To The West Part 32

"No, I don't, my lad. If I had, I would have opened my mouth to onced.

Here, let me come by; them two's going to sleep. I want to fix that stick up again. I won't be able to give the schooner a tow this time.

He's beat me, but I'll do it yet."

He set to work getting out the broken stump, which was standing jagged above the thwart, and looked at it thoughtfully.

"Make a nice bit o' firewood for the old woman," he said, as he laid it down forward before beginning to examine the broken end of the mast.

"Guess yew arn't got such a thing as a saw in your pocket, hev you, either on yew?" he continued, with a grim smile. "Not yew! One never has got what one wants in one's pocket. Lend a hand here, Elim, never mind about them stays. Don't shove: them sharp ends 'll go through the bottom. If they do, one of you youngsters 'll hev to putt your leg through the hole to keep the water out. Now, Zeke, never mind the sail.

Hyste away."

Between them they raised the broken mast, which was now about three feet shorter, tightened the ropes, and, just as the schooner was coming back on the next tack, to pa.s.s us about half a mile away, the master said--

"They ought to see as we're in trouble, but I 'spect they're nearly all asleep. Here, all on yew be ready, and when I cry, _hail_! open your shoulders, and all together give 'em a good _ahoy_! Not yet, mind--not till I speak. Lot o' little footy squeaks arn't no good; we must have a big shout. Guess we shan't haul up the sail till we've tried whether they'll lay to."

The schooner came nearer and nearer, with her sails growing so plain that even the ropes that held them glistened white in the moonlight, and looking so beautiful as she glided smoothly onward, that for the moment I forgot our predicament; but I was roused up at last by the master's voice.

"All together!" he said, quietly. "Hail!"

Our voices rose high in a discordant shout.

"Now again," cried the master.

Our voices rose once more, and then another shout broke the stillness of the soft night air; but the schooner glided on, her sails hiding everything, so that we did not see a soul on board save the man at the wheel, whose white face gleamed for a few moments as it emerged from the black shadow cast by the great mainsail.

"They're all asleep," cried the master, fiercely. "Here, lay holt, Zeke. I say, squire, take holt o' the tiller, and keep her straight.

Hyste away, Elim, we'll show 'em the rope's end yet."

"Look!" cried Gunson, quickly.

"Eh? Why, they did hear us," cried the master, in a disappointed tone.

"Why didn't they hail back? Shan't show him the rope's end arter all."

For the schooner glided slowly round till she was head to wind; and instead of her sails curving out in the moonlight, they were now dark, save where they shivered and flapped to and fro, so that a part of the canvas glistened now and then in the light.

"Ahoy!" came faintly from her decks, for she was a quarter of a mile away; and in a few minutes a boat dropped over the side with a splash, and four men began to row toward us.

"There you are," said the master, grimly; "they'll take you aboard now.

Going up the Fraser, arn't you?"

"Yes, I hope so," said Gunson, as he thrust his hand into his pocket, and then handed some money to the old man, who took it with a dissatisfied grunt, and turned it over in his rough hand.

"What's this?" he said roughly; "ten dollars. There, we said five.

Take them back." He held out half the money. "No, no: bargain's a bargain. Lay holt."

"But the broken spar?"

"Don't you fret yewrself about that. I'm going to show it to him as sold it to me, and make him take it again. There, good luck to you all.

Good-bye, youngsters; and if you find any gold up yonder, bring me back a little bit to make a brooch for my old missus."

Gunson pressed him to keep the money, but he refused angrily.

"Shake hands, all on yew, and good-bye. I meant to put you all aboard, and I've done it, arn't I?"

"Indeed you have," I said; "and we are very grateful."

"That's right, lad," he said, shaking hands warmly; after which the others held out their hands, and to my great satisfaction Gunson said--

"Will you let me give these two a dollar each?"

"Oh, very well," grunted the master. "If yew've got so much money to throw away, yew can dew it."

"Hillo!" came from the fast-nearing boat, "what's the matter?--sinking?"

"No," roared the master. "Sinking indeed! What yer going off and leaving all your pa.s.sengers behind for?"

"Oh," said a gruff voice, "it's them."

It was the skipper of the schooner who spoke, and a quarter of an hour later we were on board his vessel, waving our caps to the master and his two st.u.r.dy fisher-lads, as, with their shortened sails now filling, the boat began to glide rapidly back, while the schooner's head was turned once more for the open sea.

"Thought you warn't coming," said the skipper, gruffly, after seeing that the little boat was swinging safely from the davits.

"Yes, it was a close shave," replied Gunson, who hardly spoke again to us, but went below; and soon after we two were fast asleep, forgetful of all the past troubles of the day.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

BRITISH COLUMBIA.

When I awoke next morning it was blowing hard, and the timbers of the schooner were groaning and creaking so dismally, that when every now and then a wave struck the bows, Esau turned to me and shook his head, "Next big one as comes 'll knock her all to pieces."

We did not care much for our breakfast, for more than one reason, and were glad to get on deck, where we found Gunson talking with the skipper, or I should say Gunson talking, and the old captain rolling an eye, or giving a short nod now and then. Away to our right lay the coast of California, with its pale-coloured bare-looking cliffs appearing anything but attractive; and as we tossed about in the little schooner, I could not help thinking how different it was to the great clipper-ship in which we had sailed round the Horn.

We were soon glad to go below again, and there, as Esau could not get at his chest, which was down in the hold, he was glad to accept the loan of a blue jersey from one of the sailors, so as to set Gunson's jacket at liberty.

It was almost a repet.i.tion of our experience in the _Albatross_ for some days, only in this case we could have gone on deck at any time; but there was no temptation to do so, for it meant holding on by the side, and being soaked by the spray which kept on flying aboard.

During those days Esau pa.s.sed the greater part of his time lying down, and about once an hour he got into the habit of lifting his head, and looking at me fixedly.

"I say," he would begin.

"Yes?"

"Don't think I shall take to sailoring;" and I agreed with him that other lines would be pleasanter.

It was not that we were so very cowardly, for the sailors we spoke to all agreed that it was one of the worst trips they had ever had along the coast; and we afterwards heard that the skipper had been very anxious more than once. But there is always an end to bad weather; and the morning came when I went on deck to find sky and sea of a lovely blue, and away to my right a glorious green land, with swelling hills, forests of pines, and beyond them, dazzlingly white in the bright sunshine, the tops of two snow-capped mountains.

As I leaned aft, gazing at the beautiful land, my spirits began to grow brighter, and I was turning round to go down and fetch Esau to come and see the place, when I found that Gunson had come on deck too, and was looking at me in his peculiar manner which always repelled me.