“All right,” said Bailey; “the next tack’ll bring her nearer.”
This reassured the boys, who did not like even the appearance of desertion. They watched her now in silence, and at length had the gratification of seeing her taking her next tack, and standing in towards the shore. This time she was very much nearer. Bailey rushed off, and gathered a quantity of dry spruce twigs and moss. As the schooner neared the shore, her flag rose and fell rapidly, and the report of a rifle sounded over the waters. At this Bailey flung his moss and spruce twigs upon the fire, and a vast cloud of smoke shot up, intermingled with sparks and flame.
“We’re gradooly a comin to a understandin,” said Bailey, as he rubbed his hands in immense glee, and watched the schooner. “And I do believe that the next tack’ll bring her here. Boys, let’s get ready with the boat.”
Saying this, Bailey hurried down, followed by the boys. They hurried as fast as possible to the boat, and began to launch her. As she was uncommonly high and dry, this was a work of time; but it was at length accomplished, and the boat was afloat.
The wind was still off the land, to a certain extent, and the water had become far smoother. Besides, for a quarter of a mile or so from the land, it had never been much affected by the wind. They were too eager to wait, and so in a short time the sail was up, and Bailey, at the stern, headed the boat so as to meet the schooner on her return tack. As the wind caught the sail, the boat moved through the water, at first slowly, but gradually more swiftly. While the boat moved out, the schooner seemed to be sailing away, and leaving them behind; but this gave them no trouble, for they knew that before long she would wear round, and come to meet them. And so, with eager eyes, they watched her, and waited impatiently for the moment when she would turn.
Suddenly Arthur gave a cry, and pointed down the coast. There, as they looked, to their great amazement, they saw another sail, far away, emerging from the land, and standing out to sea.
“Wall—this—doos—beat—my—grandmother!” cried Bailey. “Or, in other words, boys, it never rains but it pours. We’ll have the whole fishing fleet yet.”
Arthur and Tom said nothing. Tom seized the glass, and looked for a few minutes. Then he handed it to Arthur in silence.
Arthur looked for some time most earnestly and most curiously.
“It’s queer!” said he.