Budd Boyd's Triumph; or, The Boy-Firm of Fox Island

by William P. Chipman

Budd now wondered which way the villains would go with the sloop, for he felt sure the Block Island plan had been abandoned. If they went down the bay, Judd, whom he knew was at the fish-pounds, would be likely to see them, and a great hope came to the bound lad that his partner might recognize the fleeing robbers; for he then knew Judd would at once suspect their plans and try to capture them. This hope now became his inspiration and his prayer.

But he did not mean for a single instant to give up his own efforts to escape and to warn the proper authorities of his discovery; for Budd was not thinking so much of the reward that had been offered for the apprehension of the burglars as he was of the bringing of them to justice, and thus securing a hold upon Bagsley. Still, first in his thoughts was the releasing of his father and the vindication of his name.

He had been bound with his hands in front of him, tied simply at the wrists. He had been secured to the tree by wrappings of the cord from his feet to his shoulders, and the knot that held the cord was on the opposite side of the tree. His first effort was, then, to slip the rope from his wrists. This he accomplished after quite a struggle, that bruised and lacerated his arms and hands until they bled.

His next effort was to raise his arms up out from the wrappings of the cord that bound him to the tree. First the right, then the left arm was released, and to Budd's satisfaction he found their release loosened the cord so that he could move himself a little in his wrappings. Had he only had his jackknife, the question of release would have been decided in a moment; but this he had lost in his struggle with Wilson on the sloop's deck. He must, then, find some other way to remove the rope.

The ground where the tree stood was uneven, being higher where he was than on the opposite side of the tree. Could he not, then, work slowly about the tree inside of his wrappings until he could with his right hand reach the knot that secured the rope? He knew it must be slow work, and he must be sure the rope did not turn with him, or else his efforts would be in vain. He determined to make the attempt.

First he strained his wrappings to their fullest extent, and then, before they could slip back against him, he made a sudden hitch to the right. He thought he gained a trifle, and thus encouraged, he tried again. Once, twice, ten, fifty times he repeated the effort, and then he knew he had gained. Objects had been brought into vision that he had not seen when first bound to the tree; objects he had seen were now lost to view.

All that afternoon, with frequent intervals of rest, he kept up his struggle, and just at dark he found he could touch the end of the rope that formed the knot, and a thrill of joy filled his heart. A few minutes later he was able to take a full, strong hold upon this end of the rope, and from that moment his progress was accelerated. Then, tired, aching in every bone, with his coat worn thread-bare by its constant rubbing against the tree, he at length reached a place where he could use both hands upon the knot and untie it. To unwind the wrappings was now but a few minutes' work, and somewhere about six hours after he had been fastened to the tree he found himself free again.

It was, however, too dark for him to attempt to leave the island, or to search out a way to leave it; and so, crawling under the shelter of the great rock from behind which the robbers had first appeared that afternoon, he, without supper and without covering, laid himself down to sleep.

It was a restless, wakeful sleep, and with the very first show of morning light Budd was astir. He first ran up and down the shore until his quickened blood brought warmth to his chilled body; for though it was summer weather, there had been a dampness and low temperature in the sea air sufficient to make him uncomfortable. Then he sought along the beach for some signs of shell-fish, and soon found clinging to the rocks some yellow mussels. Though not the most delicious of bivalves he managed to swallow a dozen or two of them, and their sharp, peppery taste served as a stimulant. A drink of brackish water from a tiny stream trickling down a rock into the sea completed his breakfast.

As the sun rose, Budd's spirits rose with it, and he searched the island completely around for some log or plank, on which he could venture to leave the island. He was not successful in his search, however, and finally came back to his starting-point empty-handed.