Lost in the Fog Part 5

"Am I?"

"Of course you are; and what do you mean by that confounded rag up there?" cried the officer, pointing to the flag of the "B. O. W. C."

"If you think you can fish in this style, you'll find yourself mistaken. I know too much about this business."

"Do you? Well, then, kind sir, allow me to mention that you've got somethin to larn yet--spite o' your steam injines an spy-gla.s.ses."

"What's that?" cried the officer, furious. "I'll let you know. I arrest you, and this vessel is seized."

"Wait a minute, young sir," cried Captain Corbet; "not QUITE so fast, EF you please. You'll get YOURSELF arrested. What do you mean by this here? Do you know who I am? I, sir, am a subject of Queen Victory.

My home is here. I'm now on my own natyve sh.o.r.e. A foreigner, am I?

Let me tell you, sir, that I was born, brung up, nourished, married, an settled in this here province, an I've got an infant born here, an I'm not a fisherman, an this ain't a fishin vessel. You arrest me ef you dar. You'll see who'll get the wust of it in the long run. I'd like precious well to get damages--yea, swingin damages--out of one of you revenoo fellers."

The officer looked around again. It would not do to make a mistake.

Captain Corbet's words were not without effect.

"Yea!" cried Captain Corbet. "Yea, naval sir! I'm a free Nova Scotian as free as a bird. I cruise about my natyve coasts whar I please.

Who's to hender? Seize me if you dar, an it'll be the dearest job you ever tried. This here is my own private pleasure yacht. These are my young friends, natyves, an amatoor fishermen. Cast your eye down into yonder hold, and see if this here's a fishin craft."

The officer looked down, and saw a cooking stove, trunks, and bedding.

He looked around in doubt.

But this scene had lasted long enough.

"O, nonsense!" said Bart, suddenly pulling up his line, and coming forward; "see here--it's all right," said he to the officer. "We're not fishermen. It's as he says. We're only out on a short cruise, you know, for pleasure, and that sort of thing."

As Bart turned, the others did the same. Bruce lounged up, dragging his line, followed by Arthur and the others.

"We're responsible for the schooner," said Bruce, quietly. "It's ours for the time being. We don't look like foreign fishermen--do we?"

The officer looked at the boys, and saw his mistake at once. He was afraid that he had made himself ridiculous. The faces and manners of the boys, as they stood confronting him in an easy and self-possessed manner, showed most plainly the absurdity of his position. Even the mysterious flag became intelligible, when he looked at the faces of those over whom it floated.

"I suppose it's all right," he muttered, in a vexed tone, and descended into the boat without another word.

"Sorry to have troubled you, captain," said Corbet, looking blandly after the officer; "but it wan't my fault. I didn't have charge of that thar injine."

The officer turned his back without a word, and the men pulled off to the steamer.

The captain looked after the boat in silence for some time.

"I'm sorry," said he, at length, as he heaved a gentle sigh,--"I'm sorry that you put in your oars--I do SO like to sa.s.s a revonoo officer."

III.

Solomon surpa.s.ses himself.--A Period of Joy is generally followed by a Time of Sorrow.--Gloomy Forebodings.--The Legend of Petticoat Jack.--Captain Corbet discourses of the Dangers of the Deep, and puts in Practice a new and original Mode of Navigation.

This interruption put an end to their attempts at fishing, and was succeeded by another interruption of a more pleasing character, in the shape of dinner, which was now loudly announced by Solomon. For some time a savory steam had been issuing from the lower regions, and had been wafted to their nostrils in successive puffs, until at last their impatient appet.i.te had been roused to the keenest point, and the enticing fragrance had suggested all sorts of dishes. When at length the summons came, and they went below, they found the dinner in every way worthy of the occasion. Solomon's skill never was manifested more conspicuously than on this occasion; and whether the repast was judged of by the quant.i.ty or the quality of the dishes, it equally deserved to be considered as one of the masterpieces of the distinguished artist who had prepared it.

"Dar, chil'en," he exclaimed, as they took their places, "dar, cap'en, jes tas dem ar trout, to begin on, an see if you ever saw anythin to beat 'em in all your born days. Den try de stew, den de meat pie, den de calf's head; but dat ar pie down dar mustn't be touched, nor eben so much as looked at, till de las ob all."

And with these words Solomon stepped back, leaning both hands on his hips, and surveyed the banquet and the company with a smile of serene and ineffable complacency.

"All right, Solomon, my son," said Bart. "Your dinner is like yourself--unequalled and unapproachable."

"Bless you, bless you, my friend," murmured Bruce, in the intervals of eating; "if there is any contrast between this present voyage and former ones, it is all due to our unequalled caterer."

"How did you get the trout, Solomon?" said Phil.

"De trout? O, I picked 'em up last night down in de village," said Solomon. "Met little boy from Gaspereaux, an got 'em from him."

"What's this?" cried Tom, opening a dish--"not lobster!"

"Lobster!" exclaimed Phil.

"So it is."

"Why, Solomon, where did you get lobster?"

"Is this the season for them?"

"Think of the words of the poet, boys," said Bart, warningly,--

"In the months without the R, Clams and lobsters pison are."

Solomon meanwhile stood apart, grinning from ear to ear, with his little black beads of eyes twinkling with merriment.

"Halo, Solomon! What do you say to lobsters in July?"

Solomon's head wagged up and down, as though he were indulging in some quiet, un.o.btrusive laughter, and it was some time before he replied.

"O, neber you fear, chil'en," he said; "ef you're only goin to get sick from lobsters, you'll live a long day. You may go in for clams, an lobsters, an oysters any time ob de yeah you like,--ony dey mus be cooked up proper."

"I'm gratified to hear that," said Bruce, gravely, "but at the same time puzzled. For Mrs. Pratt says the exact opposite; and so here we have two great authorities in direct opposition. So what are we to think?"

"O, there's no difficulty," said Arthur, "for the doctors are not of equal authority. Mrs. Pratt is a quack, but Solomon is a professional--a regular, natural, artistic, and scientific cook, which at sea is the same as doctor."

The dinner was prolonged to an extent commensurate with its own inherent excellence and the capacity of the boys to appreciate it; but at length, like all things mortal, it came to a termination, and the company went up once more to the deck. On looking round it was evident to all that a change had taken place.

Four miles away lay Ile Haute, and eight or ten miles beyond this lay the long line of Nova Scotia. It was now about four o'clock, and the tide had been rising for three hours, and was flowing up rapidly, and in a full, strong current. As yet there was no wind, and the broad surface of the bay was quite smooth and unruffled. In the distance and far down the bay, where its waters joined the horizon, there was a kind of haze, that rendered the line of separation between sea and sky very indistinct. The coast of Nova Scotia was at once enlarged and obscured. It seemed now elevated to an unusual height above the sea line, as though it had been suddenly brought several miles nearer, and yet, instead of being more distinct, was actually more obscure. Even Ile Haute, though so near, did not escape. Four miles of distance were not sufficient to give it that grand indistinctness which was now flung over the Nova Scotia coast; yet much of the mysterious effect of the haze had gathered about the island; its lofty cliffs seemed to tower on high more majestically, and to lean over more frowningly; its fringe of black sea-weed below seemed blacker, while the general hue of the island had changed from a reddish color to one of a dull slaty blue.

"I don't like this," said Captain Corbet, looking down the bay and twisting up his face as he looked.

"Why not?"