So they waited patiently; and at last Captain Corbet tore himself away from his house, his wife, and his babby, and went to the schooner, accompanied by the ragged regiment of boys.
It was about ten o’clock, and the schooner was afloat. All tumbled on board. The hawswrs were unloosed. Captain Corbet had to go ashore to get a man whom he called his “mate;” but as Mr. Long went with him but little time was lost.
At last the sails were hoisted. The wind filled them, and the Antelope moved slowly from the wharf. A loud, ringing cheer arose as the schooner started. Before the last notes died away, however, a man was seen running down toward the wharf. He was short and fat, and panted heavily. Reaching the wharf, he cast one look of consternation at the place where the garden wall had been, and another at the schooner.
“They’ve done it, by jingo!” he exclaimed. “Hallo there!” he screamed. “Did you go and take my fence for ballast, Corbet?”
“No, I didn’t!” yelled Corbet.
“You did, you scoundrel! Harris saw those young reprobates passing the stones on board. Bring them back at once, every one of them, or I’ll make you sup sorrow!”
Here Mr. Long stepped forward.
“It’s all right,” said he. “It’s no matter—”
“What!” cried the owner of the fence. “I say it is not all right; and it is matter. Bring me back my fence!”
“I’ll bring it back.”