Peterson was not aware of the change that had been made in her rig, it having been done while he was at sea.
The moment Lion Ben put the glass to his eye he said, "It's her."
Old and young were now flocking to every place commanding a good view of the water. Half way between Elm Island and the main was a whale-boat containing Ben Peterson, Lion Ben, and all his family, the Lion pulling two oars, and Peterson one. Doubts now began to be freely expressed by some of the least sanguine, and indignantly scouted by others.
"That's the vessel, to be sure," said Joe Bradish, always a prophet of ill omen; "but no knowing as Peterson's in her. He might be dead when they got there, or that planter might have sold him to another planter on some other island, or they might not be able to get him."
"Just shut up your clam-shell—will you? You're always an off-ox," said Joe Griffin, seeing poor Luce tremble and the tears rundown her cheeks,—as she stood holding the two youngest children by the hand,—at the words of Bradish. "She's deep-loaded; that, to my mind, shows for itself that they've sold their cargo and had good luck; don't it captain?" turning to Captain Rhines.
"I think it does, Joseph. Cheer up, my girl," to Luce, "and hope for the best."
But, to the disappointment of all, the wind, that had been moderating for some time, died away to a flat calm, the tide turned, and the vessel so anxiously expected was obliged to anchor.
"Neighbors," said Lion Ben, "what say you for towing her up?"
"That's the talk, Ben," said Joe Griffin.
"Boats and boys!" shouted Joel Ricker.