take care of the helm."
"Do you mean that we're to pull down them big pieces of canvas?" Walter asked in dismay.
"If I did mean that, it couldn't be done. By carrying the halyards to one of the winches, though, we can clew them up after awhile; but it'll be kinder hard work."
Then Jim set about the task which at first sight appeared to be impossible, and, incredible though it may seem, had before dark stripped the brig of all the canvas save what he proposed to keep her under while the weather remained fair. His slight knowledge of seamanship was sufficient to show him how work should be performed, and with the winch as a very material aid the huge squares of canvas were clewed up after rather a clumsy fashion.
When this had been done Jim went to the helm, which he lashed in one position when the task of shortening sail was first begun, and soon the Bonita was sailing properly dead before the wind, but in a lazy manner, as if sulking because deprived of so many of her white wings.
"That's a good job well over," he said with a long-drawn sigh of relief. > "Now, if it blows very hard, we can soon get rid of the mainsail and jib."
"Where are we heading for?" Harry asked, the severe labor having in a certain measure dulled the grief in his heart.
"I don't know – straight across the ocean I reckon," Jim replied; and then observing that his companions had noted the look of anxiety on his face, he added in a lighter tone, "It seems kinder funny that we three boys should be sailin' this craft like as if she was our own – don't it?"
"I wish we'd never seen her nor the Sally Walker," Walter cried passionately. "Nobody knows when we can get back, and our parents will think we meant to run away!"
"Now, don't get to feelin' bad ag'in," Jim said soothingly. "It won't do any good, an' you'll be jes' so much the worse off. We've got to have supper, an' who'll be cook?"
"I'll do what I can toward it; but I don't believe I'd know how to make even so much as a cup of tea," and Harry rose to his feet.
"Jes' bring up a lot of grub from the pantry; that'll be enough. To-morrow I'll show you how to steer, an' take a turn in the galley myself."
Harry beckoned Walter to follow him; for, if the truth must be told, he felt rather nervous about going into the cabin alone. Now that they were on the open ocean, at the mercy of wind and wave, the deserted saloon seemed peopled with things none the less horrible because unseen. Every inanimate object had suddenly taken on a most sinister appearance; and the rusty sword on the floor seemed to bear witness of the tragedy which had caused a sound, well-found vessel to be abandoned in such haste.
Neither of the boys cared to look around the saloon in which the shadows of night were gathering. They walked swiftly through into the pantry, selected such articles of food as were nearest at hand, and then went on deck very quickly.
Jim had lashed the helm again and was in the maintop looking seaward in the vain hope of seeing a sail, and his apparent calmness, together with the warm breeze, the water sparkling under the rays of the setting sun, and the regular movement of the brig as she rose and fell on the swell, served to banish the fears caused by that desolate-looking cabin.
When twilight came, that time when homesickness always appears with redoubled violence, the three involuntary voyagers were eating a meal composed chiefly of delicacies, and Jim understood that his companions must be prevented from dwelling upon their own condition; therefore, as a means of cheering all hands, himself included, he proposed to spin a yarn in true sailor fashion.
From the number of so-called ghost stories which the crew of the Mary Walker were wont to relate during their leisure moments he chose the most horrible, and some time before it was concluded he understood that he had succeeded in banishing homesickness at the expense of an invitation to fear. Even he himself began to be afraid because of his own "yarn," when it was told on the deck of a vessel so mysteriously abandoned as had been the Bonita, and the sighing of the night-wind through the rigging sounded very "ghostly" in his ears.
The three boys huddled close together, neither speaking above a whisper until after the moon rose, and then matters began to seem more cheerful. Jim changed the unpleasant current of thought by speculating upon the strange sights they might see if it was possible for them to keep the brig on the same course until they made land, and by ten o'clock all hands had so far gained the mastery over fear that the young captain proposed an arrangement for the night.
"We can't stay awake all the time," he said sagely, "so s'posin' you fellers go below an' turn in. If the wind dies out much more I'll lash the wheel an' join you; but if it don't one of you will have to spell me 'long toward mornin'."
"I don't care about going below," Walter replied in a half-whisper. "Why can't we sleep out here on deck?"
"There's nothin' to prevent it; but you'll be cold before mornin' if you don't get some blankets from the cabin."
Even Harry was timid about venturing into the saloon since that particularly horrible ghost story had been told; and very likely Jim understood this fact, for he said, after a brief pause:
"If you'll hold the wheel, Walter, an' Harry will come with me, I'll get the bedclothes."
This proposition was accepted, and a few moments later a mattress and half a dozen blankets were spread out on the deck aft, the whole forming such a bed as even less tired boys would not have despised.
There was yet sufficient food remaining from the supply brought for supper to serve as a lunch in case any of the party grew hungry before daylight; therefore, as Jim said, "they were pretty well fixed for the night." The wind was decreasing each moment, and, regardless of the possibility that it might spring up again from a different quarter, the helm was lashed amidships that all hands might sleep.
"I reckon some of us will wake up if it blows hard, an' considering that we don't know where we're goin', it can't make much difference whether anybody is at the wheel or not."
The young fisherman laid down as he ceased speaking, and his companions, in blissful ignorance of the possible danger to be incurred by this unseamanlike proceeding, seeing nothing rash or strange in thus leaving the brig to care for herself, followed the example of their commander.
The bed was hardly as soft as Harry and Walter had been accustomed to sleeping on, perhaps; but it was not uncomfortable, and in a few moments all three were in dreamland.
CHAPTER IV.
A VOICE FROM THE SEA
The small crew of the Bonita were weary almost to the verge of exhaustion. Excitement and grief had fatigued them even more than the long pull in the Sally; therefore all three slept as soundly as if they had been snugly tucked-up in bed at home, and when the sun came from his bath in the sea they were yet unconscious that another day had dawned.
When Jim, who was the first to awaken, opened his eyes, he rose suddenly to a sitting posture with a misty idea that his slumbers had been disturbed by the sound of a human voice.
It was several seconds before he fully realized where he was; but the deserted deck of the brig and the Sally upturned on the main hatch soon brought back to his mind all the strange occurrences of the previous day, after which he began to speculate whether it was in a dream that he heard a low, feeble hail of "Brig ahoy!"
Harry and Walter were both asleep, consequently neither of them had spoken. Rising to his feet he gazed eagerly over the placid ocean, but without seeing the ardently-longed-for sail.
"I reckon
