Dr. Gordon's children were well versed in the Scriptures, and were remarkably attentive during the reading of them. Perhaps one secret of this fact was to be found in their father's practice of stopping every few verses during the family reading to ask them questions on what had been read, and briefly to explain what they could not otherwise comprehend. This morning the children observed that the chapter read was remarkably appropriate to their circumstances, and that the Doctor prayed particularly that the Lord would preserve them from all sin and harm during their excursion; that he would preside over their pleasures, and that he would make their temporary absence the means of their knowing him better, and loving him more.
They breakfasted as the sun was rising. While at table no one could speak of anything but the voyage and the island, and what they expected to see, do, and enjoy. The boat was at the wharf, which had been erected for the brig. It was packed, and ready for departure, with the exception of a few things to be carried by hand. William had breakfasted at the same time with the family, and now came in, saying, "All ready, sir."
"Come, children," said Dr. Gordon, "let us go."
"Come, umbrella," said Frank, "you are to go with me."
"O, father," exclaimed Mary, as they approached the shore, "there is Nanny with her sweet little kids. See how anxiously she looks at the boat, and tries to say, 'Do let me go too.' Had we not better take her? She is so tame; and then you are so fond of milk in your coffee."
"I doubt," he replied, "whether there will be room for dogs, goats, and ourselves too. But we can easily determine; and as I know that all of you are as fond of milk as I am, I will let her go if there is room."
They took their places, Dr. Gordon at the helm, Robert and Harold amidships, Mary and Frank next to their father, and William in the bow. Everything had been stowed so snugly away, and the boat was withal so roomy, that Nanny and her kids were invited to a place.
"Now, children, for order's sake," said Dr. Gordon, "I will assign the bow of the boat, where William is, to Nanny and her kids; Fidelle must lie here by Frank and Mum may go with Harold. Mary, call your pet, and have her in her place."
A word about the dogs. Fidelle was a beautiful and high-blooded spaniel, that might have been taught anything which a dog could learn, but whose only accomplishments as yet were of a very simple character, and confined chiefly to such tricks as were a source of amusement to her little master. Mum was a large, ugly, rough-looking cur, whose value would never have been suspected from his appearance. He was brave, faithful, and sagacious; strong, swift-footed, and obedient. But his chief value consisted in his education. He came from the pine barrens of Georgia, where Dr. Gordon had first seen and purchased him, and where he had been trained, according to the custom of the wild woodsmen there, to hunt silently; and in following the trail of a deer or turkey to keep just in advance of his master, and to give suitable indications of being near the object of pursuit. Mum was no common dog; and he proved of inestimable service to the young adventurers in their coming difficulties.
"Draw in the anchor, William, while I cast off at the stern," said Dr. Gordon. "But hold! let us see what that means." He pointed with his finger to a horseman, who turned a point on the beach, and seeing them about to depart, waved his hat to say "stop!" The horseman rode at full speed, and soon was within speaking distance. He bore a note from the surgeon at Fort Brooke, requesting the loan of a certain instrument which Dr. Gordon had promised when on his visit, and for which there was now a sudden call.