weighed the anchor of
the old tub, and carried her painter to the larger craft. He had a hard
pull at the anchor of the yacht, but he got it up after a while, and
stowed it securely forward. Rushing to the helm, he hauled in the sheet,
and taking the wind on the quarter, he stood to the northward, in order
to pass around the island. The yacht worked beautifully, even without
her jib. Hauling in the sheet when she was clear of the island, he laid
her up to the wind as close as she would go. In a short time he got the
bearings of the lights, and found that he could let out his sheet a
little. The yacht seemed to fly under the fresh breeze, and Little
Bobtail watched her motions with perfect delight. After a while he
discovered the light on Negro Island, and it was all plain sailing to
him.

If the yacht went so fast with only her main-sail, what would she not
do with her jib also? The young skipper was determined to test the
question, and, lashing the helm, he hoisted her headsail. Trimming the
sail by the sheets which led aft, the yacht increased her speed, and
tossed the water over her boughs at a fearful rate; but Little Bobtail
had closed the fore scuttle, and he let it toss. It was wild excitement
to him, and he enjoyed it to the utmost. In two hours he was approaching
the Spindles off the Point, where he deemed it prudent to take in the
jib; but the wind was not so fresh in shore, and he went up the harbor
quite leisurely. He had time to think again; and a disagreeable
consideration was forced upon him, as he heard the clock of the Baptist
Church strike one.

He was in Camden harbor; he must come to anchor; and the next morning
everybody would wonder what boat the stranger was. The boatmen and
bummers about town would board her, and want to know what those boxes
contained. Little Bobtail was worried; but it was high tide, and he
anchored close up to the rocks in front of the cottage. He was not
willing to "face the music" the next day, and he was determined to get
rid of the boxes, even if he threw them overboard. Landing in the old
boat, he went up to the cottage. Ezekiel was in a drunken sleep in his
chamber. Nothing could wake him, as he knew from former experience, when
he was in this condition. He went up stairs to his own chamber. The
cottage was a one-story building, with two rooms finished in the middle
of the roof. On each side of these chambers there was a space for old
rubbish, which no one ever explore