Notwithstanding the Perseverance might bring a cargo that must be discharged in Boston or Salem, it was considered a settled fact by all at home, that she would, when arriving on the coast, steer first for Pleasant Cove, and Captain Rhines was expecting her daily. The interest felt there in respect to her coming was not a little increased by the return of Ben (Peterson's oldest son) in the Casco.

Ben brought home considerable money, having been fortunate in a "venture." The first thing he did was to clothe his mother and the three youngest boys, one eleven, one thirteen, and the oldest fifteen; the next, to clapboard the house which, Peterson having lately built it, was still unfinished. While Ben's hands were busy driving the nails, his thoughts were on the stretch respecting the best place from which to watch for the arrival of the Perseverance. He well knew there was no place to compare, in that respect, with the big maple on the heights of Elm Island. To Elm Island he hurried (when he had driven the last nail), and repaired the platform in the top of the tree and the ladder leading to it, both having become somewhat decayed since the boy-days of John Rhines and Charlie Bell. He erected a signal staff on the point of the island, from which to display a white cloth to give notice to the people on the main land when the vessel hove in sight. For the first few days he flattered himself that every vessel sighted was the one so anxiously sought; but there were many fore-and-afters, at that season of the year, making their way to the Bay of Chaleur, Labrador, the Penobscot, or bound from the eastern ports and Nova Scotia, to the westward. At last the poor boy, becoming quite discouraged, said to Lion Ben at the supper table,—

"I believe I shall go home. If I was there I might be earning something. I am spending time to no purpose, and shall wear out my welcome."

"Don't go, Ben," replied Sally; "we love to have you here."

"Don't go," said the Lion; "I'll hire you to hoe corn, and then you can earn something, and watch for the vessel, too."

Two mornings after this conversation Ben was in the tree just as the day was breaking, in order that he might make his observations before it was time to go to hoeing. There were plenty of schooners, but none of them the schooner. At length he espied one that seemed to be steering in a different direction from the rest.

Long and patiently he watched her progress.

"She is heading directly up the bay; a pink-stern I guess, and about the right size. It ain't her, after all," he exclaimed; "this vessel is rigged different; and yet how much she looks like her!"

At this he caught sight of Lion Ben, who was turning the cows into the pasture.

"Mr. Rhines," he cried, "I wish you would come up here. A pink is coming up the bay, steering straight for Uncle Isaac's Cove. She hasn't varied a pint this hour and a half. I could swear it was the schooner, only she's rigged differently."

"How is this one rigged?"

"She's got two jibs and two gaff-topsails."

"So has the Perseverance."

Peterson was not aware of the change that had been made in her rig, it having been done while he was at sea.

The moment Lion Ben put the glass to his eye he said, "It's her."

Old and young were now flocking to every place commanding a good view of the water. Half way between Elm Island and the main was a whale-boat containing Ben Peterson, Lion Ben, and all his family, the Lion pulling two oars, and Peterson one. Doubts now began to be freely expressed by some of the least sanguine, and indignantly scouted by others.

"That's the vessel, to be sure," said Joe Bradish, always a prophet of ill omen; "but no knowing as Peterson's in her. He might be dead when they got there, or that planter might have sold him to another planter on some other island, or they might not be able to get him."

"Just shut up your clam-shell—will you? You're always an off-ox," said Joe Griffin, seeing poor Luce tremble and the tears rundown her cheeks,—as she stood holding the two youngest children by the hand,—at the words of Bradish. "She's deep-loaded; that, to my mind, shows for itself that they've sold their cargo and had good luck; don't it captain?" turning to Captain Rhines.

"I think it does, Joseph. Cheer up, my girl," to Luce, "and hope for the best."

But, to the disappointment of all, the wind, that had been moderating for some time, died away to a flat calm, the tide turned, and the vessel so anxiously expected was obliged to anchor.

"Neighbors," said Lion Ben, "what say you for towing her up?"

"That's the talk, Ben," said Joe Griffin.

"Boats and boys!" shouted Joel Ricker.

"Hurrah for a tow!" echoed the crowd.

Thanks to Charlie Bell, whale-boats were plenty enough now.

"Father," said Ben, "you shall be fleet commodore."

It was but a short time before twelve boats and fifty men were ready. Joe Bradish was getting into Joe Griffin's boat.

"You shan't go, you small concern," said Joe, and pitched him head foremost into the water.

"Jonah's overboard—we shall have good luck, now."

"I'll hoist the flag, neighbors," said the captain, as they were shoving off, "if they've got him."

"If you want to get Peterson home," said Dick Cameron, "take the boat and pull up. I'll keep ship."

"No need of that," said Walter, "for here comes the whole neighborhood."

"I seed him! I seed dad!" screamed little Ike, who was nestled close to the side of Captain Rhines.

"So do I see his old black face," said the captain, standing up. He waved his hat, when a cheer arose from the fleet of boats astern. Like bees they swarmed aboard the schooner, completely covering her deck, while Peterson embraced his two boys, and clasped the hands of his neighbors.

"They've got him, Luce; there goes the flag," cried Will Griffin; "I can see it plain with the glass; they are stringing out the boats."

After a while,—

"Here she comes! Beeswax, don't she come!"

And well she might, with fifty of the strongest men in the town towing her, three to each of her own sweeps, and Lion Ben to lead.

A shout arose from the crowd that made the shores ring as the sweeps were shipped aboard the schooner, and Peterson, walking out on the bowsprit, waved his hand to his friends.

Tears of joyous sympathy moistened many a cheek when Luce flung herself into her husband's arms, while the little ones clasped his legs.

Walter and Ned have now become accustomed to hardship, had experience of danger, and incurred responsibility. The next volume of the series, the Cruise of the Casco, will exhibit their capabilities when thrown more entirely upon their own resources, and placed in trust of a large interest under circumstances of deadly peril.