XIV.
In Mud and Water.—A Sea Monster.—A terrific Fight.—Wonderful Pluck of the “B. O. W. C.”—Swallowing a Sculpin.—The Trophy.—Waiting for Deliverance.
FINDING themselves thus fixed in the mud, they looked around to see the place at which they had thus unexpectedly arrived. In front of them was a bank about sixty feet high, which extended for some miles away, commencing with the rocky headland, and covered with trees on the top; while beyond this, the country rose into hills. As far as they could see, there was no opening in the shore to indicate the presence of a cove or a harbor. From the appearance of the water, it seemed as though the mud flat extended for miles along the shore. The water was comparatively smooth, and the headland kept off the wind, so that after they had lowered the sails, the schooner remained quite still.
It was now about noon, and they knew that the tide was rising. A wide space of the mud flat lay still uncovered by the water. Their position was a safe one as yet, though not at all pleasant on many accounts.
“The tide’s rising,” said Phil; “isn’t it, Bart?”
“Yes.”
“When will it be high tide?”
“About three.”
“I wonder if they’ll come after us.”
“Of course they will.”
“There doesn’t seem to be much chance of our getting ashore.”
“Well, it doesn’t make much difference, for we couldn’t do anything if we did get there.”
“I say, boys,” said Arthur, “the schooner’s beginning to float again.”
All stood waiting in silence, and in a few moments they felt a slight motion.
“Yes,” said Bruce, “the tide has risen since we struck, and is floating us in. At high tide we shall be close up under the bank.”
“And then what shall we do? We must either choose to fasten the vessel ashore if we can, or float out again and sail for it, or drift.”
“I don’t think we’ll care about sailing again, particularly as the tide will be going out, and the night coming on.”
“My idea is,” said Bruce, “to fasten her to the shore if we can, and then go along the beach or the bank till we find some people and get help.”
“That’s about all we can do,” said Bart. “We can’t think of going adrift, and none of us can sail the vessel; so, if they don’t come after us, we had better land, and leave the vessel; or some of us can go for help, and others stay on board.”
“I wonder if the vessel is safe here.”.
“O, safe enough—if a gale don’t spring up in that case she might get knocked on the bank.”
“We don’t seem to have been hurt by our knocking up there,” said Arthur. “There’s no water in the hold.”.
“O, she’s all right,” said Bruce; “and she’s a gallant, gallant ship, as the song says.”.
The vessel was steadily floated nearer and nearer to the shore as the tide rose, and the boys watched her progress with close attention. At about three o’clock they could expect to be up to the bank, and then they would have to find some way to fasten her.
Suddenly Bart, who had been looking down the shore, pointed to something, and said,—
“Look, look! Do you see that?”
“What?”
“Don’t you see a line—running along about a mile away?”
“What, a thin, dark line? Yes. What of it?”
“Why, it’s a wier for fish. It shows that people must be living not far from here. It shows, too, that we can get something to eat at low tide, even if there are no people. So, hurrah, boys we’re all right yet.”
“The fact is,” said Bruce, solemnly, “I must confess that I’m starving. I’ve felt the pangs of hunger for the last two hours, and I can’t stand it any longer. I’m going to have a regular rummage down below, for I’m bound to find something.”
All the rest followed Bruce as he went below, and they began to overhaul the whole vessel. For some time they found nothing but a beggarly array of empty boxes, and loud were their murmurs and complaints.
“If it hadn’t been for that miserable Sammy Ram Ram, we’d have a few turkeys and chickens here,” said Bruce. “How that fellow and Johnny Blue managed to get through with them all, I can’t understand.”
“Pooh! those two fellows did nothing else but stuff from the time they came on board till they got to Pratt’s Cove. Captain Corbet and the mate helped them, and so did Pat, too, no doubt. I haven’t any hard feeling against any of them, but I must say I wouldn’t be sorry if their food didn’t agree with them.”
“Hallo! What’s this? Hurrah!” cried Tom, suddenly.
“What, Tom,—what is it?”
“See here,” cried Tom, triumphantly. “Arn’t we in luck? Don’t ever fret again, boys. Here’s a half loaf of bread that I found in the corner. It’s rather stale, a little too dry, and too hard,—but I think it’s about the nicest morsel I ever saw. We’ve got our dinner provided for us, and we needn’t hanker after raw fish from the wiers any more.”
Tom’s joy was fully shared by all; and the half loaf of hard, stale, dried-up bread was quickly divided into five pieces, and eagerly devoured by the famished boys.
“And now,” said Bruce, “I feel like a giant refreshed. I’ll go on deck and have another look at the situation. My private opinion is, however, that if they’re coming after us, they’d better come. The tide’s getting higher every minute; and if they get here after we’ve fastened her to the shore, and got her high and dry, they’ll have to wait for twelve good hours before they can get her to float off again,—not to speak of spring tides. Do you know, Bart, if this is spring tide?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said Bart.
“Well, then, we’ll have to trust to luck, I suppose. At the same time I’ve a great mind to go ashore and reconnoitre.”
“I’ll go too,” said Bart.
“And so will I,” said Arthur.
“And I,” said Phil.
“I’ll go too,” said Tom. “But oughtn’t some of us to stay on board?”
“Stay on board? What for?”
“O, to watch the vessel.”
“Why, what good will that do?”
“She may drift off.”
“Well, why should any of us want to drift off in her?”
“I don’t believe there’s any chance of her drifting off while the tide is rising,” said Bruce; “and if she does drift off, I think we’re all better out of her than in her. So if one of us goes ashore, we’d all better go. It’s not more than three feet deep at the bows, and there’s a sand-spit over there within easy distance.”
“I wonder if there are any quicksands.”
“O, we’ll have to run the risk. There are a couple of boat-hooks there, and two of us can go ahead and try the ground with them. It’s not far to the spit.”
“We’ll have to strip and carry our clothes with us,” said Phil.
“Yes. It would be a great joke if we left our clothes behind, and the vessel drifted off with them.”
The boys now proceeded to undress themselves, and prepare to go ashore. Each one tied up his clothes in a compact bundle. Bruce and Bart took each a boat-hook, which lay in the schooner; Arthur took a handspike, and Tom and Phil found a stout stick each. Thus equipped, they prepared for the journey.
It was about one o’clock, and the tide would not be high for two hours yet. In front of them, and between them-and the bank, lay a broad expanse of mud flats, separating them from the bank by at least a quarter of a mile of distance. On their right, however, was a place which gave them a chance of a much better foothold than that which was offered-by the slippery and treacherous mud. This was a long sand-spit, which stretched out from the bank, and ran down across the mud flat and into the water. It approached to within a hundred yards of the schooner, and afforded not only a good walking-place, but a much nearer chance of dry land than was possible anywhere else..Running down over the flat, it rose above it to a height of from twelve to twenty inches, and was covered with sand, gravel, and round cobblestones. It was to this place that they intended to go.
Bruce led the way. Descending carefully over the bows, he dropped into the water, which he found up to his armpits. The others followed, and found it deeper for their shorter stature. It was over the shoulders of Bart and Phil. Bart, however, took his place by Bruce’s side, and prepared to walk ahead with his pole. Their first object was to get into shallower water, and so they walked in the direction of the shore until the water was not above their waists. Then they turned to the right, toward the sand-spit.
If it had not been for the bundles, they could have varied their progress by swimming; but as it was, they had to wade, and feel the way cautiously, for fear of air-holes and quicksands. The surface mud beneath their feet was very soft; but they did not sink very deeply, and with every step they acquired fresh confidence. As they neared the sand-spit, the bottom grew sensibly harder, and shoaled rapidly, till it was not much above their knees. At length it became a sandy bottom, and they walked along more rapidly, no longer feeling their way.
Suddenly they were startled by a wild shout from Arthur. He had been walking behind with Phil, and was some distance from the others, when rapidly, between him and them, darted the form of a large fish, which, in that shoal water, was as visible as if it were on land. At the cry which he gave, Bruce and the others turned, and saw Arthur with his handspike in the air, and the fish floundering and splashing close beside. For a moment the blood of all of them froze with horror; the next instant Arthur sprang forward, and dealt a tremendous blow with his heavy handspike full on the head of the fish.
The monster splashed and struggled, and moved back into deeper water for a few feet.
“Run, run!” cried Arthur. “It’s a shark! Run for your lives!”
The boys all set off as fast as they could toward the sand-spit, which now was close by them.
But the fish was not to be easily escaped. In a few minutes it’s dark form was beside them, and soon it crossed immediately in front of Bruce and Bart. Mechanically, and in utter horror, both the boys swung up their boat-hooks, and dashed them wildly against the dark figure. Both struck home. There was a fearful splashing and writhing. Bart’s boat-hook was wrenched from his hand, and the fish darted forward into shoaler water.
“Run, boys, run!” shouted Bruce, holding his boathook toward the fish, and slowly retreating, so as to keep the monster in sight. Away they went, Phil and Tom first, then Arthur. Bart moved forward, and then, seeing his pole floating a few feet on one side, made a rush for it and secured it. Then he kept by Bruce’s side, ready to help him in guarding the retreat of the others.
The fish continued to splash and writhe about, either because he was bewildered by the shoal water, or else because he was suffering from the wounds which had been inflicted. As he did not pursue, Bruce and Bart took fresh courage.
“Let’s finish him, Bruce!” cried Bart.
“Pitch in, then!” cried Bruce; and rushing at the fish, he drove his boat-hook point deep into his side, while, at the same time, Bart, raising his into the air, struck down, so that the hooked part penetrated and held.
“Hook him, ‘Bruce!” shouted Bart. “Let’s drag him ashore.” Bruce raised his pole to do so; but at that instant the struggling, writhing fish turned towards them with furious energy, and moving over on its side, it tried to twist Bart’s hook out of its flesh. The water was so shallow that it could not have full exercise of its strength, and Bart held on. The fish, in its struggles, opened its gasping mouth, showing wide rows of sharp, triangular teeth. At that instant Bruce lowered his pole, and drove it straight into the open mouth; forcing it deep into the throat. The monster, in its agony, closed its jaws, and held it with a deathlike tenacity.
A cry of triumph burst from Bruce and Bart.
“Hurrah, boys! We’ve got him!” they cried. “Pull, Bruce, nearer the shore—into shoaler water.”
The water was already too shoal for the fish, which had so carelessly thrown himself into it, and his resistance could not prevent the united energies of Bruce and Bart from dragging him forward a few paces. But that was all. Rousing himself, the monster tossed, and writhed and struggled, and lashed the water into foam. Bruce and Bart could no longer drag him. It was a struggle between them; but the boys had now got their blood up, and they would have been dragged back to the schooner rather than loose their hold.
The fish, in its fury or its agony, still kept its teeth closed on Bruce’s pole, and strove to wrench it out of his grasp. His tremendous efforts were prevailing against their united strength, and were dragging them farther out. Bart’s hook had already been thrown off, and he was plunging the pointed iron again and again into the fish’s side.
At this instant Arthur came dashing through the foam. Raising his heavy handspike in the air, he poised it for a moment so as to take sure aim, and then, with tremendous force, the weapon descended full on the monster’s head. It was a crushing blow. The struggles and writhings ceased, and changed to feeble motions and occasional convulsive vibrations. It resisted no longer. It was powerless.
They dragged it upon the dry ground of the sand-spit, and examined their conquest.
The fish was about five feet long, very broad at the head and shoulders, with a very wide mouth, armed with several rows of saw-like teeth. The nose was rounded, and the jaw was underneath. Its back was a dark slate color, and its belly white.
“It’s what we call a Shovel-mouth Shark,” said Bruce, as he looked at it, and admired its proportions.
“They call it a Dog Fish with us,” said Bart.
“It certainly, is a kind of shark,” said Arthur; “and as that sounds better, we’ll call it by that name. Boys, we’ve fought and killed a shovel-mouth shark! Let the ‘B. O. W. C.’ remember that!”
“We must keep his jaws as a trophy,” said Bruce. “Let’s cut him up and get his jaws. Who’s got a knife?”
“Here,” said Arthur.
Thereupon, with the aid of the knife, the fish was dissected. In the stomach they found a fish quite as remarkable as the one which had swallowed it. It was a sculpin, a fish whose bony covering, and spiny back, and horny head, and wonderful voracity, make it seem like those primeval fish that swam in the waters of the world in an age when all the inhabitants thereof were formed on a similarly monstrous model.
“What a fish,” cried Bart, “to swallow a sculpin! He must be a real shark, after all, for a shark could not beat that. I thought that it might have been by accident only that he met us, but it seems now as though he was ravenous enough to mean mischief. ’Pon my word, if I’d known about that sculpin, I think I would have run away instead of staying to fight.”
After examining the fish, the jaws were removed, and, carrying them, they walked up the sand-spit to the shore. Then dressing themselves, they sat down and rested for a time. Then Bruce and Bart climbed to the top of the bank, and went in different directions to explore. On coming back, each had the same story. They had met with nothing but fir trees and alder bushes, and had not seen a sign of any house whatever. On this they all decided to go to the top of the bank, and wait patiently until the tide was high, then fasten the schooner as well as they could, leave a message on board to indicate their course, and set off along the coast in search of inhabitants. With this decision, they climbed the bank to a conspicuous position, and there waited.
The tide rose higher and higher. Each increase in the depth of the water allowed the schooner to approach nearer to the shore, though there was a sidelong drift, which, from time to time, changed her position, sometimes presenting her bows to the beach, at other times her side.
The water was rising higher and still higher. The mud flats extended close up to the beach below, but the beach itself was formed of sand and gravel, and rose, by a steep slope, from the mud flat to the base of the bank. By two o’clock the water had reached the edge of the gravel.
“It will take an hour more,” said Bruce, “before it gets to high-water mark. One hour more, boys, and then off we must go to explore the country.”