Out on the Headland.—The doomed Ship.—The Struggle with the Waters.—The ravening Waves.—All over.—The last of the Petrel.—An Interruption at Dinner.—Startling Sight.—The strange, yet familiar Sail.—A grand and joyous Reunion.—Away from the Isle of Desolation.—The Antelope once more.—Over the Sea to Miramichi.—Farewell.—Captain Corbet moralizes, and Sermonizes.

BUT on the headland the boys stood watching. Bruce was sad and preoccupied. The others gazed uneasily upon the rough water. Could Arthur and Tom ever sail the boat through such a sea? That was the question which occurred to every one, and every one felt in his own heart that it was impossible. The prospect was not pleasant. They could only hope that the boys had gained the shore, and were waiting there till the wind might blow over. With this hope they tried to encourage Bruce, who showed more depression than the rest, and blamed himself several times for not insisting on going in Arthur’s place.

At length they went back to the place where the Petrel lay. On reaching it they found that a marked change had taken place. Thus far, though low in the water, she had always preserved a certain symmetry of outline; and to those who might stand on her deck in fine weather and smooth water she seemed quite uninjured. But now her decks appeared to be burst open; she seemed broken in two. Bow and stern were low under water, while amidships she was above it. The mainmast inclined forward, and the foremast sloped back so far that they almost touched. Where she had parted asunder the planks of the decks had also started, and as the waves rolled over her, every new assault increased the ruin.

“She’s hogged,” said Bart.

“She’s worse than hogged,” said Bruce; “she’s completely broken in two.”

“She’s fallen upon some ridge of rock,” said Phil, “and the weight of her cargo has done it.”

“Deed thin, an the waves have had somethin to do with that same,” said Pat; “and glad am I that we’re all out of her, so I am; and lucky it was for us that she didn’t go ashore on that same reef, the night of the starrum.”

The boys looked on in silence. The work of destruction went on slowly, but surely, before their very eyes. Each wave did something towards hastening the catastrophe. That the Petrel was doomed was now beyond the possibility of doubt.

Rocks were beneath her, and never-ending billows rolled over her, making her their prey.

At length the fore part of the ship rolled over, with the deck towards them, severing itself completely from the other half. The decks gaped wide, and opened; the sides started: the foremast came down with a crash, and the pitiless waves, rolling on incessantly, flung themselves one after the other upon the wreck. The two parts were soon completely severed, the fore part breaking up first, the other half resisting more obstinately; while the sea was covered with sticks of timber that were torn out from her and flung away upon the face of the waters.

At length the ruin of the fore part was completed, and that part of the ship, all torn asunder, with all that part of the cargo, was dissipated and scattered over the water and along the beach. The other half still clung together, and though sorely bruised and shaken, seemed to put forth an obstinate resistance. At every touch of the waves it rolled over only to struggle back; it rose up, but was flung down again upon the rocks; it seemed to be writhing in agony. At length the mainmast went down with a crash, followed not long after by the mizzenmast. Then the fragment of the ship suddenly split, and the entire quarterdeck was raised up. Here the waves flung themselves, tearing it away from the hull. But before the quarter-deck was altogether severed, the rest of the ship gave way, and parted in all directions. One by one the huge timber logs were detached from her cargo; the separation of the parts of the ship, and the dissolution of her compact cargo, gave a greater surface to the action of the waves, which now roared, and foamed, and boiled, and seethed, and flung themselves in fury over every portion of the disordered, swaying, yielding mass. Fragment after fragment was wrenched away; bit by bit the strong hull crumbled at the stroke of the mighty billows. The fragments were strewn afar over the sea, and along the beach; and the boys saw the mizzen-top, where they had found refuge on that eventful night, drifting away towards the headland. At length all was over; and in place of the Petrel there remained nothing but a vast mass of fragments, strewing the rocky shore, and floating over the sea for many a mile.

All this, however, was the work of hours. The boys watched it all as though they were held to the spot by a species of fascination. There seemed to be a spell upon them. They could not tear themselves away. But at last there was nothing left; nothing but floating fragments; or timbers flung by the waves on the shore, with which the waves seemed to play, as they hurled them forward and drew them back; while of the Petrel herself there was no sign—no coherent mass, however battered and beaten, which might serve to be pointed out as the representative of the ship that once bore them all. Of that ship there was nothing left; she was dissolved; she was scattered afar; she was no more. Such was the end of the Petrel.

Hours had passed while the boys were watching there. At length they started back to their camp. They walked on in silence. There was a certain sadness over all. This sadness arose in part from the scene which they had just witnessed, and in part out of their anxiety about Arthur and Tom, which now had grown to be serious, since they had seen with their own eyes the power of the waves. When the strong ship had yielded, what chance had that frail boat? And Arthur and Tom knew very little about navigation. Where were they now?

With these sad and anxious thoughts, they made their way back, and found Solomon in a state of great excitement because they had kept dinner waiting. They found that it was past three o’clock, and were amazed that it was so late.

Dinner was now served, accompanied by lamentations long and loud from Solomon, who protested against such neglect and indifference as they had shown, whereby everything had become spoiled from waiting.

“Now dis yer dinna, chilen, am no common dinna,” said he. “I ben makin rangements to hab a rail fust-chop, stylish dinna, and hab cocted a new dish ob succotash. I took some potted corn an biled it wid the beans, an if dat don’t make succotash, I don’ know what do—dat’s all; an dat ar succotash, wid de ham, and oysta chowda, an coffee, an game pie, an tomato, had ought to make a men-jous good dinna; ought so.”

The boys said nothing. They were hungry, and they were also sad. For both reasons they felt disinclined to speak. They were anxious about Arthur and Tom; they also felt mournful about the sad fate of the Petrel; they also had dismal forebodings about their own future; but at the same time they were most undeniably hungry, ravenously hungry, in fact; and Bruce, who was most sad and most anxious, was the hungriest of the crowd.

So they all sat down to dinner, and, first of all, they devoted themselves to Solomon’s succotash. This was a compound of potted corn and dried beans; and though the real original succotash is a dish compounded from green corn and green beans, yet this was no bad substitute; and they all felt, in spite of their sadness, that it was an idea whose originality did infinite credit to the culinary genius of Solomon.

Now they had about come to the end of the succotash, and were looking about, like Alexander, for more worlds to conquer, or, in other words, for more dishes to devour, and were languidly awaiting the next course which Solomon might bring, when suddenly a wild cry from Pat roused them all from languor to the greatest excitement.

“Whoroo! Thunder and turf!” cried Pat; and he sprang to his feet as he spoke. “Be the powers! but it’s fairly dead I am with joy this day. O, look! O, look! look, boys! jools! see’ out there! They’re a comin for us’ so they are! We’re saved! We’re saved! Hooray! Hooray! O, look! It’s a schooner; she’s comin for us; she’s goin to take us out o’ this; and O! but it’s the bright clever boys that Arthur and Tom are to come back so soon, and with a schooner like that same.”

Long before Pat had finished his Irish howl, and while he was yet howling, the others had sprung to their feet, and were looking out to sea.

And there, rounding the headland, and bearing down towards them, they saw a beautiful schooner, gracefu............