Part 20 (2/2)
”Certainly I do; there is South Point light dead ahead.”
”Yes; but there is any quant.i.ty of rocks between us and the light.”
”I know that; but I know where they are just as well as I know where the kitchen is, when I get into the house. Don't talk to me now, John; go below and turn in, if you like.”
”Don't you want me?”
”No.”
Paul did not think that John could act upon this suggestion, in such a storm and in the midst of so many perils; but he did, and as the young skipper heard no more from him, he concluded he was asleep.
”What a fellow!” thought Paul. ”He could sleep in the midst of an earthquake or a tornado. Well, let him sleep; he is tired enough.”
The Fawn dashed madly on, yet under perfect control, and the gallant skipper, when he saw through the deep darkness, the white breakers on Rock Island, felt entirely relieved from the responsibility which had before almost crushed his spirits, for it was plain sailing after he had pa.s.sed that point and the dangerous reefs which environed it. If the Fawn could stand such a sea as that, she could stand anything, and her character was fully established for the future.
His spirits rose as he neared South Point light, which was not more than a mile and a half from his mother's house. He whistled merrily, to give expression to his satisfaction, as he pa.s.sed the light, for he and the boat were now safe beyond a peradventure. Taking an extra turn in the foresheet, he laid the course of the boat a little closer to the wind, which soon brought her into the comparatively still water behind Long Island.
He saw the cottage of his mother now, and a light was burning in her chamber. He was grieved to see this, for he feared she might be sick, or that in her anxiety for the safety of her boys, she had sat up all night thinking of them. But in a few moments, he let go the anchor off the beach, and lowered the foresail. After making everything secure on board, he hauled the old boat, which he had moored there in the morning, alongside. John was still asleep; neither the paying out of the cable, nor the noise of Paul's feet, as he furled the foresail, had roused him from his deep slumbers, and the skipper decided to let him finish his night's rest on board.
Sculling the old boat ash.o.r.e, he ran up the hill, and knocked at the side door of the cottage.
”Who's there?” asked his mother.
”Paul.”
The door was opened, and the fond mother clasped her son to her heart, while the great tears coursed down her furrowed cheeks.
”I am so glad you have got back!” exclaimed she; ”I was sure you were drowned. Where is John? He isn't with you, Paul! O, he is----”
”Fast asleep on board the Fawn, mother.”
”Then he is safe.”
”Yes; safe--yes.”
”You have had a terrible time of it--haven't you?”
”Not very bad, mother; the wind and tide were against us, and we couldn't get up without carrying more sail than I thought it was safe to carry; so I ran under the lee of an island, and anch.o.r.ed.”
”But what did you start back in the night for?”
”The wind hauled round to the northeast, and blew so that we dragged our anchor, and had to make sail to keep off the rocks.”
”And John is safe, you say?”
”Perfectly safe. But why are you not in bed, mother?”
<script>