“Must I perish, after all,” thought the poor boy, “just as I have found a good home and kind friends?” The tears gushing from his eyes froze upon his cold cheeks. He now recollected his mother’s last words.
“When trouble comes upon you, my child, call upon God, and he will help you.”
Kneeling in the bottom of the boat, he put up a fervent prayer to God for mercy. The flood tide now began to make, which, running against the wind, made a sharp, short sea; the canoe stood, as it were, on end, and it seemed as if every sea must break into her. He was fast giving way to despair, when a large quantity of water came in over the bow. Roused by the instinct that engages us to struggle for life, he threw it out.
“These fish must go overboard to lighten her,” said he, and laid his hand on one of the largest, when a faint “Halloo!” came down the wind. His stupor vanished; the blood rushed to his face; uttering a wild cry of joy, he seized the club which he used to kill the fish with, and pounded with all his might upon the head-board of the boat, at the same time shouting loudly. He soon heard distinctly, “Boat, ahoy!” shouted, in the tones of Joe; and in a few moments the great canoe came alongside.
“God bless you, my boy! I was afraid we had lost you,” cried Ben, catching him by the shoulder, and lifting him into his lap as though he had been thistle-down. He then wrapped him in a dry coat, and gave him a dry pair of mittens. As they had a compass, they could have hit the land by steering in a northerly direction; but they might have been a great while doing so, without any permanent point of departure to start from. Ben had provided for this. In the first place, they put a good part of the fish into the large canoe; then, taking a large cedar buoy, which he had brought with him for the purpose, he fastened it to the cable of the canoe, and flung it overboard; then he fastened the small canoe to the stern of the large one; thus he had the buoy left for a mark to start from.
“Now, Joe,” said Ben, “do you bring that buoy to bear south-south-west, astern, and steer north-north-east, and I’ll see if little Ben Rhines can drive these boats through this surf.”
Joe sat in the stern, with a steering paddle, and the compass before him on the seat. Charlie stood in the bow of the big canoe, holding the end of the mooring-rope, which confined them both to the buoy. Ben now sat down to his oars, putting his feet against Joe’s for a brace.
“Let go, Charlie,” cried he, as he dipped the blades in the water, and the boats began to move ahead. The canoe quivered beneath the strokes of the giant, as, warming up, he stretched himself to the work; and as by main strength he forced her through the sharp sea, the water came over the bows in large quantities, but Charlie threw it out as fast as it came.
For a long time no sound was heard but the dash of waves, and the deep breathing of Ben, like the panting of an ox. It was now fast growing dark. At length Joe said, “I believe I see something like the shade of woods.”
All was still again for a while, and Ben increased the force of his strokes.