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Thus, with its little world of hopes and fears, its cares and pleasures, and its brave, trembling, trusting, sorrowing, joyful, anxious, reckless hearts, the good ship passed from the shores of Britain, until her sails quivered like a petrel's wings on the horizon, and then vanished into the boundless bosom of the mighty sea.
From the Petrel's sloping deck they saw the horsemen appear in bold silhouette against the sky-line. Swinging from their saddles they walked to meet a white-shirted rider who galloped over the ridge and drew rein among them. The newcomer remained astride his horse. Resting an arm on the horn of his saddle, he stared into the little cove through his binoculars.
The fisherman glanced toward the dory which lay on the rocks at the extreme end of the ledge. "Better beat it," he suggested. Dickie Lang shook her head stubbornly. "No," she said. "We'll leave that man here and the rest of us will get aboard. The Petrel's on tide land and I'll be damned if any one's going to bluff me out."
A minute passed; nothing was seen of Harry; Charlie was raised entirely above water; when at length the Petrel's boat dashed towards them, urged by all the strength of four rowers. "Hubbard! Bob!" cried de Vaux, as the first glance showed him that both Smith and the boy were safe. "Hubbard is here, insensible Bob gone Hazlehurst sunk, too!" "Hazlehurst and Bob, too!
If fame has not belied them, such are the accomplishments of the belles of Norfolk and Pensacola; while the wives and daughters of the whalers at Nantucket, are said to have also a critical eye for the cut of a jib and the shape of a hull. Hubert de Vaux hoped they had, for he thought it a pity that the Petrel's beauties should be thrown away.
Early on Monday morning they again made sail, for Martha's Vineyard; from thence the Petrel's head was to be turned southward, and after coasting the eastern shore of Long-Island, they expected to return to the wharf at Broadlawn, as fast as the winds would carry them.
"I can't touch anything, father; but has the storm gone?" "Thank Heaven! yes, my lad. I never was in a worse!" "But you said it was a capful of wind," said Mark faintly. "Capful, my lad! it was a hurricane, and I'm afraid many a good ship has fared badly." "But the Petrel's all right, father?" "Behaved splendidly." "Are we nearly at Plymouth?" was Mark's next question. "Nearly where?"
A second time Smith was relieved by seeing Charlie rise, but at a greater distance from the Petrel's hull; a second time he strained every nerve to reach him, but again the young man sunk beneath the waves. A shout was now heard. "It is the boat!" said Smith, as he answered the call.
"Here, quick, look out!" cried Mark at that instant, for, wincing from seeing the dressing of his father's wound, he had unscrewed one of the little side-lights and was looking over the calm sunlit sea, when he caught sight of a prau gliding along from the Petrel's bows, and it was evident that she was coming to attack simultaneously from the stern. "Hah! that's it, is it!" said the major.
"There's one of them!" cried the boy eagerly; he swam towards the object he had seen, but it proved to be only a hat. Both returned to the Petrel's side, watching as closely as the violence of the wind and rain would permit.
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