Part 10

In their last stretch across from the Five Islands, they had drawn near to the main land, and were now moving nearer and nearer every moment. What was to be done? It was already time to turn; but where could he turn, or where would he go when he did turn? or, for that matter, how could he venture to turn at all? His last experience in turning the schooner had filled him with despair. What was the meaning of those kickings, and flappings, and jumpings? What was the reason that she didn’t mind her rudder at all? And now the wind was stronger, and the sea was rougher. Could he venture to turn the vessel with such a wind and such a sea? He felt that he could not. Anything would be better. So he thought while taking counsel with his own soul.

And while taking counsel with his own soul, he saw before him the coast extending invitingly. There was a long line of sand, or of mud,--which was just as good,--into which he longed to run the vessel. Which would be best--to run the vessel ashore, or to make the desperate attempt to turn her again, and set her kicking and plunging? He preferred the former. Yes, to run her ashore would solve the whole difficulty. He might be disgraced by it, but he could not help it. He felt that he was doomed to disgrace, in any event; and it would be better to incur disgrace on a mud bank, and in safety, than when tossing and drifting he didn’t know where. His mind, then, was made up; and he kept the schooner’s head straight towards the shore.

But as he approached it, he was aware of one very startling fact, and that was, that the schooner, while going forward, was also drifting rapidly to leeward. In the course of that sidelong motion, she was losing way so rapidly, that, instead of striking the mud flats, she might run upon a very different kind of place; for there, on the lee bow, was a headland of dark, stern rock, at the base of which the waves were breaking into foam. In his fixed attention to the mud flats, he had’ not noticed this till just now, when it was full before him, and not very far away. Below this headland the mud flats appeared again.

What could he do?

All seemed lost; for the headland, and the foaming waves, and the frowning, jagged rocks were full before him. With a bitter feeling of despair, and a pang of anguish for the coming fate of the friends who had given him their trust, and who even now were singing and shouting in their uproarious glee, he stood for a moment paralyzed, looking with white lips at his fate.

Suddenly, and just as all seemed lost, he jerked the helm a-port. The schooner swung half round. The wind took her astern, and drove her forward. Her sails flapped and banged about. Then a current seemed to seize her and carry her on for a score of yards. Suddenly there was a thump, a grinding noise, and another thump dull and heavy.

In an instant all was confusion.

“The rocks! the rocks!” cried all. “She’s struck!”

Then the schooner was once more swept on, and a wave, striking her stern, dashed the tiller out of Bart’s hands, and he fell. Springing up, he seized it again, not knowing how he moved it, or when. At that moment the sails filled again, the schooner bounded forward, and in a few minutes it was beyond the headland, and moving on toward the lower mud flat; and before they knew that they were saved, she drove hard and fast into the mud, with a shock that knocked them all down..

Picking themselves up, they looked around at the shore in bewilderment. Then they looked at Bart.

“What’s all this?” they asked.

“O, nothing,”’ said Bart. “I found we couldn’t do anything, and so I ran her ashore.”

“By Jove!” cried Bruce, “that was a pretty narrow scratch we had of it on those rocks. After this, Bart, I’ll always brag on you. You’ve saved our lives, Bart. I thought we were gone for it. I never saw anything done so splendidly.”

For a moment Bart was silent. Here was a chance for fame. He might avail himself of the lucky accident, and turn it to his own glory. But the thought was only a passing one. It was at once dismissed.

“No, boys,” said he; “the only thing I did was nearly to destroy your lives. In fact, I don’t know any more about sailing a vessel than any of you. It’s been a very narrow escape. I was a fool to try it; and I can only make amends by confessing it. I don’t believe in being a humbug, and I won’t be one any longer.”

At first the boys wouldn’t believe him, but after a while he explained all about it. After this confession, Bart was as much esteemed by his friends as ever.

XIV.

_In Mud and Water.--A Sea Monster.--A terrific Fight.--Wonderful Pluck of the “B. O. W. C.”--Swallowing a Sculpin.--The Trophy.--Waiting for Deliverance._

FINDING themselves thus fixed in the mud, they looked around to see the place at which they had thus unexpectedly arrived. In front of them was a bank about sixty feet high, which extended for some miles away, commencing with the rocky headland, and covered with trees on the top; while beyond this, the country rose into hills. As far as they could see, there was no opening in the shore to indicate the presence of a cove or a harbor. From the appearance of the water, it seemed as though the mud flat extended for miles along the shore. The water was comparatively smooth, and the headland kept off the wind, so that after they had lowered the sails, the schooner remained quite still.

It was now about noon, and they knew that the tide was rising. A wide space of the mud flat lay still uncovered by the water. Their position was a safe one as yet, though not at all pleasant on many accounts.

“The tide’s rising,” said Phil; “isn’t it, Bart?”

“Yes.”

“When will it be high tide?”

“About three.”

“I wonder if they’ll come after us.”

“Of course they will.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much chance of our getting ashore.”

“Well, it doesn’t make much difference, for we couldn’t do anything if we did get there.”

“I say, boys,” said Arthur, “the schooner’s beginning to float again.”

All stood waiting in silence, and in a few moments they felt a slight motion.

“Yes,” said Bruce, “the tide has risen since we struck, and is floating us in. At high tide we shall be close up under the bank.”

“And then what shall we do? We must either choose to fasten the vessel ashore if we can, or float out again and sail for it, or drift.”

“I don’t think we’ll care about sailing again, particularly as the tide will be going out, and the night coming on.”

“My idea is,” said Bruce, “to fasten her to the shore if we can, and then go along the beach or the bank till we find some people and get help.”

“That’s about all we can do,” said Bart. “We can’t think of going adrift, and none of us can sail the vessel; so, if they don’t come after us, we had better land, and leave the vessel; or some of us can go for help, and others stay on board.”

“I wonder if the vessel is safe here.”.

“O, safe enough--if a gale don’t spring up in that case she might get knocked on the bank.”

“We don’t seem to have been hurt by our knocking up there,” said Arthur. “There’s no water in the hold.”.

“O, she’s all right,” said Bruce; “and she’s a gallant, gallant ship, as the song says.”.

The vessel was steadily floated nearer and nearer to the shore as the tide rose, and the boys watched her progress with close attention. At about three o’clock they could expect to be up to the bank, and then they would have to find some way to fasten her.

Suddenly Bart, who had been looking down the shore, pointed to something, and said,--

“Look, look! Do you see that?”

“What?”

“Don’t you see a line--running along about a mile away?”

“What, a thin, dark line? Yes. What of it?”

“Why, it’s a wier for fish. It shows that people must be living not far from here. It shows, too, that we can get something to eat at low tide, even if there are no people. So, hurrah, boys we’re all right yet.”

“The fact is,” said Bruce, solemnly, “I must confess that I’m starving. I’ve felt the pangs of hunger for the last two hours, and I can’t stand it any longer. I’m going to have a regular rummage down below, for I’m bound to find something.”

All the rest followed Bruce as he went below, and they began to overhaul the whole vessel. For some time they found nothing but a beggarly array of empty boxes, and loud were their murmurs and complaints.

“If it hadn’t been for that miserable Sammy Ram Ram, we’d have a few turkeys and chickens here,” said Bruce. “How that fellow and Johnny Blue managed to get through with them all, I can’t understand.”

“Pooh! those two fellows did nothing else but stuff from the time they came on board till they got to Pratt’s Cove. Captain Corbet and the mate helped them, and so did Pat, too, no doubt. I haven’t any hard feeling against any of them, but I must say I wouldn’t be sorry if their food didn’t agree with them.”

“Hallo! What’s this? Hurrah!” cried Tom, suddenly.

“What, Tom,--what is it?”

“See here,” cried Tom, triumphantly. “Arn’t we in luck? Don’t ever fret again, boys. Here’s a half loaf of bread that I found in the corner. It’s rather stale, a little too dry, and too hard,--but I think it’s about the nicest morsel I ever saw. We’ve got our dinner provided for us, and we needn’t hanker after raw fish from the wiers any more.”

Tom’s joy was fully shared by all; and the half loaf of hard, stale, dried-up bread was quickly divided into five pieces, and eagerly devoured by the famished boys.

“And now,” said Bruce, “I feel like a giant refreshed. I’ll go on deck and have another look at the situation. My private opinion is, however, that if they’re coming after us, they’d better come. The tide’s getting higher every minute; and if they get here after we’ve fastened her to the shore, and got her high and dry, they’ll have to wait for twelve good hours before they can get her to float off again,--not to speak of spring tides. Do you know, Bart, if this is spring tide?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said Bart.

“Well, then, we’ll have to trust to luck, I suppose. At the same time I’ve a great mind to go ashore and reconnoitre.”

“I’ll go too,” said Bart.

“And so will I,” said Arthur.

“And I,” said Phil.

“I’ll go too,” said Tom. “But oughtn’t some of us to stay on board?”

“Stay on board? What for?”

“O, to watch the vessel.”

“Why, what good will that do?”

“She may drift off.”

“Well, why should any of us want to drift off in her?”

“I don’t believe there’s any chance of her drifting off while the tide is rising,” said Bruce; “and if she does drift off, I think we’re all better out of her than in her. So if one of us goes ashore, we’d all better go. It’s not more than three feet deep at the bows, and there’s a sand-spit over there within easy distance.”

“I wonder if there are any quicksands.”

“O, we’ll have to run the risk. There are a couple of boat-hooks there, and two of us can go ahead and try the ground with them. It’s not far to the spit.”

“We’ll have to strip and carry our clothes with us,” said Phil.

“Yes. It would be a great joke if we left our clothes behind, and the vessel drifted off with them.”

The boys now proceeded to undress themselves, and prepare to go ashore. Each one tied up his clothes in a compact bundle. Bruce and Bart took each a boat-hook, which lay in the schooner; Arthur took a handspike, and Tom and Phil found a stout stick each. Thus equipped, they prepared for the journey.

It was about one o’clock, and the tide would not be high for two hours yet. In front of them, and between them-and the bank, lay a broad expanse of mud flats, separating them from the bank by at least a quarter of a mile of distance. On their right, however, was a place which gave them a chance of a much better foothold than that which was offered-by the slippery and treacherous mud. This was a long sand-spit, which stretched out from the bank, and ran down across the mud flat and into the water. It approached to within a hundred yards of the schooner, and afforded not only a good walking-place, but a much nearer chance of dry land than was possible anywhere else..Running down over the flat, it rose above it to a height of from twelve to twenty inches, and was covered with sand, gravel, and round cobblestones. It was to this place that they intended to go.

Bruce led the way. Descending carefully over the bows, he dropped into the water, which he found up to his armpits. The others followed, and found it deeper for their shorter stature. It was over the shoulders of Bart and Phil. Bart, however, took his place by Bruce’s side, and prepared to walk ahead with his pole. Their first object was to get into shallower water, and so they walked in the direction of the shore until the water was not above their waists. Then they turned to the right, toward the sand-spit.

If it had not been for the bundles, they could have varied their progress by swimming; but as it was, they had to wade, and feel the way cautiously, for fear of air-holes and quicksands. The surface mud beneath their feet was very soft; but they did not sink very deeply, and with every step they acquired fresh confidence. As they neared the sand-spit, the bottom grew sensibly harder, and shoaled rapidly, till it was not much above their knees. At length it became a sandy bottom, and they walked along more rapidly, no longer feeling their way.

Suddenly they were startled by a wild shout from Arthur. He had been walking behind with Phil, and was some distance from the others, when rapidly, between him and them, darted the form of a large fish, which, in that shoal water, was as visible as if it were on land. At the cry which he gave, Bruce and the others turned, and saw Arthur with his handspike in the air, and the fish floundering and splashing close beside. For a moment the blood of all of them froze with horror; the next instant Arthur sprang forward, and dealt a tremendous blow with his heavy handspike full on the head of the fish.

The monster splashed and struggled, and moved back into deeper water for a few feet.

“Run, run!” cried Arthur. “It’s a shark! Run for your lives!”

The boys all set off as fast as they could toward the sand-spit, which now was close by them.

But the fish was not to be easily escaped. In a few minutes it’s dark form was beside them, and soon it crossed immediately in front of Bruce and Bart. Mechanically, and in utter horror, both the boys swung up their boat-hooks, and dashed them wildly against the dark figure. Both struck home. There was a fearful splashing and writhing. Bart’s boat-hook was wrenched from his hand, and the fish darted forward into shoaler water.

“Run, boys, run!” shouted Bruce, holding his boathook toward the fish, and slowly retreating, so as to keep the monster in sight. Away they went, Phil and Tom first, then Arthur. Bart moved forward, and then, seeing his pole floating a few feet on one side, made a rush for it and secured it. Then he kept by Bruce’s side, ready to help him in guarding the retreat of the others.

The fish continued to splash and writhe about, either because he was bewildered by the shoal water, or else because he was suffering from the wounds which had been inflicted. As he did not pursue, Bruce and Bart took fresh courage.

“Let’s finish him, Bruce!” cried Bart.

“Pitch in, then!” cried Bruce; and rushing at the fish, he drove his boat-hook point deep into his side, while, at the same time, Bart, raising his into the air, struck down, so that the hooked part penetrated and held.

“Hook him, ‘Bruce!” shouted Bart. “Let’s drag him ashore.” Bruce raised his pole to do so; but at that instant the struggling, writhing fish turned towards them with furious energy, and moving over on its side, it tried to twist Bart’s hook out of its flesh. The water was so shallow that it could not have full exercise of its strength, and Bart held on. The fish, in its struggles, opened its gasping mouth, showing wide rows of sharp, triangular teeth. At that instant Bruce lowered his pole, and drove it straight into the open mouth; forcing it deep into the throat. The monster, in its agony, closed its jaws, and held it with a deathlike tenacity.

A cry of triumph burst from Bruce and Bart.

“Hurrah, boys! We’ve got him!” they cried. “Pull, Bruce, nearer the shore--into shoaler water.”

The water was already too shoal for the fish, which had so carelessly thrown himself into it, and his resistance could not prevent the united energies of Bruce and Bart from dragging him forward a few paces. But that was all. Rousing himself, the monster tossed, and writhed and struggled, and lashed the water into foam. Bruce and Bart could no longer drag him. It was a struggle between them; but the boys had now got their blood up, and they would have been dragged back to the schooner rather than loose their hold.

The fish, in its fury or its agony, still kept its teeth closed on Bruce’s pole, and strove to wrench it out of his grasp. His tremendous efforts were prevailing against their united strength, and were dragging them farther out. Bart’s hook had already been thrown off, and he was plunging the pointed iron again and again into the fish’s side.

At this instant Arthur came dashing through the foam. Raising his heavy handspike in the air, he poised it for a moment so as to take sure aim, and then, with tremendous force, the weapon descended full on the monster’s head. It was a crushing blow. The struggles and writhings ceased, and changed to feeble motions and occasional convulsive vibrations. It resisted no longer. It was powerless.

They dragged it upon the dry ground of the sand-spit, and examined their conquest.

The fish was about five feet long, very broad at the head and shoulders, with a very wide mouth, armed with several rows of saw-like teeth. The nose was rounded, and the jaw was underneath. Its back was a dark slate color, and its belly white.

“It’s what we call a Shovel-mouth Shark,” said Bruce, as he looked at it, and admired its proportions.

“They call it a Dog Fish with us,” said Bart.

“It certainly, is a kind of shark,” said Arthur; “and as that sounds better, we’ll call it by that name. Boys, we’ve fought and killed a shovel-mouth shark! Let the ‘B. O. W. C.’ remember that!”

“We must keep his jaws as a trophy,” said Bruce. “Let’s cut him up and get his jaws. Who’s got a knife?”

“Here,” said Arthur.

Thereupon, with the aid of the knife, the fish was dissected. In the stomach they found a fish quite as remarkable as the one which had swallowed it. It was a sculpin, a fish whose bony covering, and spiny back, and horny head, and wonderful voracity, make it seem like those primeval fish that swam in the waters of the world in an age when all the inhabitants thereof were formed on a similarly monstrous model.

“What a fish,” cried Bart, “to swallow a sculpin! He must be a real shark, after all, for a shark could not beat that. I thought that it might have been by accident only that he met us, but it seems now as though he was ravenous enough to mean mischief. ’Pon my word, if I’d known about that sculpin, I think I would have run away instead of staying to fight.”

After examining the fish, the jaws were removed, and, carrying them, they walked up the sand-spit to the shore. Then dressing themselves, they sat down and rested for a time. Then Bruce and Bart climbed to the top of the bank, and went in different directions to explore. On coming back, each had the same story. They had met with nothing but fir trees and alder bushes, and had not seen a sign of any house whatever. On this they all decided to go to the top of the bank, and wait patiently until the tide was high, then fasten the schooner as well as they could, leave a message on board to indicate their course, and set off along the coast in search of inhabitants. With this decision, they climbed the bank to a conspicuous position, and there waited.

The tide rose higher and higher. Each increase in the depth of the water allowed the schooner to approach nearer to the shore, though there was a sidelong drift, which, from time to time, changed her position, sometimes presenting her bows to the beach, at other times her side.

The water was rising higher and still higher. The mud flats extended close up to the beach below, but the beach itself was formed of sand and gravel, and rose, by a steep slope, from the mud flat to the base of the bank. By two o’clock the water had reached the edge of the gravel.

“It will take an hour more,” said Bruce, “before it gets to high-water mark. One hour more, boys, and then off we must go to explore the country.”

XV.

_Scratching for Clams.--How not to eat them.--Fearful Consequences of Folly.--A formidable Medicine Chest.--Prevention better than Cure._

MEANWHILE the people at Pratt’s Cove waited for the return of the captain and his company. The boys had excited the deepest sympathy of Mrs. Pratt by their loss of appetite, and she was anxious about the lost vessel. They had not eaten anything for tea; and after the meal was over, they walked down to their old place. It was about half past six o’clock, and a large part of the cove was already uncovered by the receding tide.

“I wonder if there’s any duck left,” said Jiggins, with a sigh.

“Or roaster,” said Muckle, with another sigh.

“No,” said Pat, mournfully. “Sammy and Johnny have disposed av thim.”

Sammy and Johnny both looked innocently down, and by their silence acknowledged the soft impeachment.

“I’ve a presentiment,” said Jiggins, “that I’m going to be very hungry before bed time.”

“1 shouldn’t wonder if some of the rest of us were like you,” said Muckle.

“And now,” said Jiggins, in a grave and solemn tone, “what ought we to do?”

“We haven’t much time left,” said Muckle, suggestively.

“Something must be done,” said Jiggins, emphatically.

“And soon, too,” added Muckle.

“Deed, thin, an’ why don’t ye go aff an’ do somethin’?” said Pat, energetically. “Come, now, whatever ye do, I’m yer man. Is it another duck ye mane?”

Jiggins shook his head.

“It would hardly do--”

“Do--it jist wud, thin.”

Jiggins shook his head.

“The fact is, I have my doubts about it. I don’t think it’s altogether right.”

“Thin what made ye ate it for?” said Pat. “There wor others that thought it was all right--they did.”

“I felt badly while eating it. I felt it was--not--right.”

“Do ye mane it wasn’t done right?”

Jiggins shook his head.

“Well,” said Pat, “if ye didn’t like the duck, how did ye like the pig? Ye’ll not be findin’ fault with that, I think.”

Jiggins shook his head.

“I have my doubts.”

“O, botheration take your doubts. Why didn’t ye doubt before ye sat down?”

Jiggins shook his head.

“I tell you what,” said Muckle; “I’ve got an idea.”

“What?” cried all.

“Clams!” said Muckle.

“Clams?” said Jiggins.

“Look,” said Muckle, waving his hand over toward the flats; “do you see that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s full of clams.”

“Why, of course--of course,” said Jiggins. “Why, so it is. What do you say, boys?”

“I say yis,” cried Pat. “Hurroo, boys! if we can’t have a duck, or a roaster, again, we’ll have clams.”

“Hand along a basket then, Sammy,” said Jiggins.

As Sammy gave him one, he said,--

“Now, you two, are you coming?”

“Well--no--we don’t care about it,” said Sammy.

“Well, you wait here and kindle the fire, and get a pot ready. We’ll cook them the moment we get back.”

“All right,” said the two boys.