Back again. ­Calls and Cries. ­Captain Corbet’s Yell. ­A significant Sign. ­The old Hat. ­The return Cry. ­The Boat rounds the Point.

Captain Corbet, with Phil and Pat, walked along the top of the cliff in this way, narrowly scrutinizing the rocks below, and calling and shouting, until, at length, they reached the place at which they had first come out upon the shore.

“Now, boys,” said the captain, “from here to the pint down thar is all new ground.  We must go along here, an keep a good lookout.  If we hev any chance left of findin anythin, it’s thar.  I’m ony sorry we didn’t examine this here fust an foremost, before wanderin away off up thar, whar ’tain’t at all likely that Solomon ever dreamed of goin.  I hope the boys won’t be long gettin off that thar boat.”

“Perhaps they can’t get one.”

“O, yes, they can.  I saw two or three down thar.”

They now walked on a little farther.

At this place the cliff was as steep as it had been behind; but the rocky shelves were more numerous, and down near the shore they projected, one beyond another, so that they looked like natural steps.

“If Solomon was caught by the tide anywhar hereabouts,” said Captain Corbet, “thar’s no uthly reason why he shouldn’t save himself.  He could walk up them rocks jest like goin up stairs, an git out of the way of the heaviest surf an the highest tide that these shores ever saw.”

“It all depends,” said Phil, “on whether he staid about here, or went farther up.”

“Course ­an it’s my opinion that he did stay about here.  He was never such an old fool as to go so far up as we did.  Why, ef he’d a done so over them rocks, he’d never have got the use of his legs agin.”

“Strange we don’t see any signs of him.”

“O, wal, thar’s places yet we hevn’t tried.”

“One thing is certain ­we haven’t found any signs of him.  If anything had happened, we’d have seen his basket floating.”

“Yes, or his old hat.”

“I should think, if he were anywhere hereabouts, he’d hear the noise; we are shouting loud enough, I’m sure.  As for your voice, why, he ought to hear it a mile away; and the point down there doesn’t seem to be a quarter that distance.”

“O, it’s further than that; besides, my voice can’t penetrate so easily down thar.  It gits kine o’ lost among the rocks.  It can go very easy in a straight line; but when it’s got to turn corners an go kine o’ round the edges o’ sharp rocks, it don’t get on so well by a long chalk.  But I think I’ll try an divarsify these here proceedins by yellin a leetle lower down.”

So saying, Captain Corbet knelt down, and putting his head over the cliff, he uttered the loudest, and sharpest, and shrillest yell that he could give.  Then he listened in silence, and the boys also listened in breathless expectation for some time.  But there was no response whatever.

Captain Corbet arose with a sigh.

“Wal, boys,” said he, in a mournful tone, “we must git on to the pint.  We’d ought to know the wüst pooty soon.  But, at any rate, I’m bound to hope for the best till hope air over.”

The little party now resumed their progress, and walked on towards the point, shouting at intervals, as before.

From this place on as far as the point, the ground was clear, and there was nothing to bar their way.  They could go along without being compelled to make any further detour, and could keep near enough to the edge to command a view of the rocks below.  They walked on, and shouted without ceasing, and thus traversed a portion of the way.

Suddenly Captain Corbet’s eye caught sight of something in the water.  It was round in shape, and was floating within a few feet of the shore, on the top of a wave.  As Captain Corbet looked, the wave rolled from underneath it, and dashed itself upon the rocks, while the floating object seemed to be thrown farther out.  The tide had turned already, and was now on the ebb, so that floating articles, such as this, were carried away from the shore, rather than towards it.

Upon this Captain Corbet fastened his gaze, and stood in silence looking at it.  At length he put his hand on Phil’s shoulder, and directed the attention of the boys to the floating object.

“Do you see that?” said he.

“What?”

“That thing.”

“What ­that round thing?”

“Yes, that round thing.  Look sharp at it now.  What doos it look like to your young eyes?”

Phil and Pat looked at it very carefully, and in silence.  Then Phil looked up into Captain Corbet’s face without saying a word.

“Wal?”

“What is it, do you think?” asked Phil, in a low voice.

“What do you think?”

“Sure an it’s a hat ­a sthraw hat,” said Pat.

Captain Corbet exchanged a meaning glance with Phil.

“Do you think it’s his hat?” asked Phil.

“Whose else can it be?”

Phil was silent, and his gaze was once more directed to the floating object.  As it rose and fell on the waves, it showed the unmistakable outline of a straw hat, and was quite near enough for them to recognize its general character and color.  It was dark, with the edges rather ragged, a broad brim, and a roomy crown, not by any means of a fashionable or graceful shape, but coarse, and big, and roomy, and shabby ­just such a hat as Solomon had put on his head when he left Grand Pre with them on this memorable and ill-fated voyage.

They looked at it for a long time in silence, and none of them moved.

Captain Corbet heaved a deep sigh.

“This here,” said he, “has been a eventfool vyge.  I felt a derred persentment afore I started.  Long ago I told you how the finger of destiny seemed to warn me away from the ocean main.  I kem to the conclusion, you remember, that henceforth I was to dwell under my own vine an fig tree, engaged in the tender emplymint of nussin the infant.  But from this I was forced agin my own inclynations.  An what’s the result?  Why, this ­that thar hat!  See here, boys;” and the venerable seaman’s tone grew deeper, and more solemn, and more impressive; “see here, boys,” he repeated; “for mor’n forty year hev I follered the seas, an traversed the briny deep; but, though I’ve hed my share of storms an accydints, though I’ve ben shipwrecked onst or twiste, yet never has it ben my lot to experience any loss of human life.  But now, but now, boys, call to mind the startlin events of this here vyge!  Think of your companion an playmate a driftin off in that startlin manner from Petticoat Jack!  An now look here ­gaze upon that thar!  Words air footil!”

“Do you give him up, then?” cried Phil.  “Poor, poor old Solomon!”

Captain Corbet shook his head.

“’Deed, thin, an I don’t!” cried Pat.  “What’s a hat?  ’Tain’t a man, so it isn’t.  Many’s the man that’s lost his hat, an ain’t lost his life.  It’s a windy place here, an olé Solomon’s hat’s a mile too big for him, so it is ­’deed an it is.”

Captain Corbet shook his head more gloomily than ever.

“Ow, sure an ye needn’t be shakin yer head that way.  Sure an haven’t ye lost hats av yer own, over an over?”

“Never,” said the captain.  “I never lost a hat.”

“Niver got one blowed off?  ’Deed an ye must have.”

“I never got one blowed off.  When the wind blowed hard I allus kep ’em tied on.”

“Well, Solomon hadn’t any tie to his, an it cud tumble off his old pate asy enough, so it cud.  Sure he’s lost it jumpin over the rocks.  Besides, where’s his basket?”

“At the bottom, no doubt.”

“Sure an it cud float.”

“No; I dar say it was full of lobsters.”

“Any how, I’ll not believe he’s gone till I see him,” cried Pat, earnestly.  “Seein’s believin.”

“Ef he’s gone,” said Captain Corbet, more solemnly than ever, “ye’ll never see him.  These waters take too good care of a man for that.”

“Well, yer all givin up too soon,” said Pat.  “Come along now; there’s lots of places yet to examin.  Give one of yer loudest yells.”

Captain Corbet did so.  In spite of his despondency as to poor old Solomon’s fate, he was not at all unwilling to try any further chances.  On this occasion he seemed to gain unusual energy out of his very despair; and the yell that burst from him was so high, so shrill, so piercing, and so far penetrating, that the former cries were nothing compared to it.

“Well done!” cried Pat.  “Sure an you bet yerself that time, out an out.”

“Stop!” cried Phil.  “Listen.  What’s that?”

Far away, as they listened, they heard a faint cry, that seemed like a response.

“Is that the echo?” asked Phil, anxiously.

“Niver an echo!” cried Pat, excitedly.  “Shout agin, captain, darlin.”

Captain Corbet gave another shout as loud and as shrill as the preceding one.

They listened anxiously.

Again they heard the cry.  It was faint and far off; yet it was unmistakably a human cry.  Their excitement now grew intense.

“Where did it come from?” cried Phil.

“Wal, it kine o’ seemed to me that it came back thar,” said the captain, pointing to the woods.

“’Deed an it didn’t,” cried Pat; “not a bit of it.  It was from the shore, jest ahead; from the pint, so it was, or I’m a nagur.”

“I think it came from the shore, too,” said Phil; “but it seemed to be behind us.”

“Niver a bit,” cried Pat; “not back there.  We’ve been there, an whoever it was wud have shouted afore, so he wud.  No, it’s ahead at the pint.  He’s jest heard us, an he’s shoutin afther us.  Hooray!  Hurry up, an we’ll be there in time to save him.”

Pat’s confidence was not without its effect on the others.  Without waiting any longer, they at once set off at a run, stopping at intervals to yell, and then listening for a response.  To their delight, that response came over and over again; and to their still greater joy, the sound each time was evidently louder.

Beyond a doubt, they were drawing nearer to the place from which the sounds came.

This stimulated them all the more, so that they hurried on faster.

The edge of the cliff was not covered by any trees, but the ground at its summit had been cleared, so that progress was not at all difficult.  They therefore did not take much time in traversing the space that intervened between the spot where they had first heard the cry, and the point where the cliff terminated.  The cry grew steadily louder, all the way, until at last, when they approached the point, it seemed to come directly from beneath.

The cliff here was perpendicular for about forty feet down, and below this it seemed to retreat, so that nothing could be seen.  The tide was on the ebb; but it was still so high that its waves beat below them, and seemed to strike the base of the rock.  Beyond, on the right, there was a sloping ledge, which descended from the cliffs into the sea, over which the waves were now playing.

It was from the hollow and unseen recess down at the foot of the cliff that the cry seemed to arise, which had come in response to the calls of those on the summit.  On reaching the place above, they knelt down, and looked over, but were not able to distinguish any human being, or any sign of the presence of one.  But as they looked anxiously over, the cry arose, not very loud, but quite distinct now, and assured them that this was the place which sheltered the one who had uttered that cry.

Captain Corbet now thrust his head over as far as he could, and gave a call in his loudest voice.

“Hal-lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!”

To which there came up in answer a cry that sounded like ­

“Hi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i!”

“Solomo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-on!”

“He-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ey!”

“Is that yo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-où?”

“It’s me-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e!”

“Where are y-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-où?”

“He-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-re!”

“Come u-u-u-u-u-u-u-up!”

“Ca-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-n’t!”

“Why no-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ot?”

“Too hi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-gh!”

“Go round the pi-i-i-i-i-i-nt!”

“Too high ti-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-de!”

“Wa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-it!”

“All ri-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ght!”

Captain Corbet now sprang up as nimbly as a young lad, and looked at Phil and Pat with an expression of such exceeding triumph, that his face seemed fairly to shine.

“It is Solomon!” he cried.  But it was of no use for him to convey that piece of information to the boys, who already knew that fact quite as well as he did.

“It is Solomon,” he repeated; “an now the pint is, how air we to git him up?”

“Let me go down,” said Pat.

“How?”

“Sure an I can git down wid that bit o’ rope you have.”

“Mebbe you can, an then agin mebbe you can’t; but s’posin you was to git down, how upon airth would that help the matter?”

“Sure an we cud give him a pull up.”

“I don’t think we could manage that,” said Captain Corbet, “and you couldn’t, at any rate, if you were down thar with him.  As far as I see, we’ll hev to wait till the tide falls.”

“Wouldn’t it be better,” said Phil, “for us to go around, so as to come nearer?”

“How?  Whar?”

“Why, down to the beach, and then we could walk around the point.”

“Walk?  Why, it’s high water.”

“So it is ­I forgot that.”

“The fact is, we can’t git any nearer than we air now.  Then, agin, the boys’ll be along in a boat soon.  They ought to be here by this time; so let’s sit down here, an wait till they heave in sight.”

With a call of encouragement to Solomon which elicited a reply of satisfaction, Captain Corbet sat down upon the grass, and the boys followed his example.  In this position they waited quietly for the boat to come.

Meanwhile, Bart and Bruce had hurried on as rapidly as their legs could carry them, and at length reached the path which went down to the beach.  Down this they scrambled, and not long afterwards they reached the ship-yard.  Here they obtained a boat without any difficulty, which the workmen launched for them; and then they pushed off, and pulled for the point, with the intention of rowing along opposite the shore, and narrowly inspecting it.

Scarcely had they reached the point, however, when a loud and well-known voice sounded from on high.  They both turned and looked up, still pulling.  There they saw Captain Corbet, and Phil, and Pat, all of whom were shouting and making furious gestures at them.

“We’ve found him!  Come in closer!” cried Captain Corbet.

“Whe-e-e-re?” cried Bruce.

But before any answer could come, a loud, shrill scream, followed by a yell of delight, burst forth from some place still nearer.

Burt and Bruce both started, and looked towards the place from which this last cry came.

There a very singular and pleasing sight met their eyes.

About six feet above the water was a shelf of rock, that ran down sloping to the beach, and over this there projected a great mass of the cliff.  In this recess there crouched a familiar figure.  He had no hat, but between his legs, as he sat there, he held a basket, to which he clung with his knees and his hands.  As he sat there his eyes were fixed upon them, and their whites seemed enlarged to twice their ordinary dimensions, while yell after yell came from him.

“Help, he-e-e-e-e-lp!  Mas’r Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-art!  O, Mas’r Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-art!  He-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-lp!  Sa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ave me!”

“Hurrah! hurrah!” cried Bart and Bruce, in a burst of heartfelt joy.

“He-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-lp!” came forth once more from Solomon.

“All right,” cried Bart; and at once the boat pointed towards the place where Solomon was sitting.  The water nearer the shore was somewhat rough, but fortunately there were no rocks just there, and they were able to bring the boat in close to the place where Solomon was confined.  At their approach Solomon moved slowly down the incline of the rock, on his hands and knees, for there was not room for him to stand upright; and as he moved he pushed the basket before him, as though there was something inside of uncommon value.  Reaching, at length, a spot where the rock was about the level of the boat, he waited for them to approach.  Soon the boat touched the rock.

“Come, old Sol,” cried Bart, “jump in!”

“Hyah, take hole ob dis yar,” said Solomon, even in that moment of rescue refusing to move till his precious basket should be safe.

Bart grasped it, and put it into the boat, noticing, as he did so, that it was full of lobsters.

“Come, Solomon, hurry up.  I don’t like the boat to be knocking here this way.”

“All right, sah,” said Solomon, crawling along rather stiffly; “ben tied up in a knot all day, an feel so stiff dat I don’t know as I’ll git untied agin fur ebber mo.  Was jest makin my will, any way, as you came along.”

By this time Solomon had tumbled into the boat, and worked his way aft, though not without many groans.

“It’s de cold rocks, an de wet,” he groaned.  “Sech an attack o’ rheumaticses as dis olé nigga’s gwine to hab beats all!  Any how, I ben an sabed de lobsta.  Loss me olé hat, but didn’t car a mite fer dat so long as I sabed de lobsta.”

“All right,” cried Bart; and at this the two boys pulled away from the rocks and rounded the point.  As they came into the sight of those who were waiting on the top of the cliff, a shout of joy arose.