leaped up to the deck, and sprang to the pump, followed by all the others. Only two of them could work at a time. Bart and Phil worked away first, till they were exhausted. Then Arthur and Pat took hold, and were relieved by Bruce and Tom. They worked vigorously, and with a will, in all the freshness, too, of their first efforts. Every one of them had a confident expectation that this labor would be successful, and that a half an hour, at the farthest, would be enough to pump the schooner dry. But a half hour passed, and yet that result was not accomplished. There was a difference certainly, but not anything like what they had wished. Judging from the amount of labor that they had put forth in this half hour, and the slight result, they were filled with dismay at the prospect before them.
“Well,” said Tom, “it ain’t what we expected; but I dare say we expected too much. Perhaps we ought to be satisfied if we find that we can keep the water under.”
“But can we do it?” said Bruce.
“Of course we can. Haven’t we been doing it?”
“We have—certainly. But how long can we keep at this sort of work? Why, the pump’ll have to be kept going day and night.”
Wade and Solomon now went to work; but their efforts made no very perceptible diminution in the water in addition to what had already taken place.
“I’m afraid,” said Bruce, “that the leak gets steadily worse.”
“Why so?”
“Well, because Solomon and Wade don’t do more than any two of us.”
“O, they don’t work with such a will.”
“Perhaps not. But in pumping, I dare say steady efforts like theirs amount to as much at least as our quick way of working; and besides, they’re stronger, and ought to do more. I think the leak is worse.”
“O, I don’t believe it.”
“Well, it took about two hours for the water to come in that’s in her now. If it had been coming in so slowly as that, we would have pumped her dry by this time. But the fact is, the more we pump, the faster the water comes in. I think it is working its way through new seams and crevices.”
There was no further reply to this; but not long afterwards, when Bruce and Tom had pumped with unusual vigor, they examined the hold once more. They found about six inches of water. The water had gained therefore. It had come back to the amount which had been there when they first began. These last efforts had gained nothing. In spite of all the water that had been poured out over the side, the quantity below was the same. There was no longer the slightest doubt that the leak was increasing, and that, too, with a rapidity that was very alarming. And while the leak thus gained power, their own efforts could not possibly increase beyond what they had already been, but, as a matter of course, would, on the contrary, rather decrease. And yet there was nothing else to be done but to pump on, for if they relinquished their efforts, they were lost. So they kept at it, taking turns as before, and while any two were at the pump, the others occupied themselves with watching the water beneath.
In one of the intervals, Solomon prepared the evening meal. It was later than usual, and any other than he would have omitted it altogether. But Solomon knew too well its importance, and felt that now it was, perhaps, of more importance than ever. The boys also, in the intervals which they had, prepared provisions for the boat. They put in oars, the boat’s mast and sail, two kegs of water, amounting to about twenty gallons, a barrel of biscuit, a ham, and a few other articles. In this way they endeavored to prepare themselves for the worst, and to have everything ready when the critical moment should arrive.
All this time Captain Corbet was mooning at the helm. He occasionally offered a remark, of which, however, no heed was taken by the busy company. They had something else to do.
“Ef I’d ony a come straight along from Bosting,” said he, on one of those occasions,—”ef I now at this moment was a navigatin from Bosting, I’d know whar I be. For I never know that I ever did lose my reckonin on one of them thar vyges. But comin up in this here roundabout circuous way from them outlandish seas, made me kine o’ git everythin upset and jumbled together in my old head. An now where air we? ’Tis a pint I long to know. Blest if I know.
“I should be pleased,” he continued, in a meditative tone, “to find out what course is the best for us jest now; though for that matter thar ain’t overly much wind, and I don’t seem to see how we could sail anywhars, even ef we wanted to go, an knowed jest the pint to go to. But as soon’s the wind does rise, I have an idee of the course I’m goin to take.”
“What’s that?” asked Bart, who happened to be near and hear this last remark. It seemed to him a good sign that Captain Corbet should have any theory now about his position.
“Wal,” said Captain Corbet, “it kine o’ seems to me as if the best way would be to head her nothe-east. We can’t head her nothe agin in this fog; r’else we’ll hit another rock; but ef we keep her nothe-east, we may dodge the rocks, an fetch up somewhars.”
At this utterly vague and unsatisfactory statement Bart turned away, more disheartened than ever.
That night the boys took turns till about midnight, when they all turned in, leaving Solomon, Wade, and the captain to take turns pumping till morning. The wind had gone down almost altogether, and the sea was quite smooth. The water in the hold remained at about the same level; and when the boys turned in, they had a feeling of satisfaction at this, or they would have had, if they had not been so completely worn out. Their sleeping-place was not their usual one. The water had driven them out. They brought their mattresses on deck, rolled themselves up in blankets, and curled up there the best way they could. So they passed the night.
On the following day they awaked early. There was a moderate breeze, and the Antelope was making some progress running before it. But the fog still continued, and environed them on all sides. Of this, however, they took no note just then. Their first thought was about the leak. They saw Wade working away at the pump in that dull, mechanical fashion which distinguished him in everything that he did. They said nothing to him, but at once looked into the hold.
The sight that they saw there confirmed their worst fears. The water had increased during the night, and they saw at once that either the leak had grown worse, or else that the pumping had been neglected. Things did not look well either for them or for the Antelope.
“We’ve all ben a takin of our turn thro the night,” said Captain Corbet, who was, as usual, at the helm. “It seems to be considerable of a leak. But I dar say we’ll manage to keep it down. The Antelope hadn’t ought to be a leaky vessel either. I’ve allus took good car of her. But it’s that strain she got.”
“Why, there’s a foot of water, at least,” cried Bart, “over the floor. There must be over two feet of water in the hold.”
“Full that,” said Arthur, gravely. “At this rate we’ll have to take to the boat before long.”
“O, thar’s no hurry,” said Captain Corbet; “the old Antelope’s dreadful perseverin, and a tremenjous hand at keepin afloat.”
“Well,” said Bruce, “I rather think we may fight off the water today, at any rate, and the fog may lift before night.”
“Yes,” said Phil, “we’d better not take to the boat till the last moment. I’d rather be here taking my turn at the pump, than off in the boat, not knowing where we are or where we’re going.”
“Sure an it’s a pity there wasn’t another pump,” said Pat. “We cud do double the work, so we cud. An I’d be proud to take me turrun at the pump twice as often, so I would.”
“I tell you what, boys,” said Tom. “Some of us might bale out with pails, while we’re not pumping. I wish I could construct a siphon; but I suppose it couldn’t be managed; so let’s bale. Two at the pump, and the rest at pails. That ought to be equal to two pumps, at least.”
“Sure an it’ll be aqual to fower pumps, so it will, if we work hard enough.”
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