The Denizens of Bailey’s Den—Morning.—A Sail upon the Surface of the Sea.—The Spyglass.—Exciting Discovery to the lost Ones.—The strange Schooner.—Exchange of Signals.—The Excitement increases.—The Schooner draws nearer.—New Signals.—They take to the Boat.—Out to Sea.—Rough Water.—Another Sail.—A strange Suspicion.—Old Friends.—Pleasant Greetings.—Mrs. Corbet.—Obloquy heaped upon the Antelope and its venerable Commander.—Away to the Rescue.

BAILEY’S den was a particularly well sheltered recess in the rock, open to no wind, except a sou’-wester. The wind that blew while Bailey and his guests slumbered inside, came from the north-west, and therefore the sleepers knew nothing of it. Out in the sea, indeed, the waters felt its power, and the foaming waves on the following morning told them the story of the night; but during that night they knew nothing at all about it. Far down the side of the cliff, under the rocky precipice, out of the way of the wind, the occupants of Bailey’s den slumbered on the soft spruce brush and softer moss. All night long the fire burned outside, for Bailey had piled up the fuel generously, yet carefully, and had so arranged it, by making alternate layers of green wood and dry, that it would burn all night long, and yet send forth sufficient flame to be visible at sea.

Morning came, and the wind and sea had gone down. Upon rising, the denizens of Bailey’s den looked forth upon the water, and saw that it was very much the same as it had been on the preceding day. At this Arthur and Tom shook their heads, but Bailey was sanguine, and spoke encouragingly.

“The wind has hauled round a pint or two,” said he, “and I shouldn’t wonder if it was to come round a little more; and if so, it’ll be all right for us. A moderate north or north-east wind’ll be jest the cheese.”

They now replenished the fire, after which they sat down to their breakfast.

“So you got all this out of the Petrel,” said Bailey. “Well, only think! Why, what gormandizers them captains an mates in the cabin must be—feedin on potted meats! an only think what we eats before the mast! Hard tack, salt junk, an dish-water, that’s what we eats before the mast; but aft, my gentlemen won’t be satisfied with nothin less than Yorkshire game pie, and Oxford sassage—and, what’s this?—Bolony sassage, an all them other condyments what you’ve got done up in them there tin pots. Wall, they’re precious good eatin on a desert island, whatever they be in a ship’s cabin, only they seem most too good for the likes of me.”

“You?” said Arthur. “Why, you have a better right to them than we have; for we haven’t any right at all. And, as to the Petrel, if you can manage to save her, I hereby agree to deliver up and surrender to you. all my right, title, and interest in and to any part or portion of the so-called salvage.”

“And I too,” said Tom, chiming in with the utmost gravity; “and hereby make known by these presents, to all whom it may concern, and anything to the contrary hereof in any wise notwithstanding.”

Bailey was evidently much impressed by these legal formulas. He bowed very gravely.

“Your servant, young gents, and my ’umble dooty to both of you; but, at the same time, I don’t want any more’n fair an honest wages, and, if so be as you ain’t in the position to give it, why, well and good, says I; but, if so be as you can, why, I’ll take what’s fair, and right, and lawful, and no more—”

But at this point this interesting conversation was abruptly terminated by a loud cry from Tom. His eyes were fixed upon the sea, and were fascinated by something there.

“A sail! a sail!” he cried. “A sail! O, a sail! Look, look, look!”

Arthur and Bailey sprang to their feet, and looked in the direction where Tom was pointing. Tom seized the spy-glass, wrhich they had brought into the den, and examined more closely, while Arthur and Bailey watched the distant sea.

And there, on the distant sea, several miles away, a sail appeared, unmistakably. It was a schooner, and she was not more than five miles away.

“She’s heading away from us,” said Tom; “she’s going away, out to sea.”

“Don’t be too hasty,” said Bailey; “she may p’raps be only beatin up agin this here wrind. It’s a head wind for her.”

“I wish it may turn out so,” said Tom.

They now watched in silence for some time longer. The schooner held on her way steadily. At length she tacked, and, wearing round, headed towards the shore.

“I knowed it!” said Bailey, triumphantly. “She’s a coastin along, and is beatin up agin the wind. Just hand us that there glass for a minute, if you please, and let us git a squint at her.”

Tom handed the glass to Bailey, who took it, and looked at the schooner long and carefully.

At length he returned it to Tom. “It’s a fisher,” said he; “a Yankee fisher. I knows the cut of her jib; there’s no mistakin her. You don’t find any of yer Province fishermen git up such a turnout as that there. Why, she’s a cross between the best class of Liverpool pilot-boat and a nobleman’s yacht; and I don’t believe there’s a pilot-boat or a yacht afloat that can lick that there fisherman in a fair race.”

Arthur now took the glass, and looked at her long and earnestly.

“I say, Tom,” said he.

“What?”

“Do you know what I’m thinking?”

“I dare say it’s the very thought that I had.”

“What? The Fawn?”

“The very thing.”

“Of course it’s all nonsense. I suppose all the Yankee fishermen, or, at any rate, a great many, are just like the Fawn; but, at any rate, wouldn’t it be fun if it should turn out to be her?”

“Well, it’s too much to hope for,” said Tom; “it’ll be fun enough for me if she only takes us off—if she only sees us. Hadn’t we better pile on more fuel, Bailey?”

“No; ’tain’t no use. The fire’s makin as much smoke as it can, an that’s the best thing by daytime. If that there vessel’s beatin up the coast, she’s bound to see us on the next tack, if she don’t see us now; and it’ll only take three more tacks to bring her right opposite—Hallo!”

An abrupt exclamation terminated Bailey’s remarks. He seized the glass without a word of apology, and took a hasty glance.

“They’re a histin an a lowerin of the flag! They’re a signalizing, as sure as I’m a born sinner! and to us! Hooray!”

This Bailey shouted, quite beside himself, and then dropping the spy-glass, at the imminent risk of its destruction, he seized a pole that lay near, and scattered the fire about in all directions.



0325

“I’m a tryin to answer their signals,” said he. “They see us! They know that were a signalizin to them, and they’re a tellin us that they’ll be along! Hooray!”

The schooner now tacked, and stood out to sea.

“All right,” said Bailey; “the next tack’ll bring her nearer.”

This reassured the boys, who did not like even the appearance of desertion. They watched her now in silence, and at length had the gratification of seeing her taking her next tack, and standing in towards the shore. This time she was very much nearer. Bailey rushed off, and gathered a quantity of dry spruce twigs and moss. As the schooner neared the shore, her flag rose and fell rapidly, and the report of a rifle sounded over the waters. At this Bailey flung his moss and spruce twigs upon the fire, and a vast cloud of smoke shot up, intermingled with sparks and flame.

“We’re gradooly a comin to a understandin,” said Bailey, as he rubbed his hands in immense glee, and watched the schooner. “And I do believe that the next tack’ll bring her here. Boys, let’s get ready with the boat.”

Saying this, Bailey hurried down, followed by the boys. They hurried as fast as possible to the boat, and began to launch her. As she was uncommonly high and dry, this was a work of time; but it was at length ............