Bailey’s Den.—The Fire.—The blazing Beacon.—Shell Fish.—Bailey begins his Narrative.—Astonishing Disclosure.—Mutual Explanations. —The Story of Bailey.—The Crank Ship.—Springing aleak.—The mutinous Crew.—A Storm.—Taking to the Boats.—The Captain sticks to his Ship.—Driving before the Wind.—Cast ashore.—How to kindle a Fire.—Plans for the Future.—The Evening Repast.—The insatiable Appetite of a half starved Man.—Asleep in Bailey’s Den.

AT length Bailey’s hunger seemed somewhat appeased. “I’m a thinkin,” said he, “as how we’d better take these here victuals to some place where it’ll be more under cover, and handy for us about tea time. If you like, I’ll take them to my den.”

“But can’t we roll it farther up? This barrel’s too heavy to take any distance.”

“Well, I don’ know but what you’re more’n half right. I didn’t think of the bar’l. Leastways, we can put it further up, out of the reach of any surf, and cover it with the sail.”

“We can take with us as much as we may be likely to want,” said Arthur.

“Wal,” said the man, “there ain’t no fear of anybody stealin the things here; and as the wind ain’t likely to turn yet a while, I don’t s’pose there’ll be any danger of surf.”

After a few further precautions, so as to secure the boat and the contents from any possible harm, Bailey set off to show the boys his “den.” They walked along the beach for about half a mile, and then stopped at a place where a high rock jutted out. Behind this there was a recess about twenty feet above the beach, formed by a fissure in the rock. A huge mass overhead shut it in, and formed a sort of roof; while the lower portion had been filled up by crumbled fragments. Over this rough floor Bailey had spread spruce brush, ferns, and mosses, so that it was soft enough to lie down on. The whole recess was about eight feet deep, six feet wide, and six feet high. Immediately outside a fire was burning, and from this came the smoke which had first attracted their attention.

“I keep that there burnin,” said Bailey, “night and day, an I’ve kept it a burnin for the last fortnight. There’s drift-wood enough along the beach here, though every day I have to go further away to get it. Wal, there’s wood enough on the island, if it comes to that, only ‘tain’t easy gittin it up in the woods.”

The boys looked around with deep interest, and with varied feelings. They saw outside, by the fire, heaps of shells, which seemed to have been burned.

“Thar,” said Bailey, “them’s all I’ve had to eat, every bite, since I landed here. They do to keep body and soul together, but they ain’t much account. I’d give a bushel any day for one good biscuit. What I’ve jest eat seems to have made a man of me.”

The boys were silent for some time, and at length Arthur asked,—

“How did you happen to get here?”

“Wal, I’ll tell you all about it,” said Bailey.

“I’ll begin at the beginnin. Wal, you see, about five weeks ago I shipped aboard the Petrel, at Quebec—”

“The what?” cried Arthur and Tom, in the greatest wonder and excitement.

“The ship Petrel,” said Bailey. “Why, what of her?”

“The Petrel!” cried Arthur. “What, the ship Petrel, of Liverpool-?”

“That there’s the identical craft.”

“And—and—and,” stammered Tom, in his excitement, “was—was her captain’s name Henry Hall? and—and was she loaded with timber?”

“And didn’t she get water-logged?” said Arthur.

“Yes, and didn’t the captain and crew all leave her?”

Bailey stared at the boys with astonishment fully equal to their own.

“You seem to know all about her,” said he, slowly; “and how you larned all that beats me.”

“Why, that’s the very ship that we got wrecked on, too,” said Arthur.

“Yes,” said Tom; “we were sailing about, and found her adrift, and all as comfortable as possible.”

“We tried to be salvors,” said Arthur; “and we were left on board to take care of her while our captain went off in the schooner for help.”

“And he anchored her, and the anchor didn’t hold,” said Tom.

“And we drifted all about the gulf,” continued Arthur, “and were out in the most horrible gales that ever were, till finally we got ashore here.” The boys poured out this information in the most rapid manner possible upon the astounded Bailey, who now seemed fairly struck dumb.

“You—in the Petrel!” he exclaimed, at length, in slow and perplexed tones. “You—you adrift in that water-logged craft! and thrown by that there ship here on Anticosti!”

“Yes,” said Arthur, briskly, “that’s just it.” Bailey raised his hand slowly to his head, and scratched it solemnly, raising his eyes at the same time, and fixing them upon empty space.

“These here two young coves in the Petrel! and hev ashore on Anticosti!” he murmured.

“Yes, yes,” said Arthur; “and now tell us all about how you got here.”

Bailey started, and looked at each of them silently and solemnly; then he looked away, as before.

“Wal,” said he, at last, “this here—doos—beat—my—grandmother! Wal, I’ll tell my story, an then I’ll listen to yourn, an we’ll compare notes, an in that way we’ll grad’ly get the hang of it; for jest now, as things is, I’m dumfounded.

“Wal,” continued Bailey, after a pause, “I’ll start afresh. I shipped then, as I was a sayin, as able seaman, aboard the Petrel. She was loaded down deep with timber, an badly loaded, too, for as she lay in the stream at Quebec, she had a list ever so far over.

“I don’t think I was overly sober when I was took on board, an I don’t think any of the other men was overly sober, neither; at any rate, the first thing I knows, I finds myself thirty mile below Quebec, aboard the Petrel, that had a list to one side that would almost let a man foot it up her masts.

“The first thing we all does, we all begins to kick up a dust. The mate he swears we ain’t goin to sail the ship. Crank? Why, crank ain’t the word! Wal, the captain he tells us we’re gettin up mutiny, and warns us. And we tells him to look at the ship.

“Wal, things goes on somehow, and we gets down the river further, we grumblin all the way and the mate a swearin. One night she drifts nigh to the shore and touches. We gets her off somehow; but she got a bad sprain, and begins to leak.

“Wal, we all growls and grumbles, and won’t touch the pumps; and the captain he threatens, and the mate he rows and swears, and the captain he vows, leak or no leak, he’ll put that there ship across the Atlantic. At last things grows worse, and the mate one day puts a couple of us in the bilboes.

“Wal, that only makes things worse; and by that time we was in the gulf, and rough weather comes on, and none of us would touch a line. So the captain he knocks under, and lets the men go, and promises us a glass of grog all round if we’ll bear a hand at the pumps. But we insists on putting the deck-load overboard first. The captain wouldn’t do it, though, for ever so long; till at last the wind blew a gale, and the cranky vessel plunged under so, and strained and twisted so, that at last he was glad enough to do it of his own accord. So we all goes to work in the midst of that there gale, and puts every stick over. They wasn’t much—only deals, and easy handled. It was timber below, and if it had been timber on deck, we couldn’t have done it nohow.

“Wal, that gale went on, and another followed, and we all pumped away for dear life, but didn’t do much. It had got to be a little too late; and what with the first touch on the rocks, and the straining and twisting afterwards, the leak got to be a little the biggest I ever did see.

“So it went from bad to worse. We all worked at last like the old boy. No need then for the captain to encourage us.............