Part 7

Yet the situation in which they were left was one which might have created anxiety in the breast of even a more unfeeling man than Captain Corbet--on board a wrecked ship, that lay there in mid sea, with no means of saving themselves in the event of disaster. It was calm now, but how long would the calm continue? This breeze, that was wafting him along so gently and pleasantly, might stiffen, and strengthen, and intensify itself into a gale; and how would the gale act upon a ship that was virtually under water? Where could the boys betake themselves for refuge? How could they avoid the sweep of the surges that a rising storm would pour over her decks? Where could they find security from the downfall of the masts, which, in the writhing and twisting ship, must inevitably fall. A storm might change their foothold into a waste of boiling foam, and make the masts above as dangerous as the sea below. Even a moderate wind and a very ordinary rising of the sea might make their situation one of peril. Of this the boys, in their inexperience, had taken no thought; but this was the very thing that Captain Corbet ought to have thought of, and this was the thing that he was destined to think of afterwards with anguish of soul. But, for the present, not a thought of this sort came to him. His mind was altogether given up to the sway of those exciting and alluring fancies which beckoned him away to imaginary wealth.

Captain Corbet had arranged to call Wade at midnight; but so excited was he by his dreams and speculations that he took no note of time, and was at length startled by the coming of the dawn. Then he hurried away, sent Wade to the helm, and flung himself into his berth.

After a long and profound sleep, which was the natural consequence of the excitement of the previous night, he awaked. To his surprise he found that it was about eleven o’clock.

He cast a hasty look around.

His first feeling was one of satisfaction. There, immediately in front of him, were the Magdalen Islands. His course had been sufficiently accurate to bring him to his destination. He was near enough now to cast anchor, and Wade was already moving forward with that intent.

But in that first look that he had given he noticed another thing, for which he was not prepared, and which detracted somewhat from the satisfaction that had been caused by the sight of the islands.

He saw a schooner at anchor.

The beautiful outline, the slender, tapering masts, the white spars, and the immaculate neatness that characterized this schooner, all told him plainly what she was, and he needed no closer inspection to feel sure that it was the Fawn.

Now, the sight of the Fawn disturbed the mind of the venerable captain.

He dreaded a meeting with her skipper, Captain Tobias Ferguson.

The Petrel was a prize for those who might be her salvors. To that fortunate situation he did not wish to admit any others. He wished merely to procure sails, and then navigate her somehow with the help that he already had. He knew well, and he dreaded, the keen inquisitiveness and the active, restless energy of Captain Tobias Ferguson.

He did not want to meet with him at all. In fact, the very last person in all the world that he would have chosen to meet with at this particular time was this very man.

So great was his dread of a meeting, which might ruin all his plans, that his first impulse was to fly. He cast a hasty look all around. Upon the beach he saw the boat of the Fawn. Evidently the skipper was ashore. Upon this discovery he at once acted, and determined to move farther away. Hastily checking Wade, who was in the act of dropping the anchor, Captain Corbet wore round, and continued on his former course for a mile or so. Then, rounding the extremity of the island, he kept on his way along the shore, anxiously considering what was best to be done.

There were other islands in the group, but this was the one which he wished to visit, for here only could he hope to find anything like sails. He had come here for this purpose, and to go away without accomplishing it was not to be thought of. It now seemed to him that the best thing for him to do, under the circumstances, would be to land here, and pursue his investigations in a quiet way about the island, managing so as to avoid all contact with Captain Ferguson. He therefore dropped anchor here, and, taking Wade with him, he went ashore.

Once on shore, he went about his search with the utmost diligence, going from house to house, and making inquiries about sails. But from the first his task was a roost discouraging one. Every one assured him that there were no spare sails on the island; all the schooners were away, and whatever stock any one had he generally kept in his schooner, and took it with him. This was the information that he got from every one to whom he applied.

For hour after hour Captain Corbet kept up his fruitless search, dodging about cautiously, so as to avoid being seen by Captain Ferguson, in case he might be ashore, and keeping a wary lookout. At length he had visited every house on the island of any consequence. The only thing that they could suggest was for him to go to Miramichi, where he would be likely to obtain what he wanted.

Captain Corbet, in deep dejection, now retraced his steps to the boat. He thought for a time of applying to Ferguson. But a moment’s reflection made him give up that idea. He knew that Ferguson would be full of curiosity; that he would ask him all about the boys; and he feared that if he got the slightest hint of the facts of the case, he might start off instantly for the wreck, and thereby forestall him. It does not follow that Ferguson would really have done this; but this was Captain Corbet’s belief, and it influenced him, of course, precisely as if the belief had been well founded.

Having thus dismissed the idea of appealing to Ferguson, it remained for him to decide what next to do. He did not think of going back. Better to take Ferguson into his confidence at once. He still clung to his first hope and his first plan, and, since Miramichi was the nearest place where he could rely upon finding sails, he began to think about going there. True, this would take up two or three days more, and the boys would be left to themselves all that time; but, as he had already accustomed himself to think of them in their present position as quite safe, he was able to entertain the thought of leaving them this way still, longer. He had committed himself too deeply to his plan, he had gone too far towards its execution, and he had built too largely upon its successful accomplishment, to be willing to give it up just yet.

And so by the time he reached the boat he had about made up his mind to start off for Miramichi at once. With this resolve he went back to the schooner.

The moment that he stepped on deck he was astonished at detecting in the atmosphere the smell of cigar smoke; and while he was yet standing, with open mouth and expanded nostrils, inhaling the unwelcome odor, he was still more unpleasantly surprised at seeing a figure emerge from the cabin, in whom at one glance he recognized the well-known and particularly dreaded lineaments of Captain Tobias Ferguson.

His unwelcome visitor held out his hand, and wrung that of Captain Corbet with affectionate cordiality.

“Didn’t expect to see you back again in these parts so soon. You must have made a fine run of it, too. How far did you go? Not to the Bay of Islands--hey? Why, there’s been a reg’lar old-fashioned calm about here, and this here wind ain’t much to speak of. And how are my young friends, the ragamuffins?”

“Wal--pooty tol’able,” said Captain Corbet, in a faint voice.

“Hm--glad to hear it. And where was it, did you say, that you went to?”

“O--a--kine o’--genral sort o’ kerrews, like.”

“Hm--and so you left them in the Bay of Islands?”

“Wal--n--n--no--, ’twan’t exactly thereabouts.”

“O--not Anticosti?”

“Wal--n--no,” said Captain Corbet, with an increasing sense of discomfort.

“Ah, St. Pierre?”

“N--n--n--not exactly.”

“St. Paul’s, then?”

“Wal--‘twan’t St. Paul’s, nuther.”

“O, a kind o’ general cruise, I see; young adventurers, and all that. But I’m glad you took my advice, and didn’t go to Anticosti. A bad place. And how do they like Newfoundland?”

“Wal--they--didn’t--quite git to Newfoundland, nuther,” said Captain Corbet, in a low, faint, hesitating, confused way.

“No, of course not,” said Ferguson, briskly. “Too far away; I said so. You concluded to go to Gaspe, of course.”

“Wal--n--n--n--no, we didn’t quite get--off--in that thar--de--rection,” replied Captain Corbet, who was utterly at a loss how to fight off this eager and inquisitive questioner. Had the good captain been capable of telling a lie, his task would have been easier; but he was a truthful man, and in this case he hardly knew what to do.

“Well, come now,” said Ferguson, “where did you go?”

Captain Corbet started at this point blank question, and was perfectly dumb.

Ferguson looked at him with keen scrutiny, and then said,--

“You don’t answer. What’s the matter? Has anything happened? Where are the boys?”

Again the unfortunate Corbet was unable to answer.

“It’s a plain question enough,” said Ferguson, “and you’ve _got_ to answer it somehow--for I’m going down Nova Scotia way, and may see some of their parents. So, own up, old man. What have you done with the boys?”

At this moment a happy thought occurred to the bewildered Corbet. It came like a ray of light in deep darkness.

“Wal,” said he, “you see, capting--you know--them thar youngsters, you know--they--they’ve--got up a kine o’ secret society--you know--they told you--themselves--you know--and they’re all together--you know--and it’s a matter--of importance--to them--and to me--to--to--to--to keep the secret, you know. O, I do assure you it’s all right--they’re all safe an sound--an enjyin life; good quarters, plenty to eat an drink, an ole Solomon a doin of the cookin--but it’s a great secret, you know--and so--you see--capting--the fact is--I’d a _leetle_ rayther not let on where they air jest now.”

Captain Corbet spoke this in a confused way, and in a mild, deprecatory manner. Ferguson listened attentively to his words, and then stood looking at him for some time with an air of dissatisfaction.

“Well--old man,” said he, “I do remember some nonsense of theirs about a secret society; but you haven’t answered my question; you evade it; and what their secret society has to do with their present situation I don’t quite begin to make out. The fact is, I don’t consider you a fit guardian for such boys as they are, and my opinion all along has been that they’ll all get into mischief. I’m afraid that they’re in some fix at this particular moment, and that you have left them at the very time that you ought to be standin by them. If you don’t choose to tell me, I can’t make you--only I warn you, if the boys air in a fix it’s best to let me know, for I can go and help them sooner and better than you can.”

“O, but railly, now--now--railly, capting,” said Corbet, with great earnestness, “I do assure you, honest and honor bright, there ain’t no difficulty about the boys. They’re all rail happy--tip-top, an no mistake; as lively as crickets; lots to eat an drink, comfortable beds, good cookery--all in good spirits and a enjyin of themselves in a way that would do your heart good to see.”

“Well--but where are they?” persisted Ferguson.

“Wal--now--railly--you know,” said Captain Corbet, “it’s a kine o’ secret--an I’d very much rather not tell--that is--not _jest_ now; now railly--don’t ask me.”

Ferguson looked at him for a few moments with the same scrutinizing look that he had already turned upon him.

“Where are you going now?” he asked at length; “back to the boys?”

“Wal--not _jest_ yet,” answered Corbet, after a pause. “The fact is, I was thinkin a little of takin a turn over Miramichi way--on business. I won’t belong, and they’ll be all right till I get back from Miramichi.”

“O, the boys’ll have to wait for you, in the place where they now are, till you get back from Miramichi--so that’s it.”

Ferguson spoke these words slowly and deliberately, with his eyes fixed on Captain Corbet. The latter looked somewhat uncomfortable, and for a while said nothing; but at length he murmured,--

“Wal--I s’pose--that’s--about--it.”

X.

_The Baffled Inquisitor.--Corbet’s Flight by Night.--Dead Beckoning.--His Purpose accomplished.--Once more an unwelcome Visitor.--The warning Words.--Corbet confident.--“Right straight back”--The stormy Water.--The gloomy Night and the gloomier Day.--Where is the Petrel?--Despair of Corbet._

FINDING that Captain Corbet was obstinate in his refusal to tell him about the boys, Ferguson at length desisted from his inquiries, and departed from the Antelope, much to the relief of the commander of that vessel. But, though he had left the Antelope, he had by no means given up his investigations into the cause of her present voyage. He at once rowed to the shore, with the intention of finding out from the people there what had been Corbet’s business among them.

This he had no difficulty whatever in finding out. Corbet had come there with only one purpose, and this he had made known to every one with whom he came in contact, as best he could.

He had picked up a man who spoke English, and this man had accompanied him in his rounds as interpreter. This very man fell into Ferguson’s way, and from him Ferguson was able to learn that Captain Corbet’s sole aim in visiting the Magdalen Islands was to obtain some sails. He learned that the sails, could not be obtained, and also that they had recommended him to go to Miramichi for them. By this he understood the reason why Captain Corbet was going to that place.

Now, Ferguson had taken a great fancy to the boys; but the opinion which he had formed of Captain Corbet and the Antelope was of a very different kind. That opinion he had been at no pains to conceal. He had, in fact, expressed it freely and frequently. He had called Captain Corbet an “old woman,” and the Antelope “a tub.” This opinion he still cherished. Moreover, he had prophesied solemnly that the boys were more likely than not to land at the bottom of the sea before their voyage was over, and this prophecy he still believed in. In fact, the strong regard that he had conceived for these boys made him feel uneasy about them, and he did not like to think of them sailing about these seas with such a vessel and such a commander. The sudden appearance of the Antelope had excited his apprehensions. He had seen her come in while he was ashore. He had noticed her manoeuvres. He had watched her as she rounded to and then stood off again. He had then gone in his boat to watch her, and had seen her anchor. He had seen Captain Corbet go ashore with Wade. He had then rowed to her, boarded her, and examined her. The result of this examination was anything but satisfactory. He could not see any signs of the boys. All their luggage was gone. What had become of them was his first thought, and he had waited for the return of Captain Corbet in deep uneasiness.’ That uneasiness had only been increased when the captain returned and answered his questions in so evasive a manner.

He had not been prepared for this; the evasive answers of Captain Corbet irritated him, and awakened his suspicions. The secrecy which he threw around the movements of the boys was in the highest degree annoying. He had come hoping to find them on board. Their absence had filled him with uneasiness. In this state of uneasiness he had waited on board for hours, fidgeting and fuming; and the end of it all was, that when Captain Corbet did appear, he refused to answer the simplest questions.

There were several things that troubled and perplexed him to an unusual and a most unpleasant degree.

First. What had become of the boys? Captain Corbet would not say. He had asked about every place in which it was possible that they could be, and had been told, most positively, that they were not there. Anticosti, Bay of Islands, Newfoundland, St. Pierre, St. Paul’s, Gaspe, all the coasts surrounding the gulf he had asked after, and he had been told that they were in none of them. Where, then, could they be? Such secrecy puzzled and irritated him. Captain Corbet’s story about the secret society did not deceive him for one instant. He saw through it all. He saw that Captain Corbet, though incapable of telling a falsehood, was yet willing to mislead, or to put him on a false track; but, for his part, he was not the man who could be easily misled or baffled.

Then came the discovery which he had made of the purpose which Captain Corbet had in visiting the Magdalen Islands. He had come for sails. Sails! What did he want of sails? What absurd project had he formed? And what had his search for sails to do with the absence of the boys? Yet, so great was Captain Corbet’s desire to obtain sails, that he was going to Miramichi for that very purpose.

Then, again, Ferguson could not forget the way in which Captain Corbet had come to the Magdalen Islands. He had come--he had appeared for a moment, as if about to anchor, but then had turned away, and sailed elsewhere. The whole manoeuvre had looked exactly like a wish to avoid the Fawn, and it might have been successful, had he not pursued so closely. Captain Corbet’s appearance also, when he first came on the deck of the Antelope, and found himself confronted by his visitor, his start, his look of surprise, his confusion, his hesitation,--all these things made him seem the more open to suspicion.

Suspicion!

And of what?

Now, Ferguson did not for a moment believe Captain Corbet capable of wrong. In fact, he looked upon him as an imbecile. Yet, even from that point of view, his uneasiness about the boys was none the less. These boys, under the care of an imbecile, seemed to him to be in as great peril as though their guardian had been a criminal. Where were they now? Had the folly or the imbecility of their captain drawn them into some position of danger? They were innocent and inexperienced; he was an imbecile; all were alike unprepared to encounter the dangers that might befall them; and from all these causes combined, the boys might now be in a position of very serious danger, while this incapable guardian was idly roaming the seas.

The more he thought of all these things, the more uneasy he felt; until, at length, his fears about the safety of the boys, who had so suddenly awakened his interest, grew so strong, that he determined to keep Captain Corbet in sight. Believing that they were in some situation of possible danger, into which they had been drawn by their own ignorance and Captain Corbet’s imbecility, and in which they were now left, Ferguson felt an intolerable anxiety, and so at length came to the conclusion to follow the Antelope, until some light should be thrown upon this mystery.

Meanwhile, Captain Corbet, having got rid of his troublesome visitor, waited patiently until the boat had rounded the projecting promontory of the island, and then proceeded to continue his voyage. He had already made up his mind to go to Mirami-chi, and this visit of Ferguson, together with his sharp inquiries, far from changing his purpose, had only served to intensify it. He only waited until the boat which contained his dreaded visitor was out of sight, in order to hurry his departure. Accordingly the anchor was weighed in the utmost haste, the sails hoisted, and soon the Antelope set forth on a fresh cruise. The wind was still light, yet sufficient for his purpose; and he directed his course around the island, so as to avoid, as far as possible, being seen by Ferguson. His knowledge of these waters was not very minute, yet it was sufficient to give him a general idea of his destination, and he steered the Antelope accordingly.

Evening came, and the Antelope continued on her course. All night long she traversed the waters, and on the following day approached the New Brunswick coast. Here Captain Corbet recognized the entrance to the Bay de Chaleur, and, turning southward, he sailed along the coast towards the Miramichi River. As he went on, he noticed a sail some miles away; but to this he paid no attention. It was a common enough thing in these waters, and there was no reason why he should notice it particularly. The sail remained in sight all that day; and at length, as he entered the Miramichi River and sailed up it, the fact that this stranger was following did not excite any attention on his part.

Three large towns lie on the Miramichi River,--Chatham, Douglastown, and Newcastle. Of these, two are a few miles from the mouth, on opposite sides of the stream--Chatham and Douglastown; and the three towns form together the centre of a great trade in ship-building, and in the exportation of deals and timber. Here may be found all that appertains to the outfit of a ship, and here Captain Corbet expected to procure what he wanted.

It was evening when the Antelope dropped anchor in the river opposite Chatham. It was then too late to do anything; so Captain Corbet had to postpone his business until the following day. Pleased with his prosperous voyage, and pleased still more with the easy way in which he had got rid of Ferguson, full of hope also in the successful completion of his business, he retired to bed that night, and slept placidly and profoundly. The wind that night arose, and blew hard; but the venerable captain, sunk in slumber, and surrounded by the river shores, heard nothing of the noise of the storm. Had he been out at sea, he would doubtless have thought of the boys in the distant ship; but here in the placid river there was nothing to mar his repose.

On the following morning Captain Corbet went ashore at Chatham, and began a search after the sails. The search took up some time, but at length he succeeded in finding what he wanted. He found some sails and rigging that had been taken from a condemned ship, and were held for sale. They had not been considered good enough for a ship’s outfit, and had not only been torn and rent by storms, but also, from having been kept in a damp warehouse, they were somewhat mildewed. Still they served Captain Corbet’s purpose as well as brand new ones could have done, and, in fact, even better, for their damaged condition enabled him to obtain them at a price which was commensurate with his means. It took some time to get these all stowed away properly in the Antelope; but at length the work was satisfactorily accomplished, and Captain Corbet emerged from the hold, and ascended upon deck, with a smile of serene satisfaction, and the peaceful consciousness that this had been a well-spent, day.

Thus, with this smile of serenity and this tranquil breast did our good Captain Corbet emerge from the hold and ascend to the deck of the Antelope. Scarcely, however, had he set foot thereon, scarcely had he taken one look around, than the smile on his face faded away utterly, and the tranquillity of his soul was abruptly ended.

For there, full before him, seated calmly on the rail, with a piece of soft pine stick in one hand, and a keen jackknife in the other, with a cigar in his mouth, and a pleasant glance in his eye,--there sat the dreaded Ferguson, the very man whom Captain Corbet most feared to see, and whom he believed to be far away at the Magdalen Islands.

Captain Corbet stood rooted to the spot. His jaw dropped. He was paralyzed.

“You made a nice run,” said Ferguson. “A snug place this.”

Captain Corbet did not answer. He was too confused.

“I see you got your sails. I s’pose you didn’t have any trouble.”