the end of their attempt to discover the missing Ben
had almost come. Failure was to be stamped on them all, they thought;
and though they still continued to row, the dejection of all three was
becoming more and more apparent.
"We might as well strike across for the Bay, now," said Jock, at last,
pausing as he spoke, and looking sadly above him in the twilight.
"Yes, I think we'd better go over there," replied Bob. "Of course Ben
may have gone back to camp long before this, but as we are so near, I
suppose we might as well go on and do what we can."
They were only about twenty yards from the shore of one of the little
islands now, and as they grasped their oars again to carry out Jock's
suggestion, they were startled by a shout that came from a projecting
point in advance of them.
They could perceive some one standing there and waving a handkerchief
aloft on a stick. The faint sound of his call was sufficient to
interest the boys at once, and without uttering a word they began to
row swiftly in that direction. Bert was peering eagerly at the figure
of the man standing on the rock, and as soon as the sound of the
hallo became a little more distinct, he said in a low, intense voice,
"I believe it's Ben, boys. Give him the school cheer, and let's see."
The boys stopped, and the school cheer rang out, and then they waited
a moment in breathless suspense for the response.
Faintly across the water came the answering cheer, and then, half
laughing and half crying, Jock said, "Did you ever see such a fellow
in your lives? It's just as Bob here says. Ben can get into more
scrapes, and get out of them too, than any chap that ever lived."
"Never mind that part of it now," said Bob, quickly. "Give way, Jock,
and let's go for him. Of all his scrapes this is the worst."
There was no mistaking the reaction now as the boys swept over the
river, making every stroke tell. As they approached the point, they
perceived Ben seated on one of the rocks, and leaning upon his paddle
as if he was the most unconcerned spectator of their movements.
Quickly the skiff was sent ashore, and as Bert leaped out, Ben, who
had not stirred from his seat on the rocks, said,--
"I must say, fellows, you have taken your time. I didn't know but you
were going to leave me here all night. I've travelled clear around
this island three times since I landed, and I haven't seen a boat or a
man. I thought I was Robinson Crusoe for certain, and done into modern
English."
"Oh, Ben," said Jock, in a trembling voice, "don't talk that way. You
don't know how frightened we were. We started out to search for you
just the minute we got back to camp, and when we found that canoe of
yours empty and floating down the river, we didn't know what had
happened--"
"Did you find my canoe?" interrupted Ben, eagerly.
"Yes, yes," said Jock, laughing in spite of himself.
"Where is it?"
"Right here. We took it in tow."
"That's good. The thing got away from me, and I didn't expect ever to
see it again. You see, the wind drove me straight ashore here, and I
was mighty glad to get ashore, too. When I grabbed my paddle and
jumped out, and then turned around to pick up my canoe, why, it was
like the Irishman's flea--when I put my hand on it, it wasn't there."
"What did you do, Ben?" inquired Bert.
"Do? I didn't do anything. The wind blew so I thought it was going to
tear up the very island itself. I hid myself behind the rocks, and
waited. When the storm had passed I began to look about to see how I
was to get away from my desert island. I travelled around it three
times, as I told you, but I couldn't find any way of getting off, and
I'd about made up my mind I'd have to spend the night here, when I
discovered three men in a boat, and hailed them."
"Did you know who we were?"
"No; and I didn't care. All I wanted was to be taken off."
"We'll take you now," said Jock. "Come along; it's getting dark."
"I'll take my canoe, _if_ you please," said Ben, glibly.
"Ben, you're not going to paddle back to camp in that cockle-shell
to-night?" exclaimed Jock, aghast at the proposal. "I should think
you'd had enough of it for one night. Come along and be civilized,
and take your place at the oars in the skiff, like a little man."
"Here I take my stand. I can do no other," responded Ben, striking an
attitude as he spoke. "If I go back to camp, it'll be in my light
canoe."
"Let him go on a raft if he wants to," said Bob, glumly. "We've done
our part, and it's his own risk now."
"Ben, you'll keep close to us, won't you?" pleaded Jock.
"Yes, if you'll keep close to me," replied Ben. "You'll have to do
your best to keep up, though, I can tell that."
Lighthearted now, the boys resumed their places in the skiff, Bert
taking Jock's place at the oars, and with Ben in his canoe, which had
not suffered any from the storm, started down the river.
Ben was as good as his words, and though the two pairs of oars enabled
his friends to make excellent time, they were compelled to exert
themselves to the utmost to keep the skiff within sight. As a
consequence, when they arrived at the camp, as they did soon
afterward, they were thoroughly tired, and ready for the supper which
Ethan and Tom had provided.
Ben's appearance was as welcome to the boatmen as it had been to the
boys, and while they were seated at the table he was compelled to
relate the story of his adventure again. As Jock perceived that the
tents had been restored, he turned to Ethan and said,--
"Did you have any trouble in setting the tents up again?"
"Just a little," responded Ethan. "One o' 'em I found up in the top o'
that pine tree over yonder, and t'other one was down on the shore, but
we managed to git 'em all right enough. Neow then, I'm a-goin' to take
that canoe back with me to-night. I jest won't leave it where that Ben
can get hold of it. The next time he'll not be so lucky."
Even Ben uttered no protest; but when Ethan started for the place
where the canoe was kept on the bank, it could nowhere be found. Ben
pretended to search with the others; and when all their efforts proved
unavailing, Ethan declared testily,--
"The pesky thing's got afloat again. Well, there's one comfort, and
that is that this boy can't bother with it. I shouldn't sleep a wink
to-night thinkin' o' him, if 'twas left here."
After the departure of the boatmen Ben demurely entered the woods, and
soon returned with the treasured canoe in his arms.
"That's too bad, Ben," said Jock. "You know what Ethan said."
"I'm not going to scare Ethan to-night," replied Ben, "for I've had
enough to satisfy me for one day. But you don't think for a moment
that I'm going to give up my work in this thing, do you? Well, I'm
not. It's just got to come to my turn, and that's all there is to it!"
None of the boys were surprised when they came forth from the tent on
the following morning to discover Ben paddling about the river in his
canoe. It was true he did not venture very far from shore, the lesson
of the previous day evidently not having been entirely lost, and as
the rest of the night had restored the spirits of his companions, they
were all inclined to look upon his persistence in a spirit of good
nature.
Ethan, too, displayed no anger when he arrived and discovered Ben in
his customary morning occupation, and, while the boys were seated at
the breakfast table, made many inquiries as to their experiences and
success in shooting the Longue Seaut Rapids. His enthusiasm was great
when he learned of the capture of the muscallonge, and again and again
he referred to his own prophecy concerning the fishing in that part of
the St. Lawrence River.
For several days the life in the camp on Pine Tree Island was
uneventful, though every day was filled with its own interesting
experiences. Ethan contrived to spend more of his time with the boys
than he had previously done, and though he did not refer to the
perilous experience in the storm, they all understood that that was
the motive which controlled him, and, if the truth were known, not one
of the boys objected. Though the vividness of that fearful ride in the
gale had in a measure departed from their minds, still the memory of
it was strong, and even the determined Bob seemed to have profited by
the lesson.
One day, in the week which followed, the Clarkes came with their yacht
and took the boys with them for a picnic on Chimney Island. The
remains of the old French fort were still standing, and as the view of
the St. Lawrence from the ruins was one which extended for miles up
and down the river, they all could readily understand why that spot
had been selected by the soldiers of that far-away time. Bob offered
to explain the early history to his friends, but as Ben said quickly,
when Bob began,--
"There it is again! It's just as I said. Bob has been reading up one
volume of the Cyclopædia. It's the one with the C's in it. Cartier,
Champlain, Canada, Catholic, Cavon, Cortereal, and now it's Chimney
Island. For one, I've had enough."
The laugh which followed when the meaning of Ben's words was explained
to the party caused even Bob to desist, and changing the subject, he
inquired,--
"Have any of you young ladies ever seen Hamlick?"
"Seen what?" said Miss Bessie. "What's Hamlick? Is it another fish you
caught in those wonderful Longue Seaut Rapids?"
"No," replied Bob. "It's Ethan's word for Shakespeare's play. The
'young folks' are going to give it to-morrow evening over at the
Corners for the benefit of the public walks. We're going, all four of
us; and I didn't know but you would like to go, too."
The proposition was hailed with delight; and when the party broke up
in the late afternoon it was agreed that Mr. Clarke was to stop for
the boys on the following evening, and that together they were all to
go to the Corners and witness the much talked about play of
"Hamlick."