  Where is Solomon?—The Search.—The aged Wanderer.—Recognition.—Boating.—Fishing.—Cooking.—Swimming.—The Preparations for the Banquet.—The savory Smell.—Solomon dances a Breakdown, and makes a Speech. And then, in the midst of their joy, there came a mournful thought. It was the thought that one was yet missing out of their number, and that his fate was involved in mystery. Where was Solomon? Pat knew nothing more than any of the rest of them, and his story only served to show that after leading Solomon astray, he had left him in the midst of the forest. Where he now was, none could tell; but all saw the necessity of doing something; and so, when Bart proposed that they should go in search of him, they all assented most eagerly. The priest still saw that they would require his assistance, and offered to take them where they wished to go; while Captain Corbet felt such intense interest in the fate of his aged friend, that he insisted on making one of the party, and bringing Mr. Wade as an additional recruit. Some preliminaries had to be attended to before they were able to start, among which the first was to get themselves ashore. This was accomplished in two trips; after which the boat was hauled up on the beach, and tied to a tree. Then the priest had to see to the well-being of his horse, which he did by leaving his wagon behind the house, and letting the horse go free in the meadow. After this the priest gave them some general advice as to their proceedings. He reminded them of their former mishaps, and in order to guard against their losing the way, he advised them to go on in a line, keeping always within sound of one another, if not in sight. This they all promised to do, and made no objection, for their recent various adventures in the way of wandering had deeply impressed their minds. At length they all started, as follows:— The Priest, Captain Corbet, Mr. Wade, Bruce, Arthur, Bart, Tom, Phil, Pat. The priest led the way, and leaving the road close by the old house, they went straight into the woods. Soon the forest grew thick, and as they went on, they saw that here no signs of the fire were visible, though how far the green, unburnt forest might extend, none of them could know. This, however, did not trouble them in the slightest, but obeying the priest’s injunction and keeping well within hearing of one another, the whole party went forward after their leader. About two hours after they had disappeared in the woods, a solitary pedestrian might have been seen slowly wending his way along the road that leads to Tracadie. He was rather elderly, and walked slowly. His hat was sadly battered, his hair was grizzled, and his face was of that complexion which usually denotes the man of African descent. As this wanderer approached the place where the schooner was anchored, his pace quickened, and he walked onward quite rapidly until he reached the old house. Towards this he walked, but only to discover that it was ruined and deserted. Upon this the aged wanderer heaved a sigh, and seating himself in the doorway, gazed intently at the schooner. As he gazed he suddenly seemed struck by some very exciting thought. He raised his head, still sitting, and stared for a moment most intently at the schooner. At that moment, the flag, which had been drooping, suddenly shook itself out, and unfolded to his astonished gaze the escutcheon of the B. O. W. C. . At this the aged wanderer bounded up to his feet, and rushed down to the shore. There he stood in silence for a time, staring at the schooner, until at length his recognition of her was complete. Whereupon he slapped both hands on his thighs, jumped up in the air, came down on his right foot, went up again, came down on his left, wheeled about, turned about, and, in fact, indulged in a regular breakdown. After this he stopped, and burst forth into long, loud, vehement, and uproarious peals of laughter. After which he resumed the breakdown. And then, once more, the laughter. Finally, he began to bawl to the schooner. “Ship, ahoy! Hi yah! Hollo dar! What you bout? Hi-i-i-i ya-a-a-a-a-ah! Mas’r Bruce! Mas’r Atta! Mas’r Tom! Yep. Ye-e-e-e-e-e-p!” But as he called, no answer came, and no matter how loud his voice was, or how eager his cry, still no response whatever was elicited. “De sakes!” he exclaimed, “ef dis yar casium don’t beat all creation! Wonda what dey’ll say to see ole Solomon! Dey’re all off, suah—fishin—course. An it ain’t a mite ob good to be standin heah yellin my ole head off. Wonda if dey had a boat!” Saying this, he looked up and down the shore, and saw the boat a little distance off on his right, drawn up and tied to a tree. The oar was inside. So intent had he been on the schooner, that he had not looked about the house, and so had not seen the wagon which was behind it, or the horse which was placidly feeding at no great distance off. But if he had seen them, they would have had no interest for him, except so far as they showed that people were using the house, and that the owner of the horse would be back in the course of the day; and even the interest of this discovery would have been nothing in comparison with the sight of the Antelope. For this showed him that some of the boys were here, and could not be far off, and would probably be back before dark. With this conviction, Solomon proceeded to launch the boat—a task which he accomplished with little difficulty; after which he sculled the boat out to the schooner, and in a short time stood on board. Arriving here, he had a full confirmation of his suppositions. It was, indeed, the Antelope, and there was no one on board. By the signs all around, he perceived that they could not have been gone long. Bed-clothes lay carelessly tossed about, trunks were open, provisions were lying on the boxes that had served for temporary tables. It was with a sentiment of affectionate recognition that Solomon gazed upon the old cooking-stove, at which he had frequently officiated on former occasions, which had been impressed upon his memory by events of such thrilling character. Over that stove he had been bowed by the weight of heavy responsibilities, and upon it he had achieved some of the brightest triumphs of his life. He gazed upon it long and lovingly. He was pained to see the rust that covered it. He touched it, and with loving hands he tried to rub the rust off one of the griddles. Alas! he could not. That rust had fixed itself there too deeply to be easily erased. So he gave up the attempt, and wandered back to the deck, where he stood looking all around for some signs of the ship’s company. No signs, however, appeared, and Solomon now began to consider how he ought to pass the day. First of all, he decided to make things look comfortable. To this task he set himself, rolling up the mattresses, putting the trunks and boxes on one side, cleaning the stove as well as it could be cleaned, and arranging the confused medley of stores which they had brought with them. At length this task was ended, and it was about noon. All the rest of the day still remained, and Solomon thought that it would be a delicate, a considerate, and a grateful act, if he were to prepare a dinner for the ship’s company, and have it ready for them on their return. An examination of the stores showed him various things which his skill could combine into palatable dishes; but some thing was still wanting; and it seemed to him that nothing could so well supply that want as the fragrant and aromatic flavor of broiled trout. In the brooks that meandered through the surrounding country, trout were plentiful; and if he should now go after some, it would not only be in the line of his duty, but he would also be able to fill up the time in the pleasantest possible way. So Solomon prepared his lines, which he had carried in his pocket ever since the day when they had started off after Phil, and rowing back to the shore, he walked back over the road till he came to a stream which he remembered, for by that very stream he had made his escape from the woods. Up this he went, and having cut a rod from the woods suitable for his purposes, he proceeded up the stream in search of fish. After an absence of several hours, he emerged once more from the woods, at the mouth of the stream. An ecstatic smile illumined his dusky countenance, his steps were light and active, and from time to time he cast proud and happy glances at something which he carried in his hand. And, in truth, that burden which he bore was worthy of exciting pride and happiness in any bosom, for there, strung on a willow twig, were two noble salmon, of fine proportions, sufficient for the dinner of a large company. With these Solomon returned to the schooner, and in due time readied it. He then prepared the fish, and kindled the fire, and began the important and exciting business of cooking them. While engaged upon this, however, an idea seized upon him which sent him off into fits, in the shape of one of those breakdowns, by which he was accustomed to let off steam. This was what he did. He undressed himself. He looked all around very stealthily, and saw no signs of any human being. Then he jumped into the boat, sculled it ashore to the place where he had found it, tied it to the tree, and threw the oar inside. Then he jumped into the water, and swam back to the schooner. Then he dressed himself. And then, in the solitude of that lonely hold, he once more let off steam, and proceeded to indulge in a breakdown, which was more prolonged, more enthusiastic, more sustained, more vehement, more emotional, more expressive, more African, more hilarious, and at the same time more perfectly outrageous and insane than all the other breakdowns put together. After which he subsided into a comparative calm, and resumed his professional duties. Thus the hours of the day passed away, and at length evening began to draw near. It was near sundown when there emerged from the woods the party that had gone into them in the morning. They were all there. None were missing. There were— The Priest, Captain Corbet, Mr. Wade, Bruce, Arthur, Bart, Tom, Phil, Pat. They were not talkative; they were not demonstrative; but walked along in silence. They came out of the woods about a quarter of a mile away from the house, and in this silent and dejected way they walked towards the place where the boat was. Whether that silence and dejection arose from their disappointment at not finding Solomon, or simply from the fatigue of a long tramp, with nothing in particular to eat, need not now be considered; suffice it to say, that they were silent, and they were dejected; and what is more, they were all in a state of perfect starvation. “The boat can’t take more’n half of us at a time,” said Captain Corbet. “You, boys, choose among yerselves who’ll go fust.” “Won’t you come now?” asked Bart of the priest. “O, no,” said he. “I’ll wait. I must see about my horse. You go, and I’ll be ready the next time.” “Sure an I’ll wait too, an help ye wid the horse,” said Pat, who had so utterly overcome his fears of the “leper praist” that he had struck up a violent friendship with him. And no wonder, for the “praist” was a man after Pat’s own heart—warmhearted, cordial, affectionate, brave, and modest; a man who loved his fellow-men, and gave himself up to them, even if they were abhorred lepers; and who now was putting himself to no end of fatigue and trouble for the sake of the lost companion of a set of harum-scarum boys. Amid all this, he never ceased to cheer them up, to stimulate their flagging energies, to inspire them with hope, to rouse the manliest feelings of their generous young natures. And therefore it was that Pat fell in love with him. Captain Corbet was not anxious to go, and so it happened that Bruce, Arthur, Tom, Phil, and Bart got into the boat, and made the first trip, with the understanding that Bruce was to come back for the others. The boat approached the schooner. As they drew near they became suddenly aware of an odor that was wafted to their nostrils—an odor penetrating, aromatic, fragrant, and delicious beyond all description to their famished senses; an odor that was suggestive of some great banquet; an odor so rich that these starving boys felt as though they might almost feed upon it. They looked up in astonishment. They saw that smoke was issuing from the pipe that projected above the schooner’s deck. Some one was on board, and some one had made a fire. Some one was cooking. Who was that some one? How did he get on board? What did it all mean? Such were the questions that each one asked himself; but none of them spoke, for in fact their amazement was too great to allow them to utter any audible words. Bruce, who was sculling, worked harder than ever, twisting his head around at the same time that he tried to see who the mysterious being was that had got on board the schooner. The others all stared in the same direction; but to no purpose, for no one was visible. At last the boat touched the schooner’s side, and they all clambered upon the deck. Bruce was last, and had to wait a moment to fasten the boat. When he had done this he sprang down into the hold. He there beheld an astonishing sight. There were Arthur, and Bart, and Tom, and Phil, close beside him, staring in silent wonder at a figure beside the cooking-stove; while the figure beside the cooking-stove stood with a ladle in one hand, and a dish cover in the other, enveloped in the aromatic vapor of a broiling salmon, staring at them in equal wonder. “Mas’r Bart! Mas’r Phil! De sakes now!” The ladle and the dish cover dropped from his hands. He had expected to see only the two Rawdons and Tom; but he saw Bart and Phil also. Consequently he was overwhelmed. “Solomon!” cried the boys; and hurrying forward, they grasped one after another his trembling, and perhaps slightly greasy hands. “B’lubb’d bruddrn ob de Bee-see dubble ’Sociatium,” said Solomon at last, in a voice that was tremulous with emotion, and with slight indications of an approach to another breakdown. “Dis yer’s a great an shinin casium. De sperinces we ben an had beat all creatium. We ben a racin an a chasin arter one anoder in a way dat makes my ole head ache to tink ob. An den to tink ob me gettin lost, and de last ob all de venters to hab youns a marchin an a sarchin arter me! An me a huntin roun for Mas’r Bart, an a comin dis way on de ole schooner! An den to fine youns all heah, in good helf an sperits! B’lubb’d bruddrn, de ’motions dat’spire dis yer wenebble ole breast ain’t spressible no ways. Durin de lass few weeks I ben called on to suffer ’flictiums, but I nebber knowed anytin like de ’citement dat I now feels a surgin an cumulatin inside o’ me. O, you get out! Go way, now! Sakes alive! Ye-e-e-e-p! Hi—ya-a-a-a-h! Hi-i-i-i-i-i—ya-a-a-a-a-a-a-a a-a-a-a-a-a-a-h!” And Solomon here burst forth in a breakdown so tremendous and so absurd, that the boys first started back, and then all burst into roars of laughter, and laughed till they cried. After which Bruce went back for the others, and brought them to the schooner, and they all ate of Solomon’s banquet and were refreshed; and the priest staid all night, and on the following morning bade them an affectionate adieu; and shortly after the Antelope spread her white wings to the breeze, and slowly, but gracefully, passed over the waters of Tracadie lagoon, to the outer seas.
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