All this time the schooner came on, and at length came nearly opposite. Phil saw the crowd on board. He saw them staring and gesticulating. He was recognized—he was safe! Yes, there was Mr. Long,—he knew that tall figure in black,—and he was going to the stern. What for? Aha! wasn’t that glorious? He had gone and had seized the ropes, and lowered and hoisted the flag again a score of times. Ha, ha, ha! What flag? What flag? Why, their own flag,—the flag of the “B. O. W. C.,”—which had’ evidently been waving there ever since their departure, and now saluted them as it brought them safety.
Phil’s merry laughter rang out loud and clear, as he saw all this, in his excitement and his joy. He saw the schooner head in straight toward the shore, then sweep round; and then down rattled her anchor, her sails fell, and she lay waiting.
Phil gave a final wave and a loud, shout; and then, descending the tree, he scampered down the slope and along the beach, as fast as his little legs would carry him, until at last he reached the verge of the shore opposite the schooner. Here he gave a loud hurrah. His shrill voice reached the schooner, which was only a short distance off, and was responded to by a loud cheer from all on board.
“Where are the other boys?” cried Mr. Long.
“In the woods; they’ll be here soon.”
“Where’s the boat?”
“Up there,” said Phil, pointing to where it lay.
“We can’t get ashore. We’ve got no boat.”
“When the tide gets up, and the boys come back, we can get the boat out,” said Phil.
“How are you all?” cried Mr. Long.