Three cheers!
Yes, and three more!
Yes, and three times three, and nine times nine, and cheers without end! They cheered. They shouted. They danced. They hugged one another for very joy.
Solomon joined in the general jubilation. He did this by standing apart and bursting into tears.
“Don’t mind me,” he muttered. “’Clar, I can’t help it, nohow. De tears will come, but dey’s all tears ob j’y. It’s ben a drefful tryin time to me all along, chilen, dis yer time, for I allus ben a feelin an a thinkin as how dat I had some han in a bringin ob you to dese yer stremities; but I held out, I bore up, all for your sakes; but now all am ober; an O, de precious sakes! dar’s a ole man hereabouts, chil’en, dat’s like to bust wid j’y! Don’t mind me. All right! Hooray! All safe at last!—an de chilen snatched from the jaws ob roonatium! O, do go way now, or else dis yer nigga’ll bust!”
And at this Solomon really did burst—into tears.
The glorious schooner! the beautiful schooner! the schooner with the swan-like form and the snow-white sails! She plunged through the waters, the waves foamed about her bows, as she hurried on towards them. Arthur and Tom were there; they knew it, or else how should that schooner come so straight towards them? No more fears now, no more anxieties. Arthur and Tom were both safe, and the deep joy of that little company arose more from the assurance of this than even from the prospect of their own rescue.
The schooner came near. She rounded to; she dropped her anchor. A boat was lowered. Three figures appeared in the boat—one rowing with vigorous strokes, two smaller ones in the stern. The boat came nearer. In the stern they saw the two, and recognized them as they came nearer. They had felt sure at the first, but now they saw with their own eyes Arthur and Tom; and O, with what joy, with what jubilation, with what shouts, what cries, what leaps of joy! Arthur and Tom waved their hands, they stretched out their arms, they called out incoherent words, and it was with incoherent words that those on the shore responded.
The boat grounded. The boys ashore rushed into the water to seize Arthur and Tom in their arms. Then the man who had rowed the boat stood up and looked at them. They saw him. They knew him. Captain Ferguson! Tears were in his eyes, and he tried to hide them, but couldn’t. Captain Tobias Ferguson, bold sailor, strong, brave man, broke down on this occasion, and cried like a child.
Then he went about shaking hands and talking wildly. He grabbed old Solomon’s hand, and shook it most warmly. He asked anxiously about his health. Solomon was still sobbing and crying with utter joy. Neither of them knew what he was doing. Both felt the same emotions, yet the emotions of each arose from the same cause, and that was, anxiety about these boys, whom they loved, for whom they had feared so much, and suffered so much, and over whose safety they now rejoiced with such deep joy.