Gracious goodness! says I to myself, that youngster is a-scared out of his wits. Hell jibe her, as sure as a hen sets. And he done it, too. Bang! she went, and the boom slat up against that other boat that
was comin down tother way and I says, Its all up with poor Harry. And so it would have been if it hadnt been for the chaps in that other boat
Why, hello, Henry Burns! And if there aint young Harvey, too, cried Captain Sam, interrupting himself, as he espied the two boys. Why, that was your boat, eh? Well, I guess the squire is mightily obliged to you, both of yer.
Reckon youve thanked these young chaps, good and hearty, for saving young Harry, eh? cried Captain Sam, advancing to the squire.
But, to the utter amazement of Captain Sam, the squire turned upon his heel, with an exclamation of disgust, dashed out of the store, and disappeared in the direction taken shortly before by his son, while a roar of laughter from the assembled villagers followed after him.
CHAPTER V. HARVEY GETS BAD NEWS
Come on over to the post-office with me, he said. Youre in no hurry for supper. Its my turn to go for the mail, and we are expecting a letter from father up in Benton.
So the two boys retraced their steps, and the three friends went along up the road together.
We havent a very extensive correspondence to look after, eh, Jack? remarked Henry Burns; but well go along for companys sake. My aunt never writes to me, and I think I never received but two letters in my life. They were from old Mrs. Newcome.
I never got any, declared Harvey. My dad says to me at the beginning of the summer, Where are you going? and I say, Oh, down in the bay, or wherever it is I am going. Then he says, Well, take care of yourself, and forgets all about me, except he sends money down to me regularly and more when I ask him.
The boys remark was, in fact, an unconscious criticism of the elder Harvey, and accounted, perhaps, for some of Harveys past adventures which were not altogether commendable. Harveys father was of the rough and ready sort. He had made money in the Western gold-fields, where he had started out as a miner and prospector. Now he was enjoying it in generous fashion, and denied his family nothing. He had a theory that a boy that had the right stuff in him, as he put it, would make his way without any particular care taken of him; and he was content to allow his son, Jack, to do whatever he pleased. A convenient arrangement, by the way, which also left Mr. Harvey free to do whatever he pleased, without the worry of family affairs.
The boys walked through the fields, up a gentle incline of the land, which led to the general higher level of the island, overlooking the bay and the islands in the distance. They gazed back presently upon a pleasing prospect.
There was the cove, sweeping in to the left, along the bluff opposite, which was high and rock-ribbed. At the head of the cove the shores were of clean, fine sand, broken here and there at intervals by a few patches of clam-flats, bared at low water. Out from where the boys stood, straight ahead rolled the bay, with an unbroken view away across to the cape, some five miles off. A thoroughfare, or reach, extended south and eastward from the cape, formed by the mainland and a chain of islands. Then, to the south, the bay extended far, broken only by some islands a few miles away.
At anchor in the cove lay the Warren boys sailboat, the Spray , and the larger yacht, the Viking .
Well, George, said Henry Burns, with his right arm over the others shoulder, it looks like some fun, now that the trouble with Squire Brackett is cleared away.
Great! exclaimed George Warren.
The post-office, called such by courtesy, the office consisting of the spare room of whatsoever fisherman or farmer happened to be honoured with Uncle Sams appointment, was about a mile from the harbour of Southport. It was, in this case, in the house of one Jerry Bryant, and was about a quarter of a mile, or less, from the western shore of the island, where a small cove made in from that bay.
Good evening, Mr. Bryant, said George Warren, as they arrived at the post-office door. Mail in yet?
Be here right away, replied the postmaster. I saw Jeffs packet coming in a moment ago. There he comes now up the lane.
Jeff Hackett, whose commission it was to fetch the mail across from the mainland in a small sloop daily, now appeared with a mail-sack over his shoulder.
The formality of receiving
the attenuated mail-sack and sorting its somewhat meagre contents, being duly observed, Postmaster Bryant threw open a small sliding door, poked his head out, and was ready for inquiries.
Anything for the Warren cottage?
Not a thing.
Anything for the neighbours, a few doors below?
Nothing for them, either.
Looks as though we had come over for nothing, said George Warren. Too bad, but you fellows dont mind the walk, do you?
Not a bit, answered Henry Burns.
They were departing, when the postmaster hailed them.
Say, he called out, who is Jack Harvey? He is the chap that caught Chambers, isnt he? Doesnt he stop over near you, somewhere?