With a gasp, a splutter, and a shriek, the mate started to his feet, looking wildly around as he tried to regain the breath which Mr. Long had so rudely driven out of him.
“What—what—what—why, what—d’ye—mean?”
“I mean this,” cried Mr. Long, “that you’re wanted on board, and if you don’t go, I’ll empty the whole well on you.”
The mate looked at him half fearfully, half reproachfully, and then, shaking the water out of his dripping locks, he slowly wended his way to the vessel.
At last all were on board; the baskets and boxes were in the hold, the lines were cast off, the sails were hoisted, and the Antelope dropped down the stream. Messrs. Simmons and Long retired, but most of the boys remained on deck for some time, singing, and laughing, and joking with each one about the peculiar mishaps which he might have incurred during the last eventful week. At length all retired, and silence reigned over the schooner and over the deep.
Early in the morning all were up. The sea, far and wide, was as smooth as glass, except where long lines, and occasional ripples, showed the meeting of opposing currents. Above, the sky was cloudless, the sun was bright, and in the air not a breath of wind was stirring. Upon this Mr. Long looked with extreme impatience, frowning darkly upon land, sea, and sky. The schooner’s sails were flapping idly, her head was pointed toward the Five Islands, and Captain Corbet was standing listlessly at the helm.
“Captain, what’s all this?” asked Mr. Long.
“The schooner is heading toward the Five Islands. Are we going back?”
“No, sir. The schooner’s not particular just now whar she heads.”
“Why don’t you steer for Grand Pré?”