With his heart in his mouth Frank hailed:
“Carrier Dove, ahoy!”
“Dat you, Marse Frank—bress de Lawd—bress de Lawd!” came back across the water in Pork Chops’ rasping voice; but had it been the golden tones of an opera singer that answered his hail the sound could not have been sweeter to Frank’s ear at that moment than Pork Chops’ frog-like croak of welcome.
The Golden Eagle II was safe!
Before the echo of the Carrier Dove’s noisy arrival had died out in the woods, the young adventurers, hand-in-hand, were dancing in a wild circle round the bewildered Ben Stubbs, yelling like Comanches.
“Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!”
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FRONT DOOR OF THE ’GLADES.
There was little more sleep for the boys that night and when at daybreak half-a-dozen of the moonshiners appeared with the canoe it may be imagined that the boys lost little time in getting aboard the Carrier Dove where their inky navigator was so delighted to see them that he danced a sort of double shuffle of joy from one end of his disreputable craft to the other.
The story of how the Carrier Dove had come to weather the storm was soon told. After the two men, who had not harmed him, had set him ashore from the motor-boat at the other end of the island the black, with the instinct of locality common to his race, had easily made his way to the camp. To his amazement it was deserted and he was filled with fear that some disaster had happened to the boys and Ben. He had not much time for speculation however, for hardly had he looked about him when the rapid approach of the black squall that had caused such havoc on the other side of the island made him bestir himself to get his beloved Carrier Dove to a safer place than her present anchorage. He therefore jumped into the Squeegee and rowed out to his craft. He had just time to set her sails and up anchor when the squall struck down in all its fury. Pork Chops told his story with a wealth of gesture and dramatic effect and the boys could hardly refrain from bursting into roars of laughter as he described “de mon’surious wabe what had rised up out of the sea like yeast bread an’ et up de po’ li’l Squeegee.”
“How high was the wave. Pork Chops?” asked Frank.