“Well, sir,” said Breeze, “under the circumstances, and as the only other thing to do would be to get into dory No. 6, and drift away again, I believe I’ll ship with you for this Iceland trip.”
“Yes, I think you had better,” replied the skipper, gravely.
Breeze was much pleased to find again the outfit of clothing that he had transferred to the Fish-hawk from the Albatross. After weeks of wearing old garments, picked up here and there among his recent shipmates on the Vixen, it was indeed a comfort to be able to dress himself once more in a full suit of his own clothes.
The Fish-hawk was a much larger and more comfortable schooner than any he had sailed in before; and only the thought that there were sorrow and anxiety in the little home cottage on his account prevented him from thoroughly enjoying the prospect of a trip in her to far distant seas. Even this cause of trouble was partially removed two days later, when they sighted several fishing schooners, and the skipper offered to run down to them, and ask the first one that should be homeward bound to take letters, and also to report Breeze McCloud as safe and well.
As they drew near, one of these anchored vessels seemed strangely familiar to Breeze, who, after looking at her through a glass, said, “I do believe it’s the old Vixen.” He was right, and no men could have been more surprised than were her crew, when, soon afterwards, he and Captain Coffin rowed to her in dory No. 6. They welcomed Breeze as one from the dead, and there was not a man on board but shook him heartily by the hand and gave him a cordial greeting. Of them all, none appeared so glad to see him as poor Hank Hoffer, who, still suffering greatly from the effects of his exposure in the ice, had never ceased to mourn the loss of his brave young rescuers.
They were intensely interested in the story he had to tell them of his experiences since drifting away in the fog, and all declared that they had never before heard of any one person having such peculiar adventures during a single trip to the Banks. The Vixen was to return to Gloucester in two or three weeks more, and her skipper promised to contradict any unpleasant rumors he might hear concerning Breeze, and to tell the true story of his mysterious departure. He also promised to deliver, immediately upon his arrival, the letter Breeze had written to his mother, telling of his safety and where he had gone.
Before they left the Vixen her skipper told Captain Coffin that his anchor was caught on an ocean telegraph cable, and asked him whether he thought he ought to try and haul it up, thus running the risk of breaking the telegraph, or cut his own cable when he got ready to leave.
“Buoy your own cable and cut it, by all means,” replied Captain Coffin, promptly. “The telegraph company will pay you the full value of all that you lose, as soon as you send in a statement of the case to them. I did the same thing myself only about a year ago.”
After getting the suit of shore clothes he had left on the Vixen, Breeze bade his old shipmates good-by, and he and Captain Coffin returned to the Fish-hawk, one of the Vixen men going with them to carry back dory No. 6. Breeze could not help watching the departure of the old dory with regret, as he thought of all he had gone through with in it, and how often it had served him in times of danger.
As they sailed away from the Vixen, the thought of her being fast to a telegraph cable caused Breeze to ask the skipper how many cables there were crossing the Atlantic.