It was not Bob’s intention to land on the beach; for there, when the storm came, the Mystery would be in danger of being knocked to pieces by the waves, which always ran high during a gale. He had resolved, if possible, to run into a little cove about three miles from the village, where they could find safe anchorage for their vessel, let the wind blow never so hard. The fisher-boy thought he should be able to accomplish his object; for, as he took the helm, a slight breath of wind—the forerunner of the storm—filled the sails, and the Mystery began to move more rapidly. Stronger and stronger grew the breeze, causing the little vessel to careen, until she stood almost on her beam-ends, and straining the mast until it seemed about to break. Never before had the Mystery made such an exhibition of speed; but, fast as she went, the boys saw that the storm gained rapidly, and presently Bob pointed out a long line of foam in the horizon. The gale was fast approaching, and a few moments more would decide whether they would enter the cove—the mouth of which was but a short distance off—or be swamped on the beach. Nearer and nearer came the line of foam, stretching away on both sides of them as far as their eyes could reach; and finally, a strong gust of wind, which seemed to lift the little vessel fairly out of the water, filled the sails, and drove her toward the beach with great speed. Tom thought all was lost, and throwing himself flat in the bottom of the boat, expected every instant to find himself struggling in the water. He felt the sloop rise, as she was lifted on the crest of a tremendous billow, heard the shrieking of the wind through the shrouds, accompanied by a loud roar, as the wave broke upon the beach, and presently the Mystery’s keel grated harshly on the sand—Bob having safely piloted her behind a friendly point, and run her upon the shore, out of reach of the storm.
CHAPTER X.
TOM’S GAME CHICKENS.
THE fisher-boy had not performed a very heroic nor yet very difficult task in taking the Mystery safely into port; and Tom, when he had straightened up and looked about him, began to feel ashamed of himself. His pride, however, would not permit him to acknowledge that he had acted cowardly; so, as soon as he saw that the vessel and cargo were safe, he exclaimed:
“Well, we did bring her in all right, didn’t we, Bob? I knew we could do it.”
Had the Mystery been a few minutes later in reaching her shelter, it is probable that not even Bob could have saved her from being dashed upon the shore; for, no sooner had they reached the cove, than the storm burst forth in all its fury. The wind blew a perfect gale; the waves broke upon the beach with deafening roars; the clouds were lighted up with almost incessant flashes of lightning, which were accompanied by terrific peals of thunder, that had the effect of convincing Tom that, perhaps, they were not yet altogether safe.
The fisher-boy made no reply to Captain Newcombe’s remark; but, after making the sloop’s painter fast to a tree on the shore, he hauled down the mainsail and proceeded to spread it over the boat, to protect the cargo, and also to afford them a shelter from the rain, which soon began to fall in torrents. Captain Newcombe and his mate then crawled under the sail; and, as was invariably the case with Tom, when every thing did not go off smoothly, he began to grumble. He was the most unlucky boy in the whole world, he said. Every one else got along easily, and without the least trouble, but whenever he attempted any thing, something always happened to bother him. He knew he couldn’t be a trader before he commenced, and that would be his last attempt at speculating. If Bob would give him fifteen dollars, he might have the whole cargo, game chickens and all. He would sell it for five dollars less than he had intended to ask for it, for the sake of disposing of it then and there, as he was fully resolved to retire from business. But fifteen dollars was a much larger amount than the fisher-boy ever had in his possession at one time, and, besides, (although he did not say so,) he was rather inclined to believe that the cargo was not worth so much money.
At the end of two hours the storm was over, and the waves had abated sufficiently to allow the Mystery to continue her voyage. Tom, although he retained the name of captain, allowed the fisher-boy to have things all his own way; and, when he found himself sailing toward the village once more, he began to recover his usual spirits. He again thought of his profits; how grand he would feel when he should inform his father that he had made just ten dollars that day; how all the boys of his acquaintance would envy him, and he finally concluded that a traders life was not so bad after all.