XVI.

New Hopes and Plans.—A Sail!—A bitter Disappointment.—A hazardous Adventure, and a Fright.—Quilts for Togas.—Another tremendous Casualty.

THERE, on the top of the bank, sat the five boys of the “B. O. W. C.,” waiting patiently. “Only an hour more, boys,” repeated Bruce. “Well, if they don’t come, we’ll survive it,” said Bart.

“I suppose we shall start off at once, if they don’t come.”

“Yes, as soon as the tide begins to fall.”

“I wonder if it will carry the schooner with it.”

“I think that it will.”

“Perhaps it will leave it aground.”

“All right. That will be so much the better for us. It would be a pity to lose the schooner so soon.”

“O, she won’t be lost.”

“Yes, she will. What’ll prevent her? She’ll be carried ashore on some rocks and broken to pieces, or she’ll drift out into the Bay of Fundy.”

“O, she has other chances in her favor. She may drift on some mud-flat like this, or she may be picked up on the basin, or, if she does get out into the Bay of Fundy, she may get picked up there.”

“That may be; but, after all, it’ll be hard on Corbet; and he’s rather poor.”

“It’ll serve him right,” exclaimed Tom Crawford. “He must have known that his anchor was broken.”

“Well, it certainly does serve him right, if he knew that; but he’s a careless fellow, and I dare say he didn’t know anything about it.”

“I wonder where this coast goes?” asked Phil Kennedy.

“Well, it goes in two directions,” said Bart. “Which way do you mean?”

“The right.”

“O, that goes to Parrsboro’ Village; the left leads up to Pratt’s Cove.”

“How do you know?”

“I can’t tell just where Pratt’s Cove is, but I know the direction in which it must lie from here,” said Bart. “You can tell that by seeing the way the Five Islands lie toward us. If they come for us, they’ll have to come from behind that headland.”

“I wonder if they’ll come by land or water.”

“I don’t see how they can come by land.”

“There’s a road, I suppose.”

“O, ever so far back. How could any one find anything about us on the road? No; they’ll come by water, so as to find us either afloat or ashore.”

“There isn’t any boat at all in Pratt’s Cove.”

“O, there must be other coves near, where they can get other boats.”

“It will be hard for us, if they don’t happen to have a boat.”

“O, they’ll get one.”

“And meanwhile we must act for ourselves; for I don’t believe they’ll get one to-day, at any rate.”

“Yes, we may as well prepare for an expedition along the coast.”

“Shall we separate, or go together?”

“O, together, by all means. But, hallo! what’s that?”

At this exclamation from Bart, all looked where his eyes were turned.

“A schooner!” they cried; “a schooner! There they come! Hurrah, boys! we’re all right.” Instantly every one sprang to his feet. “Come, boys, take off your shirts,” said Bruce, as he pulled off his own. “Let’s get ready a supply of red bunting to make signals to them.” Instantly all of them tore off their shirts, and waved them wildly from the top of the bank.

Yes, it was a schooner. It had come thus suddenly upon them as they were talking; and even though they had been on the constant lookout, yet its appearance had startled them all. It was twice as large as the Antelope, of a bright green color; its masts were yellow, and its sails beautifully neat. Spreading its snow-white wings to the breeze, it came bounding over the waves from behind the headland, and directed its course in toward the shore.

“She’s not heading for us at all,” said Bruce. “If she keeps on in that direction, she’ll be a mile down beyond us before we know it.”

“She don’t see us,” said Bart.

“Wave your signals, then! Ah, what a pity we hadn’t a good signal-post!”

“I’ll climb a tree,” said Phil, looking around.

“There isn’t any tree fit for the purpose. The highest ones are hidden by the smaller ones in front. This is as conspicuous a place as we can find.”

Meanwhile the schooner kept on at an angle with them, and pursued her way without taking any notice’ of them, heading toward a point far down to the right of the place where they were standing.

With a face of stern determination, and the air of a captain of a battery, Bart drew his pistol.

“I’ll fire,” said he, solemnly.

The next instant, bang! or, rather, pop! went the pistol.

But the schooner took not the smallest notice even of that overpowering demonstration. On the contrary, it kept straight on without altering its course.

“They’re blind, and deaf, too; and that’s all about it,” cried Phil Kennedy, in deep disgust.

“I wonder what’s the matter with them,” said Bruce. “They don’t keep a very good lookout, or they’d surely see us. There’s red flannel enough here to be seen five miles off.”

“I wonder who is steering.”

“I wonder who those two chaps are in the bow. Can it be Bogud and the mate?”

“I wonder who that old boy in a pea-jacket can be? It surely can’t be Mr. Simmons?”

“It’s Captain Corbet.”

“Nonsense! Captain Corbet is steering.”

“No, that’s the mate.”

“It isn’t, either. Don’t you see the mate on the bow?”

“That the mate! That’s Mr. Long.”

“Bah! Mr. Long don’t generally go in his shirtsleeves.”

“Why shouldn’t he? I s’pose he is helping the others. He’d just as soon take off his coat as not, if he had anything to do.”

“It isn’t Mr. Long, any way.”

But these wonders and conjectures were now interrupted by a movement on the part of the schooner. She had already gone beyond the spot where the boys were standing, and had come to within half a mile of the beach. She now wore round. Flap went the sails! there was a quick movement on board, and then away she went on another tack, with her head turned toward the opposite shore.

“She’s leaving us!” cried Bruce, aghast.

For a few moments all stood in silent dismay. This was a thing which they were not prepared for. If no schooner had come at all, they could easily have borne up; but now, since one had come, they had not for a moment doubted their speedy deliverance. There was not hope, but certainty, in her appearance. But now this was dashed to the ground, and the reaction was extreme.

Bart was the first to break the silence.

“1 tell you what, boys,” he cried, “I don’t believe it was them at all.”

“O, yes, it was,” said Arthur. “I recognized Captain Corbet.”

“No; you may depend upon it, you were utterly mistaken. Why, do you suppose, if they were after us, they would have come and gone so coolly? There wasn’t the slightest sign of any anxiety, or curiosity about them. If it had been our friends, they’d have seen our signals soon enough.”

“Yes, and the Antelope down there nearly ashore.”

“Well, I don’t know. But I certainly thought I recognized Captain Corbet.”

“I thought I saw Bogud.”

“Not a bit of it. They were strangers, and that accounts for everything.”

“And now,” said Tom, “all that we’ve got to do is to wait for a few minutes more, and then start.”

“I say, boys,” said Bart, after a fit of musing, “what a pity it is that we can’t fasten the vessel somehow, and keep her here! There’s an old tree at the bottom of the bank big enough to moor a ship at. If we could only get a line around it from the schooner, we could keep the vessel here till they did come.”

“Yes, that would be the best plan,” said Bruce; “for I’ve-been thinking that we may find some people here who would sail the schooner back to the cove. It would be a great pity to let her drift.”

“It’s a pity that we can’t get at her,” said Arthur.

“And why can’t we?” asked Bart.

Why! The question at once made every one stare and think. Each one could answer in his own mind why such a thing could not be done, but no one stated such a reason. All were silent.

“It’s not very far,” said Bart.

“No.”

“Not so far as it was to wade when we landed.”

“That’s a fact.”

“And I move that we try, it.”

“Ah, that’s all very well!” said Phil. “But who will try it?”

“Well, then, I will,” said Bart.

“O, then, if it comes to that, I’ll go too,” said Bruce.

“So will I,” said Arthur.

“And I,” said Phil.

“And I’ll be with you, boys,” said Tom.

“Of course you will,” said Bart.-“But what’s the use of all of us going. Two of us will be enough. Bruce and I can take our poles and do it. It’s not much any way.”

“And I’ll go with my handspike,” said Arthur. “In fact, I don’t think we need even boat-hooks,” said Bruce. “The bottom is hard sand just there, all the way out to the vessel. It’s as safe as a floor.”

“Yes, except for one thing,” said Arthur, holding up the jaw of the fish.

“Hm!” said Bruce. “For my part, I don’t believe there’s any danger just here. It’s too near the bank, I never heard of them coming in so near high-water mark; but, at the same time, I dare say it will be better to take the boat-hooks.”

“O, yes. We’ll feel safer,” said Bart, “and that’s something. One advantage will be, that we won’t be bothered with our bundles.”

“How do you propose to do?” asked Bruce.

“Well, to board her and get a line.”

“Will any of the lines be strong enough?”

“Well, my idea is, to let down the chain, fasten the rope to the anchor stump, and all of us can then drag it ashore. We can then wait till the tide brings the vessel near enough for us to pass the line, or the chain, around the tree.”

“That ought to hold it,” said Arthur.

“Of course it will.”

“Very well then. Let’s start. And first of all, let’s strip.”

“I’ll take the pistol, Bart,” said Phil, as Bart laid it down before taking off his belt; “and if anything happens, I’ll fire.”

“All right, my son,” said Bart.

They all went down then to the beach below, where they stripped, and the adventurous five went into the water, although only three were going on board; for Tom and Phil, felt bound in honor to share the possible peril of the others.

The water had risen a little up the steep declivity of the pebbled beach, and the vessel was some distance nearer than she had been when they first climbed the bank. It was a favorable time for starting, but not so much so as it would be in the course of half an hour. But they were too impatient to delay, and so they started. As it was, they had not more than fifty yards to go.

The bottom was not muddy just here, but composed of hard’ sand, like the sand-spit on which they had landed. The water was quite smooth, only disturbed by a gentle ripple, which, farther out, rose into small waves. The descent, like that farther out, was but very gradual, and it was only by almost imperceptible degrees that the water deepened.

Bruce and Bart went first, with their poles held in their hands in such a way that they were able to splash the water before them, so that if there should chance to be any more “shovel-mouth sharks” near by, they might take notice and govern themselves accordingly. For they firmly believed that all fish are frightened by any splashing, and deterred, just as wild animals are frightened and deterred, by the flashing of flames.

Tom and Phil followed more slowly, the former armed with a boat-hook, and the latter with the pistol. The distance was quickly traversed. The water grew deeper and deeper, until it was up to Bruce’s armpits and Bart’s shoulders. By that time they touched the schooner’s bows.

At that instant a splash was heard close by them, and the movement of some body was felt amid the waters.

“Up! Quick!” cried Bruce.

“You go first,” said Bart.

“I won’t,” cried Bruce.

“Nor will I,” said Bart.

Bruce said no more. He stooped down, and clasping Bart in his brawny arms, he jerked him up out of the water. Bart clambered on board, and held out his hand to Bruce. Another instant and the latter stood by his side. Arthur followed at the same time.

“Did you see that?” asked Arthur.

“Yes. Did you?”

“Yes. What was it?”

“Another shovel-month shark—wasn’t it?”

“I don’t think so. It wasn’t the same color. It was white.”

“Perhaps it turned over to bite.”

Arthur shook his head.

“‘No. It came between us. It was not so large as that other fellow. It dashed off at once.”

“Perhaps it was only a codfish,” said Bart.

“Well, it was a large one, then. It might have been a porpoise. I wonder if porpoises come so near the shore.”

“Sometimes, but not often.”

“I shouldn’t wonder if it was a sturgeon,” said Arthur. “After all, it may only have been a codfish. At the same time I’d much rather be here than down there.”

“Boys!” shouted Bruce to Tom and Phil. “Boys, you may as well go ashore. and dress. We’ll stay here a little while. It’ll take some time to get things ready.”

At this Tom and Phil went back and dressed.

The fish which they had last seen had produced a very solemnizing effect on their minds. There came over them a horror of that treacherous water. They felt an aversion toward venturing in again, and were sorry that they had come. But there was no help for it. There they were now, though each one felt that he could not venture back again into the water very readily. It might have been a sturgeon, or a porpoise, or even a codfish; but the horror of its presence was still there, whatever it was. It was some time before they could rally from the panic which had filled them as they tumbled on board. And though each said but little about it, and alluded to it very lightly, yet each one understood pretty truly the feelings of the others.

“Come, boys, hurry up!”

This was the cry that Phil and Tom sent them from the beach. They had dressed, and were watching them with impatience.

“We’re going to wait till she gets nearer,” cried Bruce. “At high tide she will be close to the beach, and we won’t have to drag the chain so far.”

“You’d better come now,” said Phil.

“No,” said Bart; “the chain won’t reach so far.”

“All right,” said Tom. “We’ll go up the bank again till you’re ready.”

Saying this, the two boys clambered up the bank, when they rambled a little into the woods. Arthur and Bart then found a line, one end of which they fastened, to the anchor. It was their intention to take the line ashore, and let go the whole chain, which they hoped could be pulled to the beach as far as the tree. Before that could be done, however, it would be necessary for the schooner to be much nearer. The water was already rising, and there yet remained many feet to be covered before the tide would reach what they considered as high-water mark.

“I don’t believe it will be high tide for an hour yet. It will be an hour later than we calculated,” said Bruce. “Hang it, it’s too cold here. I wish we had our clothes.”

“Well, I’m not going to freeze any longer,” said Bart, jumping down into the hold. He was absent for a few minutes, and soon returned with a quilt gracefully wrapped around him like a Roman toga. With a laugh, Arthur and Bruce jumped down, and imitated his example. Then coming on deck again, they joined Bart, and the boys professed to be very comfortable, considering all things.

They now took their seats at the stem, and looked out to sea, watching for any signs of relief. This occupied them for a longer time than they thought.

“I wonder what’s become of Tom and Phil,” said Arthur, suddenly jumping up and looking toward the shore.

The others did the same.

Scarcely had they done so, when a cry of dismay burst from them.

The shore was at least five hundred yards away. Phil and Tom were scrambling down the bank, gesticulating wildly.

“What’s all this?” cried Arthur.

For a moment no one answered; but at last Bart said, in a voice tremulous with agitation,—

“We’ve mistaken the high-water mark altogether, boys. It must have been high tide when we came on board. We’ve been drifting off ever since.”

“Couldn’t we wade ashore?” said Arthur.

Bruce seized a boat-hook, and plunged it over the vessel’s side into the water.

“Couldn’t do it,” he said, slowly. “There are eight or nine feet of water.”

“Can’t we swim?”

“Will you try it?”

Each one looked at the other, but there was no assent to this. It was not the mere distance, but the other perils of the deep that deterred them, and more than all, the remembrance of their last panic.

XVII.

On the briny Deep, and on the muddy Shore.—The Fisherman’s Boat.—Reappearance of old Friends.—Remonstrances, Explanations, and Confessions.

MEANWHILE,—even while they were speaking,—every moment drew them farther away from the shore. They saw Tom and Phil standing on the beach, which they had reached by this time, and waving their hands with frantic gesticulations. They heard them, shout, “Come back! You’re adrift!” and other words not intelligible. They shouted back again to encourage them, though they, themselves had but little hope.

“We haven’t any anchor, boys,” said Bart; “but let’s put down what we have. It may hold, or, at least, prevent our drifting so fast.”

“Well, there’s nothing else to be done,” said Bruce; “so I suppose we may as well try it. Come along, boys. We must do what we can.”

Saying this, he led the way to the windlass, and the remnant of the anchor was let go.

They waited a little while to see what effect this would have, but in a few moments saw that very-little was produced.

“No go,” said Bruce. “Suppose we give her the whole chain.”

“Yes,” said Bart. “It may hold her if it is all out.”

“At any rate,” said Arthur, “it will prevent her drifting somewhat.”

“Down she goes, then,” said Bruce, as the chain ran out. Soon it was out at its fullest extent, and they again watched to see what effect would be produced. By this time they had gone very much farther from the shore, and Tom and Phil were just discernible.

“It checks her a little,” said Bart, “yet very little. As to holding her, that is out of the question.”

“And yet there can’t be much of a current here.”

“I don’t know as to that. It is difficult to tell anything about it. There are currents in all sorts of places around the bay.”

“Perhaps, if we let it drag for a while,” said Bruce, “it may catch somewhere and hold. I’ve heard, of such things.”

“There’s very little chance, I’m afraid,” said Bart, in a despondent tone. “If we only had half a fluke I wouldn’t care; but as it is, we have no fluke at all, and that’s why we can’t do anything.”

Waiting thus, and wondering what they could do next, the three boys looked sadly toward the receding shore. The quilts which they had thrown around them had been fastened at the waist with rope-yarns, and these, in the exercise of letting go the anchor, had fallen from their shoulders, leaving them exposed from their waists upward. They looked ruefully at one another as they thought of this, burst out laughing, and then drew the quilts, toga fashion, over their shoulders again.

“It was bad enough this morning,” said Arthur, at last, “but it was a joke to this. What can we do for something to eat?”

“There’s not a morsel on board.”

“The last mouthful of bread we ate before we waded ashore.”

“If we only had a fish-hook we might hope to catch something.”

“Fish-hook! Why, man, we haven’t any kind of bait.”

“Well, all we’ve got to do is to hope for some one to pick us up.”

“Is that all? No,” said Bart. “I, for one, am not going to sit down and float away, goodness knows where. I move that we up sail and go somewhere.”

“Up sail!”

“Of course. Why not?”

“But can we—can you—?”

“O, we can scrape along. I’d rather have a small accident than drift off in this style, doing nothing. You all understand my knowledge of sailing, for you’ve had a fair specimen of it, and if you’re willing to risk my steering again, I’m ready to take hold; if not, then you or Bruce take hold, and I’ll keep at the sails. It don’t make any difference, though, which of us is captain, for I suppose one knows just as much as another. But, at any rate, I’m bound to have the sails up.”

“So am I,” cried Bruce, “whatever happens.”

“And I too!” cried Arthur.

“Bart, you be captain, old fellow. We won’t take your office from you. You’ve had more experience than we have had, at any rate, for you’ve steered her already. But we must get up the piece of an anchor first.”

“Of course we must, and the sooner the better.”

Upon this they all went to work at the windlass. It was hard work, but after some time it was successfully accomplished. By this time they had drifted out several miles, and the beach still lay before them, but it was faint in the distance. The headland was then somewhat toward the right, and this served as an excellent guide. The vessel’s head was still turned toward the shore, in the way in which she had drifted out.

“My idea,” said Bart, “is, that we sail straight back again.”

“It’s a pity we hadn’t the other fellows on board,” said Bruce, “for we might try some place where there might be houses.”

“Well, in that case, I’d give you the helm,” said Bart. “As long as I’m here, I will only go where I know my ground. I don’t care to try the Five Islands again, nor would I like to turn the schooner. It’s lucky for us that she’s heading in shore. So come, boys, let’s hurry up with the sails, or else she may turn off in some other direction; and then how we can get her round again, will be more than I can say.”

Hoisting the sails was arduous work, but they succeeded. The wind had moderated, and the vessel glided slowly back toward the beach. Bart was so anxious to rejoin Tom and Phil, that he did not venture to try any experiments in sailing, but simply kept the schooner’s head toward the place where he supposed they might be standing. The wind was favorable, the vessel drew nearer and nearer, and at last the beach again became distinctly visible.

A shout of joy escaped them as they recognized Phil and Tom again.

“I wonder how they felt when they saw us drifting,” said Bruce.

“They must have given us up for lost.”

“1 wonder whether they expected that we would raise the sails.”

“I don’t believe they thought of that.”

“That’s not surprising, after all; especially as we didn’t think of it ourselves till the last moment.”

“That’s odd, too. It seems now as though it ought to have been the very first thing to think of.”

“Well, the fact is, we had such a tough time this morning off that headland,” said Bart, pointing to the dark rocks which were full before them on their right, “that it’s no wonder if we gave up all ideas of ever hoisting sail again. However, it’s all right. And now what ought we to do?”

“There’s only one thing that we can do.”

“What’s that?”

“What? Why, what else can we do but run ashore, just as we did before.”

“I suppose we can’t do anything else; but it’s a pity, too. Still we must take Tom and Phil. Though, if they were on board, we could at least find a better part of the coast. This is so remote, and I haven’t seen any houses near the place at all.”

Bad as it was, there was no help for it; and so Bart had to keep the schooner straight on. On account of the currents, however, and the loss of way, the Antelope could not come within a mile of her former landing-place. Phil and Tom saw this, and ran down the beach, carrying the bundles; and just as they came opposite to their companions, the Antelope grounded about a hundred feet from the beach. Without waiting another instant, Phil and Tom threw off their clothes, and waded out. They got on board without any adventures, and celebrated the restoration of their companions by dancing like wild creatures about the deck. Long explanations followed from both sides, after which they discussed their future prospects.

“Hallo!” said Arthur, as the schooner sank a little on one side. “She’s aground. No farther drifting till next tide. And now what can we do, or where can we fasten her?”

“We’ll have to try and use the chain and line, as we did before.”.

“I wonder if we are not too far out.”

“No; I think not,” said Phil.

“There’s a good stump up there to fasten a line to,” said Tom.

“I dare say we can get a line up. If not, we can bury the anchor in the mud, and put stones over it.”

“And what can we do about exploring the country?”

“Some of us must stay by the schooner to attend to the fastenings.”

“Two can stay, and three go.”

“No, three had better stay, and two go. It’s too hard work.”

“Pooh! two will be enough. But who will they be?”

“Well, we must toss up for it. That’s the only plan. We must do it at once. There’s no time to lose.”

“Suppose, before we do anything more,” said Bart, “that we all slip ashore and put our clothes on. For my part, I’m chilly; and though I could easily get some more quilts, yet it seems unnecessary to do so when I have my own clothes so near. Besides, here are Phil and Tom, whose teeth are already chattering.”

A loud laugh followed; after which they all sprang, one after the other, into the water, and hurried to the shore. There they dressed themselves; and as the vessel was fairly aground, with the tide rapidly going out past her, they threw themselves on the beach, and prepared to decide on the ones that would stay behind.

“There!” cried Phil, suddenly springing to his feet. “I knew it was!”

“What? what?” exclaimed all the others.

“A sail!—out there by the headland!”

“So it is,” said Bart. “Phil, you’ve got a good pair of eyes in your head.”

“It’s a sail-boat,” said Bruce.

“And heading this way,” said Bart.

“Hurrah!” cried Tom. “They’ve come for us at last.”

“Come, now, boys,” said Arthur, “don’t let us get excited again. I tell you that boat is some fisherman, and it is passing by here. Those on board won’t see us, and there’s no use doing anything. Let’s sit down and finish the toss-up, and send Phil to the top of the bank to watch, and make what signals he can.”

“Not a bit of it!” cried Bart; and springing forward, he dashed into the water toward the schooner with his clothes on. The water had fallen so far, however, that he did not get wet much above his knees. Clambering on board, he lowered the flag of the “B. O. W. C.,”—which had waved there through all their vicissitudes,—and tearing off his red flannel shirt, he fastened it close beneath the flag. Then he pulled it up and then kept lowering and hoisting, with the utmost rapidity, the extraordinary signal. Nor was this all. He had not yet lost confidence in his pistol, in spite of its signal failure in the case of the schooner some time before, but drew it forth now with a certain solemn decision. By this time all the others had come on board, and were waving all sorts of quilts and blankets from the stern. In the midst of all this agitation Bart fired his pistol. The smart pop! rang out bravely enough; but as the sail-boat was at least three miles away, it cannot be said to have produced any very extraordinary result. Bart, however, was satisfied. He had already given charge of the “ensign” to Tom, and, standing on the starboard quarter, he fired again. After this he rested for a while, and waited for the boat to come nearer.

Nearer she was certainly coming, in spite of the scepticism of Arthur. To guard against the pain of disappointment, Arthur was trying, with all his might, not to hope, and to prevent any of the others from hoping. Yet he could not help being as sanguine as the others, in spite of his efforts.

“Boys,” he cried, “be careful now. Remember this boat don’t see us, and don’t intend to. She’s a fishing-boat, out after sturgeon. She’s sailing straight across, past us, to—Hurrah! here she comes straight down to us.”

“Ha, ha, ha! Hurrah! She sees us! Up and down with the flag, Tom! Fire away, Bart! Bring up that fog-horn, somebody, and blow till you burst. I’ll content myself with a sociable yell.”

Whereupon a yell, so loud, so harsh, so penetrating, burst forth from Bruce, that it seemed to penetrate even to the boat. White signals certainly were waving from those on board, and a tall figure in black stood upright in the bows waving a hat.

“Ha, ha!” cried Bart, as he fired his pistol again, and danced joyously about. “And you call that a fishing-boat, do you, Arthur? So you think the fishermen here go out to throw their nets, dressed in black broadcloth and silk hats, do you? Well, I call that good. A fisherman! Who would think of Mr. Long being taken for a fisherman!”

All was now the wildest joy. There was no more doubt, and no longer any mistakes. The boat saw them, and had returned answer to their signals. It was bearing swiftly down toward them. It was filled with people. Who were they all?

The question was soon answered. Nearer came the boat, and nearer, and still-nearer. At last it came close up, and grounded under the vessel’s quarter. Mr. Long was first on board, wringing all the boys’ hands, and pretending to scold them. After him came Mr. Simmons, then Bogud, then Billymack, then the two captains. Hearty was the greeting, and deep and fervent the joy, at finding that all had turned out so well. The “B. O. W. C.” had to tell all about their adventures. They concealed nothing whatever. Bart related, with the utmost frankness, the story of his navigation experiments, interrupted by the laughter of the other boys, and the criticisms of Captain Corbet, who would insist on explaining what ought to have been done. Then followed the story of the “shovel-mouth shark,” which produced an immense sensation. Captain Corbet shook his head solemnly at the sight of the jaws, which Phil had run ashore to get. But their last adventure, when they were drifted away from their clothes, was considered about the most singular of all.

“But how did you manage to find us?” asked Bart, as he ended his story.

Mr. Long related all about his first discovery of their accident up to the time that he had left with his party for the “pint.”

“When we got there,” continued he, “we saw a schooner sailing, and made it out with the glass to be the Antelope. We watched you as you sailed toward the Five Islands. You must have been on your second tack then. We could not imagine where you were going. Captain Corbet thought you didn’t know your way. I thought you were letting the vessel go wherever the wind might take you. As it happens, I was not very far wrong.

“At last we saw you turn, and the performance of the schooner showed us all very plainly that you couldn’t sail her. It filled us with the deepest anxiety. We could have got a boat, but your course was so strange, that we delayed until we could see where you might finally bring up. We didn’t expect any accident exactly, but hoped that you would come nearer. At last you sailed so close to that headland that we thought you were lost. Immediately afterward you passed behind it from sight. We waited some time to see if you would reappear, but you did not. So we at once put off in the boat which belonged to a fisherman who lived near, and came here as fast as possible. The last time that you drifted off we saw you; but perhaps you were too excited to see us—or perhaps we were too far off to be seen very easily.

“And now,” concluded Mr. Long, “I’ve found you again, and it’s my fixed determination not to let any of you go out of my sight. You’re all a set of Jonahs. The only comfort is, that you come out all right at last.”

“I’m sure, Mr. Long,” remonstrated Bart, “you oughtn’t to blame us. It wasn’t our fault. I’d much rather not drift away if I could help it. I don’t enjoy going about in the fog, or among these tides. I’m sure Bruce don’t. Neither does Arthur, nor Tom, nor Phil.”

“Blame you? Of course I don’t blame you,” said Mr. Long. “How can I? It wasn’t your fault, of course. I only mean that your fortunes have been very peculiar. I don’t know but, if I believed in omens, I’d say that your black flag up there has brought us all this run of bad luck. But come, we’ve been thoughtful about you. We knew you’d be starving, and so we brought along with us something for you to eat.”

“Starving! Mr. Long, we’re in that condition that we could eat horseshoes.”

With a good-natured laugh, Mr. Long turned away, and jumping into the boat, handed up the eatables that he had brought for them..

XVIII.

Wanderings about the Beach.—Science and Sport.—Back Home.—Frightful Tale of Poison.—A Visit to the Afflicted.

THE eatables which Mr. Long had brought with him were not such as would have been welcome to a fastidious taste or a dainty appetite; but to these long-fasting, hard-working, and half-starving, and altogether ravenous boys, anything that was eatable was precious. The brown ship-bread and salt pork, which Mr. Long handed up to them, were seized as eagerly as if they had been roast beef and plum pudding, and soon disposed of. A knife drawn from Phil’s belt served very quickly to cut the pork into slices, after which the pork and the brown biscuit vanished.

“What a pity,” said Mr. Long, as he looked around, “that we didn’t get here an hour earlier! The water’s going out fast; the schooner is aground, and we’ll have to wait till the next tide before we can start for the cove.”

“It’s a pity that we can’t do something while waiting, so as not to throw our time away,” said Mr. Simmons.

“There don’t seem to be much prospect of doing anything just here, but we can try.”

“Nor do I see that there are any people living about here.”

“No: Captain Corbet told me there were no inhabitants within eight miles.”

“These banks are not very inviting to a mineralogist—are they?” said Mr. Simmons, with a sigh, as he looked along the beach.

“No; we’ll have to lay out our strength on the mud flats. Perhaps we may find some interesting footprints at low tide.”

“Well, we may as well go ashore now, I suppose. It’s rather monotonous standing here on an inclined plane, with the vessel aground on her side. I think I’ll climb the bank, and take a general view of the country.”

“Very well; I’ll go with you,” said Mr. Long. “And now, boys,” he continued, “remember this: don’t go out of sight. This beach is long, and it will soon be wide, for the tide will leave it all uncovered. This will give space enough for even such extensive and wide-spreading desires as yours. Now, don’t go off the beach or the flats. Don’t go up in the woods, and get lost; don’t go into the water, and get drowned; don’t blow yourselves up with that pistol; don’t get into any more fights with ‘shovel-mouth sharks,’ or, if you do, be sure to call me; don’t get into air-holes if you can help it. As to going adrift again, I don’t see how you can manage that, as there is nothing afloat just yet; but, dear hoys, if you can possibly help it, don’t do it. Try and see if you can’t manage’ to keep your clothes on. It’s much better, as a general thing, to do so.”

All this the hoys greeted with loud laughter; after which they sprang over the vessel’s side, and scattered themselves along the beach.

Captain Corbet stood looking after them, with a beaming smile irradiating his venerable countenance.

“Yes,” he ejaculated, standing near Mr. Long. “Yes, sir; I allus knowed it, an’ I allus said it, that them there boys would turn up all right. Lor’ bless your heart, you can’t wreck ’em, an’ you can’t drown ’em. The fish doesn’t swim that can tetch ’em. They’re allus bound to turn up all straight. That’s the confidin’ belief that reigned in my boosom, an’ sustained me when we watched, ’em in the Antelope, up there at the pint. As to that there anchor, ef it had been a bran new one, it would have been broken off jest the same, for that there schooner was bound to lie on it an’ crack it, an’ them there boys was bound to have that there adventoor.”

Mr. Long now landed with Mr. Simmons, and went up to the top of the bank, where they sat down for some time, gazing upon the wide-spread scenery of the Basin of Minas. After this they descended and walked about the beach. At first, they hoped to obtain some shells; but nothing of the kind could be found. In fact, there were scarcely any pebbles; indeed, none but the most common kind. For all the waters of the Bay of Fundy and its adjacent harbors are singularly bare of the more delicate shell-fish. Lobsters abound, and so do clams; so also do many kinds of seaweed; but as for the more exquisite forms of sea life, such as we love to put in the aquarium, they must be sought for elsewhere. Here are swift currents, fierce rapids, strong tides, vast mud flats or sand flats, rivers that empty and fill themselves with every ebb and flood; and it is not amid such scenes that we may look for those graceful, yet fragile creatures,-whose abode is amid stiller scenes.

As the tide went down, Messrs. Simmons and Long walked over the flats, hoping to find something which would reward their trouble. From the surface of the sea bottom thus uncovered, many interesting things might be obtained. On these mud flats are found many marks, which are the counterparts of others that have been turned into stone, and buried in the adjacent earth. Here may be seen the patter of rain-drops, and the footprints of birds or beasts made on the very day of their discovery, while among the strata of the neighboring shore there may lie traces of a similar kind made many ages ago, which thus have been graven on the rock, and treasured up for our eyes.

The boys dispersed themselves everywhere, extending their wanderings as the tide left more and more of the shore exposed. Far down they could see the weirs, placed there by the fishermen, and they waited long for these to become uncovered, so that they might visit them, and inspect their contents. But it grew later and later, and finally it became too dark to do anything. Then the voice of Mr. Long was heard summoning them to the shore.

Thus the remainder of the day passed without anything to reward them except the general excitement which had been produced among them. It would be many hours yet before they could get afloat, and they amused themselves by making fires at the foot of the bank. A modest and frugal repast of brown biscuit and pork, washed down with cold water, concluded the day. For some time longer they sat round the fire, until, at last, excessive weariness overcame them. Then they went on board the schooner, and retired to bed.

Some time after midnight the Antelope was afloat again. None of her passengers waked. She moved away from the shore without accident. Morning came, and she had not yet reached her destination. The wind had been unfavorable, and she had lost that tide. As she could not anchor, Captain Corbet had run her ashore. They had to wait patiently, and get off at midday, with the rising tide; after which they resumed their voyage, and in three hours more they were in Captain Pratt’s house.

Of the five boys who had been left behind, one was not visible, and the other four met them with pale, woe-begone faces. They showed no joy at seeing the return of the wanderers; no curiosity to learn what they had been doing; and even the sight of the jaw of the “shovel-mouth shark” produced upon them no effect whatever.

It was seen that something had happened, and the unhappy four were closely cross-questioned. At first they refused to answer. At last, on being pressed, they confessed that they had all been poisoned.

“Poisoned!” cried Bart, in horror. “How was that?”

“Clams!!!” said Jiggins.

“Yes, clams!” said all the others.

“Clams?” cried Bart. “What rubbish! How could clams poison you! Pooh!”

“Ah, you don’t know,” said Jiggins. “You ask Mrs. Pratt. Haven’t you heard the old saying,” he continued, with an air of peculiar solemnity; “the old saying, that they have about these shores:”

”’ In the months without the “R,”
Clams and oysters poison are?’”

“Never heard it,” said Bart; “and I don’t believe it. I’ve eaten lots of oysters in May myself.”

Jiggins shook his head.

“Never do it again,” said he.

“Do you mean to say that it was clams that upset you so?”

“Clams, and clams alone,” said Jiggins. “We owe our lives to Mrs. Pratt. She’s been a mother to us.”

“Why! What do you mean?”

“You see we had a stew. Pat ate them raw, and fell down in horrible agonies. The torments which he suffered were so excruciating that he had to be carried to the house, and went nearly mad with pain. Mrs. Pratt attended him, and as soon as he was easier she took us in hand. We had eaten after Pat, and our pains had not yet begun. Mrs. Pratt got out all her medicines, and tried them on us one after the other.”

“What! not all! not all her medicines!”

“Yes, all!” said Jiggins, in a dismal voice. “I can’t tell you all that we took; but first there was opodeldoc, then ginger, then Crabb’s cordial, then magnesia, then paregoric, then blue pills, then a mustard plaster, after which there was rum and onions, brimstone and molasses—”

“Stop, stop!” cried Bart. “What’s all that? You don’t mean to say that you took all that?”

“Yes, all!” ejaculated. Jiggins, his face growing at once longer and paler at the recollection of hiss sorrows.

“And you’re alive yet—all of you? Then you need never be afraid of poisons. Yes my poor Jiggins, you have been poisoned; that’s a fact, though not by clams.”

Mr. Long, who was present, had listened to all this in consternation.

“And where’s Pat?” he asked. That young gentleman’s name was Michael, but everybody called him Pat, and so did Mr. Long. “And where’s Pat?”

“In bed yet, sir.”

“Poor Pat! Has he been dosed, too?”

“Yes, sir; but he was taken worse than any of us;” and with this Jiggins went on to tell all about Pat and the raw clams.

“Dear, dear, dear!” cried Mr. Long. “He must have eaten a bushel, and all raw. Dear, dear, dear! What did he think he was made of? O, how is it possible for me to keep you all out of mischief? I go after one half of you who are in peril, and come back to find the rest of you half poisoned. But poor Pat—where is he? I must see him, for we have to start for home to-night.”

“I’ll show you, sir,” said Jiggins; and he took him to the room where Pat was. He was lying in bed, looking pale and exhausted. He greeted Mr. Long with a faint smile, and the kind-hearted teacher did his utmost to soothe the afflicted boy.