The Forest Pilot: A Story for Boy Scouts by Edward Huntington - HTML preview

CHAPTER XII
 THE EARLY MORNING VISITOR

Martin and Larry were roused the next morning at daylight by the dogs who were barking excitedly in their shed outside. Evidently some animal was approaching the hut too close for their approval. So Larry, hoping for a pot shot from the window, slipped out of bed, took down his rifle stealthily, and cautiously opened the port on the landward side. Just then he heard voices outside, and the next moment some one pounded sharply against the door and turned the latch. In the doorway stood Mr. Ware, with half a dozen sailors crowding behind him.

With a shout Martin was out of his bunk, while Larry, dropping his gun, collided with the old hunter as they rushed together into Mr. Ware’s outstretched arms, and for five minutes the three were locked together in a tangled embrace dancing about like happy children, each asking questions which no one answered. Then Larry discovered that one of the sailors was an old acquaintance from the crew of the yacht, and the sailor came in for a similar wild demonstration, while Mr. Ware stood laughing and gasping for breath. And all this time the dogs, recognizing that something quite out of the ordinary was taking place inside, were adding their voices to the din, and struggling madly to get out of their shed.

Finally Martin disengaged himself and sank into a chair overcome with exhaustion and emotion. For the coming of Mr. Ware was like one risen from the dead. And then followed a flood of questions and explanations.

Mr. Ware and his companions in the boat had escaped quite as miraculously as had Martin and Larry, although they had suffered far greater hardships in the storm. They had left the shore in their boat and were making an exploratory trip along the mouth of the inlets of the bay just before the storm broke that destroyed the yacht. The fury of the gale drove them helplessly along the coast, and pitched them about, breaking their oars and tearing loose their rudder, so that they were completely disabled. Fortunately they had rounded the point of land that marked the entrance to the bay, so that instead of being blown against the rocks they were driven along parallel to the coast-line for a time, and thus saved from the breakers.

But they were hurried from this peril into another quite as great, as the boat was in danger of swamping at any moment in the waves. For now the wind shifted and blew them steadily out to sea, as they were without means of controlling or steadying the boat, which filled with water continually, and was only kept afloat by ceaseless bailing with the pots and pans of their cooking outfit.

All that night they worked, buffeted by the gale, with no idea where they might be drifting. But when morning came and the gale subsided there was no land in sight. That made little difference to them, as without oars or sails they could not have reached it in any event. Fortunately the boat was supplied with a box of sea biscuit and a keg of water—a precaution against emergencies always taken by Mr. Ware in manning his boats. So that while they were almost frozen, they were not hungry or thirsty during the six days and nights of their aimless drifting. But their days seemed numbered, as they had little hope of being picked up so late in the season.

Imagine their delight, therefore, when on the seventh morning they discovered a three master heading almost directly for them. The captain of the vessel had seen them, and changed his course to pick them up.

As soon as he was safely on board Mr. Ware made tempting offers to the captain to turn about and attempt to find the yacht. But his efforts were unsuccessful. The schooner was far out of her course and must make the best time possible to her English port, and no offer could tempt the captain to turn back. Moreover, as he pointed out, it would do little good to return if the yacht was lost; whereas if she were safe, she would make her way back to New York and would be waiting for Mr. Ware on his return.

So he was forced to curb his impatience for three long weeks while the schooner floundered her way across the ocean, and two weeks more before he reached his home. By that time winter had set in and it would be madness to attempt to approach the frozen Labrador coast at that time, even if he had hoped to find any of his party alive.

But he laid his plans for an early start in the spring, and the moment he could do so with reasonable safety he secured a staunch little steamer and started on his search. They had arrived near the entrance of the little bay the night before, but it grew dark before they rounded the point where they could make observations. Shortly after this the man in the lookout reported what he believed to be a light up among the rocks on shore. It was so faint that it could barely be made out through the glasses; and presently it disappeared.

This discovery kept Mr. Ware awake all night; and as soon as it was near daylight, he had come off in a life-boat to investigate, leaving the steamer to follow cautiously by daylight. Imagine his delight, then, at finding the snug little hut, with Martin and Larry safe inside.

When Mr. Ware had finished his recital Martin told him in detail the experiences that he and Larry had had during the winter; of their start for home, the blizzard, his encounter with the moose, and their final return to the coast and the comfortable time spent in the little hut.

“And you got here just in the nick of time, Mr. Ware,” he commented. “In another week we should have been footing it cross-country for home; and no knowing where we should have landed.”

While they had been talking the little steamer had come into the bay and dropped anchor half a mile off shore ready to receive her passengers. The captain, anxious to be away from the dangerous locality as quickly as possible, kept signalling repeatedly with short blasts of the whistle, and at last Mr. Ware decided that it was time for all hands to be off. But the snug little hut, tucked away up under the rock among the spruces, appealed strongly to his fancy; and Martin and Larry actually seemed reluctant to leave it now that their long-looked-for chance to do so had come. They had spent many happy hours in their tight little room, and it seemed like treachery to an old friend to turn their backs upon it forever. The old hunter said nothing of his thoughts on this score, however, and set about gathering together the articles he was to take away. But Larry, with a lump rising in his throat, found it difficult to repress his feelings.

“I wish it could go with us,” he said, stopping in his work to take a wistful look at the many familiar objects they were leaving. “It will be pretty lonesome for the little house standing up here all alone year after year and never seeing any of us again.” And the boy leaned over his work again to hide his emotions.

“We’re not going to desert it for good, Larry,” said Mr. Ware, patting the boy on the head kindly. “This is the best little shooting lodge I know of. So every year we will come up here for a hunt, and Martin will take us to the best hunting places, and keep us out of mischief generally, as he always does. What do you say, Martin?”

But the old hunter shook his head.

“I’ll be mighty glad to come every year, Mr. Ware,” he said laughing; “but I leave the hunting and guiding to a younger fellow who can do it just as well, or better. That’s the ‘younger fellow’ I mean, right here,” and he pointed to Larry. “He knows the country as well as I do, and he can follow a trail, shoot a rifle, and run a camp with the best of them. And if you ever get into a tight place out there in the woods, he’ll steer you out of it safely every time. For he’s learned his trade up here this winter. He’s a regular forest pilot now—a real woodsman, sure enough.”

THE END.