CHAPTER IX.
THE MYSTERY IN A STORM.
TOM was perfectly satisfied with his day’s work—it could not have been better, he thought, even had he desired it; and, as he again took his stand on the quarter-deck and looked proudly over his cargo, he began to think that he had at last found the road to fortune. There were no obstacles in his way now; he thoroughly understood his business, and, better than all, he had no work to do. The man, whoever he was, that originated the old saying that “There is no excellence without labor,” didn’t know any thing about the matter, for it was sport for him to make bargains, pay out money, and count his profits. If other people were obliged to work, it was their own fault. Why didn’t they do as he had done, look about and find some way of making a living without labor? Following the life of a trader, even if he didn’t clear expenses, was much easier than going to school, and poring for six hours in the day over uninteresting lessons. That was all well enough for those who liked it; but, as for himself, he would show people that he could get along through the world without it. In short, Tom was delighted with the success that had attended his efforts, for the business was still new to him, and he had not yet found any thing unpleasant in it. He remained standing on his quarter-deck, now and then turning to the fisher-boy, who was seated at the helm, to give him some order in a loud voice, so that the farmer, who stood on the beach watching them, might understand that he was the captain of the vessel, but, as soon as the man returned to the house, Tom walked forward to look at his game chickens. The rooster, ever since he was put into the box, had crowed most lustily, showing that his was a spirit which could not be broken by confinement. Seeing Tom approach, he at once put himself into an attitude of defense; and when the young trader forced his hand between the bars on the box, he was saluted with a peck, and a blow from the rooster’s spurs that brought tears to his eyes. But Tom endured the pain without a murmur. He had received convincing proof that the fowl was thorough game, and this gratifying knowledge served as a balm for his wounds. He was, however, very careful not to put his hand inside the box again; but, wishing to make the rooster give a few more exhibitions of his pluck, Tom amused himself, for a long time, by tormenting him with a stick. Finally, growing weary of this sport, he walked aft, where the fisher-boy was seated, silent and thoughtful. He was thinking over the events of the day, and wondering if the results would meet the young trader’s expectations. Bob had made many and careful calculations concerning the very business in which they were then engaged, but his conclusions differed widely from those of Captain Newcombe’s. Although he could not hope to share in the profits, if the experiment proved a success, or be expected to bear part of the expenses, if it should be a failure, he was deeply interested in it. He hoped that Tom’s bright visions would be realized, but he thought he had good reason to fear that his employer would lose money. The young trader, however, was not troubled with any gloomy forebodings. He looked upon what he had done as perfectly correct, and he was unusually merry over it. He talked, laughed, and sang; and was so full of his fun that he could not sit still, but kept walking backward and forward over the boat, stopping now and then to explain matters to Bob, who, he plainly saw, did not agree with him. He again gave a full description of the manner in which he intended to conduct his business, always taking as his starting-point the assumed fact that he would “be certain to make ten dollars over and above all expenses every trip;” and, standing on one of the thwarts, with his hands in his pockets, he was endeavoring, for the twentieth time, to make Bob “see through his grand scheme,” when the fisher-boy suddenly pointed seaward, and interrupted him with—
“Just see there, captain!”
Tom looked in the direction indicated, and the sight that met his gaze drove all thoughts of business out of his head. A thick milk-white cloud, followed by one as black as midnight, was rapidly coming into view above the horizon, and, as the young trader looked up, he heard the low muttering of distant thunder. Captain Newcombe knew enough about storms to be well aware that the one then coming up promised to give him ample opportunity to test the sea-going qualities of his fine sloop. But he had no desire to be caught out in that storm; and one, to have seen him at that moment, would have been satisfied that he was wanting in a quality that was very necessary to enable him to fill the position of commander of a vessel—namely, courage. He knew that they were in danger, for the Mystery was fully a mile and a half from the shore, and, if the storm overtook her with all her sails spread, she would be capsized in a moment. This knowledge seemed to deprive him of all power of action; for he stood looking at the clouds, and listening to the peals of thunder that every instant came more plainly to his ears, as if he was at a loss to know what course to pursue.
To increase Tom’s dismay, he noticed that a vessel, which he had seen coming toward the harbor, had put about and was standing out to sea again, while her crew was engaged in taking in the topsails, and making every thing snug on board. Tom knew, by this, that her captain, deeming it unsafe to attempt to reach the harbor, which was a dangerous one to enter during a gale, had started seaward, intending to “lay off and on” until the storm should abate. When Captain Newcombe saw this maneuver, he knew that he ought to be doing something also; but the sight of that black cloud in the west disconcerted him, and he could not keep his wits about him long enough to determine what ought to be done. It was an easy thing to be master of a vessel in calm weather, but when a storm was brewing the case was different.
“Captain,” said the fisher-boy, “there’s the hurricane you whistled for this morning.”
“O, no,” drawled Tom; “now, don’t lay that on to me, for I didn’t whistle for as hard a one as this is going to be; I said I only wanted a little one.”