Very kindly, when Frank could tell his name and home, the schooner Blue Bell put into harbor at New Haven, to land him there.
“You’d better telegraph home, my boy, the instant you get on shore,” said the Captain to him. “It won’t be a moment too soon to relieve their minds.”
“I suppose, Captain,” said Frank, thanking him with a deal of boyish gratitude for having been so good as to save him, and go ten miles out of his way to land him—“I suppose, Captain, by the time you’ve sailed home to Maine, you’ll find three or four reams of paper done up into thanking letters, waiting for you.”
“All right,” said the captain of the Blue Bell.
Frank thought it would be so much nicer to witness all the pleasure and surprise his appearance in the village would occasion—to go right in on the first train and meet everybody. Of course! What was the use in sending a telegram? And then suddenly Frank remembered how long the minutes must seem at home; and the first real self-sacrifice that he was conscious of for the good of others, was in hastening with all speed to the nearest telegraph office, and sending to his father this message:
“I’m all right at New Haven.”
“Frank Hallock.”
You may be certain that the young man who received that message did not keep it many seconds lying in the office. No; he didn’t even wait to write it out, but appeared on the platform of the little station with shining visage, and announced “Frank Hallock’s all right in New Haven!”
“I’ll carry it!” cried half a dozen volunteer messengers; but while he hastened back to put it into proper form, three lads started on a run for Hallock Point.
Such a race as it was, to be sure! for everything was clear and bright now, and a steam-tug had steamed up at the town wharf, all ready to start, with orders to cruise up and down until the boy was found; and on board the tug were Mr. Hallock and Harry Cornwall; and many a man interested in the recovery of his neighbor’s lost boy was only too glad to lend his presence and sympathy to the occasion.