"Don't--see--anything that looks like moving, boys. Surely the anchor holds her," he said, in a very subdued way.

"d.i.c.k, see that rock on the sh.o.r.e?" asked Dave.

A ledge, big, shadowy, could be made out.

"Now, boys, keep your eyes on that two or three minutes and see if we stay abreast of it," was Dave's proposed test.

Five pairs of eyes were strained, watching the ledge; but if there had been five hundred, they would not have seen any proof that the vessel was stationary.

The ledge was stationary, but the _Relentless_--

"Well," said d.i.c.k, scratching his head, "I don't think we need worry.

We--we--"

"Can drift," said Dab scornfully.

"It is of no use to cry over spilled milk," said Dave, in a tone meant to a.s.sure others. "Let's make the best of it, now it's done, and get some fun out of it if we can. All aboard for--Patagonia!"

"Good for you," whispered d.i.c.k. "The others are chicken-hearted. We shall come out of it all right; though I wish the schooner's rudder worked, and we might steer her."

The rudder was damaged and would not work.

"Say, boys, we might tow her into shallow water!" suggested Dave. "Come on, come on! Let's have some fun. And see--there's the moon!"

Yes, there was a moon rising above the eastern waters, shooting a long, tremulous arrow of light across the sea. The boys' spirits rose with the moon, and as the light strengthened, their surroundings--the harbour, the lighthouse near the bar, the sh.o.r.es on either hand--were not so indistinct.

"Not so bad," said d.i.c.k in a low tone to Dab. "There's our boat, you know. We can get into that and let this old wreck go. We can get ash.o.r.e. We will have a lot of fun out of this."

The situation was delightful, as d.i.c.k continued to paint its attractions. They could have a "lot of fun" out of the schooner, and at the same time abandon the source of it when that failed them. Dave talked differently.

"Come, boys, we must try to get the old hulk ash.o.r.e," he said. "I believe in staying by this piece of property long as we got permission to use it; but we will make the best of our situation. All hands into the boat to tow the schooner into shallow water!"

The boys responded with a happy shout, and climbed over the vessel's side, descending by the ladder that still clung to the rail.

"What have we got to tow with?" asked Jimmy Davis.

"That is a conundrum!" replied Dave. "Didn't think of that!"

"May find something on the deck," suggested d.i.c.k.

A hunt was made, but no rope could be found.

"Boys, we have got to tow with the boat's painter; it's all we have got," said Dave, in a disgusted tone. This rope was about ten feet long.

It was attached to the schooner's bow, and how those small arms did strain on the oars and strive to coax the _Relentless_ into shoal water!

"Give us a sailor's song, d.i.c.k," said Jimmy Davis.

"I will, boys, when I get my breath," replied d.i.c.k, puffing after his late efforts and wiping the sweat from his brow. "I'll start 'Reuben Ranzo.'"

The boys sang with a will, and their voices made a fine chorus.

"Reuben" had been able to coax the schooner away from her moorings, but he could not win her back.

True to her name, she obstinately drifted on.

"Don't you know anything else?" inquired Dave.

"I know 'Haul the Bow-line.'"

"Give us that, d.i.c.k."

"I'll start you on the words, boys,--

'Haul the bow-line, Kitty is my darling; Haul the bow-line, the bow-line haul.'

Sing and pull, boys."

The boys sang and the boys pulled, and there was a fierce straining on that bow-line; but no soft words about "Kitty" had any effect on the _Relentless_. It seemed as if this obdurate creature were moved by an ugly jealousy of "Kitty," and drifted on and on.

"It's of no use!" declared d.i.c.k. "I move we untie our rope and go ash.o.r.e and let the old thing go. We have done what we could to get ash.o.r.e."

He did not say that he had done what he could to get the _Relentless_ adrift, and had fully succeeded. Dave did not twit him with the fact, but he was not ready to abandon the schooner.

Some of the boys murmured regrets about their "things." They did not want to forsake these.

"Well, boys," said d.i.c.k, with a boastful air, "I'll get you out of the sc.r.a.pe somehow. We might go on deck again, and hold a council of war and talk the situation over."

Any change was welcomed, and the boys scrambled on deck again. d.i.c.k was the last of the climbing column.

"Hand that painter up here and I'll make it fast," said Dave. "Then come up and we will talk matters over."

"Oh!" said d.i.c.k, who was half-way up the ladder, "I forgot to bring that rope up."

He descended the ladder and reached out his foot to touch the boat, but he could not find it! When he had left the boat, a minute ago, he gave it unintentionally a parting kick, and--and--alas! The boat was now too far from the schooner's side to be reached by d.i.c.k's foot.

"Get something!" he gasped. "Bring a--pole--and--get that boat!"

The boys scattered in every direction to find a--they did not know what, that in some way they might reach after and capture that escaping boat.

Their excitement was intense but fruitless. There were now two vessels adrift--a schooner and a dory--serenely floating in the still but strong current, steadily moving seaward, and the moonlight that had been welcomed only revealed to them more plainly the mortifying situation of the party.

"Ridiculous!" exclaimed d.i.c.k.

Most of the boys looked very sober. Dave put his hands in his pockets and whistled.

"Well, boys, don't you worry! I'll get you out of this in good fashion yet," cried d.i.c.k. "We can't go far to sea, and then the tide will bring us back again in the morning."

"Far to sea!" said Dab mockingly. "There's the lighthouse on the left, and it looks to me as if we should hit the bar!"

The bar! The boys started. At the mouth of the river the sand brought down from the yielding sh.o.r.es would acc.u.mulate, and it formed a bar whose size and shape would annually change, but the obstacle itself never disappeared. There it stretched in the navigator's way, seriously narrowing the channel; and of how many catastrophes that "bar" had been the occasion! The breakers above were soft and white, and the sand below was yielding and crumbling; and yet just there how many vessels had been tripped up by that foot of sand thrust out into the harbour!