They went to the grounds; and the day was blue, and the sea was quiet, and Billy Topsail and the schoolboys had a marvellously splendid time; so they were all friends together from that out.
Tom Call and Jack Wither were members of what they called, with no little pride, "The Ethnological and Antiquarian Club of St. John's." The object of this club of lads was, in the beginning, to preserve relics of the exterminated Beothuk tribe; but to the little collections of stone implements and flint-lock guns were soon added collections of mineral specimens, of fossils, of stamps, of fish and shells and sea-weeds, of insects, of old prints and documents—in short, of everything to which an inveterate collector might attach a value.
Wherever they went in the long vacation, whether to the coast or to the interior, not one of them but kept an eye open for additions to the club collections; and, though much of what they brought back had to be rejected, it was not long before they had the gratification of observing an occasional reference to "the collections of the Ethnological and Antiquarian Club" in the city newspapers.
All this accounts for the presence of Tom Call and Jack Wither in the Little Tickle Basin, in the thick of the islands off Ruddy Cove, one vacation day, and for their interest in a rusted iron mooring-ring, which was there sunk in the rock.
"And nobody knows who put it there?" Tom asked, curiously fingering the old ring.
"No," replied Billy Topsail, who had taken them over; "but they says 'twas the pirates put it there, long ago."
"Pirates!" cried Tom. "Do they say that?"
"'Twas me grandfather told me so."