Part 9

“We’ll start off at once, then,” said Mr. Long. “These boys can wait here till We come back. I hope we won’t need to trouble your good nature long, Captain Pratt.”

“Trouble! Why, sir, it’s the greatest pleasure I have to see a strange face here occasionally.” After a few words of warning and good advice to the boys who were to remain, Mr. Long, together with Mr. Simmons, went with Captain Pratt, while Captain Corbet, with Bogud and Billymack, followed after them. The party of six set out in the direction of the headland mentioned by Captain Pratt, while the five boys who remained sauntered down slowly to the shore, where were the boxes and baskets which had been landed there on the evening of the arrival at the cove.

The boys felt the hours hang heavily upon their hands. The absence of their companions made them all feel dull; the fare at Captain Pratt’s had grown distasteful, for pork and Indian meal and molasses are things that are sometimes not wonderfully attractive to the youthful taste. So these things palled; and when, at twelve o’clock, they were summoned to dinner by amiable Mrs. Pratt, she found that they had lost their appetites--a thing which she attributed to their grief about their lost companions; and so she set to work to condole with them and comfort them. After escaping from this kind-hearted old lady, they went down to the point again, and watched the water as it flowed in. Captain Pratt and his companions had not comeback, and they were prepared for a long absence on his part. The thought made them more disconsolate.,

“What can we do?” said Sammy.

“We’ll starve,” said Johnny Blue.

“We’ll have to do something,” said Jiggins, who was a very grave, earnest boy, and always spoke in a very grave, earnest manner.

“Well, what?”

“For my part,” said Jiggins, “I’ll go fishing. Who’ll come with me?”

“I will,” said Muckle.

“And I,” said Johnny Blue.

“I don’t think there’s any chance,” said Pat; “so I’ll stay here and fish for ails in the mud.”

Pat could never get rid of “a taste of the brogue,” which clung to him, and proclaimed his nationality.

Sammy showed no inclination to move; so the three went fishing, leaving him and Pat behind.

Pat then went into the woods and cut a long fishing-pole, after which he went fishing for “ails.” He had no success, but kept at it bravely for more than an hour, unwilling to give up. At last his patience was worn out, and he returned to the point. On his arrival there, Sammy was not to be seen.

Pat seated himself disconsolately on the shore, and watched the tide, which was now running out, for some time. Then his roving eyes were attracted by the baskets and trunks. To these he directed his steps, in the hope that something might be found there with which he could satisfy the cravings of his appetite.

He found most of the trunks empty. Some of the baskets were filled with plates, others with cups and saucers, others with knives, forks, and spoons. All these excited his disgust to an unmeasured degree. In one of them he found a ham-bone, the remainder of their last repast on the shore. This had nothing on it whatever--a fact which excited such indignation in Pat that he flung it into the water.

At last he came to the baskets containing the minerals. Opening these, he found a large number of parcels inside. Hoping that these would afford something eatable, he opened one or two of them, but found, to his unspeakable disgust, that they contained nothing but stones.

Pat was a very original character, who had drifted, by some extraordinary chance, into the school. With a very strong desire to get an “edication,” he had come there and begged Dr. Porter to admit him, offering to pay his way by working.-Dr. Porter found that the Irish boy had already learned a good deal, and that he had an exceedingly strong desire to be taught more. He could read and write well; and so earnest were his entreaties, that the kind-hearted doctor consented to admit him. His industry and application soon gained the good will of the teachers; while his flow of good spirits, his oddities and whims, made him popular among the boys. In many respects he was intensely ignorant, and had not been long enough at the school to acquire anything like the general information which the rest of the boys possessed. At first they had wondered or laughed at his blunders; but afterward Pat had been more cautious about expressing his opinions on anything, and thus, by exhibiting his ignorance less, was supposed to have surmounted it. Taking him all together, he was a very remarkable boy, and promised, in time, to surpass many of his companions.

At present, however, he was far inferior to them all. He had been asked to go on the trip of the Antelope from a very kindly desire to give him all the advantages possible. He had not the remotest idea what the real purpose of the trip was, but supposed it to be a kind of pleasure party. It is true he saw Messrs. Simmons and Long hammering, rocks; but with his usual caution about committing himself and exposing his ignorance, he had not asked anything about it, nor had he looked at their work. While they were hammering rocks, he was climbing them, or running about the beach. He had not noticed the baskets, but supposed them to be full of provisions; nor had he seen Messrs. Simmons and Long in their tender tare of their specimens after landing on this place. The stones, then, which Pat discovered, wrapped in paper, were utterly unintelligible to him, and the sight of them only seemed to cap the climax of the indignation which was growing in his breast.

“Well! well well!” he exclaimed, as he looked at each stone on taking it from the paper. “What’s this? A stone--a muddy stone! By the powers, but isn’t this like a boy askin’ for bread, and gettin’ a stone.”

In fact it was no better than a dirty stone in Pat’s eyes. Two very beautiful specimens of moss agate they were; but it would need grinding and polishing to bring out these peculiar beauties. As yet they were concealed.

Another and another paper was opened. One contained a white stone, like quartz, enclosing some amethysts; another a piece of sandstone, with peculiar marks on it, very highly prized by Mr. Simmons. These Pat threw on the ground with great indignation. Then he took the rest out without opening them, knowing by the touch and the weight of them what they were. He had a strong hope that something eatable might yet be in the bottom of the basket; but at last all was empty, and there was nothing to eat.

His indignation could no longer be repressed. He had a vague idea that some one had done this so as to play a trick on him, and this thought only heightened his passion. So, without thinking of anything but his own wrongs, he seized the unoffending stones by handfuls, and angrily threw them over the bank into the water. Then he sat down gloomily, and tried to conjecture which of the boys it had been who had wrapped all those stones in paper for the sake of tricking him. At first his impulse was to go around among them fiercely and inquire; but at length, from fear of being laughed at, he decided to say nothing about it, but wait and see what would turn up.

He was roused from his reverie by a touch on the shoulder.

He started hastily, and saw Johnny Blue, looking very mysterious, with something under his jacket.

“Hallo! Where, are-the others?” said Pat. “Couldn’t you catch anything?”

“The others are up the brook, fishing. I caught _something_,” said Johnny, with a more mysterious look than ever.

“What is it? What, have you got under your arm?”

“See,” said Johnny, triumphantly; and lifting his jacket, he displayed, to Pat’s astonished gaze, the form of a duck.

“A duck!” cried Pat, with a shout. “Where did you get it?”

“H-s-s-s-s-h!” said Johnny, warningly. “I caught it.”

“Caught it?”

“Yes, with a fish-hook. I trailed the hook, baited with a bit of bread, and the duck bit--and here he is.”

“We’ll cook him!” cried Pat.

“That’s it; but we’d better get away where they won’t see us.”

“Sure nobody ‘ll see us here, at all, at all.”

“Won’t they?”

“Surely no. There’s lots of wood here, an’ I’ll start the fire in a jiffy. Come along. Hurroo, boys!”

So Pat and Johnny set the fire going, and then they picked the duck,---which was previously killed, of course,--and they had him all ready to lay on the coals, when suddenly, their attention was arrested by a low, muffled, piteous squeal close by them behind the wood-pile.

“H-s-s-s-s-h!” said Johnnie.

“Botheration!” said Pat, hiding the duck under a log of wood.

“What is it?” said Johnnie.

“Sure it’s a pig--that’s what it is,” said Pat.

A rustle was heard now in the bushes, and then Sammy walked out from behind the wood-pile. His face had a bright expression of satisfaction, and he, too, had something under his arm.

“It’s another duck!” said Pat, with a wild laugh.

“Sammy’s been out fishin’, too,” and he went off into a peal of laughter.

“Stop your noise,” said Sammy. “I thought you were somebody else, and that’s why I had to come through the trees, and behind the wood-pile.”

“Is it a duck ye’ve got, thin?” asked Pat. “Sure, haven’t we one oursilves?”

Sammy said nothing, but drawing his jacket aside, showed the little white head and twinkling eyes of a pig of very small size--a roaster, in fact, in excellent condition.

“It’s a pig ye’ve got. Didn’t I know the squale of it? Didn’t I say it was? It’s me that knows the voice of a pig. Hurroo, boys! we’re goin’ to have a banquet, so we are. Where did ye get it, thin, Sammy, jewel?”

“Don’t talk so loud,” said Sammy, looking cautiously all around. “They’ll hear you.”

“It’s mum I’ll be, thin. But where did ye get it, darlin’?” said Pat, in a soft, coaxing whisper.

“Up there.”

“Where? Pratt’s?”

“No.”

“Where thin?”

“O, never mind. It wasn’t near any house. It was in a field. There were a dozen of them; and I was so hungry I couldn’t help it.”

“Faith, thin we may as well have the young roaster as the old pork,” said Pat. “Ye’re well here. We’re in luck this day. See here.”

And he pulled out the duck and showed it to Sammy.

“How nicely you’ve picked it and fixed it!” said he. “I wish we could manage the pig. I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Many’s the pig I’ve kilt,” said Pat, loftily.

“Have you then? And will you do this one?”

“Will I do it? Faith, it’s me that will,” said Pat. “But won’t he squeal?”

“Squale is it? Not a squale you’ll hear.”

On this Sammy handed the pig to Pat, who disappeared with it among the bushes. No sound was heard; but after a short absence Pat returned in triumph, having accomplished his object.

“And now we’ll have two roasts, instead of one.” Driving two forked sticks into the ground, he made another with a sharp point, and ran it through the duck and the pig; then he laid the stick with its burden upon the two forked sticks, and knelt down by the fire.

“The coals are just right,” said Pat. “I’ll sit here an’ give it a turrun till I’m tired, an’ thin ye’ll relave me.” So he kept on turning the spit, and soon a rich aromatic fragrance filled the air.

“Isn’t there any salt?” asked Pat, after a time.

“Of course,” said Johnny; “and there’s pepper too. I’ll get the castors.”

“Do, thin, and quick too,” said Pat.

The castors were soon forthcoming, and Pat sprinkled a little salt and pepper over the roaster and the duck.

“That’s the way,” said he, “to bring out the full fleevour.”

At length they were done, and taken off the fire. The plates, knives and forks, upon which Pat had looked so contemptuously shortly before, were now brought forth. A pleasant place was found in a secluded spot, and here they sat down to dine.

They had scarcely begun when footsteps were heard. Pat went out to reconnoitre.

It was Jiggins and Muckle.

“Have ye caught any fish?” was his first address to them.

“No,” said they in a discontented tone; “and we’re starving.”

“Is it starvin’ ye are? Thin will ye just step in here, for we’ve got the most illegant dinner ye ever sot eyes on.” And saying this he led them to the little secluded nook, where the table was spread on the grass.

At six o’clock they went up to tea, and Mrs. Pratt sympathized deeply with the poor boys, who had lost their appetites from anxiety.

XIII.

_Adrift.--Skilful Navigators.--Breakers ahead.--A narrow Scratch.--Stuck in the Mud._

LET us now return to the unfortunate “B. O. W. C.” who had met so unexpectedly with another adventure.

On going on board of the schooner, they found the water low; and the tide had just begun to float her in rising. As they had slept but little the preceding night, they retired almost immediately, and soon were buried in a profound slumber. The next morning Phil was awake first. He went up on deck, and the next instant gave a loud cry.

“Hallo, boys!” he cried. “Get up! We’re adrift. Hurry up--quick!”

Awaking instantly at this startling news, they tumbled up on deck without a moment’s delay; and there, true enough, they found themselves far out in the bay, adrift, apparently, as Phil had said.

“This is queer,” said Bruce. “Here’s her anchor down, as usual.”

The others walked to the bows where Bruce was, and saw the chain hanging down, just as though she were anchored.

“We are anchored, sure enough,” said Arthur.

“No, we’re not; we’re drifting,” said Bart.

“Look at the land.”

A look at the land satisfied all that the vessel was actually moving through the water.

“Let’s try the anchor. It must be dragging,” said Bart.

So they all went to work at the windlass, and in course of time found the anchor raised. As they worked, they found it lighter than they expected; and when at length they had ended, they ran to the bows. All was explained. The anchor was broken off short at the fluke.

“That’s how it happened,” said Bart. “And so we’re in for another adventure.”

“What shall we do now?”

“Sail the vessel, of course,” said Bruce.

“Where to?”

“Back to Pratt’s Cove.”

“And where is that?”

No one could answer that. Each one looked around carefully, in order to see if he could find any place which looked like Pratt’s Cove. But there were two difficulties in the way of any such discovery. In the first place, they had approached Pratt’s Cove in the dark, and did not know how it looked; and in the second place, they could not see any spot that looked like a cove at all.

All around them was the bay. Before them was the Parrsboro’ shore. Behind them was Blomidon. On one side, and a little in front, were the Five Islands about six miles distant; beyond which the waters of the bay extended, till they faded away into a low, indistinct lino of coast. They could understand, in a general way, that Pratt’s Cove lay somewhere in front of them, but they could not guess within twenty miles of the place.

“Let’s up sail,” said Tom, “and run up there. It looks like a cove;” and he pointed to a hollow in the line of hills.

“O, the hills around Pratt’s Cove are higher than that,” said Bruce.

“Suppose we sail over and ask O’Rafferty.”

“Very well. I agree to that,” said Bart. “Bruce, you can steer.”

“No. You may as well steer,” said Bruce.

“I don’t particularly care about it,” said Bart. “Don’t any of you fellows want to?”

“O, no. We don’t care. You steer, Bart. We’ll hoist the sails.”

So Bart turned away with rather a blank expression on his face, and walked slowly to the rudder. The wind was moderate, and the water only a little ruffled. The other boys, with immense confusion and shouting, toiled away at the sails one after the other, and at last managed to get them set.

“Perhaps we’d better not have the foresail up,” suggested Bart.

“O, yes. Why not?” said Bruce. “Come, boys--up she rises!”

And shouting out a sailor’s song which he had once heard, he completed his work.

The vessel moved gently through the water, and Bart pointed her head towards the island which he considered to be O’Rafferty’s. The wind was fair, and the vessel came around very easily, and then headed away for the island.

Now, it happened that, as Bart belonged to a seaport town, and as his father was a merchant, and as Bart himself had once experienced a sea fever, and had been almost on the point of running away to sea,--he had, very naturally, been always regarded among his companions as a great authority on all matters connected with seamanship. And so, to a certain extent, he was. He knew all about the rigging of a ship, and understood, in a general way, the principles on which she sailed. He was also a good oarsman; but in point of fact, he had never handled a sail-boat in his life. This was owing to his father’s prudence, who allowed him to go out rowing whenever he pleased, but never permitted him to have a sail-boat. And so it happened that Bart knew no more about sailing than any one on board.

However, there was no help for it; and he had to take the tiller and assume the responsibility of the situation. After a time he began to gain confidence. The wind was moderate, the schooner was going in a straight course, and O’Rafferty’s Island was full before him.

They went on for a long time, when at length Bruce exclaimed,--

“Well, I don’t see how it is. We’ve been going to O’Rafferty’s for full half an hour, and we are no nearer. And here we are, with Pinnacle Island coming between us.”

“It’s the currents,” said Bart, coolly. “Nobody can sail in this bay, unless he understands all about them. I’m sure I don’t.”

“Hadn’t we better bring her about, and stand off on the other tack? We could then steer so as to make allowance for the current, which seems to be setting off there.”

“Here, Bruce, you steer,” said Bart. “I’m tired.”

“O, well, let’s bring her around first. Port your helm, Bart.”

Bart tried to obey; but as he turned the helm in exactly the opposite way, some confusion was the result.

“Port! I said port!” cried Bruce.

“O!” said Bart; and seeing that he had made a mistake, he proceeded to rectify it by turning it starboard. The vessel had turned partly; but as Bruce had expected it to turn in the opposite direction, he had checked Bart’s mistake. But Bruce himself knew as little about sailing as Bart, and so he had swung the sails the wrong way.

The vessel caught the wind as she came round; and Bart, who had tried to obey Bruce’s correction, finding that the vessel was all right, and was doing very well, checked himself, and let her go. Bart now saw that Bruce had made a mistake, and Bruce suspected that Bart had. But they said nothing, and the other boys thought that both Bruce and Bart were first-rate navigators.

The schooner now held on straight ahead on what Bart supposed to be the other tack. Bruce and the others were very well satisfied with the proceedings.

“I think we’d better come round again, Bart,” said Bruce.

“Very well,” said Bart, who had been looking forward to this.

“Port your helm, then,” said Bruce.

Bart turned the helm a-starboard, as he had done before, while Bruce and Arthur swung the booms to assist the vessel. She came round that time all right.

“Why, Bart! why didn’t you port the helm?”

“Because I had to put the helm starboard to bring her round. It’s all right.”

Bruce looked grave. He felt that he had committed a blunder. After all, which was port and which was starboard he hardly knew. He concluded after this to intrust the care of the vessel to one who knew, like Bart, and felt quite grateful to Bart for his delicacy in not exposing his ignorance.

Away went the schooner--faster this time, for the wind had sprung up fresher. This was what Bart dreaded. But there was no help for it; so he kept on, with a vague expectation of some disaster. He now headed, as before, for O’Rafferty’s Island, and watched very anxiously to see how they were progressing.

“You’d better head her a little to the north’ard, Bart,” said Arthur--“hadn’t you? so as to allow for that current.”

“Very well,” said Bart; and he put the vessel a little closer in the direction indicated.

But in doing so, the vessel began to stagger, and the sails began to flap and rattle, and Bart was filled with consternation. Hastily he restored the helm to its former position, but without any result. Then he tried the old manouvre, by means of which he had already turned her twice. It was of no use. The sails flapped, and the vessel danced, and Bart was about confessing his complete ignorance of everything, when suddenly her sails filled again, and to Bart’s amazement and delight she sailed off away from the island and back on the other tack.

Bart’s heart was full of thankfulness, but he said not a word. He looked ahead as coolly as possible, and held the tiller as before.

“Well, Bart, what are you up to now? Why don’t you head for O’Rafferty’s?”

“Can’t,” said Bart, laconically.

“Why not?”

“Why, there are tides and currents about those islands enough to sweep away a line-of-battle ship. I don’t understand them. Didn’t you see what a scrape I got into just now? I won’t try O’Rafferty’s again in a hurry; but if any of you fellows choose to try it, I don’t care.”

“O, no,” said Bruce, “we can’t do it if you can’t, Bart. But where are you going now?”

“Well, I don’t know. We must make up our minds. I’m keeping my eye on the coast; and if I can find any place that looks like Pratt’s Cove, I’ll run in. The fact is, we must do something, or they’ll be frightened out of their wits about us.”

“Pratt’s Cove? But how can we ever find the place?”

“Perhaps, when we get in a little closer to the land, we may see it.”

“I’m confident,” said Bart, “that it’s somewhere along this coast; for it seems to me, as near as I can remember, that this is the coast we sailed to. Look at the Five Islands. There’s O’Rafferty’s; and there are the others. You see we came out from this side of O’Rafferty’s, and then sailed up somewhere along there. I think, when we get nearer, we’ll see an opening; and perhaps we’ll hit the cove itself.”

The others seemed impressed by Bart’s words; and as none of them had anything better to suggest, they said nothing.

And now the wind blew still more freshly, and Bart looked around with dismay. On went the schooner; but the long line of coast showed no opening whatever, and he had no idea what to do to extricate himself from the position in which he was. What made it worse was the confidence which all now felt in him.. He felt that the end would come--the moment when he would stand revealed in his true colors, and lose his prestige forever.

More freshly still blew the wind, and the sea around rose higher, tossing up now into white-capped waves, which every little while dashed over the bows and scattered their spray about the decks. Yielding to the wind, the vessel lay over; and on she scudded, dashing through the water in a style which excited all on board, and intoxicated them with delight.

“Hurrah!” cried Bruce. “Boys, isn’t this glorious?”

“Glorious!” cried the boys; and some of them swung by their hands from the rigging, and others danced about the deck, shouting as each wave came splashing over the bows, and roaring with laughter when any one got a ducking.

Hurrah! and Hurrah again!--and yet again! Their wild mirth only added new anguish to the dismay of poor Bart, who found himself now face to face with an inextricable problem.