Willis the Pilot | Page 9

"His sleep appears untroubled; and, notwithstanding all the terrors of
the last few days, I entertain sanguine hopes of his immediate
recovery."
"You will at least return before night?" said Mrs. Becker to her
husband.
"Rely upon my not prolonging my stay beyond what the exigencies of
the expedition imperiously require."

"Good gracious! what are these?" exclaimed Mrs. Wolston as the three
brothers entered, equipped in seal-gut trowsers, floating stays of the
same material, and Greenland caps.
"The Knights of the Ocean," replied Jack gravely, "who, like the heroes
of Cervantes, go forth to redress the wrongs done by the tempest, and
to break lances--oars, I mean--in favor of persecuted sloops."
Mrs. Becker herself could scarcely refrain from smiling.
Such is the power of the smile that, in season or out of season, it often
finds its way to the most pallid lips, in the midst of the greatest
disasters and the deepest grief. It appears as if always listening at the
door ready to take its place on the slightest notice. This diversion had
the good effect of mixing a little honey with--if the expression may be
used--the bitterness of the parting adieus. Becker took the lead in
hiding his sorrow; the three young Greenlanders tore themselves from
the maternal embrace, and affectionately kissed the hand held out to
them by Mrs. Wolston.
Then, between those that departed and those that remained behind,
there was nothing more than the ties of recollection, the common
sadness, and the endless links of mutual affection.
CHAPTER III.
WHEREIN WILLIS THE PILOT PROVES "IRREFRAGABLY"
THAT EPHEMERIDES DIE OF CONSUMPTION AND
HOME-SICKNESS--THE CANOE AND ITS YOUNG ONES--THE
SEARCH AFTER THE SLOOP--FOUND--THE
SWORD-FISH--FLOATING ATOMS--ADMIRAL SOCRATES.
When they had come within a short distance of the bay, Jack thought he
saw a large black creature moving in the bushes that lined the shore.
"A sea monster!" he cried, levelling his musket; "I discovered it, and
have the right to the first shot."

"No, sir," said Fritz, whose keen eye was a sort of locomotive telescope,
"I object to that, for I do not want you to kill or wound my canoe."
"Nonsense, it moves."
"Whether it moves or not, we shall all see by and by; but do you not
observe this monster's young ones gambolling by its side?"
"Which proves I am right, unless you mean to say your canoe has been
hatching," and Jack again levelled his rifle.
"Don't fire, it is the hat and jacket of Willis!"
"What!" exclaimed Ernest, "is the Pilot a triton then, that he could
dispense with the canoe?"
"Well, yes, unless the canoe has found its way back of its own accord,
which would indeed make it an intelligent creature."
"The Pilot has evidently reached Shark's Island by swimming, in spite
of surf and breakers--a feat almost without a parallel."
"Bah!" said Ernest, parodying Jack's witticism about the oars, "what
does a pilot care about surf and breakers?"
Strongly moored in a creek of the Jackal River, and protected by a bluff,
forming a screen between it and the sea, the pinnace had in no way
suffered from the storm.
The swell was so violent, that they had a world of trouble in making the
island; as they approached, Willis, who had made a speaking-trumpet
by joining his hands round his mouth, was roaring out alternately,
"starboard," "larboard," "hard-a-port," just as if these terms had not
been Hebrew to the impromptu mariners.
At last, tired of holloaing, "Stop a bit," he said, "I shall find a quicker
way;" with that he threw himself directly into the sea, and cut through
the waves towards them as if his arms had been driven by a steam
engine.

Arrived on board, he gave a vigorous turn to the tiller, laid hold of the
sheet, let out a reef here, took in another there; the pinnace was soon
completely at his command, and behaved admirably; true, she pitched
furiously, and the gunwale was under water at every plunge. He headed
along the coast till the point beyond which Fritz had first observed the
Nelson was fairly doubled; some days before this point was called Cape
Deliverance, it was now, perhaps, about to acquire the term of Cape
Disappointment, but for the moment its future designation was in
embryo.
Leaping on the poop, Willis carefully scanned the horizon as the boat
rose upon the summit of the waves; but seeing nothing, he at last leapt
down again with an expression of rage that, under other circumstances,
would have been irresistibly comic. Abandoning the direction of the
pinnace, he went and sat down on a bulk-head, and covered his face
with his hands, in an attitude of profound desolation.
"Willis! Willis!" cried Jack, "I shall tell Sophia."
But there was neither the soft voice there, the caressing