A Runaway Brig: or, An Accidental Cruise. Otis James
been such a deep mystery, and when Bob concluded there was a look of most intense relief on their faces. Up to this moment the brig herself terrified them because of what had possibly happened on board; but now all seemed changed, and she was suddenly transformed from something supernatural to the most innocent and peaceful of traders.
"Then there's no reason for abandoning her?" Harry said half-interrogatively.
"Not a bit of it, lad. We'll leave the hatch open to let the gas out, an' run her in on the coast if we don't speak a craft that can lend us two or three hands."
"S'posin' you could get some more sailors, then how would you fix it?" Jim asked, remembering what the old man had said regarding his ignorance of navigation.
"Take the chances of keepin' off the shore till we sighted a New York pilot-boat, an' then lay claim for a fat salvage."
"And we should be landed at home!" Walter exclaimed in delight. "We might stop in front of Harry's father's store, which is close by the wharves; and I guess there'd be a big time when Mr. Vandyne found out who had brought in the Bonita!"
"Don't count too much on anything like that, Walt," Harry added gravely. "Bob said he would try to make that port if he could find some sailors to help him; but according to the looks of things now it'll be a long while before such good luck comes."
"We can believe it will be here any moment, and then the nights won't seem so lonely, nor the days so long."
"That's right, lad; don't trouble trouble till trouble troubles you. Keep a stiff upper lip whatever happens, an' you'll stand a better show of pullin' through!" Bob cried in a cheery tone. "I was shipmate once with a chap what was allers worryin' 'bout findin' hisself on a haunted vessel. He never'd put his mark to the articles till after he'd asked all about the craft, an' whether there was any ghosts aboard. Now, you let a man go nosin' 'round expectin' to see things, an' it happens that what he's huntin' for most allers comes, or else he conjures 'em up. Well, so it was with Tom – Tom Byard, he called hisself. He got drunk one night, an' the next mornin' awoke on a ship bound 'round the Horn with a cargo of railroad iron.
"It wasn't long before he commenced to hunt after ghosts, 'an this time he didn't have to look very far. I reckon the liquor – he'd been on a four days' spree – had considerable to do with his eyes; an' that very night, while they was within sight of Sandy Hook, he saw, or thought he did, the biggest kind of a ghost makin' right for him with a bloody knife. Tom was on the maint'gallant-yard with another chap when the thing come. He give a big yell, singing out that he knowed it would be there some time, an' over he went. Nobody ever saw hide or hair of him afterward, an' the captain put in the log-book as how it was delirium tre – tre – tremenjus, or somethin' like that, what killed him."
The point that Bob sought to make was forgotten owing to the length of the story, and even he himself appeared to have lost sight of any moral; therefore, what had been intended as a strong argument why people should not seek out trouble passed for nothing better than a very improbable yarn.
The boys were eager to see the cargo which had given them so much alarm, and had also possibly been the cause of the brig's abandonment by her original crew; therefore they went below on a tour of investigation, which was not very satisfactory because there was nothing but a quantity of casks to be seen.
Ten minutes in the hot hold was sufficient to gratify their curiosity, and then the amateur cook sat about preparing the noonday meal.
CHAPTER VIII.
ANOTHER SIGNAL OF DISTRESS
Now that the boys had lost all fear of the Bonita, half their troubles seemed suddenly to have vanished. As a matter of course, Harry and Walter grieved because of the sorrow their unexplainable absence must have caused at home; but their distress of mind was lessened very materially by the belief that they would soon be in a condition to return.
Even Bob appeared to be relieved by what was evidently the solution of the mystery, and it was quite a jolly party which gathered in the saloon to partake of the dinner prepared by Jim.
"Now that things seem to be straightened up a bit, an' all hands are feelin' kinder nat'ral-like, I reckon we'll get some sail on the old hooker this afternoon," Bob said when the meal was finished and he had begun to make ready for the after-dinner smoke.
"There ain't wind enough to lift a pocket-handkerchief," Jim suggested, "so why do you want more canvas?"
"I don't reckon it'll hold calm a great while, an' we must be ready when the breeze does come. There's time now to give Harry an' Walter a lesson in workin' ship, an' they need it."
The boys had no objection to make, for a certain amount of labor was necessary if they ever hoped to reach home again, and they signified their willingness to begin at once; but the old sailor insisted on finishing his smoke before doing anything else.
"There's plenty of time," he said lazily, "an' we'll lay under the awnin' till the sun gets a little nearer the water."
Then he arose from the table, and as the boys followed on deck they were electrified by hearing him shout, as he shaded his eyes from the glare and gazed southward:
"There's a steamer, lads! Now all we've got to do is hook on an' be towed into port. Set the flag so's they'll know we're in distress, an' we'll overhaul the hawsers to save time."
Before he ceased speaking the boys had made out that which caused Bob so much excitement. It was a small craft coming toward them under steam, as could be told from the thread of smoke which floated on the still air, and after one glance at her Jim hoisted the signal of distress while the others gathered in the bows to watch the welcome approach.
"It ain't a very big steamer," the young fisherman said as he rejoined his companions.
"Most likely she's a tug what's got blown out to sea," Bob replied as he went into the cabin for a glass; and when he came on deck again the boys waited impatiently to learn what could be seen.
During fully ten minutes the old sailor held the glass to his eyes, while a mystified expression came over his face as he said to Jim:
"Here, take this an' see what you can make out. It puzzles me, for a fact."
"She looks like a tug," the boy said, after gazing at the approaching craft several seconds; "but there's something queer on her bow."
"What about her spars?" Bob asked impatiently.
"She's got two short masts, and – Why, what's that? She's flying a signal of distress!"
"That's about the size of it," Bob exclaimed as he brought his hand down on the rail with a vigorous slap as if to give emphasis to his words.
"I thought my eyes must be playin' me a trick, so that's why I asked you to look. Her bow has been stove, an' she's workin' up this way for help."
"Well," and Jim lowered the glass with a gesture of disappointment, "she's comin' to a pretty poor place, for we've got our hands full tryin' to help ourselves."
During the next half hour hardly a word was spoken, so occupied were all hands with watching the stranger, which approached very slowly, and at the end of that time she was almost within hailing distance.
It was a small tug with a flag run half-way up the stumpy mainmast, and her bow stove from the cut-water nearly to the pilot-house. A stream of water coming from the starboard side told that the steam-pump was necessary to keep her afloat; but no person save a boy about eighteen years of age, who was at the wheel, could be seen.
"She must be pretty nigh as short-handed as we are," Bob said; and then came a hail.
"Brig ahoy!"
"Ahoy on the tug!"
"Can you send me some men? The steamer is sinking, and I am the only one on board."
"Who's running the engine?" Bob shouted.
"I am, and trying to steer at the same time."
"There's only one man an' three boys here. Can't you manage to come alongside?"
The helmsman waved his hand as if in reply and disappeared, when the steamer's speed was checked. Then he entered the pilot-house