Part 7

Ralph was too sick to give any more than a passing glance at the work; but Ben cried, "That's the fun!--Give me some hooks, Marcus, and let me help."

"Help yourself! there's plenty there. One will be all you can manage though," said Marcus, snapping a fish from one of the hooks with a jerk.

"Come on, Ralph! perhaps you'll feel better to stir about. Shan't I get you a line? I tell you it looks lively out here! The water is all alive with fish, just jumping and turning somersaults--regular acrobats!"

A groan from under the blankets was the only reply, and Ben proceeded to use his hook and line as he saw the others do.

It was rare sport, and in his excitement he forgot that he had felt at all sea-sick.

As soon, however, as the "school" had passed, and the last fish had been pulled in, Ben felt some of the disgust returning. There lay the slippery fish scattered over the deck, flapping still, and refusing to die. Beautiful fish they were, banded and mottled with green and blue and purple; but Ben turned away from them with a shudder, which was changed into a groan as the two men began to dress them for packing.

"Want to help, boys?" asked the captain, with a wink at Marcus.

"Not much, captain."

"Ralph, this is going to be horrid," he whispered, as he threw himself down by his friend, and put his head under the blanket with him.

"Going to be? Isn't it already? I hope it won't get any worse," groaned Ralph. "How long do you suppose the voyage will last?"

"Oh, I don't know; how long do you?"

"And where are we going?"

"Sure enough, we didn't ask."

"Well, wherever it is, we are in for it now, and have got to make the best of it."

A prolonged groan was the only answer.

*CHAPTER XIV.*

*TRIBULATIONS.*

The two men worked steadily and cheerily over the fish, sorting and dressing and packing them in salt, only leaving off long enough to eat some bread and cheese with dry salt codfish.

"Come, boys, dinner's ready. Step up and help yourselves," said the captain, with his mouth full of bread and cheese, which he had made into a sandwich for convenience and speed.

"We don't feel hungry," answered Ben, looking out from the blanket long enough to see that the captain was complacently munching his food as he sat astride of the board on which he had been dressing the fish.

"Don't feel hungry! That's queer. _I_ do, now. This salt air ought to make you eat like a shark," exclaimed the captain, as he set his teeth through an enormous piece of dried cod. "I'm hungry enough to eat those mackerel raw, if there was nothing else handy."

"Oh, don't!" groaned Ralph, crawling further under the blanket, and feeling his stomach rise up and roll over uneasily.

All the afternoon the fishermen worked over their "catch," and the boys did not venture out from their retreat until a great splashing of water told them that Marcus was washing the deck. Then they began to look around and breathe in the sea air, that seemed to bring a revival of spirits to the boys.

Before supper-time another school of mackerel came by, and the lines were again thrown out, and lively work recommenced.

The two boys watched the sport as the men tended their lines so dexterously, going from one to another, and keeping a fish in the air continually, as Ben said.

This was exciting enough to make even Ralph forget his sea-sickness for the time; but when the "school" had passed, the work of dressing mackerel began again, and this was not at all soothing to disturbed stomachs.

"Let's go to bed, and get out of this, Ben," exclaimed Ralph in disgust.

"All right."

They tiptoed by the pile of fish that were still flapping feebly, and looked down into the cabin. It was not an inviting place, and Ralph hesitated.

"Going to turn in, boys?" asked the captain, thrusting his knife into a fish before he looked up.

"Yes, we thought of it."

"Without any supper? That will never do. Help yourselves in there. The biscuit-barrel's in the corner, and the codfish hangs right over it. Eat a good meal, and you'll feel better. There ain't nothin' equal to dry codfish for turning sea-sickness."

"Thanks; but we don't feel hungry," said Ben.

"That's queer. It beats me how anybody can be out to sea and not feel hungry! Well, a night's rest will make you better, like as not. You'll sleep like a couple of tops; that is, if you've got good clean consciences afore God."

The boys made no reply.

"I hope you have. It's bad work being out to sea, or anywhere else, for that matter, with anything lying heavy on your conscience. Now, I don't pretend to be any guide for any one. I'm bad enough myself; but I always says every night, 'Just look me over, Lord, and if there is any bad in me'--and of course I know there is plenty of it--'forgive it, and help me to start better to-morrow.' It's mighty comfortin' for me to know that He sees that I _mean_ fairer than I _do_."

After these remarks the captain finished dressing the fish he held on the board, and the boys disappeared down the short flight of steps leading into the cabin.

It was a close place there, and filled with odours of fish; in fact the whole vessel seemed to be stuccoed with fish-scales.

"Are we first or second cabin passengers, Ralph?" asked Ben laughingly, "or are we steerage?"

"Steerage, sure enough!"

"Well, it isn't the worst place that ever was. I'd rather be here than outside there in the sea, with a shark after me," continued Ben, who was far more inclined than Ralph to be jolly under difficulties.

"Bad as it is, I'd rather be here than on the island camping out, with Joe Chester left behind," said Ralph.

"Yes, of course you would. If I had my fiddle here I'd cheer you up; that is, if I didn't feel kind of gone about my own stomach." And Ben sat down suddenly on the captain's green chest in the corner, looking very pale.

It was Ralph's turn now to wait upon _him_, and putting his head out of the door he shouted, "Captain, where shall we sleep?"

"Oh, anywhere you've a mind to. Take the bunks if you want to. Marcus and I'll look out for ourselves."

Ralph looked sharply at the rough bed, and said, "It isn't a royal couch, but tumble in, Ben." Ben was too sick to care where he went, and letting Ralph pull off his boots and coat, he literally tumbled in, as requested.

Whether it was a lack of good consciences that the old captain had spoken of, or the strangeness of their situation, or the awful sea-sickness, the boys could not sleep. They lay and tossed in their close berths, listening to the "thud" and "swish" of the waves against the sides of the little vessel, and the creak of the yards, as the canvas swung around in the wind.

It was a bright moonlight night, and the fishing was good, so the noise on deck continued nearly all night, making it still more impossible for the boys to sleep, until, their labours being over, Marcus came below for a nap. Rolling himself in a blanket, he dropped down in the corner of the cabin, and in less than five minutes he was snoring loud enough to drown the creak of the sails.

Ralph and Ben slept at last, and were only aroused in the morning by the captain's voice as he hailed another fishing-vessel. Marcus was preparing breakfast, and the odour of the coffee came into the cabin to tempt the boys.

"That smells good," cried Ben, throwing off his blanket. "Let's get out of this pen, Ralph, as quick as ever we can. I believe I'm hungry."

"Good!" said the captain, looking down into the little cabin, having overheard the exclamation. "How fare ye this morning?"

The boys answered as cheerily as they could, and hastening up on deck, they washed their faces and hands in sea water, and were ready for breakfast.

The deck was scrubbed clean, and the sea air was pure and sweet. Even Ralph felt hungry, and the fried mackerel, with biscuits and coffee, tasted very good. The fishing was dull that day; no schools of mackerel were to be seen, and the men busied themselves with trolling for cod and hake, or anything that would bite; and before night a long row of fish was spread out on the top of the cabin to dry, much to the boys' disgust. The second night was passed much like the first, in trying to become accustomed to their close quarters; and the third was much like the second. The only excitement was in running down schools of fish; but as this was always followed by the disagreeable work of dressing them, the dainty passengers were earnestly hoping they might not see any more.

"How long before you go ashore, captain?" asked Ben, as he walked the deck uneasily.

"Oh, when I get my load."

"But what do you call a load?"

"Now, that's a question I never could answer. I never saw the time I couldn't get on one more haul of fish. A smack is like an omnibus--it always has room for one more," said the captain laughing.

"You are pretty full now."

"Bless you, no! This isn't a trifle to what we ought to do. Mighty poor fishing this trip. Reckon I've got a Jonah aboard."

"A couple of them, perhaps," answered Ben, with a wink at Ralph.

"The fog is coming on," continued the captain, looking off seaward. "We shan't be able to see our hands afore our faces to-night, like as not."

"What do you do in a fog?" asked Ralph eagerly.

"Do? why, we make the best of it, boy. What do you suppose?"

"I thought, perhaps, you went ashore, or anchored somewhere," said Ralph hesitatingly.

"Oh, you did? The fog lasts two or three weeks sometimes. No; we go ahead, and catch every fish we can."

"Aren't you afraid some other vessel will run you down?"

"It would be about as bad for her as it would for us," answered the captain, puffing the smoke from his pipe contentedly. "I'd rather have it pleasant; but we don't have the ordering of the weather, and I've fallen into the way of making the best of things--weather and everything else. If it's good weather, I'm glad; if it isn't, I don't fret. If the fish bite, I'm glad; if they don't, I just stay out the longer; and sooner or later I get a good load. It don't do no good to be frettin' and fussin'."

The captain's words did not cheer the boys. They felt far from contented at the prospect of a fog at sea; and when it came rolling in and closing down around them, hiding not only the strip of shore in the distance, but also the island and the other vessels that were near them, they wished themselves on shore more earnestly than ever.

"We didn't bargain for this," said Ben, making a wry face at his companion.

"No, nor for anything else we have had. I'd rather be in the Rocky Mountains," grumbled Ralph.

"So had I, or on the top of the North Pole, provided it is planted in solid ground instead of water," was Ben's laughing reply.

"I'm in earnest. I hate the sea. I'm afraid of it just as soon as it begins to be rough. I don't see what possessed us to come to sea," continued Ralph, peering uneasily through the fog.

"We couldn't help it, if I recollect right," said Ben. "There wasn't any place to run to on land, so we took to the water like musk-rats. But we are all right. Captain Dare knows everything about vessels and fogs. I am not going to worry myself about it at any rate, unless a big storm comes; then I suppose I would be scared enough."

*CHAPTER XV.*

*THE LITTLE CABIN.*

The captain indulged in an afternoon nap, to be in readiness for a watchful night; and the fog grew thicker and heavier as the evening came on.

The great lantern was lighted early, and the wall of fog reflected the light back in a weird, ghostly way upon the boys, who sat in the bow, dreading to go down into the little cabin.

"I feel as if we were shut up in a tomb of fog," said Ralph dismally.

"Well, if 'misery likes company,' it may make you happier to know the other boys are in the fog too, over on the island," returned Ben.

"Yes, but they have solid ground under their feet, and are not likely to be run down as we are; besides, they'll have a jolly time in spite of the fog. I know I could if I were on shore and not sea-sick, and that fog-horn of Marcus's didn't sound so dismal. I wonder how many blasts he blows in a minute?"

"Let's go to bed; morning will come quicker," exclaimed Ben in desperation.

"If we could only sleep."

"Well, we did pretty well last night."

"Pretty well; but the cabin is so fishy and musty, and my stomach rolls over so many times in a minute, I can't sleep," complained Ralph.

"'Hark, from the tombs, a doleful sound,'" said Ben, and then laughed in spite of his discomfort. "We sit here and croak like a couple of ravens, and Marcus toots that everlasting horn; let's go below and try that," he continued.

Ralph arose and staggered to the cabin steps, said good-night to the captain and Marcus, and, followed by Ben, crept into his berth. Ben tried to sing one of the school glees to cheer himself and friend, and forget his sea-sickness.

"Oh, hush, Ben! That makes me as homesick as a cat. I tell you that little room of ours at school was an awful cosy place, after all. Just think of that bed. We used to call that hard."

"Yes, and that grate where we had a fire on cold nights."

"We used to rail at it and call it stuffy, but if we were only there now I'd feel like dancing."

Ben struck up another tune, and hummed it through, chorus and all, to try to keep from utter wretchedness.

Ralph was quiet till he finished; then he said,--

"Ben, Mr. Bernard is a good man. He had the right of it about that lying business. I hate myself for it."

"So you said before," answered Ben, beginning another air.

"I know it," interrupted Ralph, "I mean it more and more. I mean never to deceive any one again."

"Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore;' anyway never till you get into trouble again," said Ben.

"I don't care how great the trouble may be, I'll confess and be true. Do you know I tried saying last night what the captain told us he said. Somehow I never liked before to think the Lord was looking at me, but now I am glad he is, for he can see I really mean to do better."

"It's queer you feel that way. I don't see any use worrying over a little lie. I've told dozens of them, and I never felt bad about it. I feel uncomfortable enough now, but I reckon it's my stomach and not my mind. I say, let's go to sleep."

This was easier to say than do, and both boys tossed and rolled in misery with sea-sickness, home-sickness, and fear, until from sheer exhaustion they fell asleep.

The morning dawned foggy, and foggy the day ended. The next day was like this; and the boys were too sick and worried to taste a mouthful of food. The fog did not prevent the fishing, and the two men kept busy with their lines, or their work of dressing the fish, and had little time to devote to the boys, even if they had known what to do for them.

"I wish the two little land-lubbers were safe ashore," was the fervent remark uttered over and over again by the captain, as he and Marcus worked together.

"A storm is coming, and this fog will get blown higher than a kite," the boys heard the captain say.

"Yes, it feels like bad weather," was Marcus's answer, as he gave a wise glance around their foggy prison and blew a long blast on the big horn.

"Hear that, Ben?" asked Ralph.

"What? The horn? Yes, I hear it."

"No! Didn't you hear what Captain Dare said? We've got to have a storm after all. In this little vessel, too. It will go down, sure as the world," and Ralph grew paler than ever. Ben felt very much as his friend did, but said less.

"I hear another horn, captain."

"Yes!" said the captain, listening.

Marcus blew again long and loud; and again was answered from out in the fog. After a while the two vessels came within hailing distance, and Ralph, seized with a sudden longing, rushed up to the captain, and said eagerly,--

"O captain, it's a larger vessel than this! Don't you suppose they would take us aboard? If there is going to be a storm, I would rather be in a large vessel; this is such a little egg-shell."

"Egg-shell! not a bit of it. But I'd like nothing better than to get rid of you. I don't want passengers to look out for in a gale. My little smack has rode out many a storm, but I'd rather be alone with my one man."

"Oh, ask them! beg them!" urged Ralph, more and more excited.

"Tell them we've got money to pay with," added Ben a little more quietly.

The captain laughed, but gratified them by hailing the brig. "Here are two boys, sea-sick and scared; storm coming; no accommodation. Can you take them off my hands?"

"We are bound out," came the answer from the vessel, whose outlines were only dimly seen through the fog.

"Never mind where they are bound, tell him," said Ralph, pulling the captain's arm; "we don't care."

"We've no room for passengers," added the invisible speaker on the brig.

"Nor I neither," grumbled the captain of the smack. "I ought to have knowed better than to take 'em;" then aloud he added, "They'll die of fright on my hands if there comes a tough gale."

"Who are they?" asked the voice in the fog.

"Two young scamps that belong to a school that's gone on Whaleback to camp. Leastways that's what I guess.--Isn't it so, boys?"

"Yes."

The vessels were soon far apart, and the boys, disappointed in their hopes, sat down by the captain to watch him splice a rope.

"How did you know we belonged to that school? and how did you know where they were going to camp?" they asked.

"I guessed at one and heard the other. They told me on the wharf that Bernard's school was going to camp on Whaleback; and when that boat came by, and you two ran for the cabin so sudden like and kept so still, I put two and two together and made four easy enough without a slate or pencil."

"That's because you are an old tar," said Ben.

"But I haven't figgered out yet what you wanted to run away from that crowd for! It seems to me if I was a fellow of your age I'd rather go to camp than go aboard a fishing-smack and be sea-sick and scared to death."

Neither of the boys cared to answer.

"You had some reason, I suppose. I'd really like to know it. Tell me truly now--were you lying when you said your folks were willing you should come?"

"We didn't say just that. We said they didn't expect us home for a month, and they don't," said Ralph; then, regardless of Ben's frown of disapproval, he added, "I'll tell you how we happened to leave them. I did a mean thing--a shabby joke that didn't turn out the way I meant--and then when Mr. Bernard told the boy who did it to stand, I didn't dare to."

"Of course you didn't!" said Ben apologetically.

"No 'of course' about it!" said the captain abruptly. "An honest boy never gets out of a scrape in a mean way."

"Well, I know it now, but I didn't dare to stand up. And then he pulled the line tighter by telling any one who knew the boy who did the mischief to stand; and Joe Chester was the only fellow that confessed to knowing. He gave us several chances on that, and tried to shame us out of lying; and at last, as long as Joe Chester wouldn't tell, Mr. Bernard said unless the other fellow confessed, Joe would have to lose his camping-out time with the crowd."

"Did you own it?" asked the captain.

"Not then. I felt meaner than dirt; but I was afraid I'd be expelled. It went on that way till the night before the school left for the island; then I couldn't stand it to have Joe left behind, and I up and wrote a note and left it for Mr. Bernard, confessing all."

"And what did you have to do with it, Ben?" asked Captain Dare, wondering why Ralph had not mentioned him.

"I? Oh, I knew about it, but I wasn't going to tell on Ralph."

"Then you got behind me to keep out of their way," said Captain Dare. "Well, what is going to be the end of it all?"

Ralph shook his head.

"None of us know, and that's a fact, boys! But it ought to be a lesson to you to keep truth on your side. Lies never pay."

"So I believe," said Ralph in sober earnest.

"I begin to think so too," said Ben. "Anyhow, these didn't."

"Now's the time to take a fresh start, then; and I hope we'll all of us live so we can be glad to have the Lord see all we do and hear all we say,--yes, and know all we think, too. That's the tough part--the heart is such a queer thing. Sometimes it looks all fair and smooth, and we feel pretty well satisfied with ourselves; but just dig down a little way and we'll find a lot of rubbish there we are ashamed of. The only way is to keep it open for the Lord to look through all the time."

Then, after a silence, during which the boys looked gloomily out into the fog that seemed to be growing blacker and heavier like a pall, he added cheerfully, "Well, good-night, boys; keep up good courage. The _Una_ is a tough little boat, and has rode out many a stiff gale."

"She's such a little thing to fight against big waves and strong wind," said Ben.

"Yes; when I'm down in that cabin I feel as if there was no more than a paper wall between us and the other world," added Ralph.

"Less than that, boy, less than that. There's only a breath 'twixt us and the other world any time, on sea or on land. What's the difference, as long as God's hand holds on to us? I feel just as safe as my little grand-baby does in his crib," said the captain.

"I don't," said Ben in a low tone; "I'd give all I own, and all my father owns too, if I was near enough the shore to jump on it. I'd be willing to make a long leap too."

"Good-night," again said the captain, as if to dismiss them.

"Good-night," replied the boys; but they were restless and anxious, and could not bear to go down into the close cabin, which seemed more like a prison than ever.

The storm had not commenced, and the only sign of it that the boys could see was the blackness of the fog and the peculiar feeling of the air, which seemed heated and heavy.

They sat down again behind the cabin, where the captain could not see them, and spoke in whispers.

"Let's stay on deck all night," said Ben. "If she capsizes we would stand a better chance here."

"I don't suppose we'd have the least chance in either place," was the doleful reply.

"That vessel might have taken us off," grumbled Ben.

Ralph was feeling too badly to talk, and he stared at the fog in a despairing way. They sat there until the wind began to blow, and the spray from the big waves to dash over them; then, as a last resort, they retreated to the cabin.

"Good-night, captain," said Ralph dolefully as he passed.

"What! you two fellows on deck yet! I thought I sent you below a couple of hours ago. Down with you! You'll be washed overboard if you stay up here."

*CHAPTER XVI.*

*A WRETCHED NIGHT.*

The boys went reluctantly into their berths, but not to sleep.

Sick and frightened, they could only listen anxiously to the beating of the waves against the vessel, and the hurried movements of the two men on deck, as, tossed by the winds and the sea, the _Una_ rolled heavily to and fro.

The moments seemed hours, and the hours seemed ages.

Never in their lives had they been so terrified. Several times the water rushed down into the cabin, as the waves broke over the deck; and Captain Dare looked down upon them, long enough to ask if they were drowned out.

"Hear the thunder!" exclaimed Ralph, as the heavy roll and crash sounded overhead, and the cabin was lighted almost continually with flashes of lurid light.

Ben made no reply, but buried his head under the blanket.

"It's queer I don't feel so scared as I did," said Ralph soberly. "I feel something as Captain Dare does--that after all we are in God's hand. Hear that peal! It seemed to roll right over the deck."

Ben made no answer, but cowered still closer under the blanket.