Ingenuity of Tom and Phil.—Checkers and Chess.—Speculations as to the Future.—Melancholy Forebodings.—Where is the Antelope?—A Change of Weather.—Solemn Preparations by Solomon.—Making ready for the Worst.—The Place of Retreat.—Laying in a Stock of Provisions.—Pitching a Tent.—Reconnaissance in Force.—A midnight Alarm.—Horror of Solomon.—A haunted Ship.—Sleepers awakened.—They go to lay the Ghost.—Forth into the Night.
THE boys thus succeeded in filling the day with sufficient incidents to occupy their thoughts. It was not an unpleasant day; indeed, it was afterwards looked back upon by all of them as one of the marked days in their lives. True, most of the molasses had been lost, and the remainder, which had been turned into candy, had not been recommended to their palates by the addition of the hair-oil of the steward of the Petrel; but to active-minded boys these little disappointments caused no trouble whatever; on the contrary, they only furnished material for endless jests and laughter. The conclusion of the whole affair was reached when the party once more formed themselves into a meeting, at which it was moved, seconded, and unanimously voted, “that the thanks of this meeting be conveyed to Solomon for his generous loan of the cook’s galley.”
After this, Tom, who always was remarkably fruitful in devices, conceived the idea of making a checker-board. He was able to do this without any very great difficulty. He obtained the head of a flour barrel, and with some soot and water he was able to mark out the squares very well indeed. He then obtained the covers of some red herring boxes, which he cut up into the checker pieces, blackening them with soot. He then challenged Bruce to a game. Bruce played, and won; but, as at the end of that time Bruce, who had chosen the black men, found his fingers and face all covered with soot, and his fingers, moreover, smelling most abominably of stale red herring, his victory did not seem to give him that satisfaction which it might be supposed to have caused.
Fired by Tom’s example, Phil undertook a more ambitious task, which was nothing less than to make a set of chess-men. He went about the pantry, and succeeded in finding a number of corks, which he attempted to cut into the required shapes. His knife, however, was rather dull, and he himself was not particularly skilful at carving; so that when the pieces were completed, it required a great effort of the imagination to see the connection between the corks and the pieces which they were supposed to represent, and a still greater effort of memory to retain the recollection of such resemblance. He challenged Bart to a game, and the two attempted to play; but, after a dozen moves, attended by a dozen disputes, the game resolved itself into an insoluble problem as to whether a certain piece, belonging to Phil, was a pawn or a queen. All present took part in the discussion, but, after a long debate, it was left undecided; and so the game broke down.
After tea they adjourned to the quarter-deck. Here all was pleasant, and soothing, and agreeable. A gentle breeze still blew as before, and the prospect of this tranquil weather continued. The boys sang, and told stories, and chatted for hours. They speculated much as to the time when the Antelope might be expected back again. Some thought that she might be back by the evening of the next day, but others were inclined to allow her a longer time.
“For my part,” said Bart, “I think well have to allow about three days—one day to go to the Magdalen Islands, one day to hunt up the sails, and one day to come back.”
“O, he needn’t be so long as that,” said Phil. “I should think he could get to the Magdalen Islands in far less time. They can’t be over fifty miles away, and this breeze would take him there in fifteen hours or so. He left here at about six yesterday; he probably got there at about twelve to-day. He could hunt all over the islands before dark at farthest; and, of course, he’ll come straight back after he gets the sails. He probably left there this evening at sundown, and he may be here to-morrow.”
“O, I don’t know,” said Bruce. “I dare say he did leave this evening to come back; but, mind you, my boy, this wind’s against him. He’ll have to tack coming back, and the Antelope isn’t much at that. I don’t believe he’ll do it by to-morrow.”
“Three days, I think, will have to be allowed,” said Arthur.
“Well, three days ought to do it at the farthest,” said Tom. “He certainly won’t wait at the Magdalen Islands. The only thing that’ll keep him’ll be the head winds.”
“Sure, an’ for my part,” said Pat, “he may stay three weeks, if he likes. This place is over an over again betther than the Antelope.”
“O, I don’t know,” said Bart. “It’s all very well while the wind is this way, but if an easterly or southerly wind should come up, it wouldn’t be so comfortable. A heavy sea would roll through and through the cabin, and we’d have to live, and eat, and sleep up here.”
“Sure, an ayvin that wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Well, if it were to rain at the same time,” said Bruce, “it might be a little damp up here; and I’m afraid we wouldn’t have quite so good a table.”
“I only hope that the Antelope’ll get back before it begins to blow,” said Tom.
“Yes,” said Bart, “it’s all very well in fine weather; for I’d rather be on board here than in the Antelope; but if the weather is going to change, I’d a precious sight rather have the Antelope within hail.”
“O, well,” said Phil, cheerily, “there’s no sign of a blow just yet, at any rate; so I suppose we needn’t talk about that. I’ve no doubt this weather’ll hold on for a day or so longer, and by that time, at the farthest, the Antelope will be here.”
“If the Antelope were really in sight,” said Bart, “I don’t believe I should give one thought to the weather; but the fact that she is away makes the subject a very important one. This head wind may detain her, and if it were to blow hard, it would be bad for us.”
“Well,” said Bruce, “I believe that if it did blow hard, the wind would change; and in that case, it would be all the more favorable for the Antelope, and, of course, bring her here all the faster. So, at the worst, our hardships couldn’t last more than a few hours.”
“There’s a good deal in that,” said Bart; “I didn’t think of it before.”
Such were their speculations as to the Antelope; but all these, together with all apprehensions of danger, and all fears about the change of weather, were soon forgotten in a sound and refreshing sleep.
The next morning came, and their conversation of the previous night made every one think of the Antelope. On going upon deck, their first thought was of her. But of the Antelope there was not a sign, nor was any sail visible whatever. Little did they imagine that at that moment, instead of steering his bark back to them, Captain Corbet was sailing away from them, and directing his course to Miramichi. But the weather was fine, and the breeze was still mild; and so, after one glance around, they all dismissed the subject.
Breakfast, and morning occupations, and games, and swimming, and various other pastimes, took up the interval until midday, when dinner came to engage their attention.
On going upon deck after dinner, they noticed a change in the appearance of sea and sky. Clouds were visible on the horizon, and the wind had shifted. It was blowing from another quarter. It had been north-east. It was now south-east. It was also a little stronger than it had been, and created more than a ripple on the water. The surface of the sea was now agitated, and the halcyon times of calm had passed. The boys noted all these things at one glance.
“It’s going to be rough,” said Bart. “The wind has changed, and it’s going to blow.”
“Well,” said Bruce, “let it blow. It’ll be fair for the Antelope, and fetch her up all the faster.”
“It’s an ill wind that blows no good,” said Tom, quietly.
“Let her rip,” said Phil.
The boys were not by any means inclined to borrow trouble, and so they soon drove away these thoughts, and began to get up amusements of the old sort. They ransacked the cabin, they peered into places heretofore neglected. Nothing, however, of any particular interest rewarded their searches. So the afternoon passed away.
The tea table was set. Solomon did his best. All praised the repast, as something of a superior order. This time Solomon did not kindle, and glow, and chuckle at the praises of his young friends, but preserved a demeanor of unchangeable gravity.
As they sat at table, they all noticed a slight motion in the vessel, which would not have been regarded under ordinary circumstances, but which now, in their very peculiar situation, excited comment.
“The wind is increasing,” said Arthur.
“I dare say we’ll have a blow to-night,” said Bart.
“If there’s much more motion, we must expect to get a ducking,” said Tom.
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