Fish for Breakfast.—The Cottage and the Schooner.—A familiar Sight.—The old Boat.—Sinking in deep Waters.—An exciting and amazing Meeting.—The Flag.—Bart on the Road.—A strange Discovery.—A fresh Surprise.
THE happy suggestion of Phil brought infinite relief to Pat; and the story of Naaman the Syrian had sufficient power over him to dispel his fears, and restore his olden peace of mind. So great was the reaction now, that he went to the other extreme; and being of a very excitable and volatile temperament, he exhibited a joy as immoderate as his grief had been but a short time before. He made Phil tell him all about his adventures; and as he listened to all the dangers through which his friend had gone, his warm Irish heart overflowed with the truest sympathy, and he followed the story with a running accompaniment of ejaculations of the most animated character. As for his own story, he had already told it; but there yet remained the tale of his flight in the woods. This he confessed without reservation, and informed Phil that he had been wandering in the woods all day, and had stumbled out upon the road only about an hour ago. He had seen no houses, and had met no people. This information at once changed Phil’s plans. If Pat had seen no inhabitants after an hour’s walk, it was clearly useless for him to go any farther that day. He was worn out with the exertions that he had made, and longed for rest. Pat also confessed that he was on the borders of starvation, and was too tired to go any farther. Upon this, they both resolved to remain here for the night.

It was now somewhat late in the day, but not too late to preclude the possibility of catching some fish for supper. On Phil’s suggesting this, Pat received it with an enthusiasm that was altogether like his old self; and as there was no time to lose, they at once set out in search of a brook. Pat remembered passing one not more than half a mile from this place; so they proceeded in this direction, which was the same in which Phil had been going. Pat’s story had served to give him some general idea of his whereabouts. Pat had been at Tracadie; and though he had lost his way, yet there was every reason to believe that they were now not very far away from that place, on the shore of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and most probably to the northward; for though Pat did not know exactly his position, yet he was sure that he must have come out of the woods farther north than Tracadie.

After about a half mile’s walk they reached a brook and began to fish. Their success was not brilliant, but any fish at all were very welcome at such a time; and the half dozen or so which they succeeded in hooking were regarded by them as capable of affording a repast which a king might envy. They soon had a fire burning, and broiled the fish on the coals, and thus made their dinner. Among the woods here they found a district which had escaped the ravages of the fire, and here they passed the night. They went to rest a little after sundown, and awoke the next morning before day. They then made a breakfast off the remains of their evening’s repast, and were ready for a start.

There was no question now as to the route which they should take. Pat had been walking in a direction the very opposite of that in which Phil had been going, but he had no desire now to persist in it. Then he felt himself to be a victim of one of the most cruel fates that can befall mankind, and was seeking to fly from it, anywhere, no matter where. Now, however, thanks to Phil, and to Naaman, he felt himself to be a victim no longer, and was anxious to get back to the place where Bart was or might be. He felt also a kind of pride arising from the fact that he had been the first one to find Phil; and the pride was quite as strong as it would have been if he had found Phil by his own actual efforts. The circumstances under which their meeting had taken place he dismissed from his mind, and chose rather to dwell upon the fact that his confidence in Phil’s ability to take care of himself had been completely vindicated. So now, on that morning, as they renewed their walk, there remained in Pat’s mind not a vestige of his foolish fears; but instead of them there was a sense of triumph, a consciousness of superior merit, and a sweet anticipation of the glory that would now be his, as he brought back Phil in safety.

Their frugal repast did not occupy many minutes, and the sun had not yet risen when they started. They were eager to go on, and so they walked at a rapid pace. The road was a very primitive one, and had they been in a carriage, their progress would have been rough and slow; but on foot they were able to avoid the deep ruts and numerous irregularities, and make a very good progress indeed. After about an hour, they came within sight of a harbor. They had been for some time out of sight of the sea, and this prospect filled them with the hope that they were not very far from Tracadie. To Pat, the sight of the harbor gave very strong recollections of that place. The water was very smooth, and seemed like a lake. A long, narrow strip of land separated the harbor from the outer sea, and the general appearance of the place was very much like that of the “leper wather” in which Pat had bathed. As they advanced towards it, the sun rose; and as the glorious orb ascended from the ocean, their whole sight was filled with the splendor of his appearance.

Looking now upon the scene before them, they saw at last the signs of man. On the shore was a small cottage, and near the shore, in the harbor, was a small schooner. These were both only a short distance away, and to these they hastened. On reaching the cottage they went up to it, but to their great disappointment found that it was deserted and in ruins. The door was gone, and it seemed as though it had not been inhabited for some time.

“We’ve got to go on further,” said Pat. “There must be more houses further on.”

“I wish we could find out where we are,” said Phil. “I wonder if any one is on board of that schooner.”

Saying this, he cast longing eyes upon the schooner before mentioned. It was anchored in front of the cottage, not far away from the shore. It was a small vessel, and somewhat shabby, and behind it there was a boat floating in the water.

“It looks as if there was some one on board,” said Pat. “They’ve got the boat there!”

“I wish I could go and ask them where we are,” said Phil; and saying this, he walked towards the beach.

As he did so he saw a boat upon the beach. It was old and dilapidated, like the house to which it seemed to belong. No sooner had he seen it, than he was struck by the thought that he might manage to get to the schooner by means of this; so he began to examine it very narrowly. It was very clumsily constructed, and looked more like a box than a boat; but it was strong, and though dilapidated, it still looked as though it might float for the short distance that separated the schooner from the shore.

“I’ll try it,” said Phil.

“Thry what?” asked Pat.

“Why, I’ll go out to the schooner in this boat.”

“How’ll we row her?” said Pat. “We haven’t any oars.”

“Well, in the first place, it can’t hold more than one; so you’ll have to stay, unless you want to go very particularly.”

“Niver a bit do I,” said Pat. “I’m not brakin my heart about it, so I ain’t. I’ll stay an welcome.”

“Then I’ll go,” said Phil, “and you wait. I’ll have to get something though, that’ll do for an oar.”

Saying this, he went back to the house, and looked about for some time. At length he found a pole lying near the well, and taking this, he went back to the boat. Pat and he then pushed it from the shore into the water. It floated.

“Hurrah!” said Phil. “It’ll carry me out that far any way.”

“Sure an don’t ye see the wather, how it’s rowlin an rushin in?” cried Pat.

Phil looked, and saw that the boat was, indeed, anything but water-tight, for the water was oozing in through numerous cracks and crevices.

“It’ll take me out that far,” said he; and with these words he jumped into the boat, and thrusting the pole into the ground, he pushed her off.

Pat stood watching his movements with great interest.

Phil pushed for some time, thrusting his pole down to the bottom, and made excellent progress. In this way he reached a point more than half way to the schooner. Here, however, it grew too deep, and he had to use the pole as a paddle. It was but a clumsy instrument for this purpose, and his progress was but slow; still he managed to draw nearer to his destination, and worked with commendable diligence. But unfortunately there was something more to be considered than mere progress forward, and that was the condition of the boat itself. For while Phil was gaining on the schooner, the water was gaining on him. By the time that he had reached half way, the water was over his ankles. Had his progress continued at the same rate, he might have reached the schooner without any very great inconvenience; but as it was, the water rushed in faster and faster, and in spite of his efforts he began to fear that he would not reach his destination. Fortunately for him, the schooner happened to be lying with her stern towards the shore, and the schooner’s boat was thus brought nearer to him. This materially lessened the distance to be traversed. He now sought to reach the schooner’s boat. He paddled with desperate efforts, and as he paddled the water rose higher. At length he found himself within reach of the schooner’s boat; he flung out his pole, and sought to pull it nearer. As he did so the boat began to sink under him. The water rose to his knees. At that instant the schooner’s boat was within reach, and flinging himself forward, he half scrambled, half tumbled into it.

Then quite out of breath, he sat down, and rested for a moment, while the boat by which he had come slowly drifted off. At this moment a shout of joy came from Pat, who had been watching the proceedings with intense interest.

But Phil’s movements had not been unnoticed on board the schooner; and, indeed, he had made noise enough to rouse any who might be there. He was not surprised, therefore, when he heard movements on board, and voices, and footsteps. So he looked up, without rising, so as to see those on board, who might be moving.

Phil had not been surprised at the sound of movements on board; but he was very greatly surprised, indeed, at the sight of the person who met his eyes.

As he looked up some one advanced to the stern and looked down upon him. It was an aged person, with a mild face, and a gracious eye, and a benevolent smile. He wore a pea-jacket, and his head was covered with a souwester. It was a face the sight of which almost made Phil bound out of the boat.

While this person excited such emotions in the breast of Phil, his own emotions at the sight of Phil were no less strong. There he was, in the schooner’s boat, with no visible means by which his appearance there could be explained. The person in the schooner, therefore, stared at Phil, and then removing his hat with one hand, with the other hand he thoughtfully scratched his venerable head, and then slowly ejaculated,—

“Go-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-d thunder!”

“Captain Corbet!” exclaimed Phil, in indescribable amazement.

And then they both stared at each other in silence.

But the silence was soon broken. Footsteps were heard, and soon one after another heads appeared, and then bodies, and then the new comers stood by the side of Captain Corbet, staring over the stern at Phil in mute astonishment.

And Phil stared back at them all in astonishment fully equal to their own.

It was Bruce Bawdon!

And Arthur!

And Tom!

As for Phil, he could not utter a word. Nor could the others on board the schooner.

But Pat, the excited watcher on the shore—Pat had seen it all, and he was anything but mute. Mute? He howled. He yelled. He vociferated unintelligible volleys of frantic exclamations, addressed to each by turns. Then words failed, and he began to dance.

At length Phil pulled the boat up, and scrambled on board the schooner, and was seized by all the boys in turn, and overwhelmed with questions; while he, on his part, overwhelmed them with questions quite as eager and quite as numerous.

Their story was soon told. They had left at the time mentioned by Bruce in his letter to Bart, and had been cruising along the coast of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. They had arrived here the day before, and as they were in no hurry, they had anchored for the night, with the intention of doing a little fishing. Their place of rendezvous was Shippegan, which was not far away, and they had a week to spare as yet. They had no idea that Bart would leave so much before the time, and could not understand how Phil had found them.

Phil’s story was soon told; for, as he was a modest boy, he did not dwell upon his own adventures to anything like the extent which I have done; and so they learned that their meeting was purely accidental, and that Phil had been lost, and had found Pat, who had been lost also, and that these two lost ones had stumbled upon them here, in Tracadie lagoon.

All of which elicited wonder, and laughter, and shouts, and no end of eager questions, and excited exclamations. In the midst of this Tom rushed off, and by way of giving proper expression to the feelings which agitated them all, he brought forth the flag of the B. O. W. C. from the cabin of the Antelope, where, strangely enough, it had been left since their last voyage; and in a few minutes he had hoisted it aloft, where it fluttered, and floated, and waved triumphantly in the fresh morning breeze.

And now Phil thought of Pat, and mentioned that he was upon the shore; whereupon Bruce rushed to the boat to go for him. As he leaped in, Phil and the others looked towards the place where Pat had been standing, and saw a wagon and two persons, a boy and a man, talking with Pat.

Now, you know, that very morning Bart had left along with the priest, on his way to the north, to carry on his search after Phil. It was early when they left, but as the road was rough, their progress was not particularly rapid. Still they did make some progress, and in process of time they reached the place where the schooner lay anchored. This schooner excited Bart’s attention, for there was something in her general appearance that was strangely familiar. As they drew nearer they saw a number of figures on the deck, running to and fro, and giving all possible signs of the greatest possible excitement. Suddenly, in the midst of this, he saw a flag ascend, and float in the breeze. It was dark in color, and of a nondescript character, and at first its emblazonment was not distinctly visible. Soon, however, he came near enough to see it. Then the whole thing was disclosed.

It was the well-known flag—his flag—the flag that had waved over the most memorable events of his life—the flag of the B. O. W. C.!

The thing was astonishing, yet not incomprehensible. He saw that the Antelope had probably been cruising about these waters on her way to Shippegan. He saw that he had come upon her in an amazing manner; but what seemed incomprehensible was the excitement on her deck. What was the cause, and what did it mean? It could not be that they had recognized him, and had done this in honor of his arrival. No; it must be something else.

He said nothing to the priest, but sat filled with excitement, waiting till they should come near. In this way they approached the old house, and beside the shore he saw a figure dancing, jumping, yelling, shouting, waving his cap, and indulging in a thousand fantastic gestures.

This figure was Pat.

The wagon stopped, and Bart jumped out, followed by the priest. In a few minutes Bart understood all. First of all, Phil had been found; secondly, he was on board the schooner, and the excitement was about him; and thirdly, Pat claimed the honor of discovering Phil.

In the midst of this a boat approached the shore, and soon Bruce Rawdon stood before them, giving them an uproarious welcome. The arrival of Bart had given a new turn to the excitement of the occasion, and they all went off to the schooner, accompanied by the priest, who entered most heartily into the spirit of the joyous scene.

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