At length they met—the schooner driving through the sea under a cloud of canvas. There was a man at the bow—a well-known form—the form of Captain Tobias Ferguson. The graceful Fawn wore round; the boat came up; a line was thrown, and Bailey seized it. The boys clambered up her sides, and the instant they reached her deck, they found themselves seized by Ferguson, who said, in a voice broken by agitation,—“Hooray! We’ve got—we’ve got you—at—at last! Where are the others? Why didn’t they come off too?”
“All right,” said Arthur. “They are all safe in a cove about twenty miles west of this.”
Then followed a torrent of questions from Ferguson, which the boys answered. Their answers brought peace to his soul, for it appeared that he had been full of terror at the coming of these two, and two only, and had feared that they were bringing some disastrous tidings about the others.
The boat was towed astern. Bailey was welcomed right royally, as was befitting one whom the boys introduced as their friend. At length the mind of Captain Tobias Ferguson was at rest; and the Fawn, rounding on another tack, stood out to sea, on her way towards the cove, where the rest of the party were encamped.
“But you haven’t told us how you heard about us,” said Arthur, as soon as he had a chance to ask a question.
Ferguson seized his arm, and pointed over the water to the sail that Arthur and Tom had already noticed.
“Do you see that?”
“Yes; that schooner?”
“No; that tub, that wash-basin, that horse-trough, anything but a schooner. Well, do you know what that is?”
“The Antelope?” suggested Tom.