And with these words he skipped away, and never stopped till he reached his own room.
That evening the boys, on their return to the hill, were very curious to know how Pat had fared with the baby. Captain Corbet had hinted that he had left his child under Pat’s care, and many conjectures had been made as to the success of the new nurse. Pat, however, shunned the public eye for that evening, so that it was not until the following day that they had a chance of asking him about his experience. At first Pat fought them off, and returned evasive answers; but gradually he disclosed all. The curiosity of the boys then turned towards the meeting that may have taken place between the indignant Mrs. Corbet and the innocent captain on his return. But of the nature of that meeting they were destined to remain in ignorance. All was left to conjecture, and such powerful imaginations as theirs supplied them with many vivid fancy sketches of scenes wherein figured the justly irate wife, and the injured, yet forbearing, Corbet.
Time passed on, until at length one afternoon a thrill of excitement was thrown over the playground by the appearance of Corbet himself. Like all popular favorites, he was received with an uproarious greeting. He accepted the tribute with a mild and pensive countenance, and by his manner showed that something unusual was going to take place. What that was they soon learned. With a moistened eye, and not without emotion, he informed them that he was shortly about to leave them, and had come down for the especial purpose of bidding them good by.
This announcement was received with astonishment and sorrow. Upon further questioning they learned that he was going to take a cargo of potatoes to Boston.
“Yes, boys,” said he, mournfully, “the aged Corbet must again become a wanderer with taters, his home the heavin billow, an his destination Bosting. An individool of his years mought have hoped to rest his aged bones under his own roof a nussin of his babby; but Fate an the wife of his boosum stud clean agin it, tickerlarly the latter, bein a high sperrit an given to domineerin. So it hev kem abeout that sence the resurrection of the schewner she have fairly druv me from my natyve hearthstun, to temp the dangerous wave, an cross the briny main. Hence my departoor with taters. All air ready. My boat air on the shore, an my bark air on the sea. Not that I regret the restoration of the schewner. I may be sundered far from my babby, but this I will say, that in the cabing of the Antelope reigns peace! Ef I can’t press my babby in my parential arms, I can hold his image in my pinin boosum. Besides, I can make money for his footoor years, which, sence I’ve ben disappinted in the Frenchman’s money-hole, ain’t to be sneezed at. Ony when any of youns goes an gits married, as some of you may some time dew,—take the word of an exile, and look out for temper!”
Here Captain Corbet paused, and appeared somewhat agitated. He then prepared to bid them farewell. But the boys would not listen to this. His farewell should take place elsewhere. He was going to leave on the next day; and as that day was Saturday, they promised to be down at the wharf to see him off.
The schooner was to sail in the afternoon, and all the boys were on the spot punctually, immediately after dinner. Soon Corbet made his appearance. The meek, the gentle, and the venerable navigator looked upon them all with a mournful smile.
“You know the song you made, boys?” said he, sadly,
"Should Captain Corbet be forgot,
A sailing o’er the sea,”—
wal—don’t forget me.”
“Never,” cried Bart, as he grasped his hand in farewell. The melancholy captain then went round, and shook hands with all of them in silence. Then he went on board of his schooner. The Antelope had been renovated. All the traces of her mishap had been obliterated. A coat of neat coal tar covered her fair outlines. Another coat of grease adorned her tapering masts. Sundry patches were here and there visible on her flowing sails. That hold which had once carried the boys over Minas Bay was now filled with potatoes. The tide was high and on the turn. The wind was fair. Corbet took the helm. The man Wade, whose old ‘oman’s name was Gipson, who had been mate on their memorable cruise, sailed now with Captain Corbet in the following capacities:—