Lost in the Fog Part 35

"Wal, railly," said he, "I do declar ef it don't railly seem as ef it railly is a change o' weather--it railly doos. Why, ain't this rich?

We're ben favored at last. We're agoin to hev a clar day. Hooray!"

The boys could not make out whether the captain's words were justified or not by the facts, but thought that they detected in the air rather the fragrance of the land than the savor of the salt sea. There was no wind, however, and they could not see far enough out on the water to know whether there was any fog or not.

Bennie accompanied them to the boat, and urged them to come back if they found the boys and let him rest in Scott's Bay. But the fate of that boy was so uncertain, that they could not make any promise about it.

It was a little after three when the Antelope weighed anchor, and dropped down the bay.

There was no wind whatever. It was the tide only that carried them down to their destination. Soon it began to grow lighter, and by the time that they were half way, they saw before them the dark outline of the island, as it rose from the black water with its frowning cliffs.

The boys looked at it in silence. It seemed, indeed, a hopeless place to search in for signs of poor Tom. How could he ever get ash.o.r.e in such a place as this, so far out of the line of his drift; or if he had gone ash.o.r.e there, how could he have lived till now? Such were the gloomy and despondent thoughts that filled the minds of all, as they saw the vessel drawing nearer and still nearer to those frowning cliffs.

As they went on the wind grew stronger, and they found that it was their old friend--the sou-wester. The light increased, and they saw a fog cloud on the horizon, a little beyond Ile Haute. Captain Corbet would not acknowledge that he had been mistaken in his impressions about a change of weather, but a.s.sured the boys that this was only the last gasp of the sou-wester, and that a change was bound to take place before evening. But though the fog was visible below Ile Haute, it did not seem to come any nearer, and at length the schooner approached the island, and dropped anchor.

It was about half past four in the morning, and the light of day was beginning to be diffused around, when they reached their destination.

As it was low tide, they could not approach very near, but kept well off the precipitous sh.o.r.es on the south side of the island. In the course of her drift, while letting go the anchor, she went off to a point about half way down, opposite the sh.o.r.e. Scarce had her anchor touched bottom, than the impatient boys were all in the boat, calling on Captain Corbet to come along. The captain and Wade took the oars.

It was a long pull to the sh.o.r.e, and, when they reached it, the tide was so low that there remained a long walk over the beach. They had landed about half way down the island, and, as they directed their steps to the open ground at the east end, they had a much greater distance to traverse than they had antic.i.p.ated. As they walked on, they did not speak a word. But already they began to doubt whether there was any hope left. They had been bitterly disappointed as they came near and saw no sign of life. They had half expected to see some figure on the beach waiting to receive them. But there was no figure and no shout of joy.

At length, as they drew nearer to the east end, and the light grew brighter, Bart, who was in advance, gave a shout.

They all hurried forward.

Bart was pointing towards something.

It was a signal-staff, with something that looked like a flag hoisted half mast high.

Every heart beat faster, and at once the wildest hopes arose. They hurried on over the rough beach as fast as possible. They clambered over rocks, and sea-weed, and drift-wood, and at length reached the bank. And still, as they drew nearer, the signal-staff rose before them, and the flag at half mast became more and more visible.

Rus.h.i.+ng up the bank towards this place, each trying to outstrip the others, they hurried forward, full of hope now that some signs of Tom might be here. At length they reached the place where Tom had been so long, and here their steps were arrested by the scene before them.

On the point arose the signal-staff, with its heavy flag hanging down.

The wind was now blowing, but it needed almost a gale to hold out that c.u.mbrous canvas. Close by were the smouldering remains of what had been a huge fire, and all around this were chips and sticks. In the immediate neighborhood were some bark dishes, in some of which were shrimps and mussels. Clams and lobsters lay around, with sh.e.l.ls of both.

Not far off was a canvas tent, which looked singularly comfortable and cosy.

Captain Corbet looked at all this, and shook his head.

"Bad--bad--bad," he murmured, in a doleful tone. "My last hope, or, rayther, one of my last hopes, dies away inside of me. This is wuss than findin' a desert place."

"Why? Hasn't he been here? He must have been here," cried Bart.

"These are his marks. I dare say he's here now--perhaps asleep--in the camp. I'll go--"

"Don't go--don't--you needn't," said Captain Corbet, with a groan. "You don't understand. It's ben no pore castaway that's come here--no pore driftin lad that fell upon these lone and desolate coasts. No--never did he set foot here. All this is not the work o' s.h.i.+pwracked people.

It's some festive picnickers, engaged in whilin away a few pleasant summer days. All around you may perceive the signs of luxoorious feastin. Here you may see all the different kind o' sh.e.l.lfish that the sea produces. Yonder is a luxoorious camp. But don't mind what I say.

Go an call the occoopant, an satisfy yourselves."

Captain Corbet walked with the boys over to the tent. His words had thrown a fresh dejection over all. They felt the truth of what he said. These remains spoke not of s.h.i.+pwreck, but of pleasure, and of picnicking. It now only remained to rouse the slumbering owner of the tent, and put the usual questions.

Bart was there first, and tapped at the post.

No answer.

He tapped again.

Still there was no answer.

He raised the canvas and looked in. He saw the mossy interior, but perceived that it was empty. All the others looked in. On learning this they turned away puzzled.

"Wal, I thought so," said Captain Corbet. "They jest come an go as the fancy takes 'em. They're off on Cape d'Or to-day, an back here to-morrer."

As he said this he seated himself near the tent, and the boys looked around with sad and sombre faces.

It was now about half past five, and the day had dawned for some time.

In the east the fog had lifted, and the sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly.

"I told you thar'd be a change, boys," said the captain.

As he spoke there came a long succession of sharp, shrill blasts from the fog horn of the Antelope, which started every one, and made them run to the rising ground to find out the cause.

XXII.

Astounding Discovery.--The whole Party of Explorers overwhelmed.--Meeting with the Lost.--Captain Corbet improves the Occasion.--Conclusion.

At the sound from the Antelope they had all started for the rising ground, to see what it might mean. None of them had any idea what might be the cause, but all of them felt startled and excited at hearing it under such peculiar circ.u.mstances. Nor was their excitement lessened by the sight that met their eyes as they reached the rising ground and looked towards the schooner.

A change had taken place. When they had left, Solomon only had remained behind. But now there were two figures on the deck. One was amids.h.i.+ps. The schooner was too far away for them to see distinctly, but this one was undoubtedly Solomon; yet his gestures were so extraordinary that it was difficult to identify him. He it was by whom the blasts on the fog horn were produced. Standing amids.h.i.+ps, he held the fog horn in one hand, and in the other he held a battered old cap which supplied the place of the old straw hat lost at Quaco. After letting off a series of blasts from the horn, he brandished his cap wildly in the air, and then proceeded to dance a sort of complex double-shuffle, diversified by wild leaps in the air, and accompanied by brandis.h.i.+ngs of his hat and fresh blasts of the horn. But if Solomon's appearance was somewhat bewildering, still more so was that of the other one. This one stood astern. Suddenly as they looked they saw him hoist a flag, and, wonder of wonders, a black flag,--no other, in short, than the well-known flag of the "B. O. W. C." That flag had been mournfully lowered and put away on Tom's disappearance, but now it was hoisted once more; and as they looked, the new comer hoisted it and lowered it, causing it to rise and fall rapidly before their eyes.

Nor did the wonder end here. They had taken away the only boat that the schooner possessed in order to come ash.o.r.e, leaving Solomon alone.

They had noticed no boat whatever as they rowed to land. But now they saw a boat floating astern of the Antelope, with a small and peculiarly shaped sail, that now was flapping in the breeze. Evidently this boat belonged to the new comer. But who was he? How had he come there?

What was the meaning of those signals with that peculiar flag, and what could be the reason of Solomon's joy?

They stood dumb with astonishment, confused, and almost afraid to think of the one cause that each one felt to be the real explanation of all this. Too long had they searched in vain for Tom,--too often had they sunk from hope to despair,--too confident and sanguine had they been; and now, at this unexpected sight, in spite of the a.s.surance which it must have given them that this could be no other than Tom, they scarce dared to believe in such great happiness, and were afraid that even this might end in a disappointment like the others.

But, though they stood motionless and mute, the two figures on board the Antelope were neither one nor the other. Solomon danced more and more madly, and brandished his arms more and more excitedly, and there came forth from his fog horn wilder and still wilder peals, and the flag rose and fell more and more quickly, until at last the spectators on the sh.o.r.e could resist no longer.

"G-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-d ger-ra-a-a-cious!"

This cry burst from Captain Corbet.

It was enough. The spell was broken. A wild cry burst forth from the boys, and with loud, long shouts of joy they rushed down the bank, and over the beach, back to their boat. The captain was as quick as any of them. In his enthusiasm he forgot his rheumatism. There was a race, and though he was not even with Bruce and Bart, he kept ahead of Pat, and Arthur, and Phil, and old Wade.

Hurrah!