The next day at low water they found the worst of the leaks in the sloop, and made shift to patch them up temporarily with strips of canvas tacked on and daubed with paint, which they found in the sloop’s locker, and by recaulking some of the seams with oakum. By the next high tide, with hard pumping, she was sufficiently lightened to float clear of the reef, though still leaking badly, and they got her around to a clear, steeply shelving strip of beach, where they rested her more easily when the tide fell, and so could work on the repairs to better advantage. Another night in camp ashore, and the next day they floated the sloop off again at high tide and loaded about half of her ballast in again. “That will keep her right side up till we can get back to Southport,” said Harvey. “I think we can make it, if we carry short sail, so as not to strain her and open up those places where we have patched her. We will try it, anyway, for I have half an idea that our running off so soon after the fire may have made talk about us, and the quicker we get back and put an end to that the better.” So that afternoon they began their voyage home again, looking very serious as the mast of the yacht _Surprise_, sticking out of water, faded from their view, but swelling with pride and satisfaction as they peered in now and then at a form that lay secure on one of the cabin bunks. They sailed all that night, for the breeze held fair and light, and by daybreak of the following morning they came into the harbour of Southport. Harvey and Joe Hinman rowed ashore, soon after they came to their old moorings off the camp, to see how the land lay; but came back on the run in about twenty minutes, and made the water boil as they rowed out to the yacht. “We’re off for Mayville,” cried Harvey. “We’ll put on more sail, too, if it pulls the bottom out of her. Why, what do you think! Who’s arrested for the fire?” And he told the news, to the amazement of young Tim and George Baker and Allan Harding. “I’ve got a score to pay to Tom Harris and Bob White,” he exclaimed. “Why, they saved your life, Jack,” said young Tim. “That’s what,” said Harvey. “I owe them one for that. Here’s a chance to get square, if we can only make it in time.” “And only to think,” muttered the man in the cabin, as he looked out at the stalwart but boyish figure at the wheel, “that I had that young fellow in the same boat with me at night in the middle of Samoset Bay! Well, if I had only done as I set out to, then, I wouldn’t be here now, that’s all. But how is a man to look ahead so far?” CHAPTER XXI. THE TRIAL