“O, Captain Corbet!” cried Bart, who hurried up first to the figure on the stone wall. “O, Captain Corbet! Can nothing be done to save her?”
Captain Corbet turned his face, and looked mildly, yet calmly upon the boys. His calmness extended itself to them, and they thought that it was the calmness of hope. In a moment their sorrow over the Antelope passed away.
But the words of Captain Corbet did not tend to inspire hope.
No shook his venerable head with deep solemnity.
“No,” said he, “nothen ken be done. You see, I hurried home to see the babby, an I didn’t fasten her right. She stood one tide all night, but it was on’y by chance. This here tide to-day has done for her. I’d orter hev tied her up proper—but it was all the babby. I clar’d out, tied her loose, an this here’s the result. Good by, old Antelope!—Hic jacet. There’s Lating for ye, boys,” he added, mournfully. “You’re studyin that at the Academy, an kin onderstand the feelins of the onhappy Corbit.”
“Don’t talk so, captain,” cried Bart. “We’ll help you. We got out all the ballast to-day. Come; can’t you think of some way to save her? Isn’t there any way? We’ll help you if you want help. We’ll wait here till the next tide, and get her righted.”
“No go—” said Captain Corbet.
“You give up too quick,” cried Bart, more earnestly than before. “Can’t something be done? We’ll help you, you know.”
Captain Corbet shook his head solemnly; then looking earnestly at the boys, he slowly ejaculated,—
“No go, boys; that there schooner’s a gone sucker!”