The "B. O. W. C.": A Book For Boys / Illustrated

VIII.

Blue Sky.—Building a House.—The Signal Staff.—A fatal Disgust.—Mournful Forebodings.

EARLY the next morning the boys were all up, quite refreshed, in spite of their unaccustomed beds. They gathered the embers of the fire together, and heaping on fresh fuel, started it into a blaze. Then they proceeded to secure a breakfast. This could not be immediately attended to, however, for the tide was not at its lowest ebb, and it was necessary to wait for two or three hours. Enough shell-fish remained to stay their appetites till something better could be procured.

To their great joy, they saw that the fog had all gone. A warm, fresh breeze was blowing, the sky was clear and cloudless, and the sun rose brilliantly, casting his dazzling rays in a radiant flood of lustre across the sea. If there had been any feeling of discontent, it would have been dispelled by the grandeur of the scene.

Some eight or ten miles away they saw the main land. Far away, on the other side of the bay, they saw a line of hills, terminating in the familiar form of Blomidon, while, looking along the beach, they saw lying beyond this island the one on which they had landed the day before. They now knew that they had drifted past that, and had gone ashore on the adjoining one, and they could understand the whole of that course which they had made blindly through the fog. It was with much eagerness that they looked around for the schooner. But they saw no traces of her whatever. The place where she had anchored was plainly discernible, but she had gone. It was not difficult to know the reason of this, since it was the very thing which they expected would happen. But where was the schooner now? Which way had she gone? When would she return? How could those on board possibly find them out? All these were questions which it was not easy to answer.

While waiting for the tide to fall, they wandered up the banks in order to select some place suitable for a camp. It was not long before they settled on a spot which seemed very suitable. Near where they had built the fire, the cliff ended, and the side of the island became a wooded slope. About fifty feet above the fire, there was a broad, open platform, free from trees and covered with moss. Walking on beyond this, they ascended to the edge of the cliff, where it stood up two hundred feet above the shore. Here grew a solitary tree about fifty feet high, and very conspicuous from its situation. Around it the rock was uncovered in places.

The discovery of these places filled them with delight. They had already decided to build a camp, and the platform first mentioned seemed to all to be very suitable.

“But we must find a spring somewhere,” said Bruce, who, after his night’s rest, declared himself as well as ever.

“So we must,” said Bart. “Boys, let some of us hunt up a spring.”

Off they went in different directions, and soon every one was shouting out a discovery of water. In fact, in that damp and well-watered country, springs can easily be found on every hill-side. The nearest one was the best, and by breaking away some of the earth and digging a hole with a stone in the clay of the bank, a well was rudely formed, which was suitable for all immediate needs.

By the time they had finished these explorations, the tide was sufficiently low to admit of a search for their breakfast. All the boys went off, since all were equally interested. The search was perfectly successful, resulting in the capture of thirteen lobsters and a great quantity of shrimps. Bringing back their prey in triumph, they heated a large number of stones and cooked all the lobsters together, partly for the sake of keeping them better, and partly that they might have a good supply of ready-cooked provisions on hand.

“Do you know, boys,” said Phil Kennedy, as they sat at breakfast, “I’ve got an idea?”

“Good for you. What is it?”

“Why, we ought to have a signal.”

“That’s true.”

“Well, my plan is to have a signal up there,” said Phil, pointing to the solitary tree on the top of the cliff.

“How can you manage it?”

“Why, turn that tree into a flag-staff by cutting off the branches., I can climb it, and if I can have the hatchet for a little-while, I’ll promise to get every branch off.”

“Well, now, Phil,” said Bruce, “I call that a first-rate idea. But where will you get a flag?”

“I’ll fasten my red shirt on.”

“Hurrah!” cried all, clapping Phil on the back. “Phil, you’re a genius.”

“Talking about signals,” said Tom Crawford, “a flag won’t be enough. We want something for nights and for foggy days. We ought to build a heap of dry brush and kindling, and be ready to light it at a moment’s notice. Perhaps it would be too much trouble to keep it going all night.”

“Yes; it would,” said Bruce. “The best thing would be to have a pile ready to light. But the first thing to do is to build our camp, and we’ll have lots of brush ready for the pile. Phil can have the hatchet to trim the tree after we have cut the poles and things for the camp.”

“What kind of a camp shall we have?”

“A wigwam.”

“Where’ll we get the birch bark?”

“Explore the island.”

“That’ll take too much time. We want a camp to-day, and a camp we must have. The best way will be to build an ordinary one of poles and spruce brush, and after that is built, we can look about for birch bark.”

“And then I’ve got my oar to finish,” said Arthur, who had been working on it at intervals all the morning.

“Well,” said Bart, “suppose we go to work at the camp first. We’ll want something to fasten it with. If you like, I’ll go and hunt after some roots that I know of. They’ll do first rate for ropes.”

“All right; and we’ll go and cut the poles.”

Off they went, four of them after poles and brush, and Bart after roots for ropes. The hatchet served to cut the poles, and the knives to trim them. Four industrious boys, working diligently at this, soon laid low a large number of straight, slender maple trees and an immense quantity of fir branches. These they all dragged to that platform which they had selected as the site of their house, and then looked about to find the best situation for the temporary camp. As they expected to build a better one, they chose a place which would not interfere with any future operations. It was at the rear of the platform. Four trees grew there, at nearly equal distances, in the form of a square. They determined to adopt these trees as part of the frame of the camp, and use them as corner posts. Bart had succeeded in finding an immense quantity of long, flexible roots, some of which were sassafras roots, others the long roots of willow trees, and all very tough and strong. First of all, they laid four of their strongest poles from tree to tree, the rear pole being about eight feet high, and the front one five feet. The side poles sloped up from front to rear. There they stuck a large number of poles into the ground in front, on the sides and in the rear, about a foot apart, leaving space for a door and a window. Then they laid poles over the top crosswise, so as to form a good foundation for a roof. All these were firmly fastened, so that at last, when the frame was completed, it was as secure as though it had been nailed together; in fact, much more so.

So far, all had been well and successfully accomplished; but the next task was a more difficult one. This consisted in interweaving fir brush between the poles, so that they should be firm and strong. Beginning at the bottom, each bush was carefully inserted and pressed as closely down as possible. It was a tedious process; but the five industrious boys worked unweariedly, and at last had the satisfaction of seeing the rear and the right side completed. Then they concluded to rest for a while and dine.

Cold lobster and cold water were all the fare that they could command; but they ate with a good appetite, and greatly enjoyed the brief respite from their hard work. After this was over, they returned to their task, and at length completed the front and the left side.

Now the roof remained. This was the most difficult task of all. Three boys went on the roof, and two below handed up brush as fast as it was required. They began at the lower side in front, and inserted the brush so as to lie along the slope of the roof like thatch. The butt-end of each bush was inserted, and the brush ends projected. The flat branches of fir trees are of such a nature that they will lie very close to any surface on which they may be placed. These brushes were all placed in double layers; each upper row overlapped the lower one; and thus a roof was formed thick and close enough to turn any ordinary fall of rain, though, of course, it could not be expected to keep out the water in case of a prolonged storm. After the roof was all covered, the last brush at the upper edge was intertwined with others which were placed across them, and these again were all securely fastened to the poles below.

Then their spruce camp was finished, and was almost an exact counterpart of the one which they had built in the woods. They had done it well and quickly, for long practice in this work in their own woods had given them great skill in the construction of such buildings as these.

The last thing to attend to was the beds. All the brush that remained was brought inside and laid lengthwise at-the rear of the camp. Then they went into the woods, and gathered an immense quantity of dry, soft moss, which they spread over the spruce brush. In this way they formed a bed large enough for the whole party, as soft as a hair mattress, and as good as anything can be for the repose of a weary frame.

This completed their work, and it was not yet sundown. They had worked nobly; and when they stood out on the platform, and regarded their handiwork, their delight burst forth in ringing cheers.

And now Phil claimed the hatchet, so as to carry out his cherished purpose of forming a signal staff. The others all went up to watch him at his work. Phil climbed up without any difficulty, and began at the upper branches, cutting away on a level with his waist, and using the lower ones to stand on. Phil was skilful with his hatchet; the branches were not large, and came tumbling down, beneath his strokes, with great rapidity. These the boys below gathered together, and heaped up in a pile, at a sufficient distance off to burn without injury to the signal staff, and yet in such a situation that any flame would be conspicuous to those on the sea. The work was soon accomplished; the last branch fell, and Phil descended to the ground. Where the tree had lately been there now arose a tall staff, naked, and ready to bear at its summit a red shirt, a pair of trousers, or anything else which the fancy of Phil might suggest as suitable to the place and the occasion.

Meanwhile Arthur had gone to the beach, and returned with an armful of shavings and choppings from the wood which he had been trying to fashion into an oar. They were dry and fine, and were intended to serve as kindling whenever the time might come for kindling the signal fire.

And now one thing more remained to be done. They had decided to have their fire on the platform in front of the camp—a place which was greatly superior to the beach for such a purpose, and which also would give them the advantage of a warm fire on a cool evening and a light close by their dwelling-place. So they went out to collect drift-wood, and carried up a large quantity to the place. Good stones were also selected for cooking purposes, and the cold lobsters were carefully brought from the beach, and deposited in the camp. But the labor of carrying the drift-wood up the steep bank showed them that it would be as well not to be too lavish with their fuel. In order to have the cheerfulness of brilliant light along with the gratefulness of warmth, they cut a quantity of brush, which they intended to throw on the fire from time to time. Thus, with a comfortable camp, and soft beds of moss, and plenty of fuel, and a pleasant fire, with food and drink, with fine weather and a charming view, the “B. O. W. C.” might be considered as tolerably happy.

And so they would have been, if it had not been for one thing—a thing which revealed itself to them during their evening repast, and soon threw a gloom over their prospects.

It was dark; the fire was lighted, and threw out a cheerful glow; the cold lobster was brought out, and the boys began to partake. For some time nothing was said. At last, the silence was broken by Bart. He had been twisting a leg of the lobster fastidiously in his fingers, and nibbling little morsels of it, in a way which did not look very much like the fashion of a hungry boy who had done a good day’s work, when suddenly he flung the lobster’s leg into the fire.

“I can’t stand the abominable stuff any longer,” he cried.

“Neither can I,” said Bruce.

“Nor I”—“Nor I”—“Nor I”—said all the others; and the fragments of the lobster were all contemptuously thrown away.

“What are we going to do about it?” asked Tom Crawford, mournfully.

“I wouldn’t care if there was even a raw potato,” said Bart, “or a mouldy ship-biscuit, or an old dried turnip, or a bit of pork, or anything else to eat with it so as to take off the edge of it; but to eat nothing else but this everlasting lobster, lobster, lobster, is more than I can stand.”

“Tea last night,” said Tom Crawford, dolefully, “lobster. Breakfast this morning, lobster. During the morning I felt hollow—lobster. At dinner, lobster. For my part, I’ve had enough of it.”

“What can we do?”

“I’m tired of shrimps.”

“Bother shrimps.”

“O for a good slice of bread and butter!”

“Or a good mealy potato!”

“Or a beefsteak!”

“Or crackers and cheese!”

“What are we going to do? We’ll have to eat lobster, or starve.”

“I feel,” said Phil, “that I’m growing to be a lobster myself; my skin is turning quite hard.”

“I’m beginning to lose faith in desert islands,” said Arthur.

“Yes,—they’re a failure.”

“But how do we know?” said Bart. “We haven’t explored yet. We don’t know half of what may be on the island.”

“We know pretty well what there is,” said Bruce. “Spruce trees, maple trees, moss, and rocks,—that’s about all.”

“Unfortunately, it isn’t a South Sea island, and so we can’t expect to pull cocoa-nuts from the trees, or have bread-fruit for our breakfasts. There are no mangoes, no bananas, no oranges, no grapes, no nothing, unless we choose to eat bark and fir cones.”

“The next time we try a desert island, boys, I move that we make tracks for the Pacific Ocean,” said Arthur.

“I second that motion,” cried Phil.

“It’s rather odd,” said Bart, “that all of us should get tired of lobster at the same time.”

“It would be odder yet,” said Tom, “if any of us had been able to stand it any longer.”

“That’s about the thing,” said Bruce. “And so the question remains yet,” said Arthur, “What are we going to do?”

No one answered. They all sat looking at the fire. Phil seized some brush and flung it on; the flames caught it, and crackled through it, and dashed up fiercely and brightly, lighting up five very hungry, very tired, and very discontented faces.

“Hurrah!” cried Bart at last, starting to his feet. “Hurrah! I have it!”

“What’s that?”

“Gulls’ eggs!” said Bart.

“Not bad,” said Bruce. “At any rate we can try it. Perhaps we may find some young gulls. They eat young rooks in England; why shouldn’t young gulls be good?”

“We’ll try it to-morrow,” said Tom.

“At any rate,” said Bart, “it all comes to this. We must explore the island. I’ve got my pistol. Who knows what may turn up. We may come across lots of rabbits, or, at any rate, wild fowl. Come, now, things are not so bad after all. Tomorrow will show us what the chances are for our dinner table.”

This was now the only consolation they had. The lobsters had grown abhorrent, and they could not think of touching them any more. Hungry as they were after all their hard work, they threw aside the only food that they could get. They were compelled to go supperless to bed, and there dream of more agreeable food. Fortunately, though they could not eat, they could sleep; and soon all were wandering far away in the land of Nod.

IX.

Exploring.—A wild Walk.—On the Lookout for Prey.—What is it?—Is it a wild Goose?—Tremendous Sensation, the Explorers being as much astounded as Robinson Crusoe was when he discovered the human Footprints in the Sand.

ON the following morning, all were up by daybreak, and Bruce could think of nothing but gulls’ eggs. In the desperate extremity of hunger to which they were reduced through their dislike to lobsters, they determined to make a search along the cliffs for nests. They walked along, and at length came to a place where some nests had been built. They found a large number of eggs here, and appropriated them all. On cooking them, they found them of a peculiar flavor, yet eatable, and they congratulated themselves on their good luck.

They now determined to put into execution their cherished plan of exploring the island. One was to stay behind to attend to the signal, and lots were drawn to see who it would be. It fell on Phil, who at once accepted his task with great cheerfulness, and informed them that he would make an omelet on a hot stone. In this pleasing occupation they left him, and went into the woods.

They found the woods here precisely like those of the other island. Fir, and spruce, and maple grew densely together, and beneath all there was a thick underbrush, with fallen trees, and ferns, and moss. Progress, under such circumstances, was exceedingly difficult; but they knew that the island was quite small, and so they kept on their way. The grounds continually ascended for a long distance, and this, of course, added somewhat to the difficulty of the journey; but at last the ascent ceased, and they knew that they were on the summit of the island. Nothing could be seen, however. So thick was the forest, that it shut out all the view; nor was it of any use to climb a tree, ‘for all were of nearly equal size, and if they were to climb up as far as they could, they would only find the view obstructed by the tops of trees growing around. So they kept on their way, and found the ground descending continuously in an easy slope. The wood was as dense as ever, and no living thing appeared. They had started with vague ideas of meeting with hares or wild fowl, but thus far nothing had been visible except the gulls overhead. They began to think that there was nothing but gulls on the island. Bart, however, assured them that they could not judge as yet, and expressed his unshaken confidence that he would start a rabbit before the day was done. He had his pistol in his belt, and he was determined to use it before going home, even if he had to shoot a gull. So they kept on down the descent, expecting every moment to come in sight of the bay.

At last the woods grew thinner, and before them they saw the sky through the trees. Moving farther forward, the trees grew more scattered, and in a short time they found themselves at the top of a long, open ground, which sloped to the bay, and was overgrown with moss and low brushwood. At the farther end of the open, a small eminence arose, with some bushes on the summit. Before them the waters of the bay spread out, with the distant horizon skirted by a range of hills.

“Here’s the place for rabbits,” said Bart, “if there are any.”

“If there are any! Of course,” said Bruce; “that’s the point.”

They walked on through the brush-wood, and at length, reaching a mossy knoll, they sat down to rest. After a time, Bart started off alone to pursue his investigations. He had not gone far before he stopped, and shrunk back. Then he looked around with a triumphant expression. Then he moved forward in a stealthy manner.

“I wonder what’s up now,” said Bruce.

“Bart’s found something at last,” said Arthur.

“A hare, perhaps,” said Tom.

The three boys started after Bart. Scarcely had they moved a half dozen paces, when Bart took aim and fired. A loud cry was heard, a large white bird was seen jumping in the air, and falling to the ground, and then Bart ran forward and secured his prize.

The other boys hurried up to him. As they came, he turned to meet them, with a face flushed with triumph, and holding the large white bird by the legs.

“What is it?” they cried.

“A wild goose,” said Bart.

“A wild goose!” cried Bruce, who had reached him by that time. “A tame one you mean.”

“No it isn’t, either. How can it be a tame one? It’s a wild one.”

“No, Bart,” said Arthur, “it’s a tame goose—as tame as I am.”

“You’re a tame goose yourself,” said Bart. “Do you call that a tame goose? Why, it’s a wild one, of course. Look at its wings.”

“What about its wings? They’re tame enough. No, Bart, it’s the real original domestic goose of the civilized farm-yard.”

“Nonsense! as though I don’t know a tame goose when I see one.”

“Well, you see one now.”

“No, I don’t.”

“This is one.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“It is.”

“Pooh!”

“Bart,” said Bruce, “did you ever see a live wild goose?”

“No, I never did.”

“Aha! How do you know anything about them, then?”

“Why, I’ve seen pictures,—lots of thorn,—and they look just like this.”

“But I’ve seen wild geese living and flying,—and dead, too, lots of times,—and this isn’t one.”

“O, this is a kind that you are not acquainted with. Why, there are ever so many kinds of wild geese.”

But at this moment the boys were rudely interrupted.

“Aha! ye thafes of the wurruld, ye!” cried a loud voice close beside them. “Ye villains, ye. What are ye doin’,—a murdherin’ and slaughterin’ a poor man’s property. Ye blackgyards, ye! What d’ye mane by comin’ here and shootin’ my geese?”

Thunderstruck at this unexpected interruption, the boys turned, and found themselves face to face with an old, grizzled, red-faced little Irishman, whose furious gestures and angry eyes were directed menacingly toward them.

“Which af ye’s shot my goose?” he roared.

“1 did,” said Bart, quietly.

“Ye young villain! I’ll make ye pay for it,—and dear, too,—as sure as me name’s Denny O’Rafferty. What’r ye’s doin’ here, any how? What d’ye mane by shootin’ my goose? D’ye think I’m goin’ to be robbed be a gang of black-gyards? Be the powers! if ye think that same, ye’ll find ye’re mistaken, bad scran till ye!”

“Mr. O’Rafferty,” said Bart, “you’re quite mistaken. We’re honest boys, and came here by accident.”

“What did ye shoot the goose for, then, ye imp of mischief?”

“It was a mistake,” said Bart, coolly. “Of course I didn’t know it was yours,—in fact, I wasn’t aware that anybody was living here. I will be happy to pay you whatever you think it’s worth,-and am sorry for the mistake.”

At this speech O’Rafferty’s face and manner underwent a complete change.

“Ach, be the powers! if that’s all,” said he, good humoredly, “then we won’t say any more about it. But how did ye’s get here? I didn’t see any boat. Where did ye land, then?”

“Why, the fact is, we were brought here,” said Bart, who went on to tell him all about their adventure.

Dennis O’Rafferty listened to every word with intense interest, his face undergoing a perpetual change of expression, that spoke of conflicting emotions.

“Be the powers, then,” he exclaimed, as Bart ceased, “it was a narrow scratch that ye had of it. An’ ye’ve been ashore here two nights. Be jabers, it’s meself that’s ashamed of what I said till ye about the goose. Have ye’s had anything till ate thin, at all?”

“Nothing but lobster.”

“Lobster! Well, thin, let me inforrum ye’s that ye’ll find that a moighty onwholesome diet. An’ you’ve been here all that time wid nothin’ at all to ate. Be jabers, I’m the boy for ye’s. Come along, boys. Ye’ll find old O’Rafferty can give ye a breakfast, at any rate. Come along. Ye’re starvin’, so ye are. Me old woman ‘ll be deloighted to set eyes on ye’s. Never mind the goose; I’ll give ye’s a dozen for nothin’. Lave it lie there; the old woman ’ll come an’ pick it for ye. Come along, boys.”

And the old fellow led the way; while the boys, delighted at the turn which things had taken, followed gayly after.

“And so ye’r Docthor Porther’s boys, are ye’s?” continued Dennis. “Faith it’s himself ’ll be throubled. It’s a long time I’ve knowed the docthor. An’ there isn’t his shuparior in the counthry. Arrah, be me sowl, but it’s meself that’s glad to see ye’s. The sight of yer young, fresh faces does good till me old bones. Come along, boys. And is the docthor with ye’s in the schooner? Come along; ye haven’t fur to go. I’ve got a bit of a house around beyant. Ye’ll see it as soon as iver we turrun the hill.”

On rounding the hill, they saw a clearing of about thirty acres, with a boat drawn up on the shore, while close by them was a small house and a barn. An old woman at the door looked up at them in speechless amazement.

“It’s the owld woman,” said O’Rafferty. “It’s herself that’s dead bate at the sight of ye’s.”

“Lard save us, Dinny, what in the wurruld have ye got there, thin?” cried the old woman, as the party reached the house.

“It’s some of Docthor Porther’s boys, that’s been gettin’ themselves shipwracked on the other side,” said O’Rafferty, “and haven’t had a bite to ate for two days, savin’ an’ exceptin’ a bit of cowld lobster, which isn’t aisy aitin’. An’ however they got ashore on there, widout oars, bates me intirely,—widout countin’ that thim same has been workin’ like slaves a day or more, on impty stomachs, buildin’ a camp and carryin’ fire-wood, which is hard enough work to kill a man, let alone boys like these. And so stir yer stumps, Molly avick, and bring out praties an’ bacon, the best ye have, and a drawin’ of tay, an’ chayse, an’ bread and butter. It’s starvin’ they all are intoirely, or me name’s not Dinny O’Rafferty.”

“Ah, thin,” cried the old woman, “the saints stand betune us and harrum. What’s that ye’r sayin’, Dinny O’Rafferty? Is it shipwracked ye wer’, thin, ye darlin’s of the wurruld? Sure it’s not much an owld woman like me can do for the likes of ye; but I’ll give ye the best I’ve got, so I will. Sure an’.it’s starvin’ ye must be, if ye’ve had nothin’ to ate for so long.”

Nothing could exceed the kindness and warmth of welcome which O’Rafferty and his wife gave the boys. The old woman bustled about, and kindled a fire, and put on the pot and kettle, and laid the table, occasionally stopping to look at the boys, one after the other, with a peculiar fondness of expression and a low, crooning noise, such as nurses make over children.

“Sure it’s like a breath of fresh air to a captive in a dungeon to look at your swate faces,” she cried. “Niver a boy’s face have I seen since the dark day when my own boy took his swate face from me eyes foriver. An’ that was fifteen year ago. An’ we came here, an’ lived here ever since.”

The old woman gave a long sigh, and sitting down, she held her head in her hands, rocking herself to and fro.

“Ah, well,” she said, getting up and going out to the barn, “it’s not much longer to live we have thin.”

“Fifteen years,” said O’Raflerty, as his wife went out. “It’s fifteen years since we lost the boy. We lived in Parrsboro, an’ had as nice a house and farm as the likes of us could ever wish for. But whin we lost him, we lost all heart for the place. The old woman wud have died if she had staid; an’ so I bought this bit of a place, an’ what with farmin’ an’ fishin’ we manage to grub along, though it’s seldom or niver that we see anybody but our own two selves. Well, well; wud ye like to look at the place?” he continued, rising. “It isn’t much of a place; but it’s not long we have to live, and it’ll do for us.”

They followed the old man about. The place extended over thirty acres, with a nice beach in front for the boat. It was an easy declivity, with pasture lands behind the house. The boat was a large whaler, and nets were spread on the grass to dry. O’Rafferty said that during the summer he had visits sometimes from old friends, and at other times people landed to see about the chances for sporting or getting minerals; but never, since he had been there, had a boy been on shore, and his wife had not seen a boy since she lost her son. He took them all over the place, and finally led them to a little enclosure, not far from the house. Inside was a grave mound, and at the head a white wooden slab, with these words painted upon it:

In Memoriam.
Michael O’Rafferty,
beloved son of
Dennis and Mary O’Rafferty,
born Aug. 2, 1830,
died June 5, 1845.
Requiescat in Pace.

The old man stood in silence, bareheaded, looking at the inscription. The boys removed their hats, and looked in solemn sympathy at the bereaved father, whose love and yearning for his lost boy were still so manifest, that the sight of a boy’s face could renew his grief after fifteen vanished years. Standing thus in silence, and reverencing that grief, they waited till the old man turned away, and then followed him, without a word, back across the field, and into the house.

As they entered, the savory smell of broiled bacon came gratefully to their nostrils. The table was spread with delicious mealy potatoes, brown crusty bread, butter as yellow as gold, and clean, spotless plates.. If they had the power of wishing and gaining, they would have desired nothing better than this.

“Mr. O’Rafferty,” said Bart, suddenly, “I forgot to mention that we left one of our number on the beach. I will take a run across the island, with your permission, and bring him here, for he is as hungry as we are, if not more so.”

“Another one!” cried O’Rafferty. “An’ waitin’ on the beach! Why didn’t ye tell me before?”

“Well, you see we were tired with our scramble, and I wanted to get rested before starting back. But I’ll go now, if you’ve no objection.”

“Deed, thin, an’ I have an objection,” cried O’Rafferty. “D’ye think I’d let ye go starvin’ back agin before ye’d got a bite to ate? or, for that matter, d’ye think I’d let ye go at all? No; I’ll go meself.”

“You? O, no. I won’t allow that,” began Bart. “It’s meself ‘ll go, an’ nobody else,” cried O’Rafferty, positively. “Ye’r all too hungry an’ tired. Besides, ye don’t know a step of the way. Ye came through the woods, an’ a mighty tough job ye found it; but I know an aisier way—it’s a path of me own. Ye said it was at the other end of the island, on the other side.”

“Yes; at a rock with a tree on the edge.”

“I know the place well. My path comes out close by there. I wonder ye didn’t come across it.”

“It is a wonder. We certainly would have noticed anything like a path, if we had found one.”

“Well, it’s all the same now. Ye’ll jist stay here, an’ sit down an’ ate yer breakfasts like Christians, an’ I’ll go an’ bring the boy. Not one of ye shall stir a step—not one step.”

“Well, Mr. O’Rafferty, I’m sure you are putting yourself to too much trouble—”

“Throuble! D’ye call it throuble? Sure an’ isn’t it the brightest day I’ve knowed for iver so long?”

“Deed it is,” chimed in his wife. “Be off wid ye, Dinny dear, and hurry back with the poor boy. Sure I’ll keep the tay hot for him, an’ the praties, an’ the bacon.”

Any further remonstrance or objection was out of the question; so the boys took their seats at the table. The old man started off, and promised to be back in a “jiffy.”

He ascended the slope behind the house, and entered the woods by a pathway which, though but little trodden, was yet easy to traverse. Far different was this from the rough way by which the boys had crossed the island; and in far less time than they had taken, Denny approached the other shore. The pathway led down to the beach, about a hundred yards below the place where they had built their first fire.

As he descended, a singular sight met his eyes.

X.

New Attempts at Cookery.—Phil on the Lookout.—A Sail! A Sail!—The Signal of the red Shirt.—The Home of the O’Raffertys.

WE left Phil behind, on the beach.

After the others had departed, Phil occupied himself with making arrangements to while away the time. First of all, he set to work to try and make an omelet. After a long search on the beach, he found some clam shells, which he took up to the platform; and then, selecting some flat stones, he threw them into the fire. Then he mixed some eggs in one of the shells, and tried to beat them with his jackknife. His success was not exactly dazzling; but he was satisfied to a certain extent, and intensely interested. At length, drawing forth one of the stones, which, by this time, was red hot, he poured the mixture on its surface. There was a fizzle, a steam, a hiss, and then a horrible smell of burnt egg. Phil made an awful face, and giving the stone a kick, sent it flying down to the beach, omelet and all.

Not at all discouraged, he began again ab ovo. Drawing out another stone, he determined to give it time to cool. So he mixed up some more eggs in the shell; and after waiting patiently for a long time for the stone, he at length thought it was cool enough, and poured the mixture upon it. It certainly had grown cool this time in fact, somewhat too cool, as Phil gradually learned, when, after waiting patiently, he found that there was no appearance of any progress whatever in the cookery. So this, too, was a failure, and Phil disdainfully hurled it after its predecessor.

But he was not discouraged even yet. Once more he took his shell and made another mixture, and then drew forth the stone, and carefully watched it, trying it from time to time with the tip of his finger, to see if it was of the proper temperature. Having singed the tips of all his fingers, he concluded that it was time to stop that mode of testing, and run the risk of an actual trial. So he once more poured the mixture on the stone. Aha! this time there was no mistake. A pleasant steam came up, which was grateful to a famished boy. The only trouble was, the lower part was done before the upper was in the least affected; and worse still, it began to burn while the upper part was raw. Phil was not yet disheartened, however; and drawing his knife, he made desperate efforts to insert it under the omelet, so as to turn it over. But these efforts were not successful. He only succeeded in intermixing all together in a mess, and mangling it into a general mush. In trying to taste some of it, he found in his mouth nothing but a very unpleasant mixture of raw and burnt egg. With a sigh he relinquished his experiments, and sent this stone after the others.

He now contented himself with roasting two of them; and having partaken of them, he sauntered up the hill to the signal station. Here he lay down, and looked lazily out at the water.

Scarcely had he done so, than he gave a start. An object was before his eyes which he had not been able to see from the platform. The other end of the island could not be seen from there, because a projecting bank shut it out from view; but from here there was a fair view of the other islands. And there, just coming out from behind Pinnacle Island, was a schooner of the size and rig of the Antelope, and he did not doubt for a moment but that it was their schooner. She was now sailing along, and was not far from that very anchorage where he had seen her last.

With a shout and a wild beating of his heart, he sprang to his feet, and stared, with eager eyes, upon the schooner.

She was coming on very well, with a good breeze, and was coming in his direction. Would she continue on her course? If so, she would soon be there. Would she turn aside, and pass through the channel that separated the islands, or sail away to the main land opposite? The thought was intolerable. He had grown weary of desert life; he longed to leave the island,—or, rather, he longed to get something to eat.

So he rushed away to the pile of brush, and lighting his matches,—a whole card at a time,—he touched up the kindling wood, and in a few moments the blaze was spreading through the mass of dry brush. Soon the flames rose high into the air, bearing with them vast volumes of black smoke.

Would they see that signal? They could not help seeing it. Would they understand it? Ah! that was another question. Still it came on in the same direction, without showing any signs of turning either to the right hand or the left. And now it had passed the channel between the islands, and was coming along in a line with the beach below, and not more than half a mile out.

The brush fire was burning briskly, and could last for half an hour without replenishing; but something more was needed. What could he do? At first he thought of running down to the beach and shouting. But then he feared that he might not be seen on the beach, and that his voice might not be heard. So that plan was rejected. One only remained, and that was, to climb the signal-staff. In an instant all this had passed through his mind, and in another instant it was acted upon. He tore off his red shirt, tied the sleeves together loosely, and hung it around his neck, and then, with wonderful agility, climbed the tree till he reached the top. The stumps of the branches, which remained on the trunk of the tree, formed a good foothold, and he was able to stand securely, clasping the tree with one arm, while with the other he took his shirt from around his neck, and waved it to and fro in the air. Below, and about thirty feet on one side, the fire blazed; and there, fifty feet in the air, on that solitary tree, stood the boy, waving, wildly and incessantly, the brilliant scarlet cloth. He felt that he had done the best, and if this would not attract attention, nothing would.

All this time the schooner came on, and at length came nearly opposite. Phil saw the crowd on board. He saw them staring and gesticulating. He was recognized—he was safe! Yes, there was Mr. Long,—he knew that tall figure in black,—and he was going to the stern. What for? Aha! wasn’t that glorious? He had gone and had seized the ropes, and lowered and hoisted the flag again a score of times. Ha, ha, ha! What flag? What flag? Why, their own flag,—the flag of the “B. O. W. C.,”—which had’ evidently been waving there ever since their departure, and now saluted them as it brought them safety.

Phil’s merry laughter rang out loud and clear, as he saw all this, in his excitement and his joy. He saw the schooner head in straight toward the shore, then sweep round; and then down rattled her anchor, her sails fell, and she lay waiting.

Phil gave a final wave and a loud, shout; and then, descending the tree, he scampered down the slope and along the beach, as fast as his little legs would carry him, until at last he reached the verge of the shore opposite the schooner. Here he gave a loud hurrah. His shrill voice reached the schooner, which was only a short distance off, and was responded to by a loud cheer from all on board.

“Where are the other boys?” cried Mr. Long.

“In the woods; they’ll be here soon.”

“Where’s the boat?”

“Up there,” said Phil, pointing to where it lay.

“We can’t get ashore. We’ve got no boat.”

“When the tide gets up, and the boys come back, we can get the boat out,” said Phil.

“How are you all?” cried Mr. Long.

“Very well, but nearly starved.”

Instantly Mr. Long disappeared into the cabin. Returning shortly, he had a bundle in his hand, around which a string was tied. Then taking one end of the string, and whirling it violently around, sling fashion, he hurled it through the air toward the shore. The parcel fell about twenty feet beyond Phil. He ran to it, and, on opening it, found a quantity of sandwiches.

The ravenous way in which he devoured the sandwiches showed to those on board, far more powerfully than words, how famished poor Phil must have been.

“Will the others be back soon?” asked Mr. Long.

“O, yes. They’ve gone across the island to explore.”

“Were you able to sleep?”

“Sleep? O, yes, first rate.”

“How?”

“In the camp up there,” said Phil, with his mouth full of sandwich, waving his hand in the direction of the platform. “We’d have enjoyed it if we’d only had some sandwiches,” he added after a time, as he made a fresh onslaught on the parcel.

It was now about eleven o’clock, and not quite half tide. The tide was rising, however, and in due time would be up to the boat; and then, if the boys did not come, they might get in near enough to throw Phil a line, and from the schooner pul the boat into the water. For the present it was necessary to wait; so Phil ate his sandwiches, and talked with those on board. And this was the scene which met the eyes of Dennis O’Rafferty as he descended to the beach.

Dennis soon understood it all. Ge saw that the schooner had been searching for the boys, and had come here in their absence, and had found this boy. He hurried, without delay, to the beach, and at once told Phil where his friends were, and explained to those on board the schooner what they were doing, and why he had come.

“An’ is the docthor on board?”

“No; he didn’t come.”

“Ah, thin it’s mesilf that’s sorry for that same,” said Dennis.

On understanding the difficulty about the boat, he at once set himself to work remedying it. He found the rollers which the boys had used, and the poles; and then, with Phil’s assistance, he began to push her down toward the water. It was far easier pushing her down than it had been pulling her up, and the boat soon reached the water’s edge.

“We lost our oar, and we were making another. I don’t know whether you can use it or not,” said Phil. “Wait here, and I’ll go and get it.”

On bringing it, Dennis found it quite rough, of course, but still capable of working the boat along. So he launched the boat, and Phil jumped in, and Dennis followed; and in a short time the boat touched the vessel’s side. The current just here was not strong, for it was half tide, and the vessel was very close to the shore. Phil was dragged on board by a dozen hands, and nearly suffocated by their rapturous greetings.

Mr. O’Rafferty then explained again where the other boys were, and invited all on board to come to his house and meet them. His invitation was eagerly complied with. Another oar was found on board, and soon Messrs. Simmons and Long, with all the boys, were on the beach.

Then they started. Phil insisted on showing the camp and the signal station, and told them all about their experience in shell-fish and lobsters.

Then they followed O’Rafferty across the island to his house.

On the way, Mr. Long told Phil all about the dismal voyage of the schooner after them. After cruising all about the Basin of Minas on the previous day, they had decided to come back to the Five Islands, and search along the shores, with the hope of finding them, or at least some traces of them. They had been watching the shore of this island so closely, that they had seen the first flash of the fire on the signal station. When they saw the red shirt by it, and then the figure climbing the tree, they knew that their search was at last successful. He made Phil tell him, over and over again, all about his own eventful escape, and shuddered to think how extreme their peril had been.

The walk over O’Rafferty’s path was a most delightful one to all. The fearful cloud, that had so long hung over them, was at last dispelled, and in their reaction from sorrow, they all felt the wildest extreme of joy. So the boys went on with shouts, and songs, and laughter, till they reached their destination.

There the others had finished their repast, and were waiting for Phil. Great was their amazement to see the crowd. At once all was explained. With a wild cry of delight, they rushed to meet their friends, and their hands were nearly shaken off by their excited comrades.

Mr. O’Rafferty then left them, and Mrs. O’Rafferty prepared a repast for the company. But first she set before Phil the good things that she had been saving for him; and, though that young gentleman had disposed of an immense quantity of sandwiches, he yet was able—thanks to his excellent appetite and vigorous constitution—to do full justice to Mrs. O’Rafferty’s tea and cream, and brown crusty bread and golden butter, and rich bacon, and mealy potatoes. Then the table was once more spread for the other guests; and they found the repast an agreeable change from the ship stores on which they had been feeding. To tell the truth, there were many among the company who were as famished, and had eaten quite as little, during the last twenty or thirty hours, as the castaways themselves.

They then strolled about the fields and along the beach, till suddenly a shout from one of the boys attracted the attention of all.

There, coming round the point, was the familiar form of the Antelope, her boat towed behind her once more; Captain Corbet, the mate, and O’Rafferty on board, and the black flag of the “B. O. W. C.” floating gloriously aloft.

“It’s been there all the time,” said Billymack. “Wasn’t it odd? Mr. Long wouldn’t let any one pull it down.”

“And all the schooners laughed at us,” said Bogud. “It was such nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” said Bart. “Far from it, Bogud. There’s good luck in that emblem. So long as it floats on the breeze, we’ll turn out all right.”

“If you call this good luck, I should like to know what bad luck is.”

Here the anchor rattled, and all the boys ran to the beach.

When the time came for them to leave, O’Rafferty was in despair. He wanted them to stay at least one night. But Mr. Long could not. They had already lost much time, and must make amends for it. They had to go that evening to Pratt’s Cove. So O’Raflerty consoled himself by extorting a promise that the next time they came to the Five Islands they would anchor off his beach, and stop at least two days with him.

Meanwhile the boys had a long debate as to what they could give to O’Raflerty. To offer money would be an insult. They had to select from among their possessions something that would be appropriate for a parting gift. Bart proposed his pistol, but it was considered as not adapted to be of use to O’Rafferty. At last it was decided to give him the hatchet. A hatchet would always be useful; and it was so pretty a little tool, that it would be in itself a graceful keepsake. So Bart, with his jackknife, cut into the handle, very, neatly, the initials of the different members of the “B. O. W. C.,” and handed the gift to the old man.

“You won’t refuse it,” said Bart, “will you, Mr. O’Rafferty?” And he explained the initial letters to him.

Tears started to the old man’s eyes.

“It’s fairly heart-broken I am to part wid ye; but I’ll take the hatchet to remember yer sweet faces by, and wid the hope that you won’t forget owld O’Rafferty. And many’s the drame I’ll be draimin’ about yes, till me owld eyes gets a look at yes again.”

“An’ may the blessin’s av Heaven go wid yes all, ye darlin’s av the worruld,” ejaculated the old woman. “It’s meself that’ll pray for yes, that the Lard ‘ll stan’ betune yes and harrum. I’ll be lookin’ out for yes all another year, jewels; an’ I’ll have such crame, chayse, an’ such maily taters, as ye never saw the like of before.”

The old couple wrung the hands of all of them, and watched them embark. Soon all were on board. Then the anchor went up, and up went the sails. The schooner started, and moved slowly away.

And as she moved away, the boys saw the old couple standing on the beach waving farewells. There they stood till the vessel rounded a promontory which shut them from sight.

They were on their way to Pratt’s Cove.