Picked up Adrift / Illustrated

by James De Mille

The Petrel was a prize for those who might be her salvors. To that fortunate situation he did not wish to admit any others. He wished merely to procure sails, and then navigate her somehow with the help that he already had. He knew well, and he dreaded, the keen inquisitiveness and the active, restless energy of Captain Tobias Ferguson.

He did not want to meet with him at all. In fact, the very last person in all the world that he would have chosen to meet with at this particular time was this very man.

So great was his dread of a meeting, which might ruin all his plans, that his first impulse was to fly. He cast a hasty look all around. Upon the beach he saw the boat of the Fawn. Evidently the skipper was ashore. Upon this discovery he at once acted, and determined to move farther away. Hastily checking Wade, who was in the act of dropping the anchor, Captain Corbet wore round, and continued on his former course for a mile or so. Then, rounding the extremity of the island, he kept on his way along the shore, anxiously considering what was best to be done.

There were other islands in the group, but this was the one which he wished to visit, for here only could he hope to find anything like sails. He had come here for this purpose, and to go away without accomplishing it was not to be thought of. It now seemed to him that the best thing for him to do, under the circumstances, would be to land here, and pursue his investigations in a quiet way about the island, managing so as to avoid all contact with Captain Ferguson. He therefore dropped anchor here, and, taking Wade with him, he went ashore.

Once on shore, he went about his search with the utmost diligence, going from house to house, and making inquiries about sails. But from the first his task was a roost discouraging one. Every one assured him that there were no spare sails on the island; all the schooners were away, and whatever stock any one had he generally kept in his schooner, and took it with him. This was the information that he got from every one to whom he applied.

For hour after hour Captain Corbet kept up his fruitless search, dodging about cautiously, so as to avoid being seen by Captain Ferguson, in case he might be ashore, and keeping a wary lookout. At length he had visited every house on the island of any consequence. The only thing that they could suggest was for him to go to Miramichi, where he would be likely to obtain what he wanted.

Captain Corbet, in deep dejection, now retraced his steps to the boat. He thought for a time of applying to Ferguson. But a moment’s reflection made him give up that idea. He knew that Ferguson would be full of curiosity; that he would ask him all about the boys; and he feared that if he got the slightest hint of the facts of the case, he might start off instantly for the wreck, and thereby forestall him. It does not follow that Ferguson would really have done this; but this was Captain Corbet’s belief, and it influenced him, of course, precisely as if the belief had been well founded.

Having thus dismissed the idea of appealing to Ferguson, it remained for him to decide what next to do. He did not think of going back. Better to take Ferguson into his confidence at once. He still clung to his first hope and his first plan, and, since Miramichi was the nearest place where he could rely upon finding sails, he began to think about going there. True, this would take up two or three days more, and the boys would be left to themselves all that time; but, as he had already accustomed himself to think of them in their present position as quite safe, he was able to entertain the thought of leaving them this way still, longer. He had committed himself too deeply to his plan, he had gone too far towards its execution, and he had built too largely upon its successful accomplishment, to be willing to give it up just yet.

And so by the time he reached the boat he had about made up his mind to start off for Miramichi at once. With this resolve he went back to the schooner.

The moment that he stepped on deck he was astonished at detecting in the atmosphere the smell of cigar smoke; and while he was yet standing, with open mouth and expanded nostrils, inhaling the unwelcome odor, he was still more unpleasantly surprised at seeing a figure emerge from the cabin, in whom at one glance he recognized the well-known and particularly dreaded lineaments of Captain Tobias Ferguson.