XXI
Blomidon, insulted, avenges himself.—A Victim devotes himself to appease his Wrath.—Original Views of Captain Corbet with regard to the Archaeology and the Science of Navigation.
THE schooner went on drifting, and drew near to Blomidon again. The giant cliff frowned darkly overhead, its sides all scarred and riven by the tempests of centuries, its base worn by the fierce tides that never cease to sweep to and fro. Standing as it does, it forms one of the sublimest objects in nature. Other cliffs are far higher, and every way more stupendous; but Blomidon is so peculiar by its shape, its position, and its surroundings, that it stands monarch of the scene, and rises always with a certain regal majesty, seldom appearing without its diadem of clouds. All around are low lands, wide meadows, and quiet valleys, and the far spreading sea, into which this rugged height is boldly projected, terminating an abrupt rocky wall. From the shores, for many and many a mile around, wherever the eye may wander over the scenery, it rests upon this as the centre of the view.
“Blomidon,” said Bart, “looks more magnificently than ever, and we have an excellent chance for a close inspection.”
“I confess,” said Bruce, “that I would rather not have so good a chance just now. I’d rather be near the mud flats of Cornwallis than this majestic cliff.”
“It’s my opinion,” said Phil, “that Blomidon is taking it out of us.”
“How?”
“How? Why, because we slighted him. We started with the intention of landing here, and instead of doing so we’ve been almost everywhere but here. So now he has got us, and he will keep us.”
“Well, if we only had something to eat, I wouldn’t care.”
“I can’t eat pork.”
“And I always hated Indian meal.”
“.And I’m getting tired of molasses candy.”
“Besides, I don’t believe that it’s healthy.”
“And then, you know, it’s always burnt.”
“But it certainly takes away one’s appetite.”
“Yes, that’s a consideration. What would become of us if our appetites were left?”
As they spoke, Mr. Long drew near. They were within a stone’s throw of the cliff, and were drifting slowly by. He looked up at the summit, as it. towered far above him, and then ran his eye along the black, tempest-torn sides.
“Boys,” said he, with a smile, “you’re right. Blomidon feels his majesty to be slighted. He’s avenging himself on us. He’ll keep us here till he gets a victim, or at least till some apology is made. Now, I’m going to appease his sullen majesty.”
“How’s that, sir?”
“By offering up a victim. And who do you think it will be? It will be—myself.”
“You, sir!”
“Yes. I’m going to land.”
“To land!”
“Yes. One of you can take me ashore, and leave me. I know the place well enough, and will walk to the nearest village. I can get a horse easily enough, and be home before sundown.”
“Can’t some of us go with you, sir?” asked Bart, eagerly.
“O, no. It’s better for you to stay. You had better remain together; besides, the walk will be too rough. For my part, I wouldn’t go if I could help it. But I must go. My work demands my presence at once. And then—I really can’t stand this any longer. I could, perhaps, endure the delay, but I can not stand Captain Corbet and his—ehem!—his baby.”
As he said this, he looked toward Captain Corbet, who was out of hearing, and was standing discoursing, with a pleasant smile, to Bogud and Jiggins.
“Bruce, will you put me ashore?” asked Mr. Long.
“Certainly, sir, with the greatest pleasure. But I’m very Sorry that you’re going.”
“I wish you’d let all of us go, sir,” said Arthur.
Mr. Long shook his head.
“No,” he said. “You see it will be easy enough for one to get a horse to take him over, but so many could not do it. So I’ll go alone. I’ve been there before, and I know my way.”
“It will seem worse than ever when you go, sir,” said Bart.
“O, you’ll have a wind before long. You won’t be home as soon as I am, for the tide won’t let you; but, I dare say, you won’t be much behind me. Take care of yourselves, and don’t try the boat again.”
Saying this, Mr. Long went to Mr. Simmons, to announce his determination. That gentleman was much surprised, and endeavored to dissuade him. But Mr. Long was not to be dissuaded. Captain Corbet said nothing. He merely elevated his eyebrows; and there was that in his face which seemed to say, “There, I knew it. I’m not at all surprised. I’m sorry for him, but not surprised. He’s capable of any piece of wildness. He can’t appreciate babbies. What more would you have from such a man?” All this his face fully expressed, but not a word of all this did Captain Corbet say.
Mr. Long shook hands with all the boys. Bruce was in the boat waiting, and soon he jumped in.
The line was cast, off, and Bruce sculled on over the smooth water without much difficulty. The tide was running rapidly, but there was plenty of coast before them; it was not far away, and before long the boat had reached the beach.
Mr. Long jumped out, and as his foot touched the shore, he gave a sigh of relief.
“Ah!” he exclaimed; “here I am at last.”
“Which way are you going, sir?” asked Bruce. “Well, I’ll walk along the shore for two or three miles, and after that I can find my way to a road.”
“You know your way I suppose, sir?” asked Bruce, anxiously.
“O, yes. I’ve been here often. I know all about it. I’ll make very good time if I don’t get attracted by the minerals. That’s my only danger here. Good by.”
He wrung Bruce’s hand, and walked off. Bruce then returned to the schooner, and reached it without difficulty. The boys on board watched Mr. Long for some time. The vessel was drifting down the strait, and he was walking along the shore in an opposite direction. They watched his black figure till he turned around a curve in the shore, and passed out of sight.
For some time the vessel continued to drift under the same circumstances, without any signs of wind, or oven the prospect of a friendly mud flat on which they, could be quietly and comfortably stranded. This time they drifted below Spencer’s Island, and looked ont into the Bay of Fundy with a vague fear of being borne away into its waters, and carried off for immeasurable distances. But the tide soon turned after they had reached this place; and though the dark form of Ile Haute towered up gloomily from out the waters of the Bay of Fundy, yet they came no nearer-to it.
On the turn of the tide they drifted back once more. This gave them much relief, for as long as they were within the Basin of Minas it did not seem so bad. As they drifted along they came to the place where Mr. Long had landed, and they watched anxiously to see if there were any signs of him. They found none.
“If we only had a glass,” said Bart. “Captain Corbet, haven’t you a glass?”
“Yes—a kind of a one.”
“Where?”
“It’s in the cabin.”
“May I have it?”
“O, yes.”
Bart went down and looked for some time. At last he returned disappointed.
“1 can’t find any glass, Captain Corbet,” said he.
“Why, it’s jest in front of yer nose,” said Captain Corbet. “Come down. I’ll show you where it is.”
Down went Bart after Captain Corbet, and, the latter pointed to the wall. .
“There,” said he. “I wonder you didn’t see it.”
“Where?” asked Bart.
“Where? Why, there,” said Captain Corbet; and saying this he put his horny finger on a small triangular fragment of what was once a looking-glass, which small triangular fragment was fastened to a post, on one side of the cabin, with brass trunk nails.
“There it is,” said Captain Corbet. “You don’t seem to have any eyes in your head, though you’re sharp enough sometimes, gracious knows.”
“That!” cried Bart. “That! Why, it’s a spyglass I want.”
“A spy-glass no, yes. Wal, I hain’t got none.”
“You haven’t any!”
“No; never owned one in all my born days.”
“That’s odd, too. I thought every sea captain had to have one.”
“Wal, no. There ain’t no great use for sich. They’re a kind o’ luxury, you see. I don’t have any call for them. There’s other machines, too, that they talk about, sech as quadrupeds an’ sextons; but I never bother my head about, ’em.”
“Why, how do you manage to sail your schooner?”
“How? Why, jest up sail an’ let her slide.”
“But what do you do when you’re out of sight of land?”
“Never git out of sight. Ef I should, I’d steer straight back for the land agin.”
“What do you do in the fog?” asked Bart.
“The fog? I jest do the best I kin. Any ways, I don’t see what use a sexton would be in a fog, nor a quadruped nuther. Then them sort o’ con-sarns have to be worked by the sun. So, you see, they’re no manner o’ use in these here waters, nor in no waters at all. People git along jest as well without ’em. Why, here am I, an’ I bin sailin’ this forty year, an’ never tetched a sexton nor a quadruped; and me bin all the way to Bosting. Besides, did Noah make his vyge in the Ark with a quadruped? No, sir. Did Solomon have one in the ship that he sailed to Ophir? Agin I say, no, sir. So I conclude that what the prophets, an’ patriarchs, an’ wise men of old,—an’ a darn sight better men than sea captains are as they go these times;—what they did without, we can do without.”
“But you have a compass?”
“Course I have.”
“They didn’t have a compass in those days.”
“Yes, they did.”
“Excuse me—they didn’t have anything of the kind.”
“Excuse me, young sir,—bein’ a man old enough, to be your feyther, an’ a seafarin’ man, too, an’, what’s more, a man that reads his Bible,—but they did.”
“I should like to know how you make that out.”
“Did you ever read Acts?”
“Of course.”
“Did you ever happen to hear tell of the vygo of the ‘postle Paul, young sir?”
“Yes; but what’s that got to do with it? You don’t mean to say that he had a compass.”
“That’s the very pint that I’m a drivin’ at.”
“What! that the apostle Paul had a compass?”
“Course he had.”
“Why, the compass wasn’t known till the fourteenth century. Flavio Gioja, of Amalfi, is the one that they say invented it.”
“So that’s what they teach you over there at the Academy—is it?” said Captain Corbet with a look that would have been one of scorn if it hadn’t been so full of pity. “So that’s what they teach—is it? Wal! wall wal! If I ever! I never did! However, I’ll show you at once what’s the wuth, the terew wuth, of your lamin’, when it’s put fair an’ square in opposition to facts. Look here now, an’ listen, an’ don’t forget. In the account of that vyge, it says distindtly, ‘So we fetched-a compass.’ What have you got to say to that, now? hey?”
And Captain Corbet drew himself up, and watched the effect of this startling piece of intelligence.
Upon Bart the effect was instantaneous, though not of the kind which Captain Corbet expected. A light broke in upon his mind, and a smile burst forth, and spread like sunshine over his lately puzzled face. He said nothing for some time, but looked away so as to take in the full flavor of what he considered so good a thing.
“O, yes,” said he at last. “I see. I understand. I never thought of that before. I must let the fellows know I’ll tell them all at school, from Dr. Porter down to the smallest boy in the primary department. And I’ll let them all know that it was you that told me. They’ve all got an idea that it was invented either by the Arabs, or the Greeks, or the Italians; but now they shall hear Captain Corbet’s theory.”
“Yes—do—do,” said-Captain Corbet, eagerly.
“An’ tell them that I told you. Tell Dr. Porter. I’d like to know what the doctor’s got to say.”
“Say! He’ll say nothing—he’ll be dumb. But I must hurry up. It’s strange, too. I was sure you had a spy-glass. You had one in the boat when you came after us the time we were aground.”
“So we had, but it wan’t mine.”
“Whose was it?”
“Captain Pratt’s.”
“O, then, that accounts for it. I’m sorry too. I hoped to be able to find out where Mr. Long was.”
“Mr. Long? Don’t bother about him. He’s all right. He’s among his native rocks. A man like that; a man that’s a stranger to the charms of a gentle smilin’ babby; a man that gets mad with others, who are nat’rally pinin’ for their absent offspring—such a man has a heart that is a rock, an’ had oughter make up his abode among rocks. I see now why it is that he spends all his time a gatherin’ of ’em. Why, I told him some of the most affectin’ things about my babby. But what did he say? He! He almost swore! Can any parient be willin’ to put his son to be taught by a man like that—a man whose heart is as hard as a nether milestone?”
“He’s very kind to us,” said Bart. “All of the boys at school love Mr. Long dearly.”
“That ain’t the pint,” said Captain Corbet. “The pint is, how does he feel about a babby? Doos he yearn over ’em? Doos he delight in their little pooty ways? Doos he crow over ’em? Doos he nuss ’em an’ dandle ’em? I jedge of a man that way, an’ by them there signs; an’ I call that, by a long chalk, the most entirely jodgematical way of readin’ an’ interpretatin’ human natur’. Read by that light, Mr. Long ain’t a succumstance. He’s left us. I’m glad. Let him wander among the rocks and stones of Blomidon!”
With this, Captain Corbet turned away, not caring to pursue the subject further. Bart went on deck again, to spread among his companions Captain Corbet’s peculiar views on the subject of spy-glasses, sextants, quadrants, and compasses.
These new theories created an immense sensation; and whatever opinion there may have been had before about the captain’s seamanship, there was no question now as to the perfect originality of his views.