Budd Boyd's Triumph Part 27

"Cannot you run in near enough to warn him of his danger?" asked Mr.

Boyd. "Perhaps, if he came right off the beach now, and before the gale comes on, he could save himself and the boat, too."

"Little will he care for our warning," replied Judd; "but then we can give it, all the same. Go forward, Budd, and shout to him;" and he put up the helm and ran the sloop in as near the beach as he felt it was safe to go.

"Mr. Benton," shouted Budd, "your boat will soon pound to pieces there; and if you delay long about putting off sh.o.r.e there will be great risk about your getting into your cove. The wind is increasing every minute, and will soon blow a gale."

The old man turned slowly around and looked off toward the sloop.

"I'll 'tend to my bizness, if ye'll 'tend to your'n," he curtly replied.

"What did I tell you?" said Judd, as the sloop slowly swung off toward the fish-pound, now no great distance away. "He'll stay there for his load, whatever happens. He don't propose to have either Budd or me give him advice."

Before Mr. Boyd could make any reply there came a sharp cry from Budd, who was still on the bow of the sloop.

"Quick, Judd, or our trap will be destroyed! There is a porpoise in it, and he has already noticed our approach."

"We can't save the net!" exclaimed Judd, springing to his feet, and looking at the huge cetacean that had raised his head above the surface of the water, and within the inclosure of the seine. "He will go through it like a shot! Our only hope is to save the fis.h.!.+"

"Perhaps I can get him," cried Budd, running aft and drawing the yawl close up to the sloop.

The next moment he had leaped into it, and casting off the painter, he sculled rapidly toward the pound.

As he reached the upper side of the trap, the porpoise made a quick lunge against the opposite side; but the stout netting and firmly-driven stakes withstood its effort to break through. Seeing his opportunity, Budd pulled in his oar and caught up an old harpoon that lay in the bottom of the yawl, and which was kept there to be used upon the sharks that frequently entered the traps.

It was but the work of a moment to fasten the weapon to the bow-line of the yawl, and then Budd threw it with all his strength at the struggling monster. The sharp point struck the porpoise near the center of its back, and penetrated through the thick hide to the depth of several inches.

"Hurrah! I've got him!" shouted Budd, seizing hold of the bow-line and beginning to haul it in.

Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when the rope was jerked from his hand with a force that sent him over backward in the yawl. Then he heard a crash, and a moment after felt the boat moving through the water a terrific rate of speed.

Crawling up onto his knees and grasping hold of the sides of the yawl, he looked about him. The cetacean had cleared itself from the trap and was going down the bay with the boat in tow. Already the sloop was several rods in the rear, and Judd was shouting to Budd to cut the rope that fastened the yawl to the harpoon, so firmly imbedded in the porpoise's back.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Grasping hold of the sides of the yawl Budd saw that the porpoise was going down the bay at a terrific rate of speed, with the boat in tow.]

Holding on to the yawl with one hand, Budd took his jack-knife from his pocket with the other and opened it with his teeth. He then crept along to the bow of the boat and raised his hand to sever the line. That moment there was a movement on the part of his singular steed that led him to change his mind. The cetacean turned and ran obliquely for the sh.o.r.e, and hoping to yet secure the monster, Budd refrained from cutting the rope.

"Look out for the net, first, then come on and pick me up," he shouted back to Judd. "I'll cut the line at the first show of danger."

The wind evidently carried his words back to his companions with sufficient distinctness to be comprehended, for they at once returned to the pound, beyond which they had already pa.s.sed in pursuing the fleeing yawl, and Budd was left to continue his wild ride unattended.

To state the exact truth, the lad was immensely enjoying the peculiar situation in which he found himself. As long as the porpoise kept at the surface of the water he knew he was safe, and he watched its movements sharply, so as to cut the bow-line the moment he dived.

But no such movement was to be detected. As though stricken with panic, and bent on suicide, the cetacean fled onward until opposite the huge cliff on the west sh.o.r.e of the bay known as Thurston's Rocks, and then it turned and ran directly insh.o.r.e.

"It is sure death to go in there," muttered Budd at this movement of his steed, "and I don't propose to go on to that cliff with you."

With knife raised he waited until the porpoise was within a few rods of the sh.o.r.e; then with a quick stroke he severed the rope, and dropping the knife, seized his oars. By a vigorous use of these he staid the impetus of the yawl and turned its bow into the wind. Before he had accomplished this, however, the cetacean had dashed headlong upon the cliff, and now tossed helplessly upon the surface of the water.

For a few minutes Budd held the yawl in check, and watched his huge victim. He did not dare go nearer to the cliff, for he knew the waves were das.h.i.+ng upon it with a force that would crush the boat as though but a c.o.c.kle-sh.e.l.l, and yet he longed to secure his prey.

He ran his eyes along the rocks. Just beyond the place where the porpoise lay was a shelving ledge, upon which he knew he could get if once on sh.o.r.e, and from the ledge he believed he could reach the rope that was fastened to the cetacean. But where could he land?

Above him, a dozen rods or so, was the old tumbled-down wharf of the long-disused "North Ferry." Rowing slowly up toward this, he was able to bring in the yawl against the north, and hence the sheltered, side.

Securing the boat against any possible escape, he ran quickly down the sh.o.r.e. Once opposite the shelving rock, he with difficulty descended to the water's edge, and regardless of wet feet and wet arms soon caught hold of the rope which the das.h.i.+ng waves brought within his reach. He found also, to his delight, that the rope was long enough to be carried around the trunk of a red cedar that grew out of a crevice in the cliff just above high-water mark.

Having securely fastened the line, Budd stood on the ledge a few minutes, watching the motionless porpoise. The rising tide lifted it upon the ledge quite near him, and the rope slackened somewhat as it was relieved of the cetacean's weight.

"I'll take another half-hitch around the harpoon, and drive that deeper into the porpoise; then he can't get away, and we'll come and get him after the storm is over," Budd thought.

Carrying out his thought, he made the half-hitch about the harpoon with the slackened rope; then he seized hold of the protruding weapon and pressed it down into the motionless body of the cetacean with all his strength.

The next moment the monster, which had apparently only been stunned by its dash upon the cliff, and was now revived by the terrible thrust of the lance into its vitals, gave a sudden and tremendous plunge, which snapped the cord by which it was fastened to the cedar as though it was but tow, and lad and cetacean together rolled off from the rocks into the angry waters.

CHAPTER XXIII.--A MANLY RESCUE.

Fortunately for Budd, he was thrown by the terrible lunge of the porpoise more than ten feet out into the das.h.i.+ng waves, and he had the presence of mind, the moment he rose to the surface of the water, to strike boldly off sh.o.r.e. In this way he soon placed himself beyond any fear of being dashed back upon the rocks.

He could see, also, that the sloop had already left the fish-trap and was bearing down toward him, but was yet a long distance away. He resolved, therefore, to swim up to the old wharf where he had left the yawl.

Burdened as he was with his water-soaked clothing, it is doubtful that he could have done this, short as the distance was, had not both wind and tide been in his favor. As it was, he only reached the yawl after a hard struggle, and crawled into it quite out of breath.

When the sloop, from which he had, ever since his sudden and unexpected bath, been watched with anxiety, came in near the wharf, however, he was sufficiently recovered to pull slowly off to her.

"Are you hurt, Budd?" Mr. Boyd asked, anxiously, as he helped the lad on board.

"Oh! no," Budd replied, with a laugh--"a little uncomfortable from my cold bath and tired with my long swim in the rough sea is all; soon as I put on dry clothing I shall be all right."

"How came you to fall off of the cliff?" asked Judd, hardly able to suppress his merriment at the ridiculous figure his chum presented in his dripping clothing. "We were too far off to see just how it happened."

"I'll tell you as soon as I have changed these duds for something more comfortable," replied Budd, good-naturedly, and descending to the cabin, where he knew there were some old clothes kept for just such an emergency as that into which his adventure with the porpoise had brought him.

He was soon, with his father's help, comfortably clad, and back onto the deck of the sloop. With a good deal of _eclat_ he then related all the details of his adventure, ending with the wish that he might have secured the cetacean.

"We can get him, for there he is," said Judd.

While Budd had been telling his story, the sloop had been slowly brought down opposite the cliff, and, as Judd had declared, the porpoise was still lying at its base. The thrust that Budd had given it just before his involuntary bath had evidently been a fatal one, for the water all about the cetacean was dyed with blood, and though the monster struggled, it was but feebly.

"How would you get him?" asked Budd, quickly, watching the porpoise in its dying struggles.

"If your father will look out for the sloop I'll get you to set me ash.o.r.e at the wharf," explained Judd. "I'll take a coil of rope and the boat-hook with me, and I don't believe but what I can in some way fasten a line on to the fellow and throw the other end off here to you, for as soon as you have landed me you will want to row back here with the yawl.

After picking up the end of the line you want to carry it on board the sloop, and then return to the wharf for me. Meantime your father can run up along the sh.o.r.e with the sloop, towing the porpoise after her, and when we have got back on board we'll find some way to take the fellow on to the island with us."

"But is he worth all that trouble?" asked Mr. Boyd.