Part 19 (1/2)

Ben, however, was the skipper's own flesh and blood--his sister's child.

He couldn't face that sister (she was a widow) if he brought Ben back to New Bedford a cripple for life. And the whale had certainly smashed him up badly.

”Clint Webb,” he said to me, in a most serious tone, when he had made his examination of the poor fellow, ”we are in a bad hole. It'll take a week o' fair weather for the carpenter to make us all tight again--and we ain't even sure of the weather. Then, there's the three whales alongside. We can't throw them away. The crew would have cause to complain. But this boy ought to have doctor's care.”

I agreed with him, but had nothing to offer.

”I couldn't sail for the Plate now,” he ruminated, ”if I wanted to.

Repairs of the s.h.i.+p must come before repairs of the boy. Webb! it's a good season, and the winds are fair. Would you make an attempt to get Ben to Buenos Ayres in that sloop of yours?”

”In a minute!” I declared, quickly, for the suggestion went hand in hand with the desire I had been milling in my mind for days.

”I'll mark you a chart. You can't miss of it. Anyhow, you'll hit land if you keep on going. There are fine hospitals at Buenos Ayres. I'd feel more as though I'd done my duty by Ben if I got him there. I'll find you a man to go along. Two of you can work that sloop prettily.”

”Aye, aye, sir,” I agreed.

He bustled away and brought back old Tom Anderly. I couldn't have wished for anybody else. In a quarter of an hour we had agreed on everything. Tom and Ben were to stick around Buenos Ayres until they heard from Captain Rogers, or the Scarboro put in for them. Of course, I would be free once I got to land, unless I wanted to stick the voyage out and claim my lay at the end. However, I was to have one hundred dollars in gold from the captain, and the sloop, whichever way I decided.

Captain Rogers had set Ben's arm and dressed his other wounds. Ben was conscious, but in great pain from the broken ribs. He knew what we were going to attempt, and he was willing to trust himself to old Tom and me.

And the next morning, as soon as it was light, the Wavecrest was slung over the side, her mast stepped, and the riggers got to work on her. By noon she was provisioned and everything was ready for our cruise.

Ben Gibson was let down into the c.o.c.kpit of the Wavecrest on a mattress and was got comfortably into the cabin without any trouble.

There was a steady breeze, but the sea was calm. The crew bade us G.o.dspeed and the skipper wrung my hand hard; but only said:

”Do the best you can for him, Webb. I'm trustin' to you and Tom to pull the lad through.”

We got the canvas up and sheered off from the Scarboro's side. We could hear the m.u.f.fled hammering of the carpenter and his mates inside her wounded hull. They were fighting to keep the old hooker above the seas.

As we drifted away from the whaling bark I was not at all sure that we should ever see her above the seas again.

Our canvas filled and the sloop got a bone in her teeth and walked away with it just as prettily as ever she had sailed in Bolderhead Harbor.

”She's a beauty boat, lad,” growled old Tom Anderly. ”And she's taking us out o' range o' them carca.s.ses--Whew! they sartainly do begin to stink. I don't begredge the boys their job of cutting them whales up when they git at it.”

We left the gulls and the sharks behind, with the bark and the rotting whales, and soon they were all far away--mere specks upon the horizon.

CHAPTER XXII

IN WHICH WE SAIL THE SILVER RIVER AND I SEE A FACE I KNOW

I had covered, perhaps, almost as much open sea when I was blown out of Bolderhead in the sloop, as now lay between the Scarboro and Cape St.

Antonio. But, as you might say, I had taken that first trip blindly.

This time I had my eyes open and all my wits about me--and I knew that we had taken a big contract. The Wavecrest was a mere c.o.c.kle-sh.e.l.l in which to cross such a waste of open sea as that which lay between us and the mouth of Rio de la Plata.

But the Wavecrest was a seaworthy craft, and that indeed had been proved. She had been freshly caulked while she lay on the deck of the Scarboro, and her seams did not let in enough water to keep her sweet.