A CHANGE OF WEATHER.
Walter could be of but little assistance on deck, owing to his ignorance of nautical matters; yet in Jim's estimation he formed, as companion to himself, a very important portion of the watch. Brave though the young fisherman tried to appear, nothing short of actually saving his own life would have tempted him to remain on the Bonita's quarter-deck alone in the night; and even with an assistant it seemed necessary for him to whistle very loud during several minutes after Bob and Harry disappeared in the cabin before he had sufficient control over his voice to hide the fear which came upon him.
Then he said in what was intended to be a cheery tone:
"Well, Walt, I reckon this is the last night we'll run dead before the wind, unless it blows in our favor. By mornin' Bob oughter be strong enough, if he keeps on eatin' same as he has to-day, to help work ship, an' then the brig'll be headed toward home."
Walter sighed deeply. Just at that moment he was thinking of the loved ones whom he knew must be mourning his absence, and the word "home" caused such an uncomfortably big lump to rise in his throat that it was impossible to make any reply.
Perhaps the same syllable sent Jim's thoughts straying in a similar direction, for he began to whistle once more, and continued to do so until a voice from the companion-way asked, in a querulous tone:
"What's the matter? Short-handed as we are, do you think it's goin' to help out by havin' more wind!"
"It ain't blowin' any harder than it was when you went below," Jim replied in surprise, understanding by the tone of the voice that it was Bob Brace who had spoken.
"That's jes' why you wanter tie up the whistle. It'll bring a gale if you keep on much longer!"
Then the sound of footsteps told that the speaker had returned to the cabin, and Jim said, in a low tone, to Walter:
"Them old sailors are as full of whims as a dog is of fleas. Some of them on the Mary Walker had signs for everything a feller did; but I never saw any come true. Tom Downey, the mate, allers fussed when birds flew 'round the schooner, 'cause he said they'd bring on a gale, an' in a dead calm he'd either whistle or wish he had a cat to throw overboard."
"What for?"
"So's to bring a wind. He says it'll allers come when you do that; but of course its foolishness. Then again, if I happened to whistle, no matter how calm it was, I'd get a rope's endin' 'cause they think a boy mustn't so much as squeak. If I'd believed Bob could hear me I'd know'd enough to hold my tongue."
"Did you get whipped very often on the Mary?" Walter asked, with a mild curiosity.
"More times than I've got fingers an' toes. Whenever any of 'em, from the captain down to the cook, wanted something to do they'd stir me up, an' it makes a feller dance when he gets a good stout heavin'-line across his back; but I'd be willin' to take a pretty big dose of it if I could be on board the old schooner just now."
There was no necessity for Walter to repeat this last sentiment. A severe punishment from his father at that moment would have been a positive pleasure. The lightest word in reference to home caused him to realize more keenly each hour the distance between those whom he loved and himself, and Jim's words seemed but the echo of his own thoughts.
During fully half an hour the two remained in silence at the wheel, steering the brig through the darkness on a course indicated only by the wind, and then the young fisherman was suddenly recalled from memories of the Mary Walker to the Bonita.
The breeze was increasing perceptibly, and the moisture in the atmosphere told that rain might be expected very soon. While the boys had given themselves up to reverie the clouds were gathering, until now it seemed as if they actually enveloped the brig as with an impenetrable vapor, and the waters dashed against the bow with that peculiar sullen sighing which betokens a storm. The Bonita no longer sailed freely, but tossed and plunged like some living thing harassed by obstacles in its path until wearied with the constant strife.
Jim knew the meaning of this change in wind and wave, and he roused himself suddenly as does one who is rudely awakened.
