A chorus of exclamations rang out.
"Mr. Lovell! Can't be possible—you don't mean it?" screeched Tommy.
"Yes, I do—sure as you're sixty-three inches high."
"I'm over sixty-four!" cried Tom, hotly. "How in the world could Mr.—it's a joke; and a mighty poor one, Dick Travers."
"Joke nothing!" thundered Dick, excitedly. "See him—see him—there he is, waving a handkerchief; shouting, too—saw his mouth open. He's right by that little boat—life-boat, I mean. Get away—"
Jack had the glass again.
A moment's breathless silence; every eye was upon him. They saw his eyebrows arch in surprise, his lips move.
"Well?" cried Tim, hoarsely.
The glass slipped into Bob's outstretched hand, while:
"It's Uncle Stanley, sure as shootin'," fell from Jack Conroy's lips.
Steadying himself, Bob leveled the instrument. The "Evergreen State" flashed into view with delightful clearness; she seemed to be but a stone's throw away.
Eagerly Bob scanned the passengers crowding to the rail. Yes! That man with the handkerchief was certainly Mr. Lovell. He saw him raise a megaphone to his lips; over the air came a string of words, but the steady splashing of water and the briskly rushing wind made them but a confused medley of sound.
They strained their ears, and again came the voice.
Too bad! Not a word could be understood.
Bob saw the megaphone lowered, then waved in the air. The people, cabins, rails, life-boats, ropes and tackle—every little object looked so exasperatingly near—and yet they could not hope to learn what Mr. Lovell had said. The "Evergreen State" was already forging ahead.
"What does it mean?" gasped Dick, with a wild fear that something was destined to prevent them from continuing their trip.
"Mean?" howled Tim, savagely. "Why, you can just bet your boots that Uncle Stanley has heard something—all Jacky's doin's—he never expected to go on that boat; I know he didn't—"
"And he'll try to meet us," interposed Sam, "and—and—"
They stared gloomily at each other, quite forgetting the presence of the steersman and the curious glances he turned toward them.
"Bring out that plank!" cried Dick. "I hate to use the 'Osprey' for such a purpose, but let the ancient custom be revived."
"Is it fur the tall un to walk?" The man grinned. "What has he went an' done, lad?"
Dick turned sharply around.
"Why, he—he—"
"Jabberwock! Jabberwock!" roared Jack. "An' he has the cheek to blame it all on me!"
Silence for a moment; then:
"There's something in the wind," came from Dick.
"We all are," drawled Dave; "I'm going for shelter."
As they gloomily struggled along the deck, the "Osprey" was rolling heavily; spray flew over the gunwale and splashed their faces; tiny pools trickled along the deck. The wind was steadily rising into a gale; dark, ominous clouds in the distance scudded along, flinging ragged edges off into areas of rain.
Bending over to escape the blasts, the crowd made their way to a more comfortable spot between the piles of lumber.
What was the meaning of Mr. Lovell's presence on the "Evergreen State"?
No one knew; but all had certain ideas. The discussion grew animated. Jack defended himself with spirit; he also tried the effect of vigorous thrusts with his fists—his usual way of ending an argument—and presently all but Bob and Dave had moved well out of reach.
"The 'Evergreen State' stops at Rawdon," remarked Bob, reflectively; "that's about five miles the other side of Wild Oak landing, where we get off. So, if Mr. Lovell is really after us, he intends to come back from the steamboat wharf."
"Most likely," admitted Dave; "but it's no use to bother now."
"Bet he's found out that we're goin' to a whole lot o' trouble for nothin'," suggested Jack. "Better know it now'n later on."
"Old pullback! Scared?" jeered Tim, from a distance of ten feet.
"Well, don't let this great boat-ride be spoiled," said Dave, sniffing the air with keen relish. "Hello! Seems to me that Sam and Tom are looking rather pale."
The two lads, wearing strange, woebegone expressions, stood silent. Quite suddenly they had begun to lose all interest in the gold mine, in Mr. Lovell, and everything else. They only wanted to quietly slink away and be alone.
"Poor chap!" murmured Bob.
Several heavy showers finally chased the boys to cover; but each time it cleared away all were up on deck again, gathered in the most sheltered spot they could find.
The mountains had dropped low on the horizon, a somber mass of jagged peaks through the heavy gray atmosphere. The "Osprey" continued to stagger and roll amidst a flood of surging waves and creamy foam, her timbers seeming to jar and creak as she plunged her bow deep into the water.
Toward mid-afternoon, Wild Oak finally came into view as a mass of tiny white dashes against darker surroundings. The field-glass revealed a collection of buildings, behind which rose a series of rugged hills and frowning cliffs.
"Boys!" said Captain Mason, coming upon them suddenly, "I can't land you in this gale o' wind; no, sir! Wouldn't dare to risk it—I've been obliged to take in my topsails." He cast a glance of commiseration toward the two with the woebegone expressions.
"What—what in the dickens shall we do?" wailed Tommy.
"Keep aboard as far as Rawdon, or further."
"Goodness gracious!" groaned Sam. "Isn't it awful?"
"It might be a great deal more awful if you tried to land," said the captain, dryly. "However, don't lose heart, boys." He shot a glance at the sky. "This blow will probably soon simmer down."
But they didn't believe him; and, as Wild Oak became stronger and stronger in the landscape, stared gloomily toward it. Perhaps never before had a town appeared quite so attractive to them.
"Only to think," murmured Bob.
"Don't think," said Jack.
They gazed at the buildings and long wharf for some moments in silence. A sawmill and lumber-yard stood near the water's edge, beyond rose a structure with a tower, while straggling up over the hill were a number of frame houses, some partly hidden by clumps of trees.
"This field-glass makes me tired," grumbled Jack. "Hold me back, fellows, or I may forget an' try to jump it. That wharf seems just a few feet away. An' what do you think? A goat just winked at me; honest he did. Why, Jehoshaphat, I can almost touch the sawmill with my hand."
"I always wanted to see Portland, anyway," observed Dick.
A howl followed his words.
"If necessary," said Jack, "I shall take charge o' this vessel myself, an' sail it around in circles till the weather changes."
But an hour later, in spite of gloomy predictions, it did seem as though the wind was lessening; hope quickly revived. Rawdon, a town of considerable size, was already in view.
"I'll lay to until you can make it."
The captain had hailed them.
"Isn't he a daisy!" cried Tim, delighted enough to dance a jig, if space had allowed. "Cheer up, Sam and Tommy; you'll be all right soon."
"Get out," mumbled Sam, ungratefully.
Fifteen minutes later came the sound of Captain Mason's commands. Eagerly the boys watched his crew, as they executed order after order with speed and precision. The mainsail, flapping furiously, was lowered; the jib hauled down; then, as the anchor shot out of sight with a splash, the "Osprey" was rolling under bare poles, with the town of Rawdon directly before them.
But it was an hour later when the good-natured and careful skipper decided at last that it would be safe for them to make a start.
"I can't afford to take any chances with future statesmen, lawyers, or doctors," he chuckled, as he finally turned to his men and gave orders to get the boat ready.
It was quickly lowered, and piled up with luggage. The two indisposed boys tumbled in—another moment, and they were off.
On the next trip, Jack, Tim and Dick were taken ashore, and, at length, came the turn of Bob and Dave. With hearty thanks to Captain Don Mason, they took their places in the rocking boat, to land, after a rough passage, at a long, rickety-looking wharf.
"Hooray!" cried Tim, regardless of the stares bestowed upon them by several natives. "Hooray! Now the fun begins! First of all, let's hunt up Uncle Stanley.”