And at every cry, “Hi ho, cheerly, men,” Captain Pratt and his men gave a pull, and the boys, watching him, pulled also. At first they were a little irregular, but they soon caught the time, and pulled as regularly as the men. And thus, with a long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull all together, they sought to raise up the fallen schooner.
The schooner felt it. Already the mud had been detached from its grasp, and the water which flowed around formed an additional assistant, buoying it up, and supporting it as they pulled. The clinging mud was the only thing to contend with. The first pull loosened its hold somewhat, the second and third did this still more, and finally the fourth raised the masts above the surface of the water. Again and again they pulled, and higher and higher came the masts, until at last, when high up in the air, all further pulling was rendered unnecessary by the schooner, which threw herself upon her keel in the water, and thus righted herself of her own accord. She did not sit very fair, it is true, for the mud which had accumulated on one side of her hold gave her a lop-sided appearance; but that mattered little to the boys. It was enough triumph to them that she was afloat, and so they celebrated their triumph in long, loud cheers.
Having thus righted the schooner, Captain Pratt prepared to secure her in a proper manner.
“We’ve righted her, boys,” said he, “and now let’s take care that she shan’t be wronged.”
With this end in view, lines were fastened from the schooner to the shore, and Captain Pratt finally pronounced her free from danger.
The boys now crowded around the Antelope to see what marks she bore of her late calamities. There she floated before them, her masts and rigging plastered with mud, yet afloat, and able once more to plough the seas after her own fashion. A few among them managed to scramble on board, the righted schooner. The scene around was not particularly attractive. The mud still clung close to the deck and rigging, and even Captain Pratt’s work around the hatches was already coated over with thick slime. The scene was not an attractive one, and they did not remain there long.
“She wants cleanin,” remarked Captain Pratt, after a long survey,—“that’s a fact; an what’s more, she wants corkin—no doubt,—an a good coat o’ tar. She wants new spars, an riggin, an chains, an anchors,—a new deck, too, and pumps wouldn’t be out of the way; and for that matter, while they were about it, they might as well put a new hull onto her. By that time she’d be fit to carry taters, and Corbet might make a little money out of her. But it would cost a good bit to do all that, and so I dar say Corbet’ll sail her as she stands,—if he sails her at all. Arter all, he might as well, bein as she’s jest as good now as ever she was. She never was much; but then she’s been lucky, and did well enough for Corbet. It would be kind of onnateral to see him aboard of any other craft than this here.”
“Boys,” said Bart, “something ought to be done in honor of this great occasion; and above all, we ought to make up some way to bring Corbet face to face with his restored Antelope. Shall we tell him at once, and let him come down?”
“No, let’s leave it till he finds out. Let’s give him a shock of surprise.”
“But how will we know anything about his surprise, unless we are here on the spot at that great meeting between Corbet and his lost but restored schooner?”