The first shock had now passed away, and the foolhardy scullers were beginning to recover their spirits. Although each one was still almost quaking with dread, yet each one believed that they would be rescued; and each one—except, perhaps, Jim—had a theory of his own as to how it would be effected. They viewed the matter logically. To them, it did not seem possible that six clever boys, determined, true, and good, (the writer and the reader may not agree to this) could perish so near home. They searched their minds diligently, conscience helping them, and many little things that made them uneasy were remembered; still: they would be rescued, they knew it.

The punt was now a long way out on the lake; the point was passed; looking longingly towards home they could discern the vessels at anchor, the wharf, and several buildings in the village.

In the confusion of the moment, they had left off bailing[97] out the ramshackle punt, in which there were, consequently, three or four inches of water. A dead fish and half a dozen emaciated fish-worms—abandoned, a few days before, by an amateur angler of ten years—were carried hither and thither over the bottom of the punt, adding to the ghastliness of the scene.

Jim was the first to discover the water washing over his boots. Here was a new source of distress. Forgetting the storm, which was still more or less in the distance, his attention was centred upon that water. To him, in his “good clothes,” it was more to be dreaded than the bellowing waves, or the approaching storm. Thus, gentle reader, we get an insight into the boy’s character.

“O dear!” he said piteously, “my feet are soaking wet in the bottom of this nasty boat; and I’m cold; and I’m catching cold; and I’ve got the chills.”

“Well, then, set on to your feet and bale her out,” Steve growled. “I guess we don’t want to drown in this old coal-slide of a punt.”

Heaving an agonizing sigh, Jim snatched up the floating oyster-can, and fell to work. Poor boy! his toil was monotonous and painful.

“Is it worth while to row?” Charley asked, not hopelessly, but speculatively.

“Perhaps not, but it will keep up our spirits, anyway,” Will said. “Steer it, George,” he added. “It would seem like giving up all hope, if we don’t do something to help ourselves.”

Foolish fellow! he could not realize that it was out of their power to help themselves.

“This is a sorry ending for our little trip, and things look pretty black for us,” George observed, “Charley, how do you suppose we can be rescued?”

Thus appealed to, Charles assumed an air of importance, and said knowingly, “If this wind should get much worse, we shall be driven away out into the lake, and perhaps lost; unless—” here he hesitated.

“Unless what?” Jim demanded, with much emotion.

“Well, a passing schooner might pick us up, but there is none in sight.”

[98]

This was his theory. Nothing would have pleased the young Argonaut more than to be picked up by a passing sailing-vessel; and for this reason, he was morally certain that, sooner or later, such would be the case. Why he chose to speak so doubtfully about it, is best known to himself. Probably the sharp young reader can guess.

“Or, they might send for us from home; but I can’t see anybody coming along in a life-boat,” Will said, giving his particular theory.

“Haven’t any life-boat to send; and I guess they won’t telegraph for one!” Steve exclaimed rudely.

“Oh, you mean fellow!” Jim broke in, apostrophizing unpoetic Stephen. “You made me come, and you’ve got to get me home!”

“The truth is, we may as well prepare for the worst!” George said, deliberately and with seeming sincerity. But the grin on his face belied his words. He was only waiting for a fit time to pronounce his opinion—the most extravagant of all.

“George, how long could a fellow live on the water without any food?” Steve inquired, not at all awed by George’s lugubrious asseveration.

“Oh, how long?” said George, so pleased to have an opportunity of drawing on his extensive and miscellaneous reading that he lost track of his own pet theory. “Well, boys, a shipwrecked sailor once lived twenty-two days without food; but he was a fat old fellow—a captain, I think he was. Now, in our case—”

“Don’t talk nonsense, George;” Will interrupted at this point. “We are not going to experiment in that way; for on the lake,” with significant emphasis, “we shall not have a chance to see how long we can live without food, as it’s either saving or drowning with us. Look at those clouds again. It will rain in a few minutes. But cheer up! I think we shall be safe at home within three hours; and then this storm will be an episode in our lives as long as we live. If we could only let the folks on shore know, they’d soon come along.”

“Yes, if we could open up communication with the people at home!” Charley sighed.

[99]

“Boys,” said Marmaduke, with great animation, “I can tell you how to do that; tie a handkerchief, or something else, to one of the sculls!”

“Good for you, Marmaduke!” Charles cried, with delight. “You are a genius!”

“Yes, Marmaduke, you’ve hit on the very thing!” said Steve. “Now, whose is the largest?—Mine is;” and two minutes later Steve’s handkerchief was fluttering as a flag.

“I—I was just thinking about that, too;” Jim stammered.

A hearty laugh—the first since they had left their swimming-place—burst from the boys at this.

The little white flag on the oar was romantic; it inspired hope in them; they became fearless, even merry. Each one was sufficiently susceptible of romance to place the greatest confidence in the saving powers of that little handkerchief. It was medicine to Jim’s troublesome disorder, while to Marmaduke it was everything. He sat bolt upright, devouring it with his eyes, his heart going at high pressure. Environed with romance, with danger on every side, he made an idol of the little square of linen, which, but for his sapience, would not have left its owner’s pocket. What did he care for danger? Though they should float for hours, this would eventually save them. Thus he sat, gazing eloquently and lovingly on the white flag.

Did we say white? Alas! it was not white! Two days previous to this, Steve had made it serve him for a towel.

Meanwhile, the breeze increased to a gale, and the punt was tossed about in a manner to make even Steve fidgety, while it made pigeon-hearted Jim draw groans expressive of unutterable agony. The sinking sun was hidden by black clouds; the storm was upon them. In fact, their situation was really becoming desperate.

“Why is it so dark, boys?” Jim articulated faintly.

“Why, surely enough, it’s so dusk, so hazy, that we can hardly see the harbor!” George said.

“My stars, boys, it’s an eclipse!” cried Steve, forgetting his peril in the excitement of his astounding discovery.[100] “An eclipse! The down-rightest eclipse that ever was! George,” banteringly, “don’t you wish you’d brought in something about this eclipse when you were foretelling the weather!”

The Sage experienced some of the emotions of a huffish philosopher when floored by a hulking lout from the copper regions.

George’s words had directed Charley’s attention towards the harbor. “Oh! Look! look!” he cried. “They’re coming! coming at last!”

“Where? where?” cried the others eagerly, stretching over the gunwale of their crazy craft and peering into the darkness.

The water-loving boatmen soon descried a long-boat drawing towards them.

“Help at last!” Will ejaculated thankfully. “And it will reach us barely in time to save us.”

“The signal has done it, boys,” Marmaduke observed with complacency.

“Let us yell!” said Will.

How they shouted! Their pent-up woes found vent, and they shouted till hoarseness necessitated them to forbear.

But the manager of the signal had not shouted, and when the voices of the others finally died away in a discordant murmur, he said snappishly, “You needn’t yell like an hobomokko; this flag will guide them to us.”

“Yes; but it’s better to yell,” Steve panted. “In fact, I couldn’t help it!”

“I wish we could stop this punt till they come up with us,” Will said, “for we are drifting farther from them all the time,” sighing to hear the water plunk against the punt with remorseless and dreary monotony.

“Well, we can’t anchor; but they’re rowing hard and coming fast,” Charles replied.

“Will, it’s your fault that we came; you proposed it;” Jim said.

“That may be, Jim,” the standard-bearer replied; “but I think we all had a hand in it—except, of course, you. But I am the one who has saved you, and saved us all.[101] This signal of distress has been sighted, and then immediately they made ready to rescue us,” and he looked triumphantly at the boys, defying a denial.

“Oh, yes; I know it’s all right; I ain’t afraid;” Jim said quickly.

Stephen spoke next. “How everybody will laugh at us!” he said, elaborating a dolorous sigh and putting on a hideous grimace.

Now that succor was at hand, this thought began to depress his mind.

The approaching long-boat was a fascinating sight to all, to Marmaduke especially. As it drew nearer, the latter suddenly and most unwarrantably struck the improvised flag and stuffed it into Stephen’s coat-pocket. Had he become ashamed of it? Could he be so base? No! no! but it was not needed now!

In good ti............