He ceased. Silence followed, and in that silence they all retired from the Antelope, and returned to the shore.
CHAPTER XXV.
On reaching the shore they found it necessary to take into consideration the course of action that was now most advisable.
“We’ve got a few weeks yet of vacation, boys,” said Bart, “and if we want to enjoy ourselves, we’d better get out of this as fast as possible.”
“We ought, at any rate, to write to our fathers and mothers,” said Phil; “I don’t know what they’ll think.”
“Write!” said Bruce; “we’d better hurry off home our own selves, and not send letters. For my part, I’m ready to start off this evening for Grand Pré.”
“Grand Pré? But why Grand Pré?” asked Arthur.
“O, I don’t know,” said Bruce: “what other way is there to go? We’ll have to get away from this, of course; and it seems most natural to cross the mountain to Grand Pré, and then go on by stage. Bart could leave us at Windsor, and take the steamer for St. John.”
“Sure an the stage goes the other way altogether,” said Pat.
“How’s that?”
“Why, down the valley to Annapolis; an the steamer starts from that to St. John, so it does; an’ it’s twice as near, so it is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is. St. John is only sixty mile from Annapolis, and it’s more’n a hundred an twinty from Windsor.”
“But Annapolis is seventy or eighty miles from this place, and Windsor’s only thirty.”
“At any rate, it’s easier goin by the way of Annapolis.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is; you go down the valley, so you do, an the other way you have to go up.”
“Pooh! nonsense! The Annapolis valley isn’t a hill. The fact is, from here to St. John it’s easier to go by the way of Windsor.”
“It’s further thin.”
“Yes,” said Phil, “it’s a hundred and fifty miles by the way of Windsor, and only a hundred and forty-seven by the way of Annapolis.”
“For my part,” said Bart, “I don’t fancy either way. What’s the use of talking about a hundred and fifty miles, when you need only go half that distance?”
“Half that distance? How?”
“Why, across the bay.”
“Across the bay? O! Why, that completely alters the case,” said Bruce.
“Of course.”
“Sure, but how can we go on fut across the bay? or by stage?” objected Pat.
“There don’t seem to be any schooner here,” said Arthur, looking all around.
All the others did the same, searching narrowly the whole line of coast. Nothing, however, was visible of the nature of a vessel. Boats there were, however, in plenty, quite commodious too, but none of them sufficiently large to take them so far as St. John.
“I’m afraid, Bart, your idea of getting to St. John by water won’t do,” said Bruce. “You’d better make up your mind to come along with us.”
“O, I’ll go, of course, along with you; we must stick together as long as we can; but we must settle, first of all, which is the best way to go. You’ll find it most convenient to come to St. John. You can go from there up the bay, and then go over to Prince Edward Island, easier than by any other route.”
“Well, I don’t know but that we can, at least as easy as any other way, and so I’ve no objection; but won’t it be best to go to Windsor, or, if you prefer it, to Annapolis?”
“Well, let’s find out, first of all, whether there is any chance of going by a more direct way. Old Bennie can tell us all about it.”
“Yes, yes,” said Tom, who had thus far taken no part in the discussion, “let’s ask old Bennie; he can tell us what’s best to do.”
With these words the boys walked on faster towards where old Bennie was sauntering about with Captain Corbet and Solomon. At the first mention of their wish Bennie energetically refused to say anything about it.
“You’ve got to stay here, boys—you’ve got to, you know; an thar’s no use talkin, an that’s all about it—thar now.”
This the good Bennie said over and over again, persisting in it most obstinately. At length Bart managed to secure his attention long enough to convey to him an idea of the circumstances in which they were, and especially the regard which they had for their respective parents. At the mention of this Bennie’s obstinacy gave away.
“Wal, thar, boys”, said he, “that thar does knock me, an I give up. The fact is, when I regard you, and think on what you’ve ben a doin on, an how you’ve ben adoin of it, an what sort of a craft you’ve ben a navigatin in, I feel as though the parients an guardins of sech as youns had ort to be pitied.”
In fact, Bennie’s commiseration for these anxious parents was so great that he changed his tactics at once, and instead of trying to keep the boys with him, he exhibited the utmost eagerness to hasten their departure.
“You can’t go straight off to St. John, boys, from this place, for there ain’t a schooner in jest now; but there’s a way of goin that’ll take you to that place faster, mebbe, than you could go if you went direct in a sailin craft. It’s to get off to the nighest place where the steamer touches.”
“What’s that?”
“Parrsboro’.”
“Parrsboro’? and how far is it?”
“O, only a few miles; it’s only jest round thar;” and Bennie swung his arm round over towards the right, indicating a vast extent of the earth’s surface.
“O, we all know Parrsboro’ perfectly well,” said Bart; “but when can we catch the steamer there?”
“Why, tomorrow, some time, at about half tide. The steamer comes up tonight, and goes down tomorrow. So, if you go to Parrsboro’ an take the steamer thar, you’ll be able to be in St. John quicker than if you went any other way.”
This intelligence at once settled the question completely. They all saw that to go by land part of the way would take up much longer time. Parrsboro’ was so near that it needed only to be mentioned for them all to adopt at once this plan. The only question now remaining was how to get there.
“Wal, there ain’t no trouble about that,” said Bennie. “Thar’s my boat—a nice, clean, roomy one; and I’ll engage to put you over in Parrsboro’ quick sticks. ’Tain’t big enough, quite, to take you to St. John; not because she couldn’t go there, for I’d a precious sight sooner cross the bay—yes, or the Atlantic Ocean—in her than in that old Antelope; but because she hain’t got good sleepin accommodations in case we was to be delayed, as would be very probable. She’s ony an open boat—a beautiful one for sailin in by day, an in fine weather,