Chapter XII.
The morning dawned bright and clear. What little wind there was blew steadily from the northwest, and there was not the least reason to suppose that it would change during the day. The boys breakfasted on cold boiled beef, sitting on the deck near the wheel, so that they could breakfast together. It was not a very delightful breakfast, but it was better than raw cod-fish, and a great deal better than no breakfast at all.
As the foretopsail and spanker were enough to give steerage-way to the brig, Charley ordered the foresail to be hauled up and the jib taken in immediately after breakfast. He told his comrades that all hope of getting the vessel into port must now be abandoned, and that they must keep the brig from drifting any further to the southward than could be helped.
"Those sails ought to be furled," said Charley, as he came in from furling the jib, "but I can't roll them up alone. Who will come aloft with me and furl the main-top-gallant-sail?"
Joe was at the wheel, and both Harry and Tom at once volunteered to help their Captain. They found it easy enough to climb the rigging—and indeed Harry had already been up to the maintop—but when they came to lie out on the top-gallant-yard, they found it a very ticklish task. The foot-rope had an unpleasant way of sagging under their weight, and seemed to them to afford a very insecure foot-hold. At first they could do little except hang on to the yard, but presently their nervousness wore off, and they found themselves rolling up the sail and passing the gaskets, under Charley's direction, with a confidence that surprised them. "When you once get used to it," said Charley, "you will find that going aloft isn't half so risky as climbing trees. Here you always have a rope to hang on to, and you can be sure that it won't break, but when you are up in a tall tree you never can tell when a branch is going to break and let you down, or when your feet will slip on the bark."
After the maintop-gallant-sail was furled, the boys furled the foretop-gallant-sail with much more ease, and descended to the deck quite proud of their exploit. The foresail was too heavy for them to handle, so the buntlines and leech-lines were hauled as taut as possible, and the sail was left to hang in the brails. The brig was now under her foretopsail and spanker, and steered so easily that Joe had little hard work to do. The sea had become so smooth that not even a particle of spray sprinkled the low deck of the vessel, and the boys began to find the time hang rather heavily on their hands as they watched for some friendly sail to come and rescue them.
"I wonder where the Ghost is," said Harry.
"Sunk by this time," replied Tom. "You know how she was leaking, and with no one to pump her out, she wouldn't keep afloat twenty-four hours."
"I meant to stop that leak," remarked Charley. "I think I know about where it was, and when the sea went down we could probably have got at it. What a nice boat she was!"
"How we shall hate to tell Uncle John that we've lost her!" Harry exclaimed. "I know she cost him a good deal, and it's pretty hard that he should lose all the money he has put into her."
"We can't ask him to buy any more boats for us," said Tom. "I was expecting that we could sell the Ghost for money enough to get us all canoes, but now we'll have to give the canoe plan up."
"The fact is," said Joe, "this hasn't been the most successful cruise in the world. We've been out only about ten days, and now we're expecting to be taken home like shipwrecked sailors, with the loss of everything but our clothes."
"If we only get back safe, we needn't worry about anything," replied Tom. "Suppose no vessel comes to help us! The brig will sink some of these days, and I'm thinking that it won't be very long before she makes up her mind to try it."
"Then we can make a raft," said Charley, cheerfully, "and cruise on that until we are picked up. I am almost willing to promise you that we are taken off this brig sometime today. By-the-bye, did I tell you that I've found out what her name is?"
"How did you find it out?" asked Harry. "You know it is washed off the stern so that we couldn't make it out."
"Why," Charley replied, "I looked in the forecastle bell yesterday afternoon, and there it was, the Hirondelle, of Bordeaux. I forgot to tell you of it at the time. How she comes to be here with a load of timber is something I can't make out."
"There's a sail!" exclaimed Harry.
"Where?" cried Charley.
"'Way over on our starboard quarter. I can just see her."
Charley immediately ran aloft and looked anxiously at the distant stranger. He came down and reported that she was apparently a schooner, and seemed to be steering directly toward the brig.
"Do you think they see us?" asked Tom.
"They see our spars, but they can't see our signal of distress, and unless they do see it they won't pay any attention to us. However, they'll be up with us in the course of two or three hours, unless the schooner changes her course, which she probably won't do."
The boys watched the schooner with the utmost interest for a long time, but she seemed to them hardly to move. Joe got tired of watching, and exclaimed, "There's no use in looking at her; a watched schooner never boils."
"How could a schooner boil?" inquired matter-of-fact Tom.
"I have something to amuse you, boys," interrupted Charley. "Let's try to get the brig before the wind, and run down to the schooner. Come forward with me, and we'll hoist the head-sails. Tom, you and Harry lower the spanker while I go and loose the sails."
Charley went forward and loosed the jib and flying-jib, and by the time this was done, Harry and Tom had succeeded in taking in the spanker, and had come to help him. When the jib and flying-jib were set, Charley ordered Joe to put the helm hard up. As the brig slowly fell off, he slacked the lee forebrace and foretopsail-brace, and then with Harry and Tom hauled in the weather-braces, until the unassisted strength of the three boys could no longer stir the heavy yards. Then, letting go the head-sheets, they hurried aft and hoisted the spanker. By this time the brig had swung nearly around, and by taking the braces to the capstan the yards were finally braced up, and the wind brought on the port beam. The Hirondelle was no longer running away from the schooner, and it was evident that the crew of the latter would understand that the brig wanted to meet them. As the wind was now fair, Charley proceeded to get the foretop-gallant-sail on her, and kept his crew so busy that they were surprised to find, when their work was over, that the schooner was only about a mile distant.
"HURRAH! THERE'S THE 'GHOST'!"
"Hurrah! There's the Ghost!" Harry suddenly cried. "The schooner is towing her."
Sure enough, the little Ghost was there, in the wake of the schooner. There could be no mistake about it, for when she pitched, the boys could distinctly see the canvas cabin.
Charley ran forward and let go the top-gallant and topsail halyards, and slacked the top-gallant sheets so that the sail flapped uselessly in the light air. The schooner, which was now close by, hove to, and after some delay her boat was launched, and the boat's crew of four men were soon on the deck of the brig.
"What in all creation are you boys doing aboard this brig?" asked the big good-humored mate of the schooner.
"We were blown out to sea in that sail-boat that you are towing," answered Charley, "and we boarded the brig; and while we were trying to get sail on her the Ghost got adrift."
"Trying to get sail on her, were you? Did you boys set that there topsail?"
"We did."
"And where on earth were you trying to get to?"
Charley told the mate the whole story—how they had tried to sail the brig into New York, and how the head-wind had baffled them. "Now," said he, "if you'll take us and the Ghost to Sandy Hook, we'll be only too glad to abandon the brig, for we can never get her into port with this wind."
"Should rayther think you couldn't. Why, you might as well try to work Trinity Church to windward with a leg-of-mutton sail rigged on to the steeple. Come aboard the schooner with us, and we'll see what the old man says."
The "old man," or Captain of the schooner, was an honest down East sailor, who first cautiously induced the boys to say that they abandoned all claim to the brig, and then told them that he would carry them to New York, and give them back their sail-boat. He left the mate and two men on board the Hirondelle, giving them the schooner's small-boat, and then steered for Sandy Hook.
The boys had a pleasant sail in the schooner. She was bound from Boston to Philadelphia, but with the hope of saving the brig, the Captain had decided to go to New York, and to send a steam-tug back to tow the brig in. This brought the wind directly ahead, but the schooner, making long tacks, worked to windward so beautifully that by noon the next day she was up to the light-ship. There a steam-tug was met, and the Captain of the schooner instantly hired her to go in search of the brig, and to tow her into port.
While the headway of the schooner was checked to enable the Captain to bargain with the Captain of the steamer, the boys shook hands with everybody, and climbed down into the Ghost. When the latter was picked up by the schooner she was pumped out, and the leak was stopped. Nothing was missing from her cabin, and the boys lost no time in setting the jib and mainsail, or rather what could be set of the latter without the gaff.
Even with her crippled mainsail, the Ghost kept ahead of the schooner for a long while, and the latter did not overtake her until she was half way from Sandy Hook to the Narrows. Now that home was so near, and the dangers of the cruise were over, the boys regretted that they had not cut loose from the schooner when she was within sight of Fire Island inlet. They could have entered the Great South Bay through the inlet, and carried out their plan of crossing from Shinnecock Bay to Peconic Bay.
"It is a shame," said Harry, "to go home when nobody is expecting us. We told them we should be gone for at least four weeks."
"What is a greater shame, if you look at it in that way, is our giving up the brig to the schooner's people," remarked Charley.
"Why, what else could we do?" asked Tom. "You said yourself that we couldn't work the brig in, and that we must abandon her."
"Why couldn't we have hired the captain to send us a steam-tug? We could have staid on board the brig just as well as the mate and the two men, and if the steam-tug tows them in, why couldn't we have been towed in?"
"I never thought of that," exclaimed Tom.
"Nor I," said Harry and Joe, both together.
"Well, I did think of it," resumed Charley, "and if I'd been alone on the brig, I would have done it. But then Uncle John expected me to take care of the Ghost and her crew, and I wasn't instructed to run any risk for the sake of bringing abandoned vessels into port. We did right to give up the brig, but at the same time we did lose a fair chance of making a good big sum of money."
"Why shouldn't we keep right on through Hell Gate into the Sound, and cruise round that way to Canoe Place, and come back through the South Bays?" said Harry. "We can do it easily enough in four weeks."
"And not go home at all?" asked Tom.
"Not till we get back from the cruise. I'm ready to do it."
"So am I," said Joe. "I've been dry for two days, and I begin to feel really uncomfortable. Let's go on, and get wet some more."
"I can go just as well as not," said Charley. "I've nothing else to do."
"And I'd like nothing better," added Tom.
"Then we'll stop somewhere in the city and lay in provisions, and then go through Hell Gate as soon as the tide will let us," said Harry.
"Why not stop a day or two, and see Uncle John, and talk to him about a canoe cruise?" suggested Charley. "Perhaps we could sell the Ghost, and get canoes, and have our canoe cruise this summer instead of next year."
"That's what we ought to do," said Tom. "We would enjoy the change from a sail-boat to a canoe more just now than we ever will again."
"And I don't think it would be quite right to start on what would really be a new cruise without seeing Uncle John," said Charley. "We mustn't do it. We'll go home, and if we can manage to get canoes, we'll have a canoe cruise, and if we can't, why, we'll sail up the Sound, provided you can all get permission to go."
So it was settled that the Ghost should head for Harlem, and that her crew should go home for a day or two. Everybody was satisfied with this decision, and in the hope of starting on a canoe cruise, Tom, Harry, and Joe busied themselves in discussing different routes. Before they had finally settled where they would cruise, Charley ran the boat into the dock at Harlem, and the cruise of the Ghost was ended.
THE END.
[A DOUBLE AMBUSH.]
BY GEORGE H. COOMER.
We lived in Florida (said Mrs. Walters) through all the Seminole war, which lasted seven years, so that I grew up with the names of the great hostile chiefs, Osceola, Alligator, Wild Cat, and Tiger Tail, making a part of my childhood.
A sense of peril was always present with us. I remember the feelings with which we heard of the slaughter of Lieutenant Dade and his command. The tragedy took place in open battle, yet it seemed dreadful that so many brave men should be shot down in the dark woods, with the painted savages yelling around them.
In the spring when I was thirteen and my brother Arthur fifteen the war was at its worst, and my father talked strongly of removing to a greater distance from the danger.
Among our few slaves, consisting only of two black families, was a half-idiotic young negro named Jason, who had the privilege of wandering pretty much as he pleased. He would often remain all day in the forest, either lying asleep or mocking the gobble of the wild turkeys.
One day he returned with an appearance which startled us. His woolly head had been completely shaved, and his black face dyed to a bright scarlet. He had, however, received no real hurt, and seemed not in the least terrified by the ordeal through which he must have passed.
We gathered from his broken sentences that he had fallen in with Indians; and it was plain that they had been in some measure true to the proverbial respect of their people for idiots. An ordinary person they would have sacrificed without mercy; but when Jason stared aimlessly at the tree-tops, or gobbled like a turkey, they simply set their mark upon him, and let him go.
The incident showed that our danger was more immediate than had been supposed; but there was fortunately a squad of United States cavalry picketed within a few miles of us, and my father lost no time in notifying the officer in command of what had occurred. The soldiers, however, could find nothing of the enemy, and in the mean time we passed a couple of days in very anxious suspense. The movements of Indian warriors are erratic, and to white men unaccountable.
My parents began to regain confidence, believing that the Seminoles were gone from the neighborhood, as they doubtless were for the time. Father said they were probably scouts, and there was no telling how they might have scattered themselves, or at what point some of them might appear next. He hoped, however, that the presence of the soldiers had led them to abandon any design they might have entertained of attacking us.
On the third day after Jason's adventure we were feeling much relieved. The negro men were at work in the fields, and father had gone to a considerable distance from the house. Mother, Arthur, and myself, with the female servants, were within-doors.
Presently, not far off, we heard the gobble of a wild turkey, or what seemed such, although, as turkeys were not in the habit of approaching so near the house, we imagined Jason to be at his old silly pastime again, imitating the call which he could so well counterfeit.
The notes were continued with great regularity at intervals of a minute or two, and so natural were they that Arthur would have been all on fire to seize his rifle and hurry in quest of the game had he not remembered how often he had been led upon a fruitless chase by the vocal powers of the poor idiot.
"We all excel in something," said my mother, "and Jason was made to call turkeys. But I do wish he would be quiet; it makes me nervous to hear him."
"Jason," said a little negro girl who just then came in from the rear of the premises; "why, missus, Jason done gone asleep in de shade at de back ob de wash-house. I done seen him dis minute."
Arthur hastened out-doors, looked behind the wash-house, and having assured himself that the black boy had nothing to do with the gobbling, returned quickly for his rifle.
"It is a real turkey," he said, "and he's somewhere in the hollow."
The hollow was made by a depression of the ground about fifty rods from the house front, and running parallel with it. Upon its further side was a decayed stump, some four or five feet high, standing below the sloping bank, and with its top just visible from the house. Of this stump the portion next to the slope had so fallen away as to leave a large cavity capable of containing a man.
The gobble indicated the turkey's whereabouts pretty definitely.
"He's somewhere near that stump," said Arthur; "perhaps inside of it, sitting up on the rotten wood toward the top. I'm afraid he'll get high enough to see me. But I'll make a circuit, and creep around where the ground is lower."
He went out at the back door, so as to make sure of not being seen. The land on our right, a few rods from the house, was very low, the depression stretching off in crescent shape until it reached the gully, which crossed it at fair rifle-shot distance from the stump.
Arthur, young as he was, had already become an excellent marksman, having for two years possessed a rifle of his own, which father had bought him, and which was almost always in his hands. We had no doubt that, with anything like an ordinary chance, he would put a ball through the turkey's head, and return in triumph.
But somehow, after he went out, a sudden thought seemed to strike mother. Wasn't it strange that a turkey should come so far out of the woods, and keep up such a gobbling in the hollow? No, not strange, perhaps, nor very unusual; and she wondered at her own uneasiness. But her nerves had been shaken by poor Jason's incident.
The house had a half-story in front, with two small windows above the ground rooms, and mother's feelings impelled her to run up there for a better view. She wished to see where father was, and perhaps might discover something of the wild turkey.
I was close at her side. We saw father with his rifle away off across the fields, and the negroes at a distance from him engaged in their work. The stump, too, was visible nearly to its foot, and at intervals we caught sight of Arthur carefully working his way in a half-circuit toward the gully.
Father had evidently heard the turkey, and was warily approaching the spot where it seemed to be. His half-stooping posture showed that he feared the bird might get upon the stump and see him.
Suddenly mother started, and her face had a look of ghastly terror. Something which certainly was no turkey rose a little above the stump, between its shattered rim and the grass of the bank. I saw it too, and my blood ran cold.
It was something that greatly resembled the head of an Indian. We felt that the face must be peering through the grass toward my father, while we saw the black, gleaming hair behind.
Without doubt it was a Seminole warrior in ambush, watching father's approach.
Mother gave an agonized cry. "What shall I do?—oh! what shall I do?" she exclaimed.
Would not any signal or outcry she could make be misunderstood at such a distance, and only hasten the catastrophe, since father was still thirty rods beyond the Indian, and eighty from the house? Then where was Arthur, who had now disappeared? And should she by a sudden alarm cause him to show himself, might not the Seminole rise up and shoot him on the spot? She was dizzy with her sense of the dreadful situation.
But in a moment I called out to her, "There's Arthur, mother! there's Arthur!" for I saw him among the rank grass, lying flat upon the ground, within good rifle-shot of the stump, which he seemed to be watching intently.
Once again the Indian's head was shown slightly, and we got an instant's glimpse of Arthur's rifle. But the black hair disappeared, and the weapon was lowered.
Father was now so near the scene of danger that we had no alternative but to watch. Terrible as was her anxiety, mother now felt that Arthur had discovered what kind of game the old stump contained. She knew that the Indian could not fire at father without exposing his own head, and that the moment it appeared it would be covered by her brave boy's rifle.
How our hearts beat for the few moments that intervened! Another gobble came from the stump. Father was working his way stealthily toward it in anticipation of a prize, and Arthur lay still as death in the grass.
All at once we saw the sunlight glance upon a mass of long raven hair that rose slowly above the gnarled wood which had hidden it. Father was within six rods of the spot. It was a dreadful moment.
Our eyes turned to Arthur. The grass in front of the slight knoll where he lay was not high enough to interfere with his aim as his elbow rested on the ground. We could see him drop his young face against the breech of his gun. The barrel gleamed for a single instant, a puff of smoke streamed from the muzzle, and he leaped to his feet.
But there was a still more sudden leap from the old stump, for an Indian, with flying hair, and with his rifle still clutched in his hand, sprang up and fell dead against the slope which had concealed him from father's view.
The reunion which followed, when we all ran into each other's arms, joyful, yet thrilled with consternation, I will not dwell upon.
We found the dead enemy to be a tall young warrior, hideously painted, and having in his belt a hatchet and a knife.
He had no doubt entered the gully from the swamp, and seeing father at a distance, had attempted to decoy him within gunshot by imitating a wild turkey.
The occasion proved to be the only one on which the Seminole war was brought home to us, as the successes of the United States troops afterward kept the Indians at a distance from our neighborhood.
"WHO'S AFRAID OF A GOOSE?"—Drawn by S. G. McCutcheon.
