Part 2

All that is wonderful and all that is sublime in nature may be found here, side by side with all that is most sweet and beautiful. Behind the hill on whose slope the school stands lies the valley of the Gaspereaux, an Eden-like retreat, shut in by high hills and watered by a winding river, sequestered from the world, full of that strange charm of repose that may so seldom be met with in this busy age. Before the hill there spreads away for many a mile the broad vale of Cornwallis, through which there flow five rivers, whoso waters are all chained up at their mouths, so that their beds may serve for verdurous dike lands to the farmers of the valley. Far away on the other side extends a long range of hills, which push themselves forward into Minas Basin till they end in a precipitous cliff, whose towering form is the centre of attraction for many and many a mile. This is the famous Cape Blomidon, whose position is so peculiar, and whose shape is so striking, that it forms the central object to spectators all around the shores of the bay. Here is a channel opening into the Bay of Fundy outside, and this channel is the gate-way through which the disturbed and impetuous waters of the two seas forever rush backward and forward.

In that outer bay there are fierce tides, and swift currents, and iron-bound shores, and lonely rocky isles; there are dense fogs, sharp squalls, and sudden storms. The mists that prevail there are kept away by that lofty wall which terminates in Blomidon, and cannot penetrate into the well-protected country within. The mists and the fogs seem like baffled enemies, long beleaguering, but never victorious. From the sunny plains of Cornwallis and Grand Pré they may be seen crowded and piled up on the top of Blomidon, frowning darkly and menacingly upon the scene beneath, as though eager to descend. But Old Blomidon guards well the land which he protects, and the mist and the fog that cross his crest are broken and dissipated into thin air.

From all this there arise wondrous atmospheric effects. Here, when the fog is piled up in gloomy masses over Blomidon, and the sun is setting behind them, may be seen a spectacle so gorgeous that, if it could be portrayed on canvas, few would believe it to be a copy of nature. It would be deemed the fantastic vision of some artist mad from love of deep gloom and vivid color; for the colors here at sunset are sometimes as numerous, as varied, and as vivid as those of a rainbow. The whole west glows with indescribable glory, when out of black clouds and voluminous folds of whirling fog-wreaths there beams a gorgeous red, forth from which shoot up innumerable rays far into the zenith, formed of every hue and shade, which shift and change like the rays of the Aurora Borealis, and cast upon all the sky and upon all the earth something of their own splendid radiance.

Early on the morning which followed the meeting of the “B. O. W. C.,” a singular scene was presented in front of the Academy. A crowd had gathered there surrounding a very remarkable group. There was a cart containing a number of baskets and some pots, in which was harnessed a quadruped which charity might consent to name a horse, but which looked more like a skeleton of one of the extinct species. Seated high and dry in an old arm-chair was the venerable figure of Solomon in his robes of office, that is to say, his office of Perpetual Grand Panjandrum. He had an old college cap and gown, and a master’s hood, while the spectacles that bestrided his nose, and the altitude of his shirt collar, were of themselves sufficient to strike awe into the beholder. Behind the cart were the “B. O. W. C.,” robed in the red shirts and plumed hats which Bart had found for them. Bart had a pistol in his belt. Each one had something, if it were nothing better than a case-knife. But the centre of all eyes was the flag. This Bart had generously handed over to Bruce Rawdon, who was the Most Venerable Patriarch for the month of May. As the wind caught it and unfolded it before the astonished eyes of the other boys, the skeleton head grinned benignantly at them from his airy home, and a loud shout of admiration burst forth from all.

Solomon cracked his whip. The procession started. The noise, the laughter, and the joking were wonderful. Heads appeared at all the windows of the house where the teachers lived. There were the laughing faces of Dr. Porter and his family; there was the wondering gaze of Mr. Simmons, the mathematical teacher; and there, at another window, the long, solemn physiognomy of Mr. Long, of the English department. Thus the procession went on, followed by all the boys, and the centre of admiring interest. It was a proud moment for the “B. O. W. C.”

In this fashion they went up the hill behind the Academy, and at length reached the woods. They passed several cavities in the ground which had once been cellars of the old Acadian houses. They passed through an orchard where the old, neglected apple trees still spoke of the Acadian farmer who had planted them and cleared the forest around.

The road entered the woods, and they went along for some distance. At last, in the midst of the woods they turned aside to the left, and after a hundred yards or so they stopped, and the cart was unloaded.

At this place there was a steep descent on the right through the thick woods. Down this the “B. O. W. C.” carried the articles which they had brought. On reaching the bottom, they emerged into a space clear of trees, where a brook ran babbling on. About twenty yards up, a dam had been built, and a pond of water formed, at one end of which was a large camp made of spruce and fir. Shut in among the woods, with the little pond in front of it, and the brook babbling behind it, it formed as secluded a place as could be desired. This spot was once the hiding-place of Bart during his second flight, and had ever since been a favorite resort of his. There were many camps and pleasant arbors through the woods, but the newly-made pond had given to this place the undoubted preeminence. It had all been done very secretly within a week, and all the other boys now saw it for the first time, and gave utterance to their feelings in low murmurs of surprise and admiration. But the “B. O. W. C.” had much to attend to. First of all, they had to carry down their provisions. Then they had to arrange them, and finally they had the most important duty of all to attend to, which was no less momentous a thing than hoisting their flag. Soon the moment came. A pole had been already prepared. The ropes were attached, the pole was nailed to a corner post of the camp, and the flag was hauled up to its place with loud cheers, in which all the other boys joined with the greatest vigor.

After this the “B. O. W. C.” flung themselves down and rested for a time. The other boys inspected the place closely, and questioned the owners of the camp as to their intention.

“Are you going to sleep here?”

“O, yes.”

“What’ll you sleep on?”

“Brush, of course.”

“And will you cook?”

“O, yes.”

“Have you a fireplace?”

“No, but we’re going to make one to-day.”

“What’ll you do if it rains?”

“Grin and bear it.”

“Pooh! You don’t mean to say that you’d stay here if you got wet through.”

“Wouldn’t we, though? You see.”

“Dr. Porter wouldn’t let you.”

“O, yes, he would. He always says it don’t hurt boys to get wet.”

“O, he means by day. He wouldn’t let you sleep here in a storm.”

“Why not? The camp is good enough.”

“Good enough? It can’t keep the rain off.”

“O, yes, it can.”

“You haven’t enough to eat here--have you?” asked others.

“Plenty.”

“Nonsense! It will all be gone before two days.”

“Well, can’t we easily get things? I’ve got a pistol, and mean to shoot hares and things.”

Bart proudly displayed his pistol, and the sight of this formidable arm silenced all controversy.

“Besides,” said Bart, proudly, “we’ve got a gun.”

“A gun!” repeated the others, in low tones. “Yes; we expect to be attacked.”

“Attacked? Who’d attack you?”

“O, the Gaspereaugians.”

(“The Gaspereaugians” was a name given by the boys to the inhabitants of Gaspereaux.)

“Do you think they will?”

“Of course; but if they try it, they’ll find us ready for them,” said Bart, fiercely. “We’ve hoisted our flag, and I’d like to see the Gaspereaugian that would dare to pull it down.”

“Well, if it comes to that, you’ve got us, you know. We’ll be on hand.”

“Of course,” said Bart, gravely. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do: we’ll send out scouts, and if we see any signs of an attack, we’ll let you know. I’ve got a trumpet here, and when I blow three times, you’ll be along to help. See.”

And Bart stepped back to a bundle, out of which he pulled a long tin horn, of the kind known among ‘longshoremen as “fog-horns.”

“But we won’t blow it till we’re hard up, you know,” he continued. “We’ll only blow it if they come in a great crowd, you know.”

“O, yes; of course.”

The boys now broke up into little knots, and proposed all sorts of plans. A mania for camping out set in strong among them all. The example of the “B. O. W. C.” in damming the stream was to be imitated at once. Each little knot of boys had places peculiar to themselves along the same stream, some of which were the work of predecessors, and had something like a history. After a time most of the boys went back for spades, pickaxes, shovels, axes, and whatever else might be needed for the great work of camp-building. The “B. O. W. C.” then turned their attention toward the completion, of their own camp. A fireplace had still to be built, and brush cut for beds. To this they devoted themselves very vigorously, and worked till about ten o’clock, when their labors were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of Dr. Porter and Mr. Simmons. They stood for some time looking with a smile at the busy scene, before they were noticed. As soon as the boys recognized their visitors, they came up laughing, eager to describe the beauties of their camp. Dr. Porter was much amused, particularly with the flag, which floated from the mast.

“Boys,” said he at length, after he had asked about everything, “I have come up to make you an offer.”

“An offer? What is it, sir?” cried they all.

“How would you like to give up, for the present, your bandit camp, take away all your provision, haul down your flag, and go away?”

“What, sir!” cried the boys in consternation, and a cloud of gloom passed over their-faces.

“How would you like me to charter a little schooner, fill it with provisions, turn the hold into a sleeping-place, and start off for a week’s cruise around the Basin of Minas, going ashore at the Five Islands, at Parrsboro’, at Blomidon, and at any other, place where we might wish? What do you say to that? Ah, ha!” cried the doctor, as he watched the changing faces of the boys, where the gloom had vanished instantly, and given place to the wildest delight. “Ah, ha! that suits you--does it! Well, that’s what I’ve come to propose.”

“O, Dr. Porter! Are you really in earnest? Do you mean it?--a schooner--a schooner?--a cruise round Minas Basin? O, good! good! good! Hurrah! Three cheers!”

A hundred incoherent shouts and words like these burst from the boys as they dashed about in wild and frantic delight, overwhelmed with joy at this proposal to all of them. It seemed a thing so glorious that nothing of which the mind could conceive was to be compared with it. A cruise round Minas Basin! What did not that involve? Adventures of a hundred kinds; drifting about in wild tides; getting lost in dense fogs; running ashore on wide mud flats, or on precipitous cliffs, or on the edge of perilous breakers; landing on lonely headlands, or on solitary islands; penetrating far forests; camping out in wildernesses; living pirate fashion in their own schooner, where all would be given up to them; shooting, fishing; hunting for gulls’ nests;--it meant not sham adventures, but real ones--with real dangers environing them instead of fancied ones. They could cease playing at Robbers, and play what to them seemed the nobler part of Pirates; the skull-and-cross-bones flag could adorn the schooner, and the fog-trumpet could sound forth amid the echoing cliffs of Blomidon. It meant anything and everything, and far more than even their vivid fancies could very well portray. To most boys the sea always promises more adventure than the land; there is always something of the joy of discovery in every new voyage, and so all these boys felt now; but to Bart, most of all, was the prospect most delightful; for he had already known to the full that longing for the sea which many boys have, and that which his father had prevented him from realizing, now seemed to come to him. In some respects this seemed to be better than the voyage which he had formerly dreamed of; for though it would not be long, yet it would be varied and eventful, and not free from danger. Best of all, it would be made in company with the other boys.

It was some time before the boys were able, in their excitement, to get any clear idea of what Dr. Porter was telling them. At length they learned that Mr. Simmons and Mr. Long wished to visit Blomidon and the Five Islands in search after minerals, with which the cliffs are filled. They had concluded to get a schooner, and take the larger boys with them. They expected to spend about a week, and take provisions sufficient for that time. Dr. Porter would not be able to go himself, but would intrust the boys to the care and the jurisdiction of Messrs. Simmons and Long. Such was the plan.

Moreover, the schooner was already engaged. It was the Antelope, Captain Corbet; and it was proposed to leave, if possible, that very afternoon, so as to be on the other side of the bay, or at least near Blomidon, by sundown. As it was then ten o’clock, there was no time to lose, but everything should be prepared at once, and taken on board the schooner. One thing only was insisted on by Dr. Porter; and that was, that they should take no firearms. Bart pleaded so hard for his little pistol, however, that the doctor let him keep it, and satisfied himself by making them leave the gun behind.

III.

_Another extraordinary Procession.--An eccentric Crew.--A flighty Shipper.--Wonderful Attachment of Captain, Corbet to his Offspring.--Stealing a Stone Fence, and raising the Black Flag._

SOON the woods were deserted. Twelve or fifteen boys were selected as worthy of the adventurous voyage, and these all made their preparations, while the smaller boys looked on with longing eyes. As for the “B. O. W. C.,” they had no preparations to make. They needed only to transfer their provisions and other things from the camp to the schooner. The teachers were to see about the bedding, &c. These boys therefore enlisted Old Solomon in their service, and packed their things once more in the same cart which had taken them to the camp; after which they waited to accompany the others to the schooner. All possible haste was made; and soon there started for the schooner a procession even more extraordinary than the one which had gone into the woods.

First of all went a huge hay-cart crammed with bedding; then followed a wagon filled with provisions; and after this the cart of the “B. O. W. C.,” driven by Solomon. Then followed the voyageurs in procession; and after these came the small boys, green with envy. Messrs. Simmons and Long walked modestly on the sidewalk, not caring to identify themselves with so odd a crowd.

In fact it was an odd crowd. First there was Solomon in full canonicals, then the “B. O. W. C.” in their red shirts and plumed caps, with axes and knives in their belts; and then followed their companions in the voyage, dressed more grotesquely still. All the old clothes that could be found were pressed into service for this occasion. Old pea-jackets, old “sou’-wester” hats, old coats denuded of skirts, jackets in a state of dilapidation, battered caps, shocking bad hats, which had not been on a human head for ever so long,--all were now brought into requisition, and formed an assemblage which was sufficient to drive an “Old Clo’” man wild with covetousness.

Now, as Homer, at the outset of his poem, enumerates the ships and chieftains, so will I complete the enumeration of the voyageurs in this adventurous expedition.

First, then, there came a little Irishman, who had accidentally dropped into the Academy, and had remained. His name was Michael Murphy, and consequently he was always called Pat, except when the boys called him Patsie,--for short, as they said. He wore an old sky-blue dress-coat, with three brass buttons still remaining, fastened around the waist with a red woollen comforter. A battered silk hat, with the top of the crown off, completed his costume.

With him came Peter Fraser, commonly known as Johnnie Blue, a thick-set, bullet-headed boy, full of obstinate, persevering courage, and dressed in a sailor’s pea-jacket, made to fit himself by the simple plan of cutting off the sleeves. He wore a sou’wester, and carried a sailor’s knife. In fact, his get-up was very remarkably nautical.

Then came David Digg, a tall, solemn, pale boy, very studious, with a taste for geology. He wore an old overcoat minus the tails, and a knitted yarn night-cap. David Digg was always called Bogud by the boys, from the fact that in one of the rules of the Latin Grammar they had learned that “David and Bogud are common.”

Then came George McLeod, whose name was facetiously contracted into Muckle. By some extraordinary means he had obtained possession of a soldier’s red coat, and produced an immense sensation.

Then came Jacob Wiggins, whose name was easily contracted into Jiggins, by which name alone he was known. He wore a red bandana handkerchief around his head, and was arrayed in a big gray homespun coat, which he had borrowed from a friendly farmer.

After these marched William MacNamara, known as Billymack, wearing a tail coat, long top boots, and a felt hat.

And last, there was George Henderson, who had gained the singular name of Sammy Bam Ram, which occurs in one of Dr. Bird’s novels, from some amusing incident in his school life. A very old jacket, a very ragged pair of trousers, and a hat on the extreme verge of decrepitude, formed his attire.

The chief harbor of Grand Pré now goes by the name of Mud Creek, and is one of the many examples which go to prove that the Anglo-Saxon, though superior to the Frenchman in colonizing a new country, is very far his inferior in giving names to the places which he may have colonized. At this place the party soon arrived, and looked for the vessel. To their surprise, they found her quite deserted, lying aground at a wharf. On going aboard, they found that no preparations whatever had been made.

“This is too bad!” cried Mr. Long, in tones of deep vexation. “Corbet promised to be here early, and have everything ready. I wonder what can have become of him.”

Saying this, he started off to try and find Captain Corbet. After about half an hour he returned.

“I’ll tell you what it is,” he said; “we can’t afford to wait. We _must_ begin right away and make our arrangements.”

“There’s no ballast on board,” said Mr. Simmons, who had been carefully inspecting the vessel, “and no floor in the hold.”

“What!” cried Mr. Long; and hurrying on board, he soon saw that such was indeed the case. He then stood for a time vexed and perplexed.

“Well, boys,” said he at length, “we must all get to work, so that we may be ready when Corbet does come. There’s a pile of stones over there which will do very well for ballast;” and he pointed to a stone wall which surrounded a garden close by the wharf. “Now come, boys,” he continued, “form a line from the stones to the schooner, and pass them all along from hand to hand.”

“But it’s Mr. Brown’s fence,” objected Mr. Simmons, who did not relish this infringement on the rights of another.

“O, Mr. Brown won’t mind!” was the reply.

“He knows me. Come, boys;” and Mr. Long, who was always rapid and energetic, soon formed the boys in line, and the stones were speedily transferred from hand to hand.

“Mr. Simmons,” said Mr. Long, after a time, “I think I’ll go and get some boards.” And saying this, he hurried away, leaving the others hard at work, and expecting the absent Corbet. The boys worked with a will; and even the smaller ones, who were to have no part in the voyage, formed another line, and passed on the smaller stones. At the end of two hours the vessel was considered by Mr. Simmons to have sufficient ballast, the garden wall had vanished, and the boys stood waiting, with blistered hands, for Captain Corbet.

While they were waiting, Mr. Long once more appeared.

“What! hasn’t Corbet come yet?” he cried.

“No.”

Mr. Long looked around in despair.

“I’ve had to go three miles for the boards,” said he. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. Everything is against us to-day. We’ve got to work hard yet, or we won’t get off. Mr. Simmons, would you be kind enough to go and see if you can find Corbet in the village? and I’ll go down into the hold to lay the flooring.”

Off went Mr. Simmons, and down went Mr. Long into the hold. The wagon soon arrived with the boards, which were passed down to him, and speedily laid over the ballast. Thanks to his skill and energy, the floor was soon made. Then the boys set to work throwing down the bedding, and arranging the trunks and baskets. There was not much time, however, for any arrangements. The things lay in a confused heap, with a busy crowd laboring to reduce them to order.

At the end of about half an hour Mr. Simmons returned, shaking his head. He had not found Captain Corbet. Things began to look desperate. It was now high tide, and high time for leaving. Time and tide, which wait for no man, were not going to wait for Captain Corbet.

There was the Antelope all ready. She was not much of a vessel, it is true. She resembled a wash-tub in many important points. She looked leaky. She smelled strong of potatoes; and rightly so, for that important vegetable formed her invariable cargo. The name Antelope was a delightful jest. Her chains were deeply eaten with rust; her cordage and rigging had a time-worn appearance. A venerable air of decay rested about her. Yet still, in spite of all, there she was, and a dozen eager young hearts were burning to embark in her, and be away before the tide should fall.

At last Mr. Long started off, in company with Mr. Simmons, to hunt up Captain Corbet, or some other man who might go in his place. The boys stood about the wharf waiting impatiently for their return.

Mr. Long and his companion hurried to the village inn, and found out that Captain Corbet lived three miles away. So they borrowed a horse and wagon, and drove off as fast as possible to the house. Arriving there, they entered, and beheld a scene which so overpowered Mr. Long that for a time he could not speak.

For there in his kitchen, in a high-backed chair, in front of his own hearth-stone,--there sat the identical Captain Corbet for whom so many had been waiting so long. He held an infant in his manly arms, he was gently tilting his chair to and fro, and tenderly feeding his prattling innocent with a spoon. So intent was he upon his tender task, that he did not hear the entrance of his excited pursuers.

“Captain Corbet!”

The tone in which Mr. Long spoke cannot possibly be represented in print; or at any rate to do so would require more notes of admiration than are usually found in any common printing office. The tone will have to be imagined. Suffice it to say, that Captain Corbet dropped the spoon,--almost dropped the baby also,--and started to his feet as though he had been stirred up by a galvanic shock administered full on the ganglionic centres.