^%.
V>7^>
<>
IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)
1.0 !r"- IIM
I.I
1.25
i4£
12.2
'- -'" I" 2.0
1.8
1-4 IIIIII.6
V]
<^
/}
VI
/a
J^ i^?
^#%^^
^
w
//A
CIHM/ICMH
Microfiche
Series.
CIHM/ICIVIH
Collection de
microfiches.
Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut canadien de microreproductions historiquds
1980
Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques
The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.
□
n
n
D
D
n
n
Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur
Covers damaged/
Couverturf endommag6e
Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaurde et/ou pelliculde
Cover title missing/
Le titre de couverture manque
Coloured maps/
Cartes gdographiques en couleur
Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)
Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur
Bound with other material/
Reli6 avec d'autres documents
Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/
La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge intdrieure
Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout^es
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6t6 film^es.
L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la mdthode normale de filmage
sont indiqu6s ci-dessous.
D
D
D
D
D
n
D
Coloured pages/
Pages de couleur
Pages damaged/
Pages endommag^es
Pages restored and/or laminated/
Pages restaurdes et/ou pellicul6es
Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages d6color6es, tachetdes ou piqu6es
Pages detached/
Pages d6tach6es
Showthrough/
Transparence
Quality of print varies/
Quality indgale de I'impression
Includes supplementary material/
Comprend du materiel supplementaire
1
s
1
V
l\
d
e
b
ri
r(
n
I I Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible
Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont 6t6 film6es d nouveau de fagon d
obtenir la meilleure image possible.
D
Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppl6mentaires;
m
This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checkeJ below/
Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction inidiqui < t-dessous.
10X
14X
18X
22X
26X
30X
/
12X
16X
20X
24X
28X
32X
ails
du
idifier
une
lage
The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:
Saint John Regional Library
The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.
Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.
The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol —^(meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.
Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:
L'exemplaire filmd fut reproduit grace d la
g^n6rosit6 de:
Saint John Regional Library
Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et
de la nettet^ de l'exemplaire film§, et en
conformit6 avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.
Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprimde sont film6s en commenpant
par le premier plat at en terminant soit par la
dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'imprassion ou d'illustration, scit par le second
plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont filmds en commenpant par la
premidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.
Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la
dernidre image de chaque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symboie -^ signifie 'A SUIVRE ", le
symbole V signifie "FIN".
Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent §tre
film^s d des taux de reduction difl§rents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre
reproduit en un seul clichd, il est filmd d partir
de Tangle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche d droite,
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la m^thode.
'rata
o
)elure.
Id
3
32X
1
2
3
1
2
3
4
S
6
r\
ff^f
■.'^r?^^
A - '"'
LOST LN
fiy
BT
0^
c
JAMES DE MILLE.
AUTHOR OF "THK B. O. W. O.," " TllK BOYS
SCHOOL," KTC.
OF GRAND Pr4
y.
■I.
h
U.
Q
ILILVSTRATED.
I30ST0N :
LEE AND SIIEPATJ7). PUBLISHERS,
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870,
Bv LEE AND SIIEPARD,
In the Oftice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washing,
on-
t
t
CONTENTS.
I.
PAGE
Old Acquaintances gather around old Scenes.- Antelope
akoyl-Uou, are you, Solomon? - Roundabout Plan
of a roundabout Voyage. _ ne Doaor u,arns, rebukes
and remonstrates, but, alas / in ,ain. - /, „,„,, ,, ^„„;
- J^'^a'm.ngof a kiyhlyevcnt/ul Voyage. . . . „
11.
rirstSig,t of a Place destined to be better kno.n. - A Fog
Mill. - Navigation without Wind. - Fishing. ~ Board,
^ng. ~ Under Arrest. - Captain Corbet defiant. - The
^«'«« OJicials frowned down. - Corbet triun.phant. . n
III.
Solon^on surpasses Mu,seV. - A i'eriod of Joy ,, ,,„„.„„,
followed by a Time of Sorrow. - aioon.y Forebodings.
- r,u Legend of Petticoat Jack. - Captain Corbet dis-
courses of the JJaugers of the Beep, andputs in Practice
"<"« and original Mode of Navigation. ... 44
. ,11*1 i.iwii|iwj«;i>i!!nn,
6 CONTENTS.
IV.
In Clouds and Darkness. — A terrible Warning. — Nearly
run down. — A lively Place. — Bart encounters an old
Acquaintance. — Launched into the Deep. — Through
the Country. — The swift Tide. — The lost Boy. . . 58
V.
A Cry of Horror. — What shall we do ? — Hard and fast.
— Bart and Bruce. — Gloomy Intelligence. — The Prom-
ontory. — The Bore of the Peiitcodiac. — A Night of
Misery. — A mournful Waking. — Taking Counsel. . 73
VI.
Tom adrift. — The receding Shores. — The Paddle. — The
Roar of Surf. — The Fog Horn. — The Thunder of the
unseen Breakers. — A Horror of great Darkness. —
Adrift in Fog and Night 88
VII.
Lost in the Fog. — The Shoal and its Rocks. — Is it a Reef?
— The Truth. — Hoisting Sail. — A forlorn Hope. —
Wild Steering. — Where am I ? — Land, ho ! . . . 101
VIII.
Off in Search. — Eager Outlook. — Nothing but Fog, —
Speaking a Schooner. — Pleasant Anecdotes. — Cheer up.
— The Heart of Corbet. 115
CONTENTS.
IX.
Awake once more Where are we ? — The giant Cliff. —
Out to Sea. — Anchoring and Drifting. — The Harbor.
— The Search. — No Answer. — Where's Solomon * . 129
X.
Torn ashore. — Storm at Night. — Up in the Morning. —
The Cliffs and the Beach. — A startling Discovery. — A
desert Island. — A desperate Effort. — Afloat again. . 144
XI.
Afloat again. — The rushing Water. — Down to the Bot-
tom. —Desperate Circumstances. —Can they he remedied ?
— New Hopes and Plans. 258
XII.
Waiting for high Water. — A Trial. — A new Discovery.
— Total Failure. — Down again. — Overboard. — A
Struggle for Life Uj
XIII.
Where's Solomon? — An anxious Search. — The Beach. —
The cavernous Cliffs, — Up the Precipice. — Along the
Shore. — Back for Boats 184
xiy.
Back again. — Calls and Cries. — Captain Corbet's Yell. —
A significant Sign. — The old llat. — The return Cry.
— The Boat rounds the Point. ..... 197
^^
8
CONTENTS.
XV.
Exploring Juan Fernandez. — The Cliffs. — The tangled
Underbrush. — The Fog Bank. — Is it coming or going ?
— The Steamer. — Vain Appeals. — New Flans. . .211
XVI.
A Sign for the outer World. — A Shelter for the Outcast's
Head. — Tom's Camp and Camp-bed. — A Search after
Something to vary a too monotonous Diet. — Brilliant
Success. 224
XVII.
Solomon's solemn Tale. — A costly Lobster. — Off again. —
Steam Whistles of all Sizes. — A noisy Harbor. — Ar-
rival Home. — No News 237
XVIII.
Dow.v the Bay. — Drifting and Anchoring. — In the Dark,
morally and physically. — Eastport, the jumping-off
Place. — Grand Manan. — Wonderful Skill. — Navigat-
ing in the Fog. — A Plunge from Darkness into Light,
and from Light into Darkness. 250
XIX.
Tom's Devijes. — Rising superior to Circumstances. —
Roast Clams. — Baked Lobster. — Boiled' Mussels. —
Boiled Shrimps. — Roast Eggs. — Dandelions. — Ditto,
with Eggs. — Roast Dulse. — Strawberries. — Pilot-
bread. — Strawberry Cordial. 264
CONTENTS.
9
XX.
New Discoveries. - The Boat. ~ A great Swell. ~ Medita-
tions and Plans. - A new, and wonderful, and before
unheard-of Application of Spruce Gum. - Pm afloat !
I'm afloat !
. 277
XXI.
ScotVs Bay and Old Bennie. - His two Theories. - Off to
the desert Island. - Landing. _ A Picnic Ground. _
Gloom and Despair of the Explorers. - All over. - Sud-
den Summons.
200
XXII.
.istounding Discovery. - The whole Party of Explorers
overwhelmed. - Meeting with the Lost - Captain Corbet
improves the Occasion. ~ Conclusion 304
•■■■f
'\-i
L
1
f
w
LOST IN THE FOG.
■■'. ''si
1-3
^
«i^.
3>«C
I.
Old Acquaintances gather around old Scenes. — An-
telope, ahoy ! — Jfoiu are you, Solomon ? — Hound-
ahout Plan of a round about Voyage. — IVie
Doctor ivarns, rebukes, and remonstrates, but, alas !
in vain. — It must be done. — Beginning of a
highly eventful Voyage,
5PT was a beautiful morning, in the month of
J* '^^^b'j ^^''icn a crowd of boys assembled on tlio
wharf of Grand Pre. Tlie tide was high, tlie
turbid waters of Mud Creek flowed around, a
fresh breeze blew, and if any craft was going to
Hca she could not have found a better time. The
crowd consisted chiefly of boys, though a few men
were mingled with them. ' These boys were from
Grand Pre School, and are all old acquaintances.
There was the stalwart frame of Bruce, the Roman
(11)
12
LOST IN THE B'OG.
face of Arthur, tlie bright eyes of Bart, the slender
frame of Pliil, and the earnest glance of Tom.
There, too, was Pat's merry smile, and the stolid
look of Bogud, and the meditative solenniity of
Jiggins, not to speak of others whose names need
not be mentioned. Amid the crowd the face of
Ci4)taiii Corbet v/as conspicuous, and the dark vis-
age of Solomon, while that of the mate was distin-
guishable in the distance. To all these the good
schooner Antelope formed the centre of attraction,
and also of action. It was on board of her that
the chief bustle took place, and towards her that
all eves were turned.
The good schooner Antelope had made several
voyages during the past few months, and now pi'c-
sented herself to the eye of the spectator not much
changed from her former self. A fine fresh coat
of coal tar had but recently ornaiuented her fair
exterior, while a coat of whitewash inside the hold
had done nuicli to <\y\\o away the odor of the fra-
grant potato. Rigging and sails had been repaired
as well as circumstances would permit, and in the
opinion of her gallant captain she was eminently
seawortliy.
On the present occasion things bore the appear-
ance of a voyage. Trunks were passed on board
and put below, together with coats, cloaks, bedding,
and baskets of provisions. Tiie deck was strewn
about with the nudtifarious reipiisites of a ship's
comjiany. The Antelope, at that time, seemed in
t
m.
J
\V
ANTELOPE, ahoy!
13
the
n cr
WU
ip's
in
part an emigrant vessel, with a dash of the yacht
and tlie coasting schooner.
In the midst of all this, two gentlemen worked
their way through the crowd to the edge of the
wliarf.
" Well, boys," said one, '^ well, captain, what's
the moaning of all this ? "
Captain Corbet started at this, and looked np
irom a desperate ellbrt to secure the end of one of
the sails.
" Why, Dr. Porter ! " said ho ; " why, doctor 1
— liow d'ye do ? — and Mr. Long, too ! — why,
railly ! "
The boys also stopped their work, and looked
towards their teachers with a little uneasiness.
"What's all this?" said Dr. Porter, looking
around with a smile ; " are you getting up another
expedition ? "
" Wal, no," said Captain Corbet, " not 'xactly ;
fact is, we're kine o' goin to take a vyge deoun the
bay."
'' Down the bay ? "
" Yea. You see the boys kino o' want to go
home by water, rayther than l)y land."
" By water I Home by water ! " repeated Mr.
Long, doubtfully.
" Yes," said Captain Corbet ; " an bein as the
schewner was in good repair, an corked, an coal-
tarred, an whitewashed up fust rate, T kine o^
thought it would redound to our mootooil benefit
"^T-
14
LOST IN THE FOG.
if WG went off on sich a excursion, — bein pleas-
antcr, cheaper, conifortabler, an every way prefer-
able to a land tower."
'' Hem," said Dr. Porter, looking uneasily about.
'' T don't altogether like it. Boys, what does it
all mean ? "
Thus appealed to, Bart became spokesman for
the boys.
" Why, sir," said he, " wo tlionght we'd like to
go home by water — that's all."
" Go home by water ! " repeated the doctor once
more, with a curious smile.
" Yes, sir."
" What? by the Bay of Fundy ? "
" Yes, sir."
"Who are going ? "
'' Well, sir, there are only a few of ua. Bruce,
and Arthur, and Tom, and Phil, and Pat, besides
myself."
" Bruce and Arthur ? " said the doctor ; " are
they going homo by the Bay of Fundy ? "
" Yes, sir," said Bart, with a smile.
'' T don't see how they can got to the Gulf of St.
Lawrence and Prince Edward's Island from the
Bay of Fundy," said tlie doi^tor, '' witliout going
round Nova Scotia, and that will be a journey of
many hundred miles."
" O, no, sir," said Bruce ; " we are going first to
Moncton."
"0, is that the idea?"
A ROUNDABOUT VOYA(JE.
Ifj
ICS
it
" Yes, sir."
" And where will you go from Monctoii ? "
" To Shediac, a.nd then home."
" And are you going to Newfoundland by that
route, Tom ? " asked the doctor.
" Yes, sir," said Tom, gravely.
" From Shediac ? "
" Yes, sir."
" I never knew before that there were vessels
going from Shediac to Newfoundland."
'* 0, I'm going to Prince Edward's Island first,
sir, with Bruce and Arthur," said Tom. " I'll find
my way home from there."
The doctor smiled.
" I'm afraid you'll find it a long journey before
you reach home. Won't your friends be anx-
ious ? "
" 0, no, sir. I wrote that I wanted to visit Bruce
and Arthur, and they gave me leave."
" And you, Phil, are you going home by the
Antelope ? "
" Yes, sir."
" You are going exactly in a straight line away
from it."
"Am I, sir?"
'^ Of course you are. This isn't the way to
Cliester."
" Well, sir, you see I'm going to visit Bart at
St. John."
" 0, 1 understand. And that is your plan, then ? "
16
LOST IN THE POG.
ii
OS, sir,
V
, ^.., said Bart. *' Pat is going too."
" Where are you going first ? "
" First, sir, we will sail to the Petitcodiac River,
and go up io as far as Moncton, where Bruce, and
Arthur, and Tom will leave us."
" And then ? "
" Then we will go to St. John, where Phil, and
Pat, and I will leave her. Solomon, too, will leave
her there."
" Solomon ! " cried the doctor. " What ! Solo-
mon ! Is Solomon going ? Why, what can I do
without Solomon ? Here ! — Hallo ! — Solomon !
What in the world's the meaning of all this ? "
Thus summoned, Solomon came forth from the
cabin, into w^hich he had dived at the first appear-
ance of the doctor. His eyes were downcast, his
face was demure, his attitude and manner were
a,bject.
" Solomon," said the doctor, " what's this I hear?
Are you going to St. John ? "
" Ony temp'ly, sah — jist a leetle visit, sah," said
Solomon, very humbly, stealing looks at the boys
from his downcast eyes.
" But what makes you go off this way without
asking, or letting me know ? "
" Did I, sah ? " said Solomon, rolling his eyes up
as though horrified at his own wickedness ; " the
sakes now ! Declar, T clean forgot it."
" What are you going away for?"
" Why, sail, fur de good ob my helf. Docta vises
.K-
HOW ARE YOU, SOLOMON?
17
said
boys
Lhout
;s up
l«the
visea
sea vyge ; sides, 1 got Irens in St. John, an busi-
ness dar, what muss be tended to."
" Well, well," said the doctor, " I suppose if you
want to go you'll find reasons enough ; but at the
same time you ouglit to have let me knowii before."
" Darsn't, sah," said Solomon. ^
'' Why not ? "
" Fraid you'd not let me go," said Solomon, with
a broad grin, that instantly was suppressed by a
demure cough.
" Nonsense," said the doctor ; and then turning
awiiy, he spoke a few words apart with Mr. Long.
'' Well, boys," said the doctor, at last, " this pro-
ject of yours doesn't seem to me to be altogether
safe, and I don't like to trust you in this way with-
out anybody as a responsible guardian."
Bart smiled.
'' O, sir," said he, " you need not be at all uneasy.
All of us are accustomed to take care of ourselves ;
and besides, if you wanted a responsible guardian
for us, what better one could bo found than Cap-
tain Corbet ? "
Tiie docte)r and Mr. Long both shook their heads.
Kvidontly neither of them attached any great im-
[lortance to Captain Corbet's guardianship.
" Did you tell your father how you were going?"
asked the doctor, after a few further words with
Mr. Long.
" 0, yes, sir ; and he told me I might go. What's
niore, he promised to charter a schooner for me to
4
X.
/
•^J
18
V
OST IN THE FOG.
V qrp^He ,ii%iiit with Phil and Pat after I arrived
"IranTe?''
" And we got permission, too/' said Bruce.
" Indeed ! " said tlie doctor. " That clianges the
appearance of things. I was ai'raid tliat it was a
wliim of your own. And now, one thing more, —
how are you off for provisions ? "
'^ Wal, sir," said Captain Corbet, " Pvo made my
calculations, an I think Pve got enough. What I
might fail in, the boys and Solomon have made up."
" ITow is it, Solomon ? " asked the doctor.
Solomon grinned.
" You sleep in the hold, I see," continued the
doctor,
" Yes, sir," said Bruce. " It's whitewashed, and
quite sweet now. We'll only be on board two or
three days at the farthest, and so it really doesn't
much matter how we go."
" Well, boys, I have no more to say ; only take
care of yoursalves."
With these words the doctor and Mr. Long bade
them good by, and then walked away.
The other boys, however, stood on the wharf,
waiting to see the vessel off. They themselves
were all going to start for home in a few minutes,
and were only waiting for the departure of the
Antelope.
This could not now be long delayed. The tide
was high. The wind fresh and fair. The luggage,
and provisions, and stores were all on board. Cap-
W'
\ ^^
BEOTNNTXG OF THE VOYAGE.
19
larf,
Ives
ites,
ithe
tide
ige,
taiii Corbet was at the helm. All was ready. At
length the word was given, the lines were cast off,
and the Antelope moved slowly round, and left the
wharf amid the cheers of the bovs. Farther and
farther it moved away, then down the tortuous
chiuniel of Mud Creek, until at last the broad ex-
piinse of Minas Basin received them.
For this voyage the prepai-ations had been com-
plete. It had first been thought of several weeks
before, and then the plan and the details had been
slowly elaborated. Tt was thought to be an excel-
lent idea, and one which was in every respect
worthy of the " B. 0. W. C." Captain Corbet em-
braced the proposal with enthusiasm. Letters home,
requesting permission, received favorable answers.
Solomon at first resisted, but finally, on being
solemnly appealed to as Grand Panjandrum, ho
found himself unable to withstand, and thus every-
thing was gradually prei)ared. Other details were
satisfactoril}" arranged, though not without much
serious and earnest debate. The question of cos-
tume received very careful attention, and it was
decided to adopt and wear the weather-beaten
uniforms that had done service amidst mud and
water on a former occasion. Solomon's presence
was folt to be a security against any menacing
famine ; and that assurance was made d(uibly sure
by the presence of a cooking stove, which Captain
Corbet, mindful of former hardships, had thought-
lully procured and set up in the hold. Finally, it
■""*
20
LOST IN THE FOG.
was decided that tlie flag which liad formerly
flaunted the breeze should again wave over them ;
and so it was, that as the Antelope moved through
Mud Creek, like a thing of life, the black flag of
the " B. 0. W. C." floated on high, witli its blazonry
of a skull, which now, worn by time, looked more
than ever like the face of some mild, venerable,
and ])aternal monitor.
Some time was taken up in arranging the hold.
Considerable confusion was manifest in that impor-
tant locality. Tin pans were intermingled with
bedding, provisions with wearing apparel, books
with knives and forks, while amid the scene the
cooking stove towered aloft prominent. To tell
the truth, the scene was rather free and easy than
elegant ; nor could an unprejudiced observer have
called it altogether comfortable. In fact, to one
who looked at it with a philosophic mind, an air of
scpialor might possibly have been detected. Yet
what of that? The philosophic mind just alluded
to would have overlooked the squalor, and regarded
rather the health, the buoyant animal spirits, and
the determined habit of enjoyment, which all tlie
ship's company evinced, without exception. The
first thing which they did in the way of prepara-
tion for the voyage was to doff the garments of
civilized life, and to don the costume of the " B. 0.
W. C." Those red shirts, decorated with a huge
white cross on the back, had been washed and
mended, and completely reconstructed, so that the
1
ARRANCJEMKNTS ON BOARD.
it
rents and patclies wliiclj were liero and tliorc visi-
ble on their fair exteriors, served as mementos of
former exploits, and ealled up associations of the
past witliout at all deteriorating frcjm the striking
ed'ect of the present. Glengary bonnets adorned
their heads, and served to complete the costume.
The labor of dressing was followed by a hurried
arrangement of the trunks and bedding; after
which tiiey all emerged from the hold, and ascend-
ing to the deck, looked around ui)()n the scene.
Above, the sky was blue and cloudless, and be-
tween them and the blue sky floated the flag, from
whose folds the face looked benignantly down.
The tide was now on the ebb, and as the wind was
fair, both wind and tide united to bear them rapidly
onward. Before them was Blomidon, while all
around was the circling sweep of the shores of
Minas Bay. A better day for a start could not
have been found, and everything promised a rapid
and pleasant run.
" I must say," remarked Captain Corbet, who had
for some time been standing buried in his own
meditations at the helm, — "I must say, boys, that I
don't altogether regret bein once more on the briny
deep. There was a time," he contiiuied, medita-
tively, " when I kinc o' anticipated givin up this
here occypation, an stayin to hum a nourishin of
the infant. But man proposes, an woman disposes,
as the sayin is, — an y^u see what Pm druv to.
It's a great thing for a man to have a companion
90
LOST IN THE FOG.
of sperrit, same as I have, that keeps a drivin an
a drivin at him, and makes liim be up an doin. An
now, I declar, if I ain't gittin to be a confiiiiied
wanderer agin, same as I was in tlie days of my
halcyon an sliinin youtli. Besides, 1 have a kine o'
feelin as if I'd be a contincwin this here the rest
of all my born days."
" 1 hope you won't feel homesick," remarked
Bart, sympathetically.
" Homesick," repeated the captain. " Wal, you
see thar's a good deal to be said about it. In my
hum thar's a attraction, but thar's also a repulsion.
The infant drors me hum, the wife of my buzzwm
drives me away, an so thar it is, an I've got to
knock under to the strongest power. An that's
the identical individool thing that makes the aged
Corbet a foogitive an a vagabond on the face of
the mighty deep. Still I have my consolations."
The captain paused for a few Inoments, and then
resumed.
" Yes," he continued, " I have my consolations.
Surroundins like these here air a consolation. I
like j'^our young faces, an gay an airy ways, boys.
I like to see you enjoy life. So, go in. Pitch in.
Go ahead. Sing. Shout. Go on like mad. Carry
on like all possessed, an you'll find the aged Corbet
smilin amid the din, an a flutterin of his venerable
locks triumphant amid the ragin an riotin ele-
ments."
" It's a comfort to know that, at any rate," said
I
REFLECTIOiNS OF CAPTAIN COUBET.
23
Tom. '' We'll give yon enough of that before we
leave, especially as we know it don't annoy you."
'' I don't know how it is," said the captain, sol-
emnly, " but I begin to feel a sort of somethin
towards you youngsters that's very absorbin. It's
a kine o' anxious fondness, witli a mixtoor of indul-
g(uit tenderness. How ever I got to contract sech
a feolin beats me. I s'pose it's boin deprived of
my babby, an exiled from home, an so my vacant
buzzom craves to be filled. I've got a dreadful
talent for doin the pariential, an what's more, not
only for doin the pariential, but for feelin of it. So
you boys, ef ever you see me a doin of the pariential
towards youns, please remember that when I act
like an anxious an too indulgent parient towards
youns, it's because I feel like one."
For some hours the}^ traversed the waters, carried
swiftly on by the united forces of the wind and tide.
At last they found ^emselves close by Blomidon,
and under his mighty shadow they sailed for some
time. Then they doubled the cape, and there, be-
fore them, lay a long channel — the Straits of Mi-
nas, through which the waters pour at every ebb
and flood. Their course now lay through this to
the Bay of Fundy outside ; and as it was within
two hours of the low tide, the current ran swiftly,
hurrying them rapidly i)ast the land. Here the
scene was grand and impressive in the extreme.
On one side arose a lofty, precipitous cliff, which
extended for miles, its sides scarred and tempest-
'■!•
24
LOST IN THE FOG.
torn, its crest fringed with trees, tuwering over-
head many Imndreds of feet, black, and menacing,
and formidable. At its base was a steep beach,
disclosed by the retreating tide, which had been
formed by the accumulated masses of rock that had
fallen in past ages from the cliffs above. These now,
from the margin of the water up to high-water
mark, were covered with a vast growth of sea-weed,
which luxuriated here, and ran parallel to the line of
vegetation on the summit of the clilf. On the oth-
er side of the strait the scene was different. Here
the shores were more varied ; in one place, rising
high on steep precipices, in others, thrusting forth
black, rocky promontories into the deep channel ;
in others again, retreating far back, and forming
bays, round whose sloping shores appeared places
fit for human habitation, and in whose still waters
the storm-tossed bark might find a secure haven.
As they drifted on, borne along by the impetu-
ous tide, the shores on either side changed, and new
vistas opened before them. At last they reached
the termination of the strait, the outer portal of
this long avenue, which here was marked by the
mighty hand of Nature in conspicuous characters.
For here was the termination of that long extent
of precipitous cliff which forms the outline of
Blomidon ; and this termination, abrupt, and stern,
and black, shows, in a concentrated form, the pow-
er of wind and wave. The cliff ends abrupt, bro-
ken off short, and beyond this arise from the water
I
K'lf
■*•»>«
PROGRESS OF THE VOYA(JE.
or:
several giant fVagUionts of rook, the first of vvliicii,
shaped like an irregular pyramid, rivals the elifl*
itself in height, and is siirroiuided by other rocky
fragments, all of which form a colossal group, whoso
aggregated effect never fails to overawe the mind
of the spectator. Such is Cape Split, the terminus
of Cape Blomidon, on the side of the Bay of Fundy.
Over its shaggy summits now fluttered hundreds
of sea-gulls; round its black base the waves foamed
and thundered, while the swift tide poured be-
tween the niterstices of the rugged rocks.
" Behind that thar rock," said Captain Corbet,
pointing to Cape Split, ^' is a place they call Scott's
Bay. Perhaps some of you have heard tell of it."
" I have a faint recollection of such a place," said
Bart. " Scott's Bay, do you call it ? Yes, that must
be the place that I've heard of; and is it behind this
cape ? "
" It's a bay that runs up thar," said the captain.
" We'll see it soon arter we get further down. It's
a fishin and ship-buildin place. They catch a dread-
ful lot of shad thar sometimes."
Swiftly the Antelope passed on, hurried on by
the tide, and no longer feeling much of the wind ;
swiftly she passed by the cliffs, and by the cape,
and onward by the sloping shores, till at length the
broad bosom of the Bay of Fundy extended before
their eyes. Here the wind ceased altogether, the
water was smooth and calm, but the tide still swept
them along, and the shores on each side receded.
• 3»
26
LOST IN THE FOG.
until fit length they were fairly in the bay. Here,
on one side, the co.ast of Nova Scotia spread away,
until it faded from view in the distance, wliile on
tlie otlicr side the coast of New Brunswick extend-
ed. Between the schooner and this latter coast
a long cape projected, while immediately in front
arose a lofty island of rock, whose summit was
crowned wnth trees.
" What island is that? " asked Tom.
'' That," said Captain Cor])et, " is Isle o' Holt."
'^ I think I've heard it called He Haute," said
Bart.
*' All the same," said Captain Corbet, " ony I be-
lieve it was named after the man that diskivered it
lust, an his name was Holt."
'' But it's a French name," said Tom ; " Ho Hauto
means high island."
" Wal, mebbe he was a Frenchman," said Cap-
tain Corbet. '•' I won't argufy — I dare sa}^ he was.
Tliere us^jd to be a heap o' Frenchmen about these
parts, afore we got red of 'em."
" It's a black, gloomy, dismal, and wretched-look-
ing place," said Tom, after some minutes of silent
survey.
f
li^
VIEW OF ILE HAUTE.
27
II.
Flrfit Slijlit of a Place destined to be tictter known. —
A Foij Mill. — Navigation icilhoid Wind. — Finh-
i)i(j. — Boarding. — Under AiireM. — Ca2)tain
Cor/jet dejiant. — The Revemce OJicials frowned
down. — Corbet triuniphant.
lii
TIE Antelope had left the wharf at ahout
seven in the morning. It was now one
o'clock. For the last tv j or three hours
there had been but little wind, and it was the tide
which had carried her along. Drifting on in this way,
they had come to within a mile of He Haute, and
had an opportunity t)f inspecting the place which
Tom had declared to be so gloomy. In truth, Tom's
judgment was not undeserved. He Haute arose
like a solid, unbroken rock out of the deep waters
of the Bay of Fundy, its sides precipitous, and
scarred by tempest, and shattered by frost. On
its summit were trees, at its base lay masses of
rock that had fallen. The low tide disclosed here,
as at the base of Blomidon, a vast growth of blacjk
Hoa-woed, which covered }dl that rocky shore. The
upper end of the island, which was nearest them,
uaES.i
28
LOST IN THE FOG.
was lower, liowevcr, Jiiid went duwii slupiug to tlio
shore, tunning- a place wliero a landing could easily
be ellected. From this shore mud Hats extended
into the water.
" This end looks as though it had been cleared,"
said Bart.
" 1 believe it was," said tlie captain.
^' Does anybody live here ? "
'' No."
" Did any one ever live here?"
" Yes, once, some one tried it, I believe, but gave
it up."
" Does it belong to anybody, or is it public prop-
erty ? "
"• 0, I dare say it belongs to somebody, if you
could only get him to claim it."
*• I say, captain," said Bruce, '' how much longer
are we going to drift? "
" 0, not much longer. Tiie tide's about on the
turn, and we'll liave a leetle change."
'' What! will we drift l)ack again?"
" 0, I sliouldn't wonder if we had a leetle wind
afore long."
" But if we don't, will we drift back again into
the Basin of Minas ? "
'^ 0, dear, no. Wo can anchor hereabouts some-
wliar."
" You won't anclior by this island, — will you?"
" (), dear, no. We'll have a leetle driftin first."
As thc! ca[)tain spoke, he looked earnestly out
upon the water.
'^■■f
t
I
■I
SAILING ALONG SHORE.
29
lO
y
(i
jj
•' Thar slic comes," ho cried at last, pointing
over the water. The boys looked, and saw the
surface of the bay all rippled over. They knew
the signs of wind, and waited for the result. Soon
a faint pulT came up the hay, which filled the lan-
guid sails, and another pulF came up more strongly,
and yet another, until at lengtli a moderate breeze
was blowing. The tide no longer dragged them
on. It was on the turn; and as the vessel caught
the wind, it yielded to the impetus, and moved
througli the v/ater, heading am'oss the bay towai'ds
the New IJrunswick shore, in such a line as to pass
near to that cape which has already been spoken of.
" If the wind holds out,'' said Ca])tain Corbet,
" so as to carry ns past Cape d'Or, we can drift up
with this tide."
" Where's Cape d'Or?"
" That there," said Captain Corbet, pointing to
the long cape which stretched between them and
the New Hrunswick shore. " An if it goes down, an
wo can't get by the cape, we'll be able, at any rate,
to drop anchor there, an hold on till the next tide."
The returning tide, and the fresh l)reeze that
blow now, bore them onward rapidly, and they
soon npproached Cape d'Or. They saw that it
t(>rminat(Ml in a rocky clift', with rocky edges jut-
ting forth, and that all the country adjoining was
wild and rugged. But the wiiK^ ving done this
nuich for thoin, now Ix^gan to so. :.ired of favor-
ing them, and once more f(3il dff.
I i
30 LOST IN THE FOC.
"I clon't like tliis," said Captain Corbet, looking j|
around. |
" What ? " ^
" All this here," said he, pointing to the shore. ,* f
rt was about a mile away, and the schooner,
l>()rne along now by the tide, was slowly drifting
on to an unpleasant proximity to the rcx^ky shore.
" I guess we've got to anchor," sai^l Captain
Corbet; " there's no help for it,"
"To anchor?" said Bruce, in a tone of disap-
pointment.
" Yes, anchor ; we've got to do it," repeated
the captain, in a decided tone. T'le boys saw that
there was no help for it, for the vessel was every
moment drawing in closer to the rocks ; and though
it would not have been very dangerous for her to
run ashore in that calm water, yet it would not
have been pleasant. So tliey suppressed their dis-
appointment, and in a few minutes the anchor was
down, and the schocmer's progress was stopped.
" Thar's one secret," said the captain, " of navi-
gatin in these here waters, an that is, to use your
anchor. My last anchor T used for nigh on thirty
year, till it got cracked. 1 mayn't be much on
land, but put mo anywhars on old Fundy, an I'm
to hum. 1 know every current on these here wa-
ters, an can foller my nose through the thickest fog
that thoy ever ground out at old Manan."
■rt,j» "What's that?" asked P>art. ^' What did you
siiy about grinding out fog? "
t»-
A POG MILL.
31
I
" 0, notliin, ony tliar's an island down the bay,
you know, called Grand Manan, an seafarin men
say that they've got a fog mill down thar, whar
they grind out all the fog for the Bay of Fundy.
I can't say as ever I've seen that thar mill, but I've
alius found the fog so mighty thick down thar that
1 think thar's a good deal in the story."
" I suppose we'll lose this tide," said Phil.
'' Yes, Pm afeard so," said the captain, looking
around over the water. " This here wind ain't
much, any way ; you never can reckon on winds in
this bay. 1 don't care much about them. Pd a
most just as soon go about the bay without sails
as with them. What I brag on is the tides, an a
jodgmatical use of the anchor."
" You're not in earnest?"
" Course I am."
" Could you get to St. John from Grand Pr^
without sails?"
" Course I could."
" I don't see how you could manage to do it."
" Do it? Easy enough," said the captain. '' You
see Pd leave with the ebb tide, and get out into
the bay. Then Pd anchor an wait till the next ebb,
an so on. Bless your hearts, Pve often done it."
'' But you couldn't get across the bay by drift-
ing."
"Course I could. Pd work my way by short
drifts over as far as this, an thou Pd gradually
move along till I kine o' canted over to the Now
^0
LOST IN THE FOO.
Brunswick shore. It takes time to do it, course
it docs ; but what 1 mean to say is this — it can
be done."
" Well, I wouldn't like to be on board while you
were trying to do it."
" Mebbc npt. I ain't invitin you to do it, either.
All I was sayin is, it can be done. Sails air very
good in their way, course they air, an who's ob-
jectin to 'em ? I'm only sayin that in this hero
bay thar's things that's more important than sails,
by a hmg chalk — such as tides, an anchors in par-
ticular. Give me them thar, an I don't care a
hooter what wind thar is."
Lying thus at anchor, under the hot sun, was
soon found to be rather dull, and the boys sought
In vain for some way of passing the time. Differ-
ent amusements were invented for the occasion.
The first amusement consisted in paper boats, with
which they ran races, and the drift of these frail
vessels over the water affbrded some excitement.
1'hon they made wooden boats with huge paper
sails. In tliis last Bart showed a superiority to
the others; for, by means of a piece of iron hoop,
which he inserted as a keel, he produced a boat
which was able to cany an immense press of sail,
and in the faint and scarce perceptible breeze,
easily distanced the others. This accomplishment
Bart owed to his training in a seaport town.
At length one of them proposed that they should
try to catch fish. Captain Corbet, in answer to
I
tS-r
i
FISHING.
33
"I
'
'
their eager inquiries, informed them that there
were fish everywhere about the bay ; on learning
which they became eager to try their skill. Some
herring w^ere on board, forming part of the stores,
and these were taken for bait. Among the miscel-
laneous contents of the cabin a few hooks were
found, which were somewhat rusty, it Is true, yet
still good enough for the purpose before them.
Lines, of course, were easily procured, and soon a
half dozen baited hooks were down in the water,
while a half dozen boys, eager with suspense,
watched the surface of the water.
For a half hour they held their lines suspended
without any result ; but at the end of that time, a
cry from Phil roused them, and on looking round
they saw him clinging with all his might to his
line, which was tugged at tightly by something in
the water. Bruce ran to help him, and soon their
united efforts succeeded in landing on the deck of
the vessel a codfish of very respectable size. The
sight of this was g''eeted with cheers by the others,
and served to stimulate them to their work.
After this others were caught, and before half
an hour more some twenty codfish, of various sizes,
lay about the deck, as trophies of their piscatory
skill. They were now more excited than ever, and
all had their hooks in the water, and were waiting
eagerly for a bite, when an exolamrttion from Cap-
tain Corbet roused them.
On turning their heads, and looking in the direc-
:-v
34
LOST IN THE FOG.
tion where he was pointing, they saw a steamboat
approaching them. It was coming from the iiead
of tiie bay on tlio No\v Brunswick side, and had
iiitherto been concealed by the projecting cape.
'' Whiit's tliat? '' said Bart. " Is it the St. J(yhn
steamer ? ''
" No, .siV," said tlie captain. Slic's a man-o'-war
steamer — the revcnoo cutter, I do believe."
'' flow d(^ you know?"
" Why, by her shape."
" She seems to be coming this way."
" Yes, bound to Minas Bay, I s'pose. Wal,
wal, wal! strange too, — how singoolarly calm an
onti3n-ified I feel in'ardly. Why, boys, I've seen the
time when the sight of a approachin revenoo ves-
sel would make me shiver an shake from stem to
starn. I>ut now how changed ! Such, my friends,
is the mootability of human life!"
The boys looked at the steamer for a few mo-
ments, but at length went back to their fishing.
The ap[)roaching steamer had nothing in it to ex-
cite curiosity : such an object was too familiar to
withdraw their tliouii'hts from tiie excitement of
their lines and hooks, and the hope which each
had of sur})assing the other in the number of catch-
es animated tluMu to new trials. So they soon for-
got all about the iip[)roaching steamer.
But Captain Corbet liad nothing else to do, and
so, whether it was on account of his lack of employ-
ment, or because of the sake of old associations,
'it
'I
HBffi .|i»w*TO«n»p5i^ww
A (3UN FTRED.
35
i
•t^-
->
lie kept his eyes fixed on- the steamer. Time
passed on, and in the space of anotlior lialf hour
slie liad drawn very near to the Antelope.
Suddenly Captain Corbet slapped his hand n.gainst
his thigh.
" Declar, if they ain't a goin to overhaul us ! " he
cried.
At this the boys all turned again to look at the
steamer.
" Declar, if that fellow in the gold hat ain't a
squintin at us through his spy-glass ! " cried the
captain.
As the boys looked, they saw that the Antelope
had become an object of singular attcuition and in-
terest to those on board of the steamer. ^len were
on the forecastle, others on the main deck, the
ollicers were on the (piarter-deck, and all were
earnestly scrutinizing the Antelope. One of them
was looking at her through his glass. The Ante-
lope, as she lay at anchor, was now turned with
her stern towards the steamer, and her sails flap-
ping idly against the masts. In a few moments
the paddles of the steamer stopped, iind at the same
instant a gun was fired.
" Highly honored, kind sir," siiid Captain Corbet,
with a grin.
" What's the matter ? " asked Bart.
" Matter ? Why that thar steamer feels kino o' in-
terested in us, an that thar gun means, Heave to,''^
"Are you going to heave to? "
3G LOST IN THE FOG.
" Niiry heave."
"Why not?"
" Can't come it no how ; cos why, I'm hove to,
with tlio ancliur liard and fast ony tlioy can't see
tliat we're ancliorcd."
Suddenly a cry came over the water from a man
on the quarter-deck.
" Sliip aho-o-o-o-o-oy I "
'^ Ilel-lo-o-o-o-o ! "
Sucli was tlie informal reply of Captain Corbet.
" Ifoave to-o-o-o, till I send a boat aboard."
" ]Ioo-r-a-a-a-a-ay ! "
Such was again Captain Corbet's cheerful and
informal answer.
" Wal ! wal ! wal ! " he exclaimed, '' it does beat
my grandmother — they're goin to send a boat
aboard."
''What for?"
Capt;un Corbet grinned, and shook his head, and
cIiucUI'mI very vehemently, but said nothing. He
appeared to be excessively amused with his own
thoughts. The boys looked at the steamer, and
then at Captain Corbet, in some wonder ; but as he
said nothing, they Avcre silent, and waited to see
Avhat was going to happen. Meanwhile Solomon,
roused from some mysterious culinary duties by
the report of the gun, had scrambled ujion the
deck, and stood with the others looking out over
the water at the steamer. ' "^1
In a few moments the steamer's boat was launclied,
• *"•' ■''^'
BOARDING. 3f
aiul a luilf dozen sailors got in, followed by an officer.
Then they put oil', and rowed with vigorous strokes
towards the schooner.
Captain Corbet watched the boat for some time
in silence.
'' Cur'ouser an cur'ouser," ho said, at length.
" I've knowed the time, boys, when sech an inci-
dent as this, on the briny deep, would have fairly
keeled nie over, an made me moot, an riz every
har o' my head ; but look at me now. Do I trem-
ble? do 1 shake? Here, feel my pulse."
Phil, who stood nearest, put his finger on the
outstretched wrist of the captain.
"Does it beat?"
- No," said Phil.
" Course it beats ; but then it ony beats nateral.
You ain't feeliii the right spot — the humane pulse
not bein sitooated on the hack of the hand," he
added mildly, '' but here ; " and he removed Phil's
inexperienced finger to the place where the pulse
lies. " Thar, now," he added, " as that pulse beats
now, even so it beat a half hour ago, before that
thar steamer hev in sight. Why, boys, I've knowed
the time when this humane pulse bet like all pos-
sessed. You see, I've lived a life of adventoor, in
spite of my meek and quiet natoor, an hev dabbled
at odd times in the smugglin business. But they
don't catch me this time — I've retired from that
thar, an the Antelope lets the revenoo rest in
peace."
1
i
38 LOST IN THE FOG.
Tlie bout drew nearer and nearer, and tlie ol-
ficer at the stern looked senitinizingly at the An-
tehjpe. There was an air oi" perplexity about his
face, which was very visible to those on board, and
the perplexity deepened and intensified as his eyes
rested on the flag of the '' B. O. W. C." h
" Leave him to me," said Captain Corbet. " Leave
that thar young man to me. I enjy h.ivin to do
witli a revenoo officer jest now; so don't go an put
in your oars, but jest leave him to me."
'' All right, captain ; we won't say a word," said
Bruce. " We'll go on with our fishing quietly.
Come, boys — look sharp, and down with your
lines."
The interest which they had felt in these new
proceedings had caused the boys to pull up their
hooks ; but now, at Bruce's word, they put them in
the water once more, and resumed their fishing,
only casting sidelong glances at the approaching
boat.
In a few minutes the boai: was alongside, and
the officer leaped on board. He looked all around,
at the fish lying about the deck, at the boys en-
gaged in fishing, at Captain Corbet, at Solomon, at
the mysterious flag aloft, and finally at the boys.
These all took no notice of him, but appeared to be
intent on their task.
"What schooner is this? " he asked, abruptly.
"The schooner Antelope, Corbet master," replied
the captain.
\w
*
Uli
less you, bless you, my friend," murmured
Bruce, in the intervals of eating ; *•' if there is any
contrast between this })rescnt voyage and former
ones, it is all due to our unequalled caterer."
" TIow^ did you get the trout, Solomon?" said
Pliil
" De trout? 0, T picked 'em u]) last night
down in le village," said Solomon. "Met little
boy from Gaspcreaux, an got 'em from him."
"What's this?" cried Tom, opening a dish —
"not lobster !"
" Lobster ! " exclaimed Phil.
. ''So it is."
" Why, Solomon, where did you get lobster?"
4G
LOST IN THE FOG.
" Is this the season fur them ? "
" Think of the words of the poet, boys/' said
Bart, warningly, —
" In the montlis without the R,
Clams and lobsters pison are."
Solomon meanwhile stood apart, grinning from
ear to ear, with his little black beads of eyes
twinkling with merriment.
" Ilallo, Solomon ! What do you say to lobstersi
in July ? "
Solomon's head wagged up and down, as though
he were indulging in some quiet, unobtrusive
laughter, and it was some time before he re})licd.
" 0, neber you fear, chil'en," he said ; " ef you're
only goin to get sick from lobsters, you'll live a
long day. You may go in for clams, an lobsters,
an oysters any time ob de yeah you like, — ony
dey mus be cooked up proper."
" I'm gratified to hear that," said Bruce, gravely,
'' but at the same time puzzled. For Mrs. Pratt
says the exact opposite ; and so here we have two
great authorities in direct opposition. So what arc
we to think?"
" O, there's no difhculty," said Arthur, " for
the doctors are not of ecpud authority. Mrs. Pratt
is a quack, but Solomon is a professional — a regu-
lar, natural, artistic, and scientific cook, which at
sea is the same as doctor."
The dinner was prolonged to an extent commen-
I
*
JOY FOLLOWED BY SORROW. 47
I surato with its own inherent excellence and the
capacity of the boys to appreciate it ; but at length,
like all things mortal, it came to a termination, and
the company went up once more to the deck. On
looking round it was evident to all that a cliange
■;_ had taken place.
I Four miles away lay He Haute, and eight or ten
I miles beyond this lay the long line of Nova Scotia.
t It was now about four o'clock, and the tide liad
I been rising for three hours, and was flowing up
% rapidly, and in a full, strong current. As yet there
I was no wind, and the broad surfiico of the bay was
I quite smooth and unruffled. In the distance and
far down the bay, where its waters joined the hori-
zon, there was a kind of haze, tliat rendered the
line of se])aration between sea and sky very indis-
tinct. The coast of Nova Scotia was at once en-
largiid and obscured. It seemed now elevated to
nn unusual height above the sea line, as though it
had been suddenly brought several miles nonrer,
and yet, instead of being more distinct, was actually
more obscure. Even He Haute, though so near,
did not escape. Four miles of distance were not
suflicient to give it tliat grand indistinctness which
wiis now Hung over the Nova Scotia coast; yet
much of the mysterious effect of the haze had
gatliered about the island ; its lofty clilfs seemed
to tower on high more majestically, and to lean over
more frowningly ; its fringe of black sea-weed
below seemed blacker, while the general hue ol"
48 LOST IN THE FOG.
the island had clianged from a reddish color to one
of a dull slaty blue.
" I don't like this," said Captain Corbet, looking
down the bay and twisting up his face as he
looked.
" Why not ? "
Cai)tain Corbet shook his head.
" What's the matter ? "
" Bad, bad, bad ! " said the captain.
" Is there going to be a storm ? "
'' Wuss ! "
" Worse ? What ? "
" Fog."
u Fog ? "
"■ Yes, hot an heavy, thick as puddin, an no mis-
take. I tell you what it is, boys : judgin from
what 1 see, they've got a bran-new steam injine into
that tliar fog mill at Grand Manan ; an the way
they're goin to grind out the fog this here night is
a caution to mariners."
Saying this, he took oif his hat, and holding it
in one hand, he scratched his venerable head long
and thouglitfully with the other.
'' But I don't see any fog as yet," said Bart.
" Don't see it? Wal, what d'ye call all that?"
said the captain, giving a grand comprehensive
sweep with his arm, so as to take in the entire fe.
scene.
" Why, it's clear enough."
" Clear ? Then let me tell you that when you
i
GLOOMY FOREBODINGS.
49
sec a atmospliero like tliis here, tlicn you may ex-
pect to see it any moment changed into deep, tliick
fog. Any moment — five minutes '11 he enough
to snatch everything from sight, and hury us all
in the middle of a uny^ersal fog hank.''
" What '11 we do ? "
'' Dew ? That's jest the question."
" Can we go on ? "
" Wid — without wind — I don't exactly see how.
Tn a fog a wind is not without its advantages.
That's one of the times when the old Antelope
likes to have her sails up ; but as we hain't got no
wind, I don't think we'll do much."
'^Will you stay here at anchor?"
" At anchor ? Course not. No, sir. Moment
the tide falls again, I'll drift down so as to clear that
I'int there, — Cape Chignocto, — then anchor ;
then hold on till tide rises ; and then drift up.
Mehhe l)efore that the wind '11 spring up, an give
ns a lift somehow up the bay."
'' How long before the tide will turn?"
" Wal, it'll be high tide at about a quarter to
eight this evenin, I calc'late."
" You'll (b'ift in the night, I suppose."
" Why not ? "
" 0, I di(hi't know but what the fog and the night
together might be too much for you."
"Too much? Not a bit of it. Fog, and night,
and snow-storms, an tide dead agin me, an a lee
shore, are circumstances that the Antelope has met
T-^
50
LOST IN THE FOG.
over an over, an fit down. As to foggy nights,
when it's as calm as this, why, they're not wuth
considerin."
Captain Corbet's prognostication as to the fog
proved to be correct. It was only for a short time
that tliey were allowed to stare at the magnified
pi'oportions of the Nova Scotia coast and lie ITaute.
Tlion a change took place which attniuted all their
attention.
The ch .go was first perceptible down the bay.
It was first made manifest by the rapid appearance
of a thin gray cloud (dong the horizon, which
seemed to take in both sea and sky, and absorbed
into itself the outlines of both. At the same time,
the coast of Nova S otia grew more obscure,
though it lost none of its magnified proportions,
while the slaty blue of He Haute changed to a
grayer shade.
This change was rapid, and was followed by
other changes. The thin gray cloud, along the
south-west horizon, down the bay, gradually en-
larged itself, till it grew to larger and loftier pro-
portions. In a ipiarter of an hour it had risen to
the dimensions of the Nova Scotia coast. In a
half an hour it was towering to double that height.
In an hour its lofty crest had ascended far up into
the sky.
" It's a comin," said Captain Corbet. " I knowed
it. Grind away, you old fog mill ! Pile on the
steam, you Grand Mananers ! "
""sr"
-Tl IPI ■ II ajHI
,:i
FOr. WTTTIOUT WIND.
$i
.J^f^
■-^y
e fog
tl
le
" Is there any wind down there ? "
'' Not a hooter." .
" Is tlie fog coming np without any wind ? "
" Course it is. What does the fog want of
wind?"
'^ T tliouglit it was the wind that brought it
along."
" r>loss your h(^^rt, the fog takes care of itself
TIk^ wind isn't a bit necessary. It kino o' pervades
the hull atmosphere, an rolls itself oi m on till all
creation is overspread. Why, I've seen everything
changed from bright sunshint; to the thickest kind
of fog in fifteen minutes, — yea, more, — and in
five minutes."
Even while they were speaking the fog ndled
on, the vast accumulation of mist rose higher and
yet higher, and ap[)e!ired to draw nearer with im-
mense ra])idity. It seemed as though the whole
atmosphere was gradually l)ecoming condensed,
and pHM^ipitating its invisible watery vapor so as
to make it visible in far-extending fog banks. It
was not wind, therefore, that brought on the clouds,
f )r the surface of the water was smooth and un-
rutllcd, but it was tlie character of the atmosphere
itself from which this change was wrought. And
still, as they looked at the approaching mist, the
sky overhead was blue, and tlie sun shone bright.
But the gathering clouds seemed now to have gained
a greater headway, and came on more ra[)idly. In
a few minutes the whole outline of the Nova Scotia
■&-
'%■..■
M
52
LOST IN THE FOO.
I i
coast failed from view, and in its place there ap-
peared a lofty wall of dim gray cloud, which rose
liigh in the air, fading away into the faintest out-
line. Overhead, the blue sky became rapidly
more obscured; He Haute changed again from its
grayish blue to a lighter shade, and then became
blended with the impenetrable fog that was liist
enclosing all things; and finally the clouds grow
nearer, till the land nearest them was snatched
from view, and all around was alike shrouded un-
der the universal veil ; nothing whatever was visi-
ble. For a hundred yards, or so, around them,
they could see the surface of the water ; but be-
y(^nd this narrow circle, nothing more could be
discerned.
" It's a very pooty fog," said Captain Corbet,
" an 1 only wonder that there ain't any wind. If
it should come, it'll be all right."
" You intend, then, to go on just the same."
" Jest the same as ef the sky was clear. 1 will
up anchor as the tide begins to fall, an git a good
piece down, so as to dodge tC^ape Chegnecto, an
there wait for tlic rising tide, an jest tlie same as
ef the sun was shinin. Tint we can't start till eidit
o'clock this evonin. Anyhow, you needn't trouble
yourselves a mite. You may all go to sleep, an
dream that the silver moon is guidin the traveller
on the briny deep."
The scene now was too monotonous to attract
attention, and the boys once more sought ibr some
4
'i-r '■ n'
LEGKND OF PETTICOAT JACK.
53
mode of passing- the time. Notliing appeared so
eutieiiig as their lurjiier oecupatioii of lisliiii!;-, and
to this they again turned tlieir attention. In this
emi)loyment the time passed away rapidly until
the summons was given for ten. Around the fes-
tive board, vvliieli was again prepared by Soh)m()n
witli his usual suecess, they lingered long, and at
lejigth, when they arose, the tide was higli. It
was now about eigiit o'cloek in the evening, and
Captain Corbet was all ready to start. As the tide
was now beginning to turn, and was on the ebb,
the anehor was raised, and the sehooner, yielding
to the pressure of the current, nujved away from
her anchorage grouud. It was still thick, aud
darkness also was coming on. Not a thing could
be discerned, and by looking at the water, which
moved with the schooner, it did not seem as though
any motion was made.
" That's all your blindness," said the captain, as
they mentioned it to him. *' You can't see any-
thing but the water, an as it is movin with us,
it doesn't seem as though we were movin. But
we air, notwitlistandin, an pooty quick too. I'll
take two liours' drift before stoppin, so as to make
sure. 1 calc'late about that time to get' to a place
whar I can hit the current that'll take me, with the
risin tide, up to old Petticoat Jack.
'' ]]y the way, captain,-' said Phil, " what do you
seafaring men believe about the origin of that
name — Petitcodiae ? Is it Indian or French ? "
54
LOST IN THE FOG.
\
" 'Tiiin't neither," said CapUiiu Corbet, decidedly.
*^ It's good English ; it's ' Petticoat Jack ; ' an I've
hearn tell a hundred times about its original dery-
vation. You see, in the old French war, there was
an English spy among the French, that dressed his-
self up as a woman, an was familiarly known, among
the British generals an others that emplyM him,
as ' Petticoat Jack.' He did much to contriboot
to the defeat of the French ; an arter they were
licked, the first settlers that went up thar called
the place, in honor of their benefacture, ' Petticoat
Jack ; ' an it's bore that name ever sence. An
people that think it's French, or Injinc, or Greek,
or Hebrew, or any other outlandish tongue, don't
know what they're talk in about. Now, / Joioio, an
I assure you what I've ben a sayin's the gosi)el
terewth, for I had it of an old seafarin man that's
sailed this bay for more'n forty year, an if he ain't
good authority, then I'd like to know who is —
that's all."
At tliis explanation of the etymology of the dis-
puted term, the boys were silent, and exchanged
glances of admiration.
It was some minutes after eight when they left
their anchorage, and began to drift once more.
There was no moon, and the night would have
been dark in any case, but now the fog rendered
all things still more obscure. It had also grown
much thicker than it had been. At first it was
composed of light vapors, which surroundc*! them
-I
DRIFTING IN THE FOG.
55
ly.
IKS-
l.g
11.
on all side>s, it is true, but yet did nut have that
dampness wliicli niiglit have been expected. It
was a light, dry fug, and fur twu or three huurs
the deck, and rigging, and the clothes uf those on
board remained (|uite dry. But now, as the dark-
ness increased, the fug became denser, and Avas
mure surcharged with heavy vapurs. Soun tlie
deck louked as thuugh it had received a shower oi'
rain, and the cluthes of those on board began to
be penetrated with the chill damp.
" It's very dark, captain," said Bruce, at last, as
the boys stoud near the stern.
'' Dradful dark," said the captain, thoughtfully.
'' Have you really a good idea of where wo
are r
. ? "
" An .idee ? Why, if I had a chart, — which I
haven't, cos I've got it all mapped out in my head,
— but if I had one, I could take my linger an j)int
tlie exact spot wdiere we are a driftin this blessed
minute."
" You're going straight down the bay, I sup-
pose."
'' Riglit — yea, I am; I'm guin straight duwn ;
but I hope an trust, an wliat's mure, I believe, I am
taking a kine o' cant ever niglier the New Bruns-
wick shure."
'' How long will wo drift? "
" Wal, for about two hours — darsn't drift longer ;
an besides, don't want to."
" Wliy not?"
56
LOST IN THE FOG.
4
" Darsn't. Tliar's a place down tliar that every
vessel on this here bay steers clear of, an every
navigator feels dreadful sliy of."
"What place is tirit?"
" Quaco Ledge," saia Captain Corbet, in a solemn
tone. " We'll get as near it as is safe this night,
an p'aps a leetie nearer; but, tlien, the water's so
calm and still, that it won't make any dilfercnce —
in fact, it wouldn't matter a great deal if we came
up close to it."
" Quaco Ledge ? " said Bruce. " I've heard of
that."
"Heard of it? I should rayther hope you had.
Who hasn't? It's the one great, gen'ral, an stand-
in terror of this dangerous and iron-bound bay.
There's no jokin, no nonsense about Quaco Ledge ;
mind I tell you."
" Where does it lie ? " asked Phil, after a pause.
" Wal, do you know wliar Quaco settlement is?"
"Yes."
" Wal, Quaco Ledge is nigli about half way be-
tween Quaco settlement and He Haute, bein a'most
in the middle of the bay, an in a terrible danger-
ous place for coasters, especially in a fog, or in a
snow-storm. Many's the vessel that's gone an
never heard of, that Quaco Ledge could tell all
about, if it could speak. You take a good snow-
storm in this Bay of Fundy, an let a schooner get
lost in it, an not know whar she is, an if Quaco
Ledge don't bring her up all standin, then I'm a
Injine."
QUACO LEDGE. 67'
" Is it a large place ? " i
,: " Considerably tuo large for comfort," said the
captain. " They've sounded it, an found the whole
; slioal al)out three an a half mile long, an a half a
mile broad. It's all kivered over with water at
high tide, l)ut at half tide it begins to s1k)\v its
nose, an at low tide you see as pooty a shoal for
shi|)\vrecking as you may want; rayther low with
pleasant jagged rocks at the nothe-east side, an
about a hundred yards or so in extent. IVo been
nigli on to it in clear weather, but don't want to bo
within five miles of it in a fog or in a storm. In
a thick night like this, I'll pull up before I get
close."
" You've never met with any accident there, I
suppose."
" Me ? No, not me. I always calc'late to give
Quaco Ledge the widest kine o' berth. An I hope-
you'll never know anythin more about that sauio
})lace than what I'm tellin you now. The knowl-
4^: ege which one has about that place, an places gin-
rally of that kine, comes better by hearsay than
from actool observation."
Time passed on, and they still drifted, and at
.■^\ length ten o'clock came ; but before that time the
boys had gone below, and retired for the night.
Shortly after, the rattle of the chains waked them
all, and informed them that the Antelope had an-
chored onco more.
After this they all fell asleep.
.j£I-_
58
LOST IN THE FOG.
IV.
In Clouds and Darkness. — A terrible Warning. —
Nearly run doivn. — A livel// Plaee. — Bart
encounters an old Acquaiidance. — Launehed
into the Deej). — Tkrowjh the Country. — IVic
swift Tide. — The lost Boy.
^IIE boys liad not been asleep for more than
two liours, wlioii tliey were awakened by aii
ii})roar on deek, and rouriing themselves from
sleep, they heard the rattle of the cliains and the
clank of the windlass. As their niglit attire was
singularly sinii)le, and consisted largely of the dress
wliich they wore by day, being the same, in fact,
with the exception of the hat, it was not long be-
fore they were up on deck, and making iniiuirics
as to the unusual noise. That the anchor was being
hoisted they already knew, but why it was they
did not.
" Wal," said Captain Corbet, '' thar's a good sou-
wester started up, an as I Iiad a few winks o' sleep,
I jest thought I'd try to push on up the bay, an
get as far as J. could. If I'd bcii in any otlior
place than this, I wouldn't liev minded, but IM hev
■ ^«" j>«.^ .>"iim>.
CLOUDS AND DARKNESS.
59
taken iny snooze out ; but I'm too uear Quaco Ledge
by a good sigbt, an would rayther get i'urther off.
The aou-wester'U take us up a considerable dis-
tance, an if it holds on till arter the tide turns, I
ask no more."
Soon the anchor was up, and the Antelope spread
her sails, and catching the sou-wester, dashed
through the water like a thing of life.
^' We'i'o going along at a great rate, captain,"
said Bart.
'' Beggin your pardon, young sir, we're nut doin
much. The tide here runs fuur knots agin us —
dead, an the wind can't take us more'n six, which
leaves a balance to our favor of two knots an hour,
an that is our present rate of progression. You
sec, at that rate we won't gain more'n four or five
nu"I ;s before the turn o' tide. After that, we'll go
faster without any wind than we do now with a
wind. 0, there's nothin like navigatin the Bay o'
Fundy to make a man feel contempt for the wind.
Give me tides an anchors, I say, an I'll push along."
^Phe wind was blowing fresh, and the sea was
rising, yet the fog seemed thicker than ever. The
boys thought that the wind might blow the fog
away, and hinted this to the captain.
Ilis only response was a long and emphatic
whistle.
" Whe-e-e-ow ! what ! Blow the fog away ? This
wind? Why, this wind brings the fog. The sou-
wester is the one wind that seafarin men dread in
''.'%
A
60
LOST IN THE FOG.
tlic Biiy oi' Fiindy. Al)oiit tlic wiist kinc ol' a st(»nn
is that tliur very idciiticul wind bluwiii in these here
very identical waters."
Captain Corbet's words were confirmed l)y the
appearance of sea and sky. Outside was the very
blackness of darkness. Notliing whatever was
visible. Sea and sky were alike hidden fi-oin view.
The waves were rising, and though they were not
yet of any size, still they made noise enongli to
suggest the idea of a considerable storm, and the
wind, as it wdn'stled through the rigging, carried in
its sound a menace which would have been alto-
getlier wanting in a briglit night. The boys all
felt convinced that a storm was rising, and looked
forward to a dismal experience of the i)angs of sea-
sickness. To fight this off now became tlieir chief
aim, and with this intention they all hurried be-
low once more to their beds.
But the water was not rough, the motion of the
schooner was gentle, and though there was much
noise above, yet they did not notice any approach
of the dreaded sea-sickness, iXnd so in a short time
they all fell asleep once more.
But they were destined to have further inter-
ruptions. The interruption came this time in a loud
cry from Solomon, whicli waked them all at once.
" Get up, chil'en ! get up ! It's all over ! "
"What, what!" cried the boys; " what's the
matter?" and springing iip in the first moment of
alarm, they stood listening.
i L_.
A TERRTRLE WARNING. • Gl ^
' . .;■*■
As tlicy stood^ there came to tliclr ears the roar-
ing- of the wind througli the riggings the (Japping
ot the sails, the dashing and roai-ing of the waters,
in the midst of wliicli there came also a shrill, pene-
trating sound, which seemed almost overhead —
tlie sound of some steam whistle.
" Dar, dar ! " cried Solomon, in a tone of deadly
fear. '• It's a comin ! I knowcd it. We're all lost
an g(»no. It's a steamer. We're all run down an
drownded."
Without a word of response, the boys once more
clambered on deck. All was as dark as before,
the fog as thick, the scene around as impenetra-
ble, tlie wind as strong. From a distance there
came over the water, as they listened, the rapid
l>eat of a steamboat's paddles, and soon there arose
again the long, shrill yell of the steam whistle.
Th(^y looked all around, but saw no sign of any
steamer; nor could they tell exactly in which di-
rection the sound arose. One thought it came from
one side, another thought it came from the opposite
([uarter, while the others diiTered from these. As for
Captain Corbet, he said nothing, while the boys were
expressing their opinions loudly and confidently.
At last Bart appealed to Captain Corbet.
" Where is the steamer? "
** Down thar," said the captain, waving In's hnnd
over the stern.
" What steamer is it? the revenue steamer?"
^ " Not her. That revenoo steamer is up to Wind-
62
LOST IN THE FoG.
sor by this time. No ; this is tlie St. John steamer
coming up the bay, an I ony wish she'd take us an
give us a tow up."
" She seems to be close by."
" She is close by."
" Isn't there some clanger that we'll be run
down ? "
As tliose words were spoken, another yell, loud-
er, shriller, and nearer than before, burst upon
tlieir ears. It seemed to be close astern. The
beat of the paddles was also near them.
" Pooty close ! " said the captain.
'' Isn't there some danger that we'll be run
down ? "
To tliis question, thus anxiously repeated, the
captain answered slowly, —
" Wal, thar may be, an then again tliar mayn't.
Efaman tries to dodge every possible danger in
life, he'll have a precious hard time of it. Why,
men air killed in walkin the streets, or knocked
over by sun-strokes, as well as run down at sea.
So what air we to do? Do? Why, I jest do what
I've alius ben a dgin ; I jest keep right straight on
my own course, and mind my own biz. Ten chances
to one they'll never come nigh us. I've heard
steamers howlin round me like all possessed, but
I've never ben run down yet, an I ain't goin to be
at my time o' life. I don't blieve you'll see a sign
o' that thar isteamer. You'll only hear her yellin
— that's all." . ,
(
VAiV
1
%-
NEARLY RUN DOWN.
53
run
'm
As ho spoke another yell sounded.
" She's a passin us, over thar," said the captain,
waving his hand over the side. " Her whistlo'll
contenoo fainter till it stops. So you better go
below and take your sleep out."
The boys waited a little longer, and hearing the
next whistle sounding fainter, as Captain Corbet
said, they followed his advice, and were soon asleep,
as before.
This time there was no further interruption, and
they did not wake till about eight in the moining,
when they were summoned to breakfast by Solo-
mon. ^
On reaching the deck and looking around, a cry
of joy went forth from all. The fog was no longer
to be seen, no longer did there extend around them
the wall of gloomy gray, shutting out all things
with its misty folds. No longer was the broad bay
visible. They found themselves now in a wide
river, Whose muddy waters bore them slowly along.
On one side was a shore, close by them, well
wooded in some places, and in others well culti-
vated, while on the other side was another shore,
equally fertile, extending far along.
" Here we air," cried Captain Corbet. " That
wind served us well. We've had a fust-rate run.
I calc'lated we'd be three or four davs, but instead
ol' that we've walked over in twenty -four hours,
(lood agin ! " •
" Will we be able to land at Moncton soon ? "
LOST IN THE FOG.
" Wal, no ; not till the next tide."
"Why not?"
" Wal, this tide won't last long enough to carry
us up thar, an so we'll have to wait here. This is
the best place thar is."
"What place is this?"
" Hillsborough."
"Hillsborough?"
"Yes. Do you see that thar pint?" and Cap-
tain Corbet waved his arm towards a high, well-
wooded promontory that jutted out into the river.
"Yes." •
" Wal, I'm goin in behind that, and I'll wait thar
till the tide turns. We'll get up to Moncton some
time before evenin."
In a few minutes the Antelope was heading to-
wards the promontory ; and soon she passed it, and
advanced towards the shore. On passing the prom-
ontory a sight appeared wln'ch at once attracted
the whole attention of the boys.
Immediately in front of them, in the sheltered
place which was formed by the promontory, was a
little settlement, and on the bank of the river was
a ship-yard. Here there. arose the stately outline
of a large ship. Her lower masts were in, she was
decorated with flags and streamers, and a large
crowd was assembled in the yard around her.
" There's going to be a launch ! " cried Bart, to
whom a scene like this was familiar.
" A launch ! " cried Bruce. " Hurrah ! We'll be
SOLOMON ANNOUNCES BREAKFAST. 65
able to see it. I've never seen one in my life.
Now's the time."
" Can't we get ashore ? " said Arthur.
" Of course," said Phil ; '' and perhaps they'll let
us go on board and be launched in her."
The very mention of such a thing increased the
general excitement. Captain Corbet was at once
appealed to.
" O, thar's lots of time," said he. " 'Tain't quite
high tide yet. You'll have time to get ashore be-
fore she moves. Hullo, Wade ! Whar's that oar ? "
The boys were all full of the wildest excitement,
in the midst of which Solomon appeared with the
'^; announcement that breakfast was waiting.
To which Bart replied, —
" 0, bother breakfast ! "
•' I don't want any," said Bruce.
" I have no appetite," said Arthur.
" Nor I," said Pat.
" I want to be on board that ship," said Phil.
" We can easily eat breakfast afterwards," said
Tom.
At this manifest neglect of his cooking, poor
* dL ^t)lomon looked quite heart-broken ; but Captain
Corbet told him that he might bring the things
ashore, and this in some measure assuaged his
grief
It did not take long to get ready. The oar was
flung on board the boat, which had thus far been
floating behind the schooner ; and though the boat
5
M
:^ ^* ^
GG
LOST IN THE FOG.
liad a little too much water on board to be comfort-
fible, yet no complaints were made, and in a few
minutes they were landed.
" How much time have we yet ? " asked Bart,
'' before high tide ? "
" (), you've got fifteen or twenty minutes," said
Captain (/orbet.
" IFurraii, boys ! Come along," said Bart ; and
leading the way, he went straight to the oflice.
As ho approached it he uttered suddenly a cry
of Joy.
" Wliat's the matter, Bart ? "
Bart said nothing, but hurried forward, and the
astonished boys saw him shaking hands very vigor-
ously with a gentleman who seemed like the chief
man on the place. He was an old acquaintance, evi-
dently. In a few minutes all was explained. As
the boys came up, Bart introduced them as his
friends, and they were all warmly greeted ; after
which the gentleman said, —
" Wliy, what a crowd of you there is ! Follow
me, now. There's plenty of room for you, I im-
agine, in a ship of fifteen hundred tons ; and you've
just come in time."
Wit) I these words he hurried off, followed by all
the boys. He led tlie way up an inclined plane
which ran up" to the bows of the ship, and on reach-
ing this place they went along a staging, and finally,
coming to a ladder, they clambered up, and found
themselves on the deck of the ship.
THE LAUNCH.
07
fort-
few
Bart,
said
; and
-/•
a cry
id the
vigor-
chief
e, cvi-
1. As
as his
after
Follow
I im-
yoii've
by all
plane
i reach-
finally,
1 found
S!
" I must leave you now, Bart, my boy," said the
gentleman ; " you go to the quarter-deck and take
care of yourselves. I nnist go down again."
" Wlio in the world is he, Bart ? " asked the
boys, ; ; they all stood on the quarter-deck.
"Was there ever sueli hick!" cried Bart, joy-
ously. " Tliis is the sliip Sylph, and tliat is JMr.
Watson, and he has bniU this ship for my fiilh(M'.
Isn't it odd that we should come to this })Imco at
this particular time ? "
" Why, it's as good as a play."
*' Of course it is. I've known Mr. Watson all
my life, and he's one of the best men I over met
witl). lie was as glad to see me as 1 was to see
hhn."
But wow the boys stopped talking, for the scone
around them began to grow exciting. In front ol'
them was tlie settlement, and in the yard below
was a crowd wlio had assembled to see the launch.
Behind them was the broad expanse of the Petit-
codiac River, beyond which lay the oj)posite shore,
which went back till it terminated in wooded
hills. Overhead arose the masts, adorned with a
hundred flags and streamers. Tlio deck showed a
steep slope from bow to stern. But the scone
around was nothing, compared with the excitement
of suspense and ex})e('tation. In a few minutes
the hannners were to sound. In a few minutes the
mighty fidu-ic on which they were standing would
move, ami tnke its plunge into the water.
t '
08
LOST IN THE FOG.
The suspense made them huld theip Ijreath, and
wait in perfect silence.
Around them were a few men, wlio were talking
in a commonplace way. Tiicy were accustomed
to launclies, and an incident like this was as noth-
ing in their lives, though to the bi^ys it was suf-
ficient to make their hearts throb violently, and
deprive them of the power of speech.
A few minutes passed.
" We ought to start soon," said Bart, in a whis-
per; for there was something in the scene which
made them feel Q-ravc and solemn.
The other l)oys nodded in silence.
A few minutes more passed.
Then there arose a cry.
And tliim suddenly there came to their excited
ears the rattle of a hundred hammers. Stroke
ni'Uw stroke, in quick snccession, was dealt upon
the wedges, which thus raised the vast structure
from her resting-i)lace. For a moment she stood
motionless, and then —
Then with a slow motion, at first scarce percep-
tible, but which every instant grew quicker, sho
moved down her ways, and plunged like lightning
into the water. The stern sank deep, then rose,
and then the shij) darted through the water across
the river. Then siuldenly tiie anchor was let go,
and with the loud, shaip raltle of chains, rushed to
the bed of the river. ^Vith a slight jerk the ship
stopped.
%*■
MR. Watson's hospitality.
CO
The lauiicli wiiri over.
A bout now Clinic from the .sliorc, bringing the
buihlcr, Mi'. Watson ; and at the «anic time a steamer
appeared, rounding a point up the river, and ap-
proaidiing them.
'' Do you want to go to St. Jolin, Bart?"
'' Not just yet, sir," said Hart.
" ]>ccause if you do you can go down in tlie ship.
Tiie steamer is going to take her in tow at once.
I>iit if you don't want to go, you may go ashore in
the boat. I'm soriy I can't stay here to sliow you
tlie country, my boy ; but 1 liave to go down in the
sliij», and at once, for we can't He here in tlie river,
unless we want to be left high and dry at low tide.
I^o iiood bv. Go to the house. Mrs. Watson'll
make you comfortable as long as you like ; and if
you want to lake a drive you may consider my
liorses your own."
With these words he shook hands v,'itli all the
boys for good by, and after seeing them safely on
board the boat, he waited lor the steamer which was
to tow the Syljdi down the bay. The boys thou
were rowed ashore. !>)' the time they lauded, the
steamer had reached the ship, a stout cable was
passed on board and secured, her anchor was
Weighed, and then, borne on by steam, and by the
tide, too, which had already turned, the Hyll)h, in
towof tho steamer, passed down the river, and was
soon out o^' sight.
Bart thou went to see Mrs. Watson, with all tlio
n
LOST IN THE FOG.
hoys. That lady, like lior husband, was an ohl ac-
quaintance, and in the true spirit uf huspitaHty
insisted on every one of them taking up their
abode vvitli her for an indefinite jicriod. Finduig
that they could not do this, she prepared for them
a bounteous breakfast, and then persuaded them to
go oir for a drive through the country. Tiiis invi-
tation they eagerly accepted.
Before starting, they encountered Captain Cor-
bet.
" Don't hurry back, boys," said he, " unless you
very pertikTry wish to go up to Moncton by the
arternoon tide. Don't mind me. I got several
things to occoopy me here."
" What time could we start up river ? "
" Not before four."
" 0, we'll be back by that time."
'* W al. Ony don't hurry back unless you like.
1 got to buy some ship-bread, an 1 got to fix some
things about the boat. It'll take some time; so jest
do as you like."
Joeing thus left to their own devices, and feel-
ing (piite unlimited with regard to time, the boys
started off in two wagons, and took a long drive
through the country. The time passed (piickly»
and they enjoyed themselves so much that they did
not get back until dusk.
" It's too late now, boys, to go up," said the cap-
tain, as ho met them on their return. " We've got
to wait till next tide. It's nearly high tide now."
■lis
-I
n
;'.«.
SUPPLIES FOR TUlO SCHOONER.
71
is
" All right, capttiiii ; it'll do just as well to go
up river to-niglit."
" Amen," said tlie captain.
But now Mrs. Watson insisted on their staying
to tea, and so it happened that it was after nine
o'clock before they were ready to go on board the
Antelope. Going down to the shore, they found
the boat ready, with some articles which Captain
Corbet had procured.
'* I've been fixing the gunwales," said he ; " au
here's a box of pilot-bread. We were gettin out
of provisions, an I've got in a sup})ly, an I've
bought a bit of an old sail that'll do for a jib. I'm
afeard tliar won't be room for all of us. Some of
you better stay ashore, an I'll come back."
" I'll wait," said Bart, taking his seat on a stick
of timber.
" An I'll wait, too," said Bruce.
The other boys objected in a friendly way, but
Bart and liruce insisted on waiti'ig, and so the
boat at length started, leaving them behind.
In a short time it reached the schooner.
Ca})tain Corbet secured the boat's painter to tlio
stem, and threw the oar on board.
" Now, boys, one of you stay in the boat, an
pass up them things to me — will you ? "
" All right," said Tom. " I'll pass them up."
On this Captain Corbet got on board the schooner,
followed by Arthur, and Phil, and Pat. Tom wait-
ed in the boat. *.
72
LOST IN THE FOG.
" Now," said Captain Corbet, '' lift up that tlmr
box of pilot-broad fust. 'Tain't heavy. We'll get
these things out afore wo go ashore for the
others."
" All right," said Tom.
He stooped, and took the box of bJicuit in his
arms.
At that time the tide was running down very
fast, and the boat, caught by the tide, was forced
out from the schooner with such a pressure that
the rope was stiffened out straight.
Tom made one step forward. The next instant
he fell down in the bottom of the boat, and those
on board of the schooner who were looking at him
saw, to their horror, that the boat was sweeping
away with the tide, far down the river.
'f».
WHAT CAN WE DO?
73
V.
,f
A Cry of Horror. — What shall we do ? — Ilard
and fast. — Bart and Brace. — Gloomy Intelli-
gence. — The Promontory. — The Bore cf the
Pet'itcodiac. — A Night of Misery. — A mourn-
ful Waking. — Taking Counsel.
CRY of horror escaped those on board, and
for some time they stood silent in utter dis-
may.
'' The rope wasn't tied," groaned Arthur.
" Yes, it was," said Captain Corbet ; " it bruk ;
catch me not tyin it. It bruk ; see hero ! '■ and ho
held up in the dim hght the end of the rope wliich
still was fastened to the schooner. " I didn't know
it was rotten," he moaned ; " 'tain't over ten year
old, that bit o' rope, an I've had it an used it a
thousand times without its ever thinkin o' break-
in.
n
" What can wo do? " cried Arthur. "Wo must
do something to save him."
Captain Corbet shook his head.
" We've got no boat," said he.
" Boat I Who wants 'a boat ? "
«i
>
74
LOST IN THE FOG.
" What ctui WG do without a b-^at ? "
" Why, up anchor, and go after him with the
schooner."
" The schooner's hard and fast," said Captain
Corbet, mournfully.
'^ Hard and fast ? "
''Yes; don't you notice how she leans? It's
only a little, but that's a sign that her keel's in the
mud."
'* I don't believe it ! I won't believe it ! " cried
Arthur. " Come, boys, up with the anchor."^
As the boys rushed to the windlass, Captain
Corbet went there, too, followed by the mate, and
they worked at it for some time, until at last the
anchor rose to the surface.
But the Antelope did not move. On the con-
trary, a still greater list to one side, which was now
unmistakable, showed that the captain was right,
and that she was actually, as he said, hard and fast.
This fact had to be recognized, but Arthur would
not be satisfied until he had actually seen the an-
chor, and then ho knew that the vessel was really
aground.
" Do you mean to say," he cried at last, " that
there is nothing to be done ? "
" I don't see," said Captain Corbet, " what thar
is to be done till the schewner muvQs."
''When will that be?"
" Not till to-morrow mornin."
"How early?"
HARD AND FAST.
76
'*
■^
:>»•
•'.:'*'*)"
"• Not before eight o'clock."
'* Eight o'clock ! " cried Arthur, in horror.
" Yes, eight o'clock. You see we had to come
in i)ooty nigh to the shore, im it'll be eight o'clock
bel'ore we're floated."
^' And what'll become of poor Tom?" groaned
Artiiur.
" Wal," said the captain, " don't look on the
wust. He may get ashore."
" lie has no oar. The oar was thrown aboard
of the schooner."
" Still he may be carried ashore."
*' Is there any chance ? "
" Wal, not much, to tell the truth. Thar's no
use uf buo-oyin of ourselves up with false hopes ;
not a mite. Thar's a better chance of his bein
l)icked up. That thar's likely now, an not un-
natooral. Let's all don't give up. If thar's no fog
outside, I'd say his chances air good."
'' Ihit it may be foggy."
" Tiien, in that case, he'll have to drift a while —
sure."
'' Tiien there's no hope."
*' Hope? Who's a sayin thar's no hope? Why,
hM)k here; he's got provisions on board, an needn't
starve ; so if ho does float for a day or two, whar's
the harm? lie's sure to be picked up eventoo-
ally."
At this moment their ctmversation was inter-
rupt(;d by a loud call from the promontory. It
was the voice of Bruce.
n
LOST IN THE FOG.
/ '
While those events had been taking [)laee on
buard the sehooner, Bruee and Bart liad been
asliure. At first they liad waited patiently I'ur the
return of the boat, but finally they wondered at
her delay. They had called, but the schooner was
too far olF to hear them. Then they waited lor
what seemed to them an unreasonably long time,
wondering what kept the boat, until at length
Bruce determined to try and get nearer. J]art
was to stay behind in case tlie boat should come
ashore in his absence. With this in view he had
walked down the promontory until he had reached
the extreme point, and there he found himself
within easy hail of the Antelope.
'' Schooner ahoy ! " he cried.
" A-ho-o-o-o-y ! " cried Captain Corbet.
" Why don't you come and take us off? '' ho
cried.
After this there was silence for some time. At
last Captain Corl)et shouted out, —
" The boat's lost."
*' What ! "
" The boat's adrift."
Captain Corbet said nothing about Tom, from a
desire to spare him for the present. So Bruce
thought that the empty boat had drifted off, and
as ho had been prepared to hear of some accident,
ho was not nmch sur{)rised.
But ho was not to remain long in ignorance. In
a few moments ho heard Arthur's voice.
%
4
t
■ *4
-V
GLOOMY INTELLIGENCE.
77
'' Bruce ! "
'^ Hallo ! "
'' The boat's gone."
" All right."
" Tom's (ulrift i)i hcvl^^
'' Whiit!" shouted Jlruce.
" ToiiiH atlr'ift in her.-'
At this appalling intelligence Bruce's heart
seemed to stop beating.
'^ How long?" he cried, after a pause.
"Half an hour/' cried Arthur.
'^ Why don't you go after him?" cried Bruce
{iirain.
" We're aground/' cried Arthur.
'i'lie whole situation was now explained, .and
Bruce was lilled with his own share of that dis-
may wliich prevaihid on board of the schooner ; for
a long time nothing more was said. At length
Arthur's voice sounded again.
" Bruce ! "
"Hallo!"
" (fct a boat, and come aboard as soon as you
can after the tide turns."
" All right, [low early will the tide suit? "
" Eight o'clock."
"Not before?"
" No."
After this nothing more was said. Bruce could
see for himself that the tide was falling, and that
lie would have to wait for the returninii- tide before
%
^
i%
LOST IN TIIK F0(;.
a boat could be launched, lie waited for some
time, full of despair, and hesitating to return to
Bart with his mournful intelligence. At length he
turned, and walked slowly Ijack to Iiis friend.
" Well, Bruce ? " asked Bart, who by this time
was sure that some accident had happened.
" Tlie boat's adrift."
" Tlie boat ! "
" Yes ; and what's worse^ poor Tom ! "
" Tom ! " cried Bart, in a horror of apprehensi-on.
" Yes, Tom's adrift in her."
At this Bart said not a word, but stood for some
time staring at Bruce in utter dismay.
A few wprds served to explain to Bart the situa-
tion of the schooner, and the need of getting a
boat.
" Well," said Bart, " we'd bettor see about it at
once. It's eleven o'clock, but we'll find some peo-
ple up; if not, we'll knock them up."
And with these words the two lads walked up
from the river bank.
On reaching the houses attached to the ship-
yard, they found that most of the people were up.
There was a good deal of singing and laughter
going on, which the boys interpreted to arise from
a desire to celebrate the launching of the ship.
They went first to Mrs. Watson's house, where
tliey found that good lady up. She listened to
th<;ir story with undisguised uneasiness, and after-
wards called in a number of men, to whom she
TOM ADIITFT.
70
told the sad news. These men listened to it with
very serious faees.
" It's no joke," said one, shaking his head.
The others said nothing, but their faces spoke
volumes.
" What had we ])etter do?" asked Bruce.
" Of course ye'U be off as soon as ye can get
off," said one.
" The lad might have a chance," said another.
" The return tide may drift him back, but he may
be carried too far down for that."
"He'll be carried below Capo Chignecto unless
he gets to the land," said another.
"Isn't there a chance that he'll be picked up?"
askccl Bart.
Tlio man to whom he spoke shook his head.
" There's a deal of fog in the bay this night,"
said ho.
"Fog? Why, it's clear encmgli here."
" So it is ; but this i)lace and the J)ay ol' Fundy
are two dilferent things."
" A regular sou-wester out there," said another
man.
" An a pooty heavy sea by this time," said an-
other.
And in this way they all contributed to increase
the anxiety of the two boys, until at last scarce a
ray of hope was left.
* " You'd better prepare yourselves for the worst,"
said one of the men. " If he had an oar he would
m
80
Tiu)rescent gleam, and as it api)eared
the roar grew louder, and rounder, and more all-
pervading. Ofi it came, carrying with it the hoarse
cadence of some vast surf flung ashore from the
workings of a distant storm, or the thunder of
some mighty cataract tumbling over a rocky })reci-
pice.
And now, as they looked, the white, phospho-
rescent glow grew briglit(5r, and tlieii whiter, like
w
\
M-
■■^
A mr.UT OF MISERY.
83
I
snow; every minnto ii jipprojicliod nearer, until at
last, full before them and beneath them, there
rolled a giant wave, extendinii^ aeross the bed of
the river, crescent-shaped, with its convex side ad-
vancint^ forwards, and its ends following!; after
within short distance from the shore. The i!:reat
wav(^ rolled on, one mass of snow-white foam, be-
hind which gleamed a broad line of phosi)horescent
Instr(! (Vom the agitated waters, which, in the
j,'lo()m of niirht, had a certain baleful radiance.
As it passed on its path, the roar camc^ up n)ore
majesticMlly from the foremost wave ; and behind
that came the roar of other billows that lollowed
in its wake. l>y daylight tlu^ scene wo>dd have
IxM'ii grand and impressive ; but now, amid the
gloom, the grand(Mir became indest-ribabh^ The
force of those iniiihtv waters seemed indeed resist-
less, and it^i^is with a feeling of relief that the
boys reflected that the schooner was out of the
reach of its sweep. Its i)assag(3 was swift, and
soon it had ])asscd beyond them; and afar up the
river, long aHer it had ])assed from night, they
licai'd th(! distant thunder of its miruce, " w(^ must g(et some
rest, or \\y\ won't be W(»rth anvlhin-^ to-inorrow.
What .
lid' lace was pale, her manner was agitated, and
her vi)ice trembled as she spoke to them, and asked
tiiem where they had been.
IJart expressed sorrow at having been the cause
of so much trouble, and assured her he thought
that she had gtme to bed.
" No," said she ; '^ I've been too excited and agi-
tated about your friend and about you. Jiut I'm
glad that you've been found ; and as it's too late to
talk now, you had better go to bed, and try to
slee[)."
Witli these words she gently urged them to their
bedroom ; and the boys, utterly W(jru out, did not
attempt to withstand her. Tliey went to bed, and
scarcely had their heads touched the pillows be-
fore they were fast asleep.
>b'aiiwhile the boys on board the Antelope had
been no less anxious ; and, unable to sleep, they had
talketl soltMunly with cacu other over the possil)lo
fiite oi' ]toor Tom. Chafing'" from their forced inac-
tion, they looked impatiently upon the (d)bing wa-
ter, wiiich was leaving them aground, wlieu tliey
I
■•3i"'
86 LOST TN THK FOk^.
wore longing to bo (loating on its boson » af'tor tbeir
friend, and could scarcely endure the tliouglil ol'
the suspense to which they would be condenuied
while waiting lor the following morning.
Captain Corbet also was no less anxious, though
inucli less agitated. He acknowledged, with pain,
j ,| that it was all his liiult, but appealed to all the
boys, one by one, asking them how he should know
that the i )pe was rotten, lie inlbrmed them tliat
the roj)0 was an old favorite of his, and that he
would have willingly risked his life on it. lie
blamed himself chielly, however, for not staying
in the boat himself, instead of leaving Tom in it.
To all his remarks the boys siiid but little, and con-
tented themselves with putting ((uestions to him
about the coast, the tides, the wind, the currents,
and the fog.
The boys on board went to sleep about one
o'clock, and waked at sunrise. Then they wat(;hed
the shore wistfully, and wondered Vv'hy lUui and
Bruce did not make their appearance. J>ut Hart
and Ijruce^ worn out by their long watch, did not
wake till nearly eight o'clock. Then they hastily
dressed themselves, and after a very hurried break-
fast they bade good by to good Mrs. Watson.
'' 1 shall be dreadfully anxious about that poor
boy," said she, sadly. •' Promise me to telegraph
as soon as you can about the result."
Hart promised.
Then they hurried down to the beach. The tide
%
TAKING COUNSEL.
87
was yet a oonsiderahlo distance out ; but a half doz-
en stout fellows, whose syinpatlni'-s were liilly un-
listed in tiieir favor, shoved the b.»a" down over the
mud, anruce took the oars, and soon
readied the schooner, wLeic the boys awaited their
arrival in mournful sileuco.
88
LOST IN THE FOG.
VT.
Tom adrift. — TJie reccduKj Shores. — Tlie PtuldJe.
— The Hoar of Surf — The Fotj Horn. — The
Thtmler of ilie unseen Breakers. — A Horror
of great Darkness. — Adrift in Fog and Night.
fllEN tlie bojit in wliich Tom was darted
down the stream, he at first felt paralyzed
by utter terror ; but at length rousing him-
self, he looked around. As the boat drifted on, his
first impulse was to stop it; and in order to do
this it was necessary to find an oar. The oar
which Captain Corbet had used to scull the boat
to the schooner had been thrown on board of the
latter, so that the contents of the boat might bo
passed up the more conveniently. Tom knew this,
but he thought that there might be another oar on
board. A brief examination sufliced to show him
that there was nothing of the kind. A few loose
articles lay at the bottom ; over these was the sail
Avhich Captain Corbet had bought in the ship-yard,
and on this was the box of pilot-bread. That was
all. There was not a sign of an oar, or a board,
or anything of the kind.
TOM ADRTFT.
89
>'j
I
No sooner had he Ibuiid out this thnn lie iiiod tu
tear off one of the seats of the l)oat, in the h(»[)e
of using tliis as a paddle. I>ut the seats were too
tinnly fixed to he loosene(l hy his liands, and, after
a few frai'tic but ineffectual efforts, he gave up the
attemi>t.
I>ut he could not so quickly give up his efforts
to save himself There was the box of biscuit yet.
Taking his knife from his pocket, he succeeded in
detaching the cover of the box, and then, using
this as a paddle, ho sought with frantic efforts to
force the boat nearer to the shore. l>ut the tide
was running very swiftly, and the cover was only
a small bit of board, so that his efforts seemed to
have but little result. He did indeed succeed in
turning the boat's head around ; but this act, which
was not accomplished without the severest labor,
did not seem to bring her nearer to the shore to
any perceptible extent. What he sought to do was
to achieve some definite motion to the boat, which
might (h'ag her out of the grasp of the swift cur-
rent ; but that w'as the very thing which he ccndd
n(»t do, for so strong was that grasp, and so swift
was that current, that even an oar would have
scarcely accomplished what he wished. The bit
of board, small, and thin, and frail, and wielded
with great difficulty and at a fearful disadvantage,
was almost useless.
But, though he saw that he was accomplishing
little or nothing, he could not bring himself to give
90
LOST IN TFIR FOG.
u[) tlii.s work. It seomcd his uiily hupo ; and so ho
Iciboi'od un, suiiKjtiiuus wurking with both luiiids at
the hoard, Hoiiiutiinos plyiug his i'rail paddle withoiie
hand, and using the other hand at a vain endeavor
to paddle in the water. In liisdes[)eration lie kept on,
and thought that ii" he gained ever so little, still, hy
keeping hard at work, the little that he gained might
iinally tell upon the direction of the boat — at any
rate, so long as it might bo in the river. lie knew
that the rivor ran for some miles yet, and that some
time still remained before he would reaeh the bay.
Thus Tom toiled on, half despairing, and nearly
fainting witli his frenzied exei'tion, yet still refus-
ing to give up, but plying his frail pady the wind which sig-licd Jiround liini; and
tliiit mist griidiially overspread tin; seenu in)()ii
wliich liis straining eyes woro rastcnod. It shut
(,ut the ovcrlianging sky. It oxtinguisiicd the
ghimnei'ing stars. It tlirew a veil over the reced-
ing shores. It drew its I'olds around liim closer
and closer, until at last everything was hiddc^n i'rom
view. C/loser and still closer came the nn'st, and
thicker and ever thicker grow its dense folds, until
at last even the water, into which he still thrust
his Irail paddle, was invisible. At length his
strength failed utterly. His hands refused any
longer to perform their duty. The strong, indomi-
table will remained, but the power of performing
the dictates of that will was gone. lie fell back
upon the sail that lay in the bottom of tlie boat, and
the board fell from his hands.
And now there gathered around the prostrate
figure of the lost boy all the terrors of thickest
darkness. The fog came, together with the night,
shrouding all things from view, and he was floating
over a wide sea, with an impenetrable wall of thick-
est darkness closing him in on all sides.
As he thus lay there helpless, he had leisure to
reflect for the first time upon the full bitterness of
his situation. Adrift in the fog, and in the night,
and borne onward swiftly down into the Bay of
Fundy — that was his position. And what could
he do ? That was the one question which he could
THE PADDLE.
93
not aiisw(3r. Giviiij:^ way now to tlio rusli of de-
spair, ho lay for womo tiiiio motionless, Iceling the
ro(;kiii;j,' of the waves, and the breath of the wind,
and tlie ehill damp of the I'oj:^, yet unal)le to do
anything against these enemies. B\)r nearly an
honr ho lay thus inactive, and at the end of that
time his lost energies began to return, lie rose
and l(»ok('(l around. The scene had not changed
at all; in lact, there was no scene to change. There
was nothing but bhick darkness all around. Sud-
denly something knocked against the boat, lie
reached out his hand, and touched a piece of wood,
which the next instant slipped I'rom his grasp.
Hut the disa})[)ointment was not without its alle-
viation, for he thought that he might come across
some bits of drift wood, with which he coidd do
something, perliaps, for his escape. And so l)uoy-
ant was his soul, and so obstinate his courage, that
this little incident of itself served to revive his
laculties. He went to the stern of the boat, 5ind
sitting there, he tried to think upon what might be
best to bo done.
What could be done in such a situation? IIo
could swim, but of what avail was that? J a wiiat
direction could he swim, or what progress could he
midc(\ with such a tide ? As to ])addling, he thought
of that no more ; paddling was exhausted, and his
board was useless. Nothing remained, apparently,
but inaction. Inaction was indeed hard, and it
was the woist condition in which he could be
-,%.
IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)
1.0
I.I
1.25
If i^ IIIIIM
2.2
1^ 1^
•- lilllM
1.8
1.4 IIIIII.6
V]
<^
/2
A
'<^.
V
/A
A
\^
'^'^
\
\
«^
<^ V/'^O^
^1> <^
r^^^
ffnr:
04
LOST IN THE FOG.
placed, for in such a state the mind always preys
upon itself ; in sucli a state trouble is always mag-
nified, and tlie slow time passes more slowly. Yet
to this inaction he found liimself doomed.
TTe floated on now for hours, motionless and
filled witli despair, listening to the dash of the
waves, which were the only sounds that came to his
cars. And so it came to pass, in process of time,
that by incessant attention to these monotonous
sounds, they ceased to be altogether monotonctus,
but seemed to assume various cadences and into-
nations. ITis sharpened ears learned at last to dis-
tinguish between the dash of large waves and tlio
j)lash of small ones, the sighing of tlie wind, the
pressure of the w^aters against the boat's bows, and
the rip})le of eddies under its stern. Worn out by
excitement and fitigue, he lay motionless, listen-
ing to sounds like these, and taking in them a
mournful interest, when suddenly, in the midst
of thciui, his cars cauglit a dillerent cadence. It
was a long, measured sound, not an unfamiliar one,
but one which he had often heard — the gathering
sound wliich breaks out, rising and accumulating
ni)on (he ear, as the lung line of surf falls upon
some rocky shore. lie know at once what this
was, and iniderstood by it that he was near some
shor(^ ; but wliat shore it might bo he could not
know. 'I'ho sound c;ime up from his right, and
thorefori^ might be the New Ibunswick coast, if
the boat had preserved its proper position. But the
THE ROAR OF SURF.
9")
4
position of the boat had been constantly cl)anp,inii;
as she drifted along, so that it was impossible to
tell whether he was drifting stern foremost or bow
foremost. The water moved as the boat moved,
and there was no means by which to jndge. He
listened to the surf, therefore, but made no attempt
to diaw nearer to it. He now knew perfectly well
that with his present resources no efforts of his
could avail anything, and that his only course wonld
1)0 to wait. Besides, this shore, wliatever it was,
must be very, different, be thoughf, from the banks
(if the Petitcodiac. It was, as he thought, an iron-
bound shore. And the surf wdiich he heard broke
in thunder a mile away, at the foot of giant preci-
|)ices, which could only offer death to the hapless
wretch who mi-^lit bo thrown among them. TTt^
lay, therefore, inactive, listening to this rolling surf
for hours. At fii-st it grew gradually louder, as
though he was ajtproaching it; but iif'terwards it
grew fainter (piile as gradu.'dly, until at length it
could no longer l)o heard.
Huring all these lonely liours, one thing afforded
a certain consolation, jnid that was, the discovery
that the sea did not grow rougher. The wind that
blew was th(^ sou-wester, the dreaded wind of fog
and sloiiu; but on this occasion its strength was
not i)ut forth ; it blew but moderately, and the
water was not very greatly disturluMl. Th»^ sea
tossed the littl(» boat, but was not high enough to
dash o\'er Ikm*, or to endanger her in any way.
9G
LOST IN THE FOG.
■JL\&
■■f
None of its spray over came upon the recumbent
form in the boat, nor did any moisture come iK^ar
liim, save tliat which was deposited by tlie fog.
At first, in liis terror, lie liad counted upon meet-
ing- a tempestuous sea ; but, as tlie liours passed,
lie saw that thus far there liad been nothing* of
tlie kind, and, if he were destined to be exposed
to such a danger, it lay as yet in the future. As
long as the wind continued moderate, so long
would he toss over the little waves without being
endangered in any way. And thus, with all these
thoughts, sometimes depressing, at other times
rather encouraging, he drifted on.
ITours passed away.
At length his fatigue overpowered him more
and mor(\ and as he sat there in the stern, his eyes
closed, and his^head fell heavily forward. He laid
it upon the sail which was in front of him, so as to
get an easier position, and was just closing his
eyes again, when a sound came to his ears which
in an instant drove every thought of sleep and of
fiitigue away, and made him start w^ and listen
with intense eagerness.
It was the sound of a fog horn, such as is used
by coasting vessels, and blown during a fog, at in-
tervals, to give warning of their presence. The
sound was a familiar one to a bov who had been
brougiit up on the fog-encircled and fish-haunted
shon^s of Newfoundland ; and Tom's hearing, which
had been almost hushed in slumber, caught it at
•»«.
THE FOG HORN.
97
bent
nc^w
lV)g.
lueet-
issed,
ig of
posed
. As
J
long
being
these
■'1
times
1 more
is eyes
To laid
as to
Mig l^is
which
and of
1 listen
IS use
d
g, at ni-
e. The
ad been
haunted
vr^ which
^ht it at
once. It was like the voice of a friend calling to
him. But for a moment he thought it was only a
fancy, or a dream, and he sat listening and quiver-
ing with excitement. ITe waited and listened for
some time, and was just about to conclude that it
was a dream, when suddenly it came again. There
was no mistake this time. It was a fog horn.
Some schooner was sailing these waters. for
day-light, and for clear weather, so that ho
might see it, and make himself seen ! The sound,
though clear, was faint, and the schooner was
evidently at a considerable distance ; but Tom, in
his eagerness, did not think of that. He shouted
with all his strength. lie waited for an answer,
and then shouted again. Once more he w.'iiter',
and listened, and then again and again his screams
went forth over the water. But still no response
came. At last, after some interval, the fog horn
again sounded. Again Tom screamed, and yelled,
and uttered every sound that could possibly con-
vey to human ears an idea of his presence, and of
his distress.
The sounds of the fog horn, however, did not
correspond with his cries. It was blown at regu-
lar intervals, whirh seemed painfully long to Tom,
and did not seem to sound as if in answer to him.
At first his hope was sustained by the discovery
that the sounds were louder, and therefore nearer;
l)ut scarcely had he assured himself of this, when
he perceived that they were growing fainter again,
^,
r
98
LOST IN THE FOG.
as though the scliooner luid aj)proac]ied liim, and
then sailed away. Tliis discovery only stimulated
him to more frantic cxcrtiuns. lie yelled more
and more loudly, and was cumpciled, at last, to
cease from pure exliaustion. But even tlion lie
did not cease till long after the last notes of tho
departing fog liorn had faintly sounded in his ears.
It was a disappointment bitter indeed, since it
came aftei a reviving hope. What made it all the
worse was a fixed idea which he had, that the
sciiooncr was no other than tlie Antelope. He felt
confident that she had come at once after him, and
was now traversing the waters in search of him, and
sounding the norn so as to send it to his ears and get
his response. And his response had been given witli
this result ! This was the end of his hopes. He
could bear it no longer. The stout lieart and the
resolute obstinacy which had so long struggled
against fate now gave way utterly. lie buried his
face in his hands, and burst into a passion of tears.
He wo})t for a long time, and roused himself, at
last, witli didlculty, to a dull despair. AVliat was
tho use of hoping, or thinking, or listening? Hope
was useless.' It was better to let liiinself 2:0 wher-
ever tlio waters might take him. He reached out
his hand and drew the sail forward, and tlien set'
tling himself down in the stern of tlic boat, he
again shut his eyes and tried to sleep. But sleep,
which a short time before had been so easy, was
now dilHcult. His ears took in once more the
THUNDER OF THE CRRAKERS.
99
the
dilTereTit sounds of the sen, and soon became aware
of a deeper, drearer sound than Jiny wliicli liad
hitherto come to him. It was the hoarse roar of
a _L;"reat surf, far more formidalJe than the one
which he had heard l)efore. Th(^ tumult and tlie
(hn !j,Tew ra})idly h)udci', and at len<>'th became so
terrific that he sat ui)iiglit, and strained liis eyea
ill I lie (h'rcction from whicli it came. Peerin^i:;" thus
tlir()Ui;-li tiie darkness, lie saw tlie glow of })hos|)ho-
resccnt waves wrought out of tlie strife of many
waters : and they threw towards him, amid the dark-
ness, a baleful gleam which i'ascinatod his eyes.
A feeling came to liim now that all was over, lie
felt as tlnuigh he were being sucked into some vor-
tex, where Death lay in wait f(U' him. lie trem-
bled. A prayer started to his li})s, and ])ur^:t from
Iiiui. Suddenly his boat seemed caught by some
resistless f(U'ce, and jerked to one side ; the next
instant it rose on some swelling wave, and was
shot swiftly forward. Tom closed his e^^es, and a
thrill of horror passed through every nerve. All
at once a rude shock was felt, and the boat shook,
and Tom thought he was going down. It seemed
lik<^ the blow of a rock, and hi^ could think only of
l!ie ingulfing waters. But the waters hesitated
to claim their prey; the rushing motion censed;
and soon the boat was tossing lightly, as before,
over the waves, whihi the hoarse and thunderous
roar of those dread unscM'u br(sd\ers, fi'om which
he had been so wondreusly saved, arose wrathfully
100
LOST IN THE FOG.
beliind, as tliougli tlioy were Iiowlinp; after tlieir
escaped victim. A cry of gratitude escaped Tom,
and witli trembling lips he offered a lieart-felt prayer
to that divine Power whose mighty hand had just
rescued him from a terrible doom.
Tom's agitation had l»eon so great that it was
long befoi-e he could regain his former calm. At
last, however, his trembling subsided. iTe hennl
no lonii'cr the howlinji; surf. All was calm and
(piiot. The wind ceased, the boat's motion was
less violent, the lonerilous and unapproachable. He did not think
nuu'h better of the Nova Scotia coast. He thought
rather of O.ipe d'Or, as a promising place of refuge,
or the Petitcodiac. So, after long deliberation, ho
decided on steering back again, especially as the
wind was blowing directly up the bay.
By the time that he had linished these prepara-
tions and deliberations the boat was afloat. Eagerly
Tom pushed it away from the shoal; eagerly, and
'#
HOISTINCx SAIL.
!09
3Ct. ITo
<^- use of
)11C. IIo
it to 1)0
3 eiul of*
(i a liolo
iw woi'k,
iiiseitcd
ITo was
I go n oral
loam ])y
tlio edge
r oir the
, lio put
stoor?
ouM toll
:s of tlio
Uroction
roast ho
sooniod
ot til ink
thought
f roiug'o,
ation, ho
y as the
propara-
Kagorly
3rly, uud
with tromhliiig hands, ho lot the sail unfold, and
thrust the board into the water astern. The boat
lollowed the impulse of the wind, and the young
■ sailor saw with delight that his experiiuent was
sucocssful, and before long the dark rooks of Quaco
Lodge were lost to view.
Now, where there is a definite object to steer by,
or a compass to guide one, and a decent rudder,
oven an inoxperionc^od hand can manage to come
somewhere near the point that ho aims i ^ But
lake a boat like Tom's, and a rude and suddenly
oxtemporizod sail, with no other rudder than a bit
■^ of board, with no compass, and a surrounding of
tliiok fog, and it would puzzle oven an experienced
sailor to guide himself aright. Tom soon suspected
' that his course was rather a wild one ; his board in
])articidar became quite mimanagoable, and he was
iiitignod with trying to hold it in the water. So
ho threw it aside, and boldly trusted to his sail
alone.
The boat seemed to him to bo making very re-
:s{)octablo [)rogress. The wind was fresh, and the
sea only moderate. The little waves boat over the
bows, and there was quite a commotion astern.
'^Pom thouglit he was doing very well, and heading
hii^ near as possible towards the Petitcodiac. Be-
sides, in his excitement at being thus saved from
-mere blind drifting, ho did not much care where ho
T^wont, lor he iolt assured that he was now on the
"way out of his diilicultios.
no
LOST IN THE FOPr.
In an hour or two after leaving tlie ledge it grew
quite dark, and Tom saw that it would be neces-
sary to prepare for the night. His preparations
were simple, consisting in eating a half dozen bis-
cuit. Ue now began to feel a little thirsty, but
manfully struggled against this feeling. Gradually
the darkness grew deeper, until at last it assumed
the intense character of the preceding night. But
still Tom sat up, and the boat went on. The wind
did not slacken, nor did the boat's progress cejise.
Hours passed by in this way. As to the tides,
Tom could not tell now very well whether they
were rising or falling, and, in fact, he was quite
indifterent, being satisfied fully witli his progress.
As long as ^he wind distended his sail, and bore
the boat onward, he cared not whether the tide
favored or opposed.
Hours passed, but such was Tom's excitement
that he still bore up, and thought nothing of rest
or of sleep. His attention was needed, too, and so
he kept wide awake, and his ears were ever on the
stretch to hear the slightest sound. But at last
the intense excitement and the long fatigue began
to overpower him. Still he struggled against his
weakness, and still he watched and listened.
Hours passed on, and the wind never ceased to
fill the sail, and the boat never ceased to go onsviird
in a course of which Tom could have no idea, it
was a course totally dillerent from the one which
he intended — a course which depended on the
%
A FORT/JRN TIOPR.
in
^e it grew
be iiecetj-
3paratiuns
dozen bis-
lirsty, but
Gradually
t assumed
ght. lUit
The wind
'ess cease,
the tides,
ther they
was quite
progress.
and bore
r tlie tide
xcitement
iig of rest
;oo, and so
cr on the
ut at last
;ue began
ainst his
ed.
ceased to
2:0 oil ward
) idea. It
i>U(^ whicli
d on tlio
§
chance of the wind, and one, too, whicli was varied
by tlie sweep of the tide as it rose or fell ; but tiio
course, such as it was, continued on, and Tom
watched and waited until, at last, from sheer ex-
haustion, he fell sound asleep.
His dreams were much disturbed, but he slept
on soundly, and when he awaked it was broad day.
lie looked around in deep disnppointmcnt. Fog
was everywhere, as before, and nothing could be
seen. Whether he was near any shore or not ho
could not tell. Suddenly he noticed that the wind
was blowing from an opposite direction. How to
account for this was at first a mystery, for the fog
still prevailed, and the opposite wind could not
bring fog. Was it possible that the boat had
turned during his sleep? He knew that it was
quite possible. Indeed, he believed that this was
the case. With this impression he determined to
act on tlie theory that the boat had turned, and
not that the wind had cliangod. The latter idea
seemed impossible. The wind was the chill, damp
fog wind — the sou-wester. Convinced of this,
Ttju turned the boat, and felt satisfied thfft ho had
resuuKMl his true course.
After a time the wind went down, and the bmII
llappoil idly against the mast. Tom was in a fever
of im])atience, but ciMild do nothing. He felt him-
self to be once more at the mercy of the tides.
The wind liad failcMl him, and nothing was left but
to drill. All that dsiy he drifted, and night came
V
h
112
LOST IN THE FO(i
on. Still it continued calm.* Tom was weary and
worn out, but so intense was his excitement that
he could not think of sleep. At midinght the
wind sprung up a little ; and now Tom determined
to keep awake, so that the boat might not again
double on her track, lie blamed himself for sleep-
ing on the previous night, and losing so much
progress. Now he was determined to keep awake.
His resolution was carried out. His intense
eagerness to reach some shore, no matter where,
and his fear of again losing what he had gained,
kept sleep from his eyes. All that niglit he
watched his boat. The wind blew fitfully, some-
times carrying the boat on rapidly, again dying
down.
So the next morning came.
It was Thursday.
It was Monday fxight when ho had drifted out,
and all that time he had been on the deep, lost in
the fog.
And now, wearied, dejected, and utterly worn
out, he looked around in despair, and wondered
where this would end. Fog was everywhere, as
before, and, as before, not a thing could be seen.
Hours passed on ; the wind had sprung up fresh,
and the boat went on rapidly.
Suddenly Tom sprang upright, and uttered a
loud cry.
There full before him he saw a giant cliff, tower-
ing lar overhead, towards which the boat was
WILD STEERING.
113
iry and
nt that
jilt tlie
irmiiied
►t again
r sleep-
) much
awake,
intense
where,
gained,
g-lit he
r, Ronie-
1 dying
ed ont,
■W:'y
lost in
%
y worn
^i^^^l
)ndered
lere. as
'^1
seen.
p fresh,
ered a
tower-
at was
saiUng. At its base the waves were dasliing.
Over its brow trees were bonding. In tlio air far
above he lieard the hoarse cries of sea-gulls.
In his madness he lot the boat drive straight on,
and was close to it before lie tliouglit of his danger.
He could not avoid it now, however, for he did not
know liow to turn the boat. On it went, and in a
lew moments struck the beach at the base of the
cliir.
The tide was higli; tlic breeze was moderate,
and there was but little surf. The boat was not
injured liy running ashore there. Tom jumped out,
and, taking the rope in his hands, walked along
tlic roULih and stonv beacli for about a hundred
yards, pulling the boat after him. There the cliff
was succeeded by a steep slope, beyond which
was a gentle, grass-grown declivity. Towards this
h(5 bent his now feeble steps, still tugging at the
boat, Jind drawing it after him.
At length he reached the grassy slope, and
found here a rough beach. lie fastened the boat
securely to the trunk of a tree that grew near.
Then he lilted out the box of biscui', and over
this he threw the sail.
lie stood for a few moments on the bank, and
looked all around for signs of some human habita-
tion ; but no signs appeared. Tom was too ex-
liausted to go in search of one. He had not slept
Ibr more than thirty hours. The country that he
saw w as cleared. Hills were at a little distance, but
8
114
LOST IN TTTE FOG.
II
the fog which hung m11 around concealer! every-
thing from view. One look was enough.
Overwhelmed with gratitude, he fell upon his
knees, and offered up a fervent prayer of thankful-
ness for his astonishing escape.
Tlicn fatigue overpowered him, and, rolling Jiim-
self up in the sail, he went to sleep.
V*
i.'M
'%
ANXIOUS LOOKOUT.
115
every-
)on his
lankful-
ng Iiim-
VIIT.
Off in Search. — Eager OtUlook. — Notliimj hut Fog.
— SjX'aking a Schooner. — Pleasant Anecdotes. —
Clieer up. — The Heart of Corbet.
'FTKU, the arrival of Bruce and T>art, Captain
Corbet (lid not delay liis de})arture nmoli loiii;-
(>r. The vessel was already all()at,and tlioiig'h
the tide was still rising, yet the wind was suf-
(ici(Mitlv lavoraljh^ to enable her to do on her wav\
The sails weri; soon set, and, with the new boat in
tow, the Anteh)pe weighed anchor, and took hor
departure. For about two houra but little prog-
ress was made against the strong opposing cur-
rent : yet they had the satisfaction oi' reaching the
mouth of the river, and by ten o'clock, when the
tide turned and began to fall, they were fairly in
the bay. The wind here was ahead, but the strong
tide was now in their favor, and they hoped for
some hours to make respectal)le progress.
During this time they had all kept an anxious
lookout, but without any result. No Heating craft
of any kind aj)])eared ujhju the surface of the wa-
ter. Coming down the river, the sky was uncloud-
m
rrr'
tlG
LOST IN TTIE POO.
ed, and all the snrronndinf^ scene was fully visible ;
but on reaching the bay, they saw before them, a
few miles down, a lofty wall of light-gray cloud.
Captain Corbet waved his hand towards this.
" We're in for it," said he, " or we precious soon
will be."
" Wliat's that ? " asked Phil.
" Our old friend — a fog bank. You'd ought to
know it by this time, sure."
There it lay, a few miles off, and every minute
brought them nearer. The appearance of the fog
threw an additional ^loom over the minds of all,
for tliey saw the hopeless character of their search.
Of what avail would it be to traverse the seas if
they were all covered by such thick mists? Still
notliing else was to be done, and they tried to hope
for tlie best.
*' Any how," said Captain Corbet, " thar's one
comfort. That thar fog may go as quick as it
come. It ony needs a change of wind. Why,
I've knowcid it all vanish in half an hour, an the
fog as thick as it is now."
" But sometimes it lasts long — don't it ? "
" I should think it did. I've knowed it hang on
for weeks."
At this gloomy statement the boys said not a
word.
Soon after the schooner approached the fog bank,
and in a little while it had plunged into the midst
of its misty folds. The chill of the damp clouds,
SrEKCH OF CAPTAIN CORBET.
117
sible ;
lem, a
cloud.
s soon
iglit to
inimite
tlie fog
of all,
search,
seas if
? Still
to hope
tr's one
k as it
Why,
, an the
lang on
d not a
)
g bank,
e midst
D clouds,
as thoy enveloped them, struck additional chill to
their hearts. It was into the midst of this tliat pour
Tom hnd drifted, they thought, and over these seiis,
amidst this impenetrable atmosphere, he might even
now be diifting. In the midst of the deep deject iun
conse(pient upon such thoughts, it was dilficult fur
them to find any sulid ground for hope.
\ The wind was moderate, yet adverse, and the
schooner had to beat against it. As she went on
each tack, they came in sight of the shores ;
but as time passed, the bay widened, and Captain
Corbet kei)t away from the land as much as possi-
ble. All the time the boys never ceased to main-
tain their forlorn lookout, and watched over the
sides, and peered anxiously through the mist, in
the hope that the gloomy waters might suddenly
disclose to their longing eyes the form of the drill-
ing boat and their lost companion.
" I tell you what it is, boys," said Captain Corbet,
after a long and thoughtful silence ; " the best plan
of acting in a biz of this kind is to pluck up sperrit
an gu on. Why, look at me. You mind the time
when that boat, that thar i-dentical, indiv,iddle
boat, drifted away onst afore, with youns in it.
You remember all about that, — course. Well,
look iit me. Did I mourn? Did I fret? Was 1
cast down ? Nary down ; not me. 1 cheered up.
1 cheered up Mr, Long. I kep everybody in good
sperrits. An what was the result? Result was,
you all turned up in prime order and condition, a
U8
LOST IN THE FOG.
cnjyin of your.sclvus like all possessed, aluiig with
old O'Rafrerty.
" Again, my friends," ho continued, as the boys
made no remark, " consider this life air short
an full of vycissitoods. Ups an downs air tiie
lot of pore fallen hooinanity. But if at the fust
blast of misf(|i'ten we give up an throw up the
game, what's the good of us? The question now,
an the chief pint, is this — Who air we, an wluir
air we goin, an what air we purposin to do?
Fust, we air hooman beins ; secondly, we air a
traversin the vast an briny main ; and thirdly, we
hope to find a certain friend of ourn, who was borno
away from us by the swellin tide. Thar's a aim for
us — a high an holy aim; an now I ask you, as
feller-critters, how had we ought to go about it?
Had we ought to peek, an pine, an fret, an whine?
Had we ought to snivel, and give it up at the fust?
Or had we ought, rayther, to be up an doin, —
pluck up our spcrrits like men, and go about our
important work with energy ? Which of these
two, my friends ? I pause for a reply."
This was quite a speech for Captain Corl^et, and
the effort seemed quite an exhaustive one. He
paused some time for a reply ; but as no reply was
forthcoming, he coijtinued his remarks.
" Now, see here," said he ; " this here whole bu-
siness reminds me of a story I once read in a noos-
pa})er, about a man up in this here identical river,
the Petticoat Jack, who, like a fool, pulled up his
■n*'» '/fi •"•
THE captain's SPEECH ENDED.
110
llg W
ith
ho l)(.)ys
ir short
air tliu
the fust
up the
ion now,
an whiir
to do'.'
ro air a
irdly, we
as borne
a aim for
you, as
bout it?
[1 whine?
the fust?
doin, —
bout our
of these
rl)et, and
jne. He
•eply was
vhole bu-
n a noos-
cal river,
ed up his
boat on the bank, and went off to sleep in her.
Will, as a matter of course, he floated off, — for the
ti(h3 liappened to be risin, — an when he woke up
out of liis cool an refreshin slumbers, he found
liimself afar on the briny deep, a boundin like 'a
tiling of life,' o'er the deep heavin sea. IJosides,
it was pre(;ious foggy, — jest as it is now, — an the
man couldn't see any more'n we can. Wal, the
story went on to say, how that thar man, in that
thar boat, went a «iriftin in that thar fashion, in
that thar fog; an he drifted, an drifted, an derift-
ed, for days an days, up an down, on one side
an t'other side, an round every way, — an, mind
you, he hadn't a bit to eat, or to drink either, for
that matter, — 't any rate, the paper didn't mention
no such thing; an so, you know, h<^. drifted, an
d-e-e-o-rifted, — until at last he druv athore. An
now, whar d'ye think he druv ? "
The boys couldn't think.
" Guess, now."
The boys couldn't guess.
"D'ye guv it up?'!
They did. ' ,
" Wal, the paper said, he druv ashore at Grand
Manaii; but I've my doubts about it."
The captain paused, looked all around through
the fog, and stood for a morrient as though listen-
ing to some sound.
" I kine o' thought," said he, " that I detected the
dasli of water on the shore. I rayther think it's
time to bring her round."
_^R
immw
.>5t
120
LOST IN THE FOG.
Tlie vessel was brouglit round on anotlicr tack,
and tlio captain resumed liis cunversatiun.
" What I was jest sayin," he continued, " re
minds me of a story I oust lieard, or read, 1 forget
which (all the same, though), al)out two boys wliich
went adrift ou a raft. It took place up in Scott's
Bay, I tliink, at a ship-yard in that thar locality.
" These two unfortunate children, it seems, had
made a raft in a playful mude, an embark in on it
they had been amoosin theirselves with j)addliii
about by pushin it with poles. At lengtli th(^y
came to a pint where poles were useless ; the tide
got holt of the raft, an the ferraii structoor was
speedily swept onward by the foorus current.
Very well. Time rolled on, an that thar raft rolled
on too, — far over the deep belle w sea, — beaten by
the liowlin storm, an acted ujhju by tbe remorseless
tides. I leave you to pictoor to yourselves the
sorrow of tliem thar two infant unfortunits, thus
severed from their hum au parients, an borne afar,
an scarce enough close on to keep 'em from tlie in-
clemency of the weather. So they drifted, an
drifted, an de-e-rifted, until at last they druv
ashore ; an now, whar do you think it was that
they druv ? "
'J'he boys couldn't say.
*' Guess now."
The boys declined.
They couldn't.
SPEAKING A SCHOONER. 121
lor tack, " Nunie some place."
They couldn't tliink of any.
(3(1 " re "D'ye guv it up?" asked the captain, excitedly.
1 forget They did.
'S which " Well, then," said he, in a triumphant tone,
1 Scott's ' '' tliey druv ashore on Brier Island; an ef that thar
fility. ain't pooty tall driftin, then I'm a Injino."
3ms had 'I'o 1^'i^ 1^'itJ boys had no reply to make,
ill oil it " From all this," continued the captain, " you
paddliii . must perceive that this here driftin is very much
^th th(}y more commoner than you hev ben incline ^^'\th her on the spot. 1 don't want to hev you go
jorsehiss f niopin an whinin about this way. Hello ! "
y^y j^lnj ., Captain Corbet suddenly interrupted his remarks
its thus '' ''.^' '^'^ exclamation. The exclamation was caused
ne afar ^*y ^''^' sudden appearance of a sail immediately to
jj ^]^^, i,j. f windward. She was coming up the bay before the
fted an ^' wind, and came swiftly through the fog towards
^y druv at them. In passing on her way, she came irstern of
vas that I ^''^ Antelope.
"Schooner, ahoy!" cried Captain Corbet; and
some conversation took place, in which they learned
that the stranger was the schooner Wave, from
;i St. John, and that she had not seen any signs what-
ever of any drifting boat.
This news was received sadly by the boys, and
Ift.
J
r
109
I jj^
t.OST IN THE FOG.
Captiiiii Corbet had to exert his utmost to rouse
them from their depression, but without much
efl'ect.
" I don't know how it is," said ho, plaintively,
" but somehow your blues air contiguous, an 1 feel
as ef I was descondin intu a depression as deep as
yourn. I don't remember when I felt so depressed,
cept last May — time I had to go oil in the Ante-
lope with taters, arter I thought I'd done with sea-
farin for the rest of my life. But that thar vessel
war wonderously resussutated, an the speouse of
my buzzum druv me away to traverse the sea. An
I had to tar myself away from the clingin gerasp of
my weepiu infant, — the tender bud an bulossum
of an old man's life — tar myself away, an feel my-
self a outcast. Over me hovered contennooly the
image of the pinin infant, an my heart quivered
witli responsive sympathy. An I yearned — an I
pined — an I groaned — an I felt that life would
be intoU'ble till I got back to the babby. An so it
was that I passed away, an had scace the heart
to acknowledge your youthful cheers. Wal, time
rolled on, an what's the result? Here I air. Do
I pine now ? Do I peek ? Not a pine ! Not a
peek ! As tender a heart as ever -bet still beats in
this aged frame ; but I am no longer a purray to
sicli tender reminiscinsuz of the babby as oust used
to consume my vitals."
Thus it was that tlic venerable captain talked
with the boys, and it was thus that he sought, by
PLKASANT ANECDOTES.
123
ovoiy possible moans, tu clieor tliem up. In this
way the day passed on, and after live or six hours
they began to look lor a turn of tide. During this
time the schooner had been beating; and as the fog
was as thick as ever, it was impossible for the boys
to tell where tliey were. Indeed, it did not seem
as though they had been making any progress.
" We'll have to anchor soon" said the captain,
closing his eyes and turning his face meditatively
to the quarter whence the wind came.
'' Anchor ? "
es.
V
^' What for?"
^' Wal, you see it'll soon be dead low tide, an we
can't go on any further when it turns. We'll have
wind an tide both agin us."
" How far have we come now ? "
" Wal, we've come a pooty considerable of a lick
now — mind I tell you. 'Tain't, of course, as good
as of the wind had ben favorable, but arter all, tliat
thar tide was a pooty considerable of a tide, now."
'^ flow long will you anchor? "
'' Why, till the next turn of tide, — course."
'' Wh(>n will that 1)0?"
" Wal, somewhar about eleven o'clock."
''Eleven o'clock?"
" Yes."
'^ Why, that's almost midnight."
" Course it is."
" Wouldn't it be better to cruise off in the bay?
il
I i\
124
LOST IN THE FOO.
It seems to me anything is better tluin koo[»iiig
still."
" No, young sir; it seems to me that jest now
iinytliin is better tliaii tryin to cruise in tlie l);iy,
with a liocul tide a comiu u}*. Why, whar d'ye think
we'd be ? It woidd ony take an liour or two to [)ut
us on Cape Chignecto, or Cape d'Or, onto a place
that we wouldn't git away from in a hurry, — -niind
I tell you."
To this, of course, tlie boys had nothing to say.
So, after a half hour's further sail, the anchor was
dropped, and the Antelope stopped her wanderings
for a time.
Tedious as the day had been, it was now worse.
The fog was as thick as ever, the scene was mo-
notonous, and there was nothing to do. Even Sob
onion's repasts had, in a great measure, lost their
attractions, lie had spread a dinner for tliem,
which at other times, and under happier circum-
stances, would have been greeted with uproarious
enthusiasm ; but at the present time it was viewed
with comparative indifference. It was the fog that
threw this gloom over them. Had the sky been
clear, and the sun shining, they would have viewed
the situation with (comparative e(i[uaninnty ; but the
.fog threw terror all its own around Tom's position;
and by shutting them in on every side, it forced
tliem to think of him who was impi'isoned in the
same way — their lost companit)n, who now was
drifting in the dark. Besides, as long as they were
CHEER UP.
125
3i.mg
now
tlilnk
to [)Ut
placo
-mind
o say.
_)Y was
crings
worse,
as nio-
t tlioir
them,
ircum-
arious
icwcd
og tliiit
i boon
v^iowcd
ut the
)sition ;
{breed
in the
)W was
y were
in motion, they had the consciousness that tliey wore
doing' something, and that of itself was a comfort;
l»ut now, e^on that consohition was taken away
from them, and in tlieir forced inaction they fell
l»aek again into the same despondency which they
liad felt at Potitcodiac.
" It's all this fog, I do believe," said Captain
Corbet. ^' If it want for this you'd all cheer up, an
bo as merry as crickets."
" Is there any prospect of its going away ? "
" Wal, not jest yet. You can't reckon on it.
When it chooses to go away, it does so. It may
hani.' on for weeks, an p'aps months. Thar's no
tcllin. 1 don't mind it, bein as I've })assed my
hnll life in the middle of fog banks ; but I dare say
it's a lectio tryin to youns."
Tlio re|)ast that Solomon spread for them on
tliat evening was scarce tasted, and to all his coax-
ings and i-emonstrances the boys made no reply.
After the tea was over, they went on deck, and
starcil sihmtly into the surrounding gloom. The
sight gave them no relief, and gave no hope. In
that dense fog twilight came on soon, and with
the twilight came the shadows of the night more
rapidly. At last it grew quite dark, and finally
there arose all around them the very blackness of
art.
" Course I know it."
" It's lucky for us we didn't go there at night."
" Yes, it is rayther lucky ; but then there wan't
any danger o' that, cos, you see, I kep the vessel
off by night, an tho danger couldn't hev riz. I
thought we were a mih; further up the bay; we've
been a doin better than I thought for."
" Shall we be able to get into Quaco any
sooner ? "
132 LOST m THE FOG.
" Wal, not miicli."
" I tliouglit frvjiri wliat you siiid that we were a
mile nearer."
" Ho v/e air, but tliat don't make any very great
dillerenee."
" Wliy, we ought to get in all tlie sooner, 1 nliould
tliink."
" No ; not much."
" Why not? I don't understand that."
" Wal, you see it's low tide now."
'' The tides again ! "
" Yes ; it's alius the tides that you must consider
here. Wal, it's low tide now, an the tide's already
on the turn, an risin. We've got to anchor."
" Anchor ! "
'' Yes."
" What, again ? "
"Yes, agin. Even so. Ef we didn't anchor
we'd only oe drifted up again, ever so far, an lose
all that we've ben a gainin. We're not more'n a
mile above (^uaco Harbor, but we can't fetch it
with wind an tide agin us ; so we've got to put out
some distance an anchor. It's my firm belief that
we'll be in Quaco by noon. The next fallin tide
will carry us thar as slick as a whistle, an then
we can pursue our investigations."
The scliooner now held on her course for about
a mile away from the shore, and then came to an-
chor. The boys had for a moment lost sight of
this unpleasant necessity, and had forgotten that
UNDER WAY.
1 oo
LOO
tlioy \\iu\ bcGii iiriing u[) the liours uf tlic ohl) tide
wliilo tiriloop. TIkm'o was no help fur it, huwevor,
and tliuy fuinid, to tliuir di.sgust, another day ol" log,
and of inaction.
Time paased, and breakfast came. Solomon now
had the satisfaction of seeing thein eat more, and
ga\"e manifest signs of tliat satisfaction by tlie
twiuki"'. of his e}'e and the lustre of his ebony
brow. After this the time passed on slowly and
heavily; but at length eleven o'clock came, and
passed, and in a short time they were once more
under wav.
'' We're going to Qmico now — arn't we ? " asked
i'hil.
"Yes; riglit straight on into Quaco Harbor, fair
an scjuar."
" 1 don't see how it's possible for you to know
so pei'fectly where you are."
" Young sir, there ain't a nook, nor a corner,
nor a hole, nor a stun, in all the outlinin an con-
ligt)ordtion of this here bay but what's mapped
cut an laid down all c'rect in this here brain. I'd
undertake to navigate these waters from year's end
to year's end, ef I was never to see the sun at all,
an even ef I was to be perpetooly surrounded by
all the fogs that ever riz. Yea, verily, and more-
over, not only this here bay, but the hull coast all
along to Besting. Why, I'm at home here on the
rollin biller. I'm the man for Mount Desert, an
Quoddy Head, an Grand Mauar.., an ail other places
134
LOST IN THE FOG.
tliiit air ticklisli to thu giiirality of rioafai'iii inf^n.
Why, N'uuiig sir, you see before you, in tlie liuiHl)le
au uuassuuiin person of the aged Corbet, a liviii,
niuvin, and sea-goin edition of JJhmt's Coast Tiiot,
revised and improved to a precious siglit better
condition than it's ever possible for tliein fellers in
Besting to get out. By JMunt's Coast Pilot, young
sir, I allude to a celebrated book, as big as a pork
bar'l, that every skipj^cr has in his locker, to guide
liiiH t)n his wanderin way — ony inc. I don't have
no call to use sech, being myself a edition of use-
ful information tcchin all coastin matters."
The Antelope njw proceeded quickly on her
way. Several nnles were traversed.
'• Now, boys, look sharp," said the captain ;
'' you'll soon see the settlement."
They looked sharp.
For a few moments they went onward througli
the water, and at length there was visible just be-
fore them what seemed like a dark cloud extending
all along. A few minutes further progress made
the dark cloud still darker, and, advancing further,
the dark cloud finally dis(;losed itself as a line of
coast. It was close by them, and, even while they
were recognizing it as land, they saw before them
the outline of a wharf.
" Good agin ! " cried the captain. '' I didn't
come to the wharf I wanted, but this hevo'll do as
well as any other, an 1 don't know Init what it'll do
better. Here we air, boys. Stand by thar, mate,
to let fall the jib."
I
ON SHORE.
135
On they went, and in a few minutes more the An-
telope wore round, and her side just grazed tlie
wharf*. The mate jumped ashore, hues were se-
cured, and tiie Antelope lay in safety.
" An now, boys, we may all go ashore, an see if
we can hear anything about the boat."
With these words Captain Corbet stepped upon
the wharf, followed by all the boys, and they all
went up together, till they found themselves on a
road. There they saw a shop, and into this they
entered. No time was to bo lost ; the captain at
once told his story, and asked his question.
The answer was soon made.
Nothing whatever was known there about any
boat. Two or three schooners had arrived within
two days, and the slioi)keeper had seen the skip-
pers, but they had not mentioned any boat. No
boat had drifted ashore anywhere near, nor had any
strange lad arrived at the settlement.
Tliis intelligence depressed them all.
'' Wal, wal," said the captain, '' 1 didn't have
much hopes; it's jest as I feared; but, at the same
time, ril ask furtlier. An first and foremost I'll go
an see them schooners."
He then went off with the boys in search of the
schooners just mentioned. These were found
without difficulty. One had come from up the
bay, another from St. John, and a third from East-
l)ort. None of tliem had encountered anything
like a drifting boat. The one from up the bay
>
136 LOST IN THE FOG.
afforded them the greatest puzzle. She must have
come down the very uight of Tom's accident. If
he did drift down the bay in his boat, h(3 must liave
been not very far from the schooner. In clear
weather he could not have escaped notice ; but the
skipper had seen nothing, and heard nothing. lie
had to beat down against the wind, and anchor
when the tide was rising ; but, though he thus
traversed so great an extent of water, nothing
whatever attracted his attention.
" This sets me thinkin,'' said the captain, " tliat,
perhaps, he mayn't have drifted down at all. He
may have run ashore up thar. Thar's a chance
of it, an we must all try to think of that, and cheer
up, as long as we can."
Leaving the schooners, the captain now went
through the settlement, and made a few inquiries,
with no further result. Nothing had been heard
by any one about any drifting boat, and they were
at last compelled to see that in Quaco there was no
further hope of gaining any information whatever
about Tom.
After this, the captain informed tlio boys that
he was going back to the schooner to sleep.
" I haven't slop a wink," said he, ^' senco we left
Grand Pro, and that's more'n human natur can gin-
rally stand ; so now I'm bound to have my sleep
out, an prepare for the next trip. You boys had
better emply yourselves in inspectin this hero
village."
\
QUACO.
137
no
left
eep
liad
lero
" When shall we leave Quaco ? "
" Wal, I'll think that over. I haven't yet made
up my mind as tt) what's best to be done next.
One thing seems certain. There ain't no use goin
out in his fog, an I've half a mind to wait here
till to-morrow."
'' To-morrow ! "
" Yes, — an then go down to St. John."
'' But what'll poor Tom be doing ? "
" It's my firm belief that he's all right," said
Ca})tain Corbet, confidently. " At any rate, you'd
better walk about now, an I'll try an git some
sleep."
As there was nothing better to be done, the
boys did as he proposed, and wandered about the
village. It was about two miles long, witli houses
scattered at intervals along the single street of
which it was composed, with here and there a
ship-yard. At one end was a long, projecting ledge,
witli a light-house ; at the other there was a ro-
mantic valley, through which a stream ran into the
bay. On the other side of this stream were cliffs
of sandstone rocks, in which were deep, cavernous
hollows, worn by the waves; beyond this, again,
was a long line of a precipitous shore, in whose
sides were curious slielves, idong which it was
possible to walk for a great distance, with the sea
thundering on the rocks beneath. At vuy otlier
time they wouUl liave taken an intense enjoyment
iu u place like this, where there were so many
138 LOST IN THE FOG.
varied scenes ; but now tlieir sense uf enjoyment
was blunted, for they carried in their minds a per-
petual anxiety. None the less, however, did tliey
wander about, peneti'atin<^ up the valley, exploring
the caverns, and traversing the cliiTs.
They did not return to tlie schooner till dusk.
It would not be high tide till midnight, and so they
prolonged their excursion purposely, so as to use
up the time. On reaching the schooner they were
welcomed by Captain Corbet.
'^ I declar, boys," said he, ^' I'm getting to be a
leetle the biggest old fool that ever lived. It's all
this accident. It's onmanned me. I had a nap for
two or three hours, but waked at six, an ever
sence I've been a worretin an a frettin about youns.
Sence that thar accident, I can't bar to have you
out of my sight, for I fear all the time tliat you ar
gcttin into miscliief. An now I've been skeart for
two mortal hours, a fancyin you all tumblin down
from the clilfs, or a strugglin in the waters."
'^ 0, wo can take care of ourselves, captain,"
said liart.
" No, you can't — not you. I wouldn't trust one
of you. I'm gettin to be a feeble creetur too, — so
don't go away agin."
" Well, I don't think we'll liavo a chance in Qua-
co. Arn't we going to leave to-night?"
" Wal, tliat thar is jest the pint that Pvo been
moosin on. You see it's thick ; the fog's as bad as
over. What's tho use of going out to-uight ? Now,
CLEAR AND BRIGHT.
139
ef wo wait till to-morrow, it iiuiy bo clear, an then
wo can (locide what to do.'*
At this propo-'al, the boys were silent for a time.
The experience which they had formed of the bay
and its fogs showed them how nseless wonld be
any search by night, and the prospect of a clear
day, and, possibly, a more favorable wind on the
morrow, was very attractive. The question was
debated by all, and considered in all its bear-
ings, and the discussion went on until late, when
it was finally decided that it would be, on the
whole, the wisest course to wait until the follow-
ing day. Not the least iniluential of the many
considerations that occurred was their regard for
Captain Corbet. 'I'hey saw thtit he was utterly
worn out for want of sleej), and pe''ceived how
nnich he needed one night's rest. This il'ially de-
cided them.
Early on the following morning they were all up,
and eager to see if there was any change in the
W'cathor. The first glance around elicited a cry
of admiration from all of them. Above, all was
clear and briglit. The sun was shining with daz-
zling lustre ; the sky was of a deep blue, and with-
out a cloud on its wdiole expanse ; while the; wide
extent of the bay si)read out before them, blue like
the sky above, which it mirrored, and throwing up
its weaves to catch the sunlight. A fresh north
^\ iiid was blowing, and all the air and all the sea
was full of light and joy.
140 LOST IN THE F0(;.
Tlio sct'iio aroiiml was in ovury I'cspect miiu^nill-
vrut. Tlic lido was low. aiul Uio l)ri);ul lu-ach, which
now was inu'oviTcd by the walris, spread alar lo
the ri^ht and loll in a long' crescent tliat extended
lor miles. On its lower extremity it was terniiiiat-
cd hy a ledge of black nx'ks, with the light-honso
before spoken of, Avliile its iH)[)er end was bounded
by cavernous elills oi' red sandstone, Avhich were
crowned with tufted trees. Behind them weie the
white houses of the village, straggling irregulai'ly
on the borders of the long road, with here and
there the nnlinislied fabric of some huge ship;
while in the background were wooded liills and
green sloping lields. Out on the l)ay a grander
scene appeared. Far down arose a Avhite wall,
which marked the place Avdiero the fog clouds were
sullenly retreating; immediately opposite, and forty
miles away over the water, arose the long line of
the Nova Scotia coast, whic;h bounded the horizon;
while far up arose Cape Chignecto, and beside it
towered up the dark form of a lonely island, which
they knew, in spite of the evident distortion of its
sha})e, to be no other than He Ilautc.
The wondrous eilects which can be produced
by the atmosphere were never more visible to their
eyes than now. The coast of Nova Scotia rose high
in the air, dark in color, apparently only half its
actual distance away, while the sunnin't of that coast
seemed as level as a table. It seemed lik(^ some
vast structure which had been raised out of the
ILE HAUTE.
141
water during* tlio iiig"l»t by some magic pov/er. Ilo
JTauto arose to an extraordiiuuy beiglit, its summit
perfectly level, its s*des perfectly perpendicular, and
its color a dark purple hue. Nor was Cape Cliig-
necto less changed. The rugged cliiT arose with
magnified proportions to a majestic height, iind
took u})on itself the same sombre color, which pei*-
vaded the ndiolo of the opposite coast.
Another discussion was now begun as to their
best })lan of action. After talking it all over, it
was yinally decided to go to St. John. 1'here they
would have a l)etter oj^portunity of hearing about
Tom; and there, too, if they did hear, they could
send messages to him, or receive them from him.
So it was decided to leave at about eleven o'clock,
without waiting for high tid(^ ; for, as the wind was
fair, tliey could go on without difliculty. After
coming to this conclusion, and learning that the
tide would not be high enough to float the schooner
until eleven, they all took breakfast, and stimulated
by the exhilarating atinosjihere and the bright sun-
shin(^, they dispersed down the village towards the
light-house.
By ten o'clock they were back again. The tide
was not yet up, and they waited patiently.
" By the way, captain," asked Bart, " what's be-
^' come of Solomon ? ''
" Solomon? 0, he took a basket an went off ou
., a kine o' foraij^in tower."
_ " Foraging V "
142
LOST IN THE FOG.
"Yes. Pie said he'd go along the shore, and
hunt for lobsters."
" The shore ? What shore ? "
" Why, away up tliar," said the captain, point-
ing towards the headland at the upper end of the
village.
" How long since ? "
" Wal, jest arter breakfast. It must hev ben
afore seven."
" It's strange that he hasn't got back."
" Yes ; he'd ought to be back by this time."
" He can't get any lobsters now ; the tide is too
high."
" That's a fact."
They waited half an hour. The rising tide al-
ready touched the Antelope's keel. '^'^ ■
" Solomon ought to be back," cried Bart, start-
ing up.
" That's so," said Captain Corbet.
" I'm afraid something's happened. He's been
gone too long. Two hours were enough."^^
The boys all looked at one another with anxious
foces.
" If he went up that shore," said Bart, " he may
have got caught by the tide. It's a very danger-
ous place for anybody — let alone an old man like
him."
" Wal, he did go up thar ; he said partic'lar that
he wanted to find somethin of a relish, an would
hunt up thar. He said, too, he'd be back by nine."
Where's solomon ?
143
"Pm certain sometliing's happened," cried Bart,
more anxiously tlian before. '' If he's gone up
there, he's been caught by tlie tide."
Captain Corbet stared, and looked uneasy.
" Wal, I must say, that thar's not onlikely. It's
a bad place, a dreadful bad place, — an him an old
man, — a dreadful bad place. He'd be down here
l)y this time, ef he was alive."
" I won't wait any longer," cried Bart. " I must
go and see. Come along, boys. Don't let's leave
poor old Solomon in danger. Depend upon it, he's
caught up there somewhere."
" Wal, I think you're right," said Captain Cor-
bet, " an I'll go too. But ef we do go, we'd better
go with some preparations."
" Preparations ? What kind of preparations ? "
"0, ony a rope or two," said Captain Corbet ; and
taking a coil of rope over his arm, ho stepped ashore,
and all the boys hurried after him.
" I feel kino o' safer with a kilo o' rope,— bein a
seaiiirin man," he remarked. " Give a seafarin man
a rupe, an he'll go anywhar an do anythin. He's
like a spider onto a web."
144
LOST IN THE FOG.
X.
Tom asJiore. — Storm at Night. — Up in the Morn-
ing. — The Cliffs and the Beach. — A startling
Discovery. — A desert Island. — A desperate
Effort. — Afloat again.
()M slept soundly for a long time in the spot
wliorc ho had filing himself. The sense of
security came to the assistance of ns wea-
ried limbs, and lulled him into profounder slumbers.
There was nothing here tiiat nn'ght rudely awaken
him — no sudden boat shocks, no tossings and
heavings of waves, no hoarse, menacing thunders
of wrathful surges from rocky shores ; nor were
there distressing dreams to harass him, or any
anxieties carried from his waking hours into the
land of slumbers to annoy and to arouse. From
Monday night until this time on Thursday, he had
known but little sleep, and much flitigue and sor-
row. Now the fi\tigue and the sorrow were all
forgotten, and the sleep was all his own. Not a
thought had he given to the land which he had
reached i^o strangely. It was enough for him that
he felt the st)lid ground beneath his feet.
» !
del
dui
wl.
cIk
» <
TAKING A SURVEY.
145
Fur hours ho slopt there, lying there like a log,
wrapped in the old sail, moving not a limb, but
given up altogether to his refreshing slumber.
At length he waked, and, uncovering his head,
looked around. At first he thought that he was in
the boat, then he grew bewildered, and it was only
after a persistent effort of memory that he could
recollect his position.
He looked all around, l)ut nothing was visible.
There was nothing around hin, but darkness, intense
and utter. It was like the impenetrable veil that
had enshrouded liim during the night of his memo-
rable voyage. Ho could not see where his boat was.
A vague ideawdiichhe had of examining its fasten-
ing was dismissed. He felt hungry, and found the
biscuit box lying under one corner of the sail. A
few of these were sufficient to gratify his hunger.
Nothing more could be done, and he saw plainly
that it would l)c necessary for him to wait there
jKitiently until morning. Once more, therefore, he
lollod himself up in the sail, and tried to go to
sleoi). But at first his efforts were vain. The
first fatigue had passed away, and now that he had
been refreshed by sleep, his mind was too much oc-
cupied by thoughts of his past voyage to be readi-
ly lulled to sleep again. He could not help won-
dering what Captain Corbet and the boys were
doing. That they were searching for him every-
where ho well knew, but which direction they had
chosen he could not tell. And what was the place
10
^
>',
i»
146
LOST IN THE FOG.
wliitlicr lio liad (Irif'tod? Ho felt confident tli;it it
was the muutli uf the Petitcodiac, and could not
help wondering at the accuracy of his course ;
yet, while wondering, he modestly refrained lioin
taking the credit of it to himself, and rather chose
To attrihute it to the wind and tide. It was hy
committing himself so completely to their guid-
ance, he thought, that he had done so well.
In the midst of such thoughts as these, Tom be-
came aware of the howling of the wind and the
dash of the waters. Putting forth his head, he
found that there was quite a storm arising; and this
only added to his contentment. No fear had he
now, on this solid ground, of rising wind or swell-
ing wave. Even the fog had lost its terrors. It
was with feelings like these that he once more
covered up his head from the night blast ; and not
long after he was once more asleep.
When he next awaked, it was day. Starting to
his feet, he looked around him, and shouted for joy.
The sky was clear. The sun was rising, and its
rays, coming from over the distant hills, were glit-
tering over the surface of the watei. The wind
had changed. The fog had dispersed.
No sooner had he seen this than he was filled
with curiosity to know where he was. This did
not look much like the mouth of the Petitcodiac.
He stared around with a very strange sensation.
Immediately beside him, where he was standing,
the easy slope went back for a hundred yards or
>
T
THE riJFFS ANT) TlfE BEACH.
147
so, covered with sliort, wild gr;iss, witli here and
there a stunted tree. Turning round, lie saw the
land rising hy a steep acclivity towards the heights
which bordered on the sea in such tremendous
cliifs. Over the heights, and along the crest of
those (^liiTs, were Hying great liocks of sea-gulls,
wdiich kept up one incessant chorus of harsh, dis.
cordant screams. In front of him spread out a
bi'oad sheet of water, on the o])posite side of which
arose a lofty line of coast. Into this tiiere })en'
etrated a long strait, beyond which he could see
l)r()ad waters and distant shores — a bay within a
bay, approached by this strait. On each side of
the strait wore lofty, towering cliffs ; and on one
side, in ])articular. the dill's were perpendicular,
and ran on in a long and unbroken wall. The ex-
tremity of the cliff nearest him was marked by a
gigantic mass of broken rock, detached from the
main land, and standing alone in awful grandeur.
What place was this? Was this the mouth of
the Petitcodiac ? Was that broad bay a river?
Was he still dreaming, or what did it all mean ?
And that gigantic fragment severed from a cliff,
which thus stood guard at the entrance of a long-
strait, wdiat was that? Could it be possible? Was
there indeed any other broken cape, or could it be
possible that this was Cape Split?
He hurried up the slope, and on reaching tho
top, saw that it descended on the other side to-
wards the water. This water was a broad sheet,
148 LOST IN THE For,.
i
wliich extended for seven or eight miles, and
wfis terminated by a lofty coast, that extended
down tlie bay as far as the eye could reach. One
com[)rchensiye glance was sufficient. He saw it
all, and understood it all. It was not the mouth
of the Petitcodiac Riyer. It was the entrance to
the ]'>asin of Minas that lay before him. There lay
the great landmarks, seen under new aspects, it is
true, yet now sufficiently distinguishable. There I
was the Noya Scotia coast. In yonder hollow was
Sci^tt's Bay. That giant rock was Cape Split.
The long channel was the Strait of Minas, and the
clilVs opposite were Cape d'Or and Cape Chignecto.
And now the recognition of all these places
brought to him a great and sudden shock.
For what was this place on which he stood?
Was it any part of the main land ?
It was not.
lie looked around.
It was an island.
He saw its K)fty cliffs, its wooded crest, its flocks
of sea-gulls, its sloping east end, where he stood,
running down to a low point. He had seen them
all at a distance before ; and now that he stood here,
he recognized all.
He was on He Haute 1
The moment that he recognized this startling
fact, lie thought of his boat. He hurried to the
boiieh. The tide was very low. To his inunense re-
lief he found the fastening of the boat secure, and he
A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
UO
turned away at once, without any further exami-
nation, to think over liis situation, and consider the
best plan for reaching the main lan(h Making a
comfortable seat lor himself on the sail, he sat
down, and drawing out the box, he took some Ijis-
cuit. Then feeling thirsty, he went off in search
of fresh water. Before he had walked many pacew
he found a brook.
The brook was a small one, which ran from tiie
lofty west end of the island to the low land of llie
east, and thence into the bay. The water was good,
and Tom satisfied his thirst by a long draught.
Judging by the position of the sun, it was now
about seven o'clock in the morning; and Tom seated
himself once more, and began to try to think how
it was thai iie should have come in a direction so
entirely dillerent from the one which he had l»e-
lieved himself to be taking. He had fully expected
to laud at Petitcodiac, and he found himself far
away on the other side of the bay. Yet a little
reflection showed him how useless it was to try to
recall his past voyage, and how impossible it was
for him' to account for it, ignorant as he was of the
true direction of the wind and of the tide. He
contented himself with marking a rude outline of
his course on Jiis memorandum book, making allow-
ance for the time when he turned on that course ;
and having sunnnecl it all up to his own satisfaction
in a crooked line which looked like a slip-knot, ho
turned his attention to more important matters.
150
LOST IN THE FOG.
There was one matter of first-rate importance
which now pressed itself upon his thoughts, and
tliat was, how to escape from his present situation.
As far as he could see, there was no inhabitant on
the island, no house, no cultivation, and no domestic
animal. If there had been anything of that kind,
they would be visible, he knew, from the i)oint
where he was standing. But all was deserted ; and
beyond the open ground in his neighborhood arose
the east end, wooded all over its lofty summit.
From Captain Corbet's words, and Irom his own
observation, he knew that it was a desert island,
and that if he wished to escape he would have to
rely altogether upon his own resources.
With this conclusion he once more turned his
attention to his surroundings.
Nearest to him was Cape d'Or, about four miles
away, and Cape Split, which was some distance
farther. Then there was the Nova Scotia shore,
which appeared to be seven or eight miles distant.
On the beach and within sight was the boat which
oflered a sure and easy mode of passing over to
the main land. But no sooner did he recognize this
fact than a difliculty arose. How was he to make
the passage ? The boat had come ashore at high
tide, and was close up to the grassy bank. The
tide was far down, and between the boat and the
water was a broad beach, covered with cobble-
stones, and interspersed with gi-anite boulders. It
was too heavy a weight for him to move any dis-
::
SERIOUS DIFFICULTIES.
151
tanco, mid to force it down to tlie water over such
a beach was plainly impossible. On the other hand,
he might wait until the boat floated at high tide,
and tlien embark. But this, again, would be at-
tended with serious difficulties. The tide, lie saw,
would turn as soon as he should get fiiirly afloat,
and then he would have to contend with the down-
ward current. True, he might use his sail, and in
that case he might gain the Nova Scotia shore ; but
his experience of the tides had been so terrible a
one, that he dreaded the tremendous drift which he
would have to encounter, and had no confidence in
his power of navigating under such circumstances.
Besides, he knew well that although the wind
was now from the north, it was liable to change at
any moment; so that even if he should be aide to
guide his boat, ho might yet be suddenly enveloped
by a fog when but half way over, and exposed once
more to all those perils from which he had just
escaped. The mor > he thought of all these dan-
gers, the more deterred he felt from making any
such attempt. Rather would he wait, and hope
for escape in some other way.
But, as yet, he did not feel himself forced to any-
thing so desperate as that. There was another
alternative. At high tide the boat would be afloat,
and then, as the tide fell, he could keep her afloat
until it was at its lowest. lie could then embark,
and be carried by the returning water straight on
to the Straits of Minus, and up into the basin. lie
152 LOST IN THE FOG.
now made a calculation, and concluded that it would
be high tide about midday, and low tide about six
in the evening. If he were to embark at that time,
he would have two hours of daylight in which to
run up with the tide. lie saw now tliat his whole
plan was perfectly feasible, and it only remained
to make preparations for the voyage. As the whole
afternoo]! would be taken up in floating tlio boat
down to low-water mark, the morning would Iiave
to be employed in making whatever arrangements
might be necessary.
Certain things were needed which required all
that time. His hastily extemporized mast and sail
had done wonderfully well, but he needed something
to steer with. If he could only procure something
that would serve the purpose of a rudder, he would
feel well prepared for his voyage.
On the search for this he now started. He
walked all about the open ground, looking around
in all directions, to see if he could find anything,
but without any success. Then he ascended the
declivity towards the woods, but nothing appeared
which was at all adapted to meet his wants. He
saw a young tree, which he thought might do, and
tried to cut it down with his pocket-knife. After
about an hour's hard work he succeeded in bring-
ing it down, and another hour was spent in trim-
ming the branches. The result of all this labor at
length lay at his feet in the sha{)e of a rough pole,
with jagged splinters sticking out all over it, which
1
;
I
ASPECT OF THE BEACH.
153
promised to be of about as much utility as a spruce
bush. In utter disgust he turned away, leaving
the pole on the ground, and making up his mind to
sail, as he did belbre, witliout any rudder. In this
mood he descended the declivity, and walked dis-
consolately towards the shore which was on the
side of the island directly opposite to where the
boat lay. He had not yet been near enough to see
the beach ; but now, as he came nearer, a cry of
delight escaped him involuntarily ; for there, all
along the beach, and close up to the bank, lay an
immense quantity of drift-wood, which had been
brought here by the tide from all the upper waters
of the bay. It was a most heterogeneous mixture
that lay before him — chips from timber ponds, logs
from ship-yards, boards from saw-mills, deals, bat-
tens, fence posts, telegraph poles, deal ends, edg-
ings, laths, palings, railway sleepers, treenails,
shingles, clapboards, and all the various forms
which wood assumes in a country whi(;h makes
use of it as the chief material of its manuliictures.
Along the countless streams that flow into the bay,
and along its far-winding shores, and along the
borders of all its subsidiary bays, and inlets, and
basins, the manufacture of wood is carried on —
in saw-mills, in ship-yards, and in timber ponds;
mid the currents that move to and fro are always
loaded with the fragments that are snatched away
from these places, most of which are borne afar (jut
to sea, but many of which are thrown all along the
154 LOST IN THE FOG.
shores for hundreds of miles. He Haute, being
directly in the way of some of the swiftest cur-
rents, and close by tlie entrance to a basin whicli
is surrounded by mills and ship-yards, naturally
received upon its shores an innnense quantity of
these scattered and floating fragments. Such was
the sight that now met the eyes of Tom, and pre-
sented him with a countless number of fragments
of wood adapted to his wants, at the very time
when he had worked fruitlessly for two hours at
fashioning one for himself.
Looking over the heaps of drift-wood, he found
many pieces which suited him ; and out of these ho
chose one which was shaped a little like an oar.
Securing this prize, he walked over to where the
sail was, and deposited it there.
Then he ate some biscuit, and, after taking a
draught from the cool brook, he rested, and waited,
full of hope, for the rising of the tide.
It was now rapidly approaching the boat. Tom
watched it for some time, and felt new happi-
ness as he viewed the roll of every little surf
Tliere was not much wind, and nothing but a
gentle ripple on the water. All this was in his
favor ; for, if ho wished for anything now, it was a
moderate breeze and a light sea. From time to
time he turned his attention to the Straits of Minas,
and arranged various plans in liis mind. At one
time he resolved to try and reach Pereau ; again
he thouglit that he wtmld be content if he could
^- — '
*f
TOM IMPATIENT.
155
only get to Parrsboro' ; fiiid yet again, ho came to
the wise conclusion that if ho got to any settle-
ment at all he would be content. At another time
he half decided to take another course, and try to
reach Scott's Bay, where he felt sure uf a warm
welcome and a plenteous repast. Aiming tlius at
so many diflerent points, it mattered but little to
him in what particular direction the tide might
sweep him, so long as it curried him up the bay.
The tide now came nearer, and Tom went down
to the beach for a few moments. He paced the
distance between the boat and the water. He no-
ticed a few things lying in the boat. In the bow
was a coil of rope which Captain Corbet had prob-
ably obtained when he was ashore at Petitcodiac.
There was also a tin pan, used for baling.
As the tide drew nearer, Tom began to feel more
and more impatient. Again and again he paced
the intervening space between the boat and the
water, and chafed and fretted because it did not
lessen more rapidly. If the boat were once fairly
afloat, he felt that the time would pass much more
rajudly ; for then he would be working at some
definite task, and not standing idly waiting.
But everything has an end ; and so, at length, the
end came here. The water rose higher and higher,
until, at length, it touched the keel. Tom gave a
shout of joy.
lie now untied tlie rope, and tried to shorten his
suspense by j)ushing the boat towards the water ;
156 LOST IN THE FOG.
but his strengtli was iiisufiiciout. Tie could not
move it. Ho would liavc to wait loiiL^cr.
Thus far the thini;-s wliidi lio had tukcu out had
bocii lying on the grass. It was now time to put
them on board. So ho carried down the sail, folded
it uj), and stowed it away neally at the bottom of
the boat. On this he stood the box of biscuit, tak-
ing care to put the cover over it, and to spread
over that again one fold of the sail.
This took up some time, and lie had the gratifi-
cation of seeing that the water had como up a lew
feet farther. lie now tried once more to force the
boat down, using his piece of board as a lever ; but
the board bent, and almost broke, without moving
the boat. He stood for a moment waiting, and sud-
denly thought of the pole which he had left up in
the woods. He determined to get this, and per-
haps, with its help, he would be able to accomplish
his wishes. So off he started at a run, and in a
few minutes reached the place. Hurrying back
again, he inserted one end of the pole under the
bow, and exerted all his force to press the boat
downward into the water. At first it did not
move ; but shortly after, when the water had risen
still higher, he made a new effort. This time he
succeeded ; the boat moved slightly.
Again.
The boat moved farther.
Once more.
Still farther.
AFLOAT AGAIN.
157
And now lio made a final trial. Thrusting the
polo again underneath, he exerted all his force for
the last time, and pushed the boat down for about
a yard.
It was at last afloat.
The tide had not yet fully attained its height, but
was close to it. The wind was blowing from' the
north, as before, and quite moderately. The sea
sparkled and glittered in the rays of the sun. The
little wavelets tossed their heads on high, and
danced far away over the sea. The air was bright,
and stimulating, and exhilarating. All the scene'
filled ^J\)m's heart with gladness ; and the approach
(jf his deliverance deepened and intensified this
feeling.
II
158
LOST IN TFTE FOr,.
XL
Afloat again. — TJie rushing Water. — Doion to the
Bottom. — Desperate Circumstanees. — Can they
he remedied ? — Neio Hopes and Plans.
T
*]
f!
1 (
£•
E
TTE boat was at last afloat before Tom's
eyes.
At first he had thonglit of holding it by the
painter, and patiently standing on the beach, bnt the
siglit of it now changed his pur})Orios. lie thought
that it would be a far more sensible plan to get on
board, and keep the boat near the beach in that
way. His bit of stick, which he had found among
the drift-wood, cculd be used as an oar, and was
good enough to enable him to move the boat as
much as would be necessary. As he would have
to wait for six hours at least, it was a matter of
great importance that he should be as Httle fa-
tigued as possible, especially as he had to look for-
ward to a voyage, after the tide had fallen, attend-
ed witli the possibility of increased labor and ex-
ertion. All these thoughts came rapidly to his
mind, but passed in much less time than it takes to
tell it, so that Tom had scarcely seen the boat afloat
TinO BOAT KILLTNO.
Vy\)
than he rushed thruiigli the water, r.nd ckiinbered
into it. Then, taking his stick, he stood up and
looked around.
Tlie scene around has ah-eady been described.
Tom kept his stick in the water, so as to have it
ready lor use. lie purposed keeping tiie boat at a
convenient distance from tlie shore by pusliingand
paddling. By keeping it within a distance of from
three to six yards, he thought he would, for the
present at least, be able to keep afloat, and yet
avoid the sweep of the tides. He did not expect
to remain in this particular spot all the time, but
expected to find some place which would be out
of the way of the tide, where he could float com-
fortably without being forced to keep in too clos(^
to the land.
But suddenly Tom's thoughts and speculations
were rudely interrupted.
It appeared to him that there was a very unusual
feeling about the boat. She did not seem as high
out of the water as she ought to have been, and
her bows seemed to be lower than they had been.
There was also a shght vibration in her, which he
had never noticed before, and which struck him
now as very peculiar. In the midst of this there
came to his ears a low, fliint, and scarcely percep-
tible sound, made up of peculiar bubbling and
gurgling noises, which sounded from the boat.
One brief examination showed him that the boat
was certainly very much deeper in the water than
she had been.
f
IGO
LOST IN Till'] FOii.
r
Five seconds later licr bows luul sunk flirther.
Two seconds more, and Tom's feet were sur-
rounded by water up to his ankles.
The boat was filling !
Scarce had lie made this discovery than the wa-
ter rose swiftly up, tiie boat sank cpiickly down,
the sea rolled over her sides, and the boat went to
the bottom.
Very fortunate was it for Tom, at that moment,
that he had not pushed out farther from the shore.
Wlion the boat went down he was not more
tlian three or four yards off, and he did not sink
lower than up to his neck. But the shock was a
sudden one, and for a moment almost paralyzed
i' him. The next instant, however, he recovered
from it ; and looking round, he saw the box of bis-
cuit floating within his reach. Making a wild dash
at this, he secured it, and waded ashore with it in
safety. Ho then turned mournfully to look after
the boat, and found that it was visible, floating oi»
tlie surface. As he left it, it had floated up, his
weight being the only thing that had sent it below.
The tide was still coming in, so that it did not float
away. Tom flung off his coat and waistcoat, and
hurrying into the water, soon caught and dragged it
as near as he could to the beach. Then he secured
it once more, and waited. Standing there, he
looked gloomily at the vessel, wherein such pre-
cious hopes had been freighted only to be lost.
What had happened ? Why could not the boat
4
n
I
j^
L-
DESPERATE CIRCUMSTANCES.
IGl
float? What was the matter with her? Tliese
were the wondering questions which occurred to
l»im without his being able to give any answer.
One thing he saw plainly, and that was, that he
liad lost this tide. The next high tide would be
after midnight, and the next would be between one
and two on the following day. If he could find out
what was the matter with the boat, and fix it, he
would have to wait till the next day, unless he
chose to watch for his chance after midnight, and
make the journey then.
He was not a boy who could be long inactive ;
so now, after a brief period, in which he gave up
to the natural despondency of his soul, he stirred
himself up once more, and sought comfort in oc-
cupation. The box of biscuit did not seem much
injured. It had not floated long enough foi the
sea-water to penetrate it. Assuring himself of this,
he next turned to the boat and took out its con-
t(^nts. These wore the old sail, the coil of rope,
and the baling dipper.
]?y tliis time the tide had reached its height, and
after tlie usual time of delay, began to fall onct^
more. The boat was secured to the shore, and
after a time the water began to leave her. Tom
sat at a little distance, wondering what could be
the matter with her, and deferring his examina-
tion until the boat should be left aground. It. was
a mystery to him how this sudden chai go I.ud oc-
curred, and why the boat, which had floated so well
11
1G2
LOST TN TTTE FOG.
(luring his long drift, should now, nil of a sudden,
begin to leak with such astonishing rapidity.
Something must have happonod — something se-
rious, too ; but what it was, or how it had liappened,
he could not, for tlie life of him, conjecture.
As 'l\)m sat there, t!ie tide grachially left the
lK)a,t; and as the tide left, the watcM' ran out, keep-
ing at just the same level inside as the lyater out-
sider Tiiis showed, even to his inexperienced eyes,
that the leak must be a very largo one, since it ad-
mitted of such a ready flow of water in and out.
The water descended lower and lower as ho, sat,
until, at last, the boat was left by the retreating
waves. The water had all run out.
Tom now advanced, and proceeded to exann'ne
her. When he was arranging her cargo before,
the coil of rope had been in the bows. This had
prevented him from detecting anything wrong in
the boat. But now, since everything had been
takcMi out, one glance only was quite sufHcient to
make known to him instantly the whole diflicu'. y.
Tiuu'e, in the bows, underneath the very i)lace wdi(>re
th(5 (U)il of rope had lain, was a huge a[)ei-tiii'e.
^riie planks had been beaten in, and one side of the
bow was destroyed beyond hope of remedy.
'I'he sight of such an irremediable cidamity as
this renewed for a tiuK^ the despondency which ho
had felt at the first sinking of the boat. Full of
dcpr(^ssion, ho turned away, and tried to account
lor it all. It was on the previous day that he had
I
I,
TOM S DEPRESSION.
1G3
f '
•V-
>i >.■*
laiidcd — 5il)oiit twenty-four hours ago. Flow liad
lie })asse(l the time since then, and what iiad liap-
I)ened ? This he tried to renieniher.
In the first place, u[) to the moment of landing
tlie boat was pcrfet;tly sound, and i'ar IVom all in-
iury. It liad not heen hurt (hirinc: tiie (hift. Jt
had struck at one place, hut the long voyage that
had followed showed that no damaize had resulted.
Finally, it had not heen hai*med hv landiuii- on
Quaco Ledge. Since that time he had driCted in
safety I'ar across the hay, without meeting with any
accident. All this ju'oved clcai'ly that the damage
nnist have been (h)ne to the boat since his landing
on the island.
rie found it very diflicidt to rtvall aiiythiug that
had hajiptiued since tluMi. On his first ai'i'ival he
was worn out and exiiausteth He reuKUiibci'tMl
vaguely how he came in sight of the giant clil)",
liovv he dragged the boat along, how he sei'ured it
"tO'i tree, and then how he flung himself down on
tiie gi'ass and fell aslec^j*. After that all was ob-
scure to his memory ; but he could recall his waking
at midnight and listening (o the roai- of the wind
and the dash of the surf. Kvidenlly there must
have been a heavier sea on the beach at that tim(5
than when he lande(l, and lliis was sullicient to ac-
count ibr tlie accident to tlu^ boat. She had been
li<'atiiigon th(^ rough roeks at liigh tide, exposed
to ll»e lull swi'ep of the surf, and hei" bows had
been stove in.
1G4
LOST IN THE FOG.
1
The inolanclioly spoctticlc of the ruined boat
iiuulu Torn SCO that his stay on tlic island might bo
prolonged even beyond the Ibllowing day. No
sooner had this tlioULi-ht occuri'ed to him than ho
went over to tiio articles which lie had taken ont
of the boat, and passed them all in re\icw bclore
liim, as though ho were anxious to know the iiiil
extent of his resources. He spread out tlu^ w«'t
sail in the sun. He spread out his co;it and waist-
coat. In the pocket of tluj latter lu; lound a card
of matches, which were a little dam[). These ho
seized eagerly and laid on the to}) of a stone, ex-
posed to the rays of the sun, so as to dry tluMu.
Tiio clothes which he kept on were wet thiough,
of course, but ho allowed them to dry on him.
Ifo had been working uijw pretty industriously
all the morning, lirst at searching after a piece of
wood, then in cutting down the pole, then in search-
ing among the drift-wood, and iinally at the boat.
ITci felt, at length, hungry ; and as he could not yet
decide u[)on what was to be done next, ho deter-
mined to satisfy his desires, and kill the time by
taking his dinner. The repast was a frugal one,
consisting, as before, of biscuit, which were washed
down by cold woter ; but 'I'om did not complain.
The presence of food of any sort was a cause for
thankfulness to one in his ])osition, and it was with
a feeling oi' tiiis sort, in spite of his general de-
pression oi' spirits, that ho ate his meal.
After this he felt much more refreshed, and bo-
i
A REVIVAL OF HIS HOPES.
IG5
1
gall to consider what lie had better do next. Of
course, tlie centre of interest to liiiii was the boat,
and lie could not give up that lio})e of escape with-
out a struggle. As long as there was a hope of
making his way froiii the island by means of that,
so long might lie keep u[) his heart; but if the
damage that had been done should prove irrepara-
ble, how Would he be able to endure his situation ?
Whatever it was, it would be best to know the
worst once for all. IVrhaps he might stop the
leak. lie had material around which seemed to
be the right sort of thing to slo[) a leak with, lie
had the ])iece of s;iil, whicli could be cut up into
small pieces, and used to stop the leak. If he had
possessed a hatchet and some nails, he would have
made an elfort to repair the fracture in the planks
of the boat ; but as he had nothing of that sort,
he tried to devise some method by which the
water might be kept out. As he thought, there
gradually grew U}) in' his mind the rude outline of
a plan which promised something, and seemed to
him to be certainly worth trying. At any rate,
he thought, it will serve to give me an occupa-
tion ; and any occupation, even if it j)roves to be
of no [)ractical value, is better than sitting here do-
ing nothing at all.
Having something to do once more quickened
Tom's energies anew, and starting to his foot, ho
prepared to [)ut his plan into execution. First of
all, iu order to carry out that plan, it was necessary
166
LOST IN THE FOG.
fur him to get a number of blocks and boards of
dilferent sizes. These, he knew, could easily be
i'ound among the drift-wood on the beach. Over
there he hurried, and after a moderate search lie
succeeded, at lengtli, in finding l)its of wood that
seemed suited to the purpose wdiicli lie had in
view. With these he came back to the boat; but
as there was a large number of them, he had lo
make several journeys before the whole collection
was brought over.
Then he took his pole, and, putting a block un-
der it, used it as a lever to raise up the boat. By
dexterous management he succeeded in doing this,
and at the same time he ran a board underneath
the bow of the boat as it was sliirhtly raised. This
manccuvre he repeated several times, each time
raising his lever higher, by means of a higher ful-
crum, and thus constantly raising the bow of the
boat; wdiile after each elevation the bow was se-
cured in its new positit)n by running an additional
board underneath it, over the other preceding
boards. I>y carefully and perse veringly pursuing
this course, he at length succeeded in raising tlie
bow of the boat about a foot in the air. This gave
him an ot)portunity to examine it thoroughly out^ ide
as well as inside, and to see the whole extent of
the damage that had been done.
It has already been said that the damage was
serious. Tom's examination now convinced him
that it was in every respect as serious as he had
\.
CAN ANYTHIN(; lU-: DONK ?
107
f'
supposed, if not still more so. Even if lie did
})osscss a hatchet and nails, or a whole box fnll of
tools, he doubted whether it would be in his power
to do anything whatever in the way of rej)airing
it. No less than three of the lower })lanks uf the
bows, down to the very keel, were beii,ten in and
broken so badly that they seemed actually crushed
and mangled. It must have been a fearful l)eat-
ing, and pounding, and grinding on the rocks
which had caused this. The planks, though thus
broken, stih held together ; but it seemed to Tom
that with a blow of his fist ho could easily beat it
all in ; and as he looked at it ho could nc^t hel[)
wondering how it had ha})pened that the woik
which the rocks had thus so nearly eflected had
not been completely finished. However, the planks
did hold together yet; and now the question was,
Could any thing be done ?
In answer to this (question, Tom thought of the
old sail and the coil of rope. Already he had con-
ceived the rude outline of a plan whereby the
entrance of the water might be checked. The
plan was worth trying, and he determined to set
about it at once, and use up the hours before him
as long as he could, without any further delay. If
by any possibility ho could stop that leak, he de-
termined to start off at the next high tide, that very
night, and run the risk. It was a daring, even
a Ibnlhaidy thought; but Tom was desperate, and
the only idea which ho had was, to escape as soou '
as possible.
168
LOST IN THE FOG.
He now made sumo moiisuremciits, afli r wliich
he went to the old sail, and cut a piece from the
end of it. This lie divided into smaller pieces,
each about a yard square. Each of these pieces
he folded up in three folds, so as to make tliern
about a foot wide and eighteen incites long. Oth-
ers he folded into six folds, making them about
half the size of the larger pieces. All this took up
much time, for he measured and planned very care-
fully, and his calculations and measurements had
to be done slowly and cautiously. Returning to
tb'^ boat with these bits of folded canvas, he })ut
one of the larger pieces on the inside, against the
bow, right over the broken place. Another large
piece was placed carefully over tliis, and tiien the
smaller pieces were laid against these. In this
way he adjusted all the pieces of canvas in such
a way as to cover up the wliole place where the
leak was.
Then he went over to the drift-wood, and spent
a long time searching after some bits of wood. TTo
at length found a half dozen pieces of board, about
a foot long, and from six to eight inches in widtli.
He also found some bits of scantling, and palings,
which were only a foot or so in length. All tliese
he brought back, and laid them down on the beach
near the boat.
He now proceeded to place these bits of wood
in tlie bows, in such a way as to keep the canvas
in a firm position. His idea was, that the canvas,
tom's ingenuity.
169
1
by being pressed against the opening, might keep
out the water, and the wood, by being properly ar-
ranged, might keep the canvas secure in its place.
'J'lie arrangement of the wood required the greatest
care. First of all, he took the smallest bits, and
stood these up against the canvas, so that they
might corres[)ond as nearly as possible with the
curve of the bows. A few more pieces were placed
in the hollow part of this curve, and outside these
the larger pieces were placed. Between the out-
side pieces and the inner ones he thrust some of
the smallest pieces which he could find. After thus
arranging all his boards, he found that there lay
between the outside board and the first scat of
the boat a space of about one foot. Selecting a
piece of wood of about that length, he put one end
against the board, and the other against the seat,
and pressed it into a position where it served to
keep the board tight in its place. Then he took
other pieces of about the same length, and arranged
them in the same way, so that, by being fixed be-
tween the board and the seat, they might keep the
whole mass of boards and canvas pressed tight
against the opening in the bows. After placing
as many blocks in position as he conveniently could,
his next work was to secure them all. In order to
effect this, another journey to the drift-wood was
necessary, and another search. This time he se-
lected carefully a number of sticks, not more than
half an inch in thickness, some of them being much
fmu'umim'^Bwrf
170
LOST IN TUK FOG.
tliiiiiior. rio f'uuiiil pieces of paling, and laths, and
shingles which suited his ideas. Returning with
thoso to the bout, he proceeded to tiirust them, one
by one, into the interstices of the boards, using a
stone to drive them into their places.
At last the work was linished as far as he could
accomplish it, and there remained nothing more to
be done. As far as he could see, by shaking, and
pulling, and pushing at the collection of sticks and
canvas, it was very firm and secure. Every stick
seemed to bo tight, and the pressure which they
maintained against the aperture was so strong that
the wood-work now was forced out a little distance
beyond the outline of the boat. He examined most
carefully all about the bows on the outside, but
saw no place which did not seem to be fully i)ro-
tected. Jt seemed to him now as though that piled-
up canvas ought to resist the entrance of the war
tor, or, if not, at least that it ought not to allow it
to enter so rapidly but that he could easily keep
the boat baled out.
lie was not altogether confident, yet he was
hopeful, and as detormiued as over to make a
trial.
tl
I
)i
i
PREPARATIONS To EMBARK.
171
XII.
Wait'uuj for h'Kjh Water. — A Trial ~ A new Dis-
covery. — Tokil Fall are. —Down aut the water came in faster and f ister, until
jit length Tom began to see that he nuist seek his
safety in another way. Flinging down his dipper,
then, with a cry of vexation, he started up, and,
s(»izing his bit of board, he looked around for the
shore.
lie had been cauiiht bv somo side current, and
had been carried along in sucli a way tliat he was
about a hun(b*ed yards from the island, and seenuxl
1o be diifting up the bay. 'Vho dark, shadowy
sh(tres were much fiirther away than ho had sus-
pect('(l, Wliil(» struggling to bale out the boat, ho
had i(>rgotten how necessary iL was to keep near
176
LOST IN THE TOG.
I
'I ,1
to the .sliorc. He now saw liis mistake, and strove
to paddle the boat back again. With such a clumsy
oar it is nut likely that he could have achieved his
desire at all, had the flood tide been stronger; but
now it was about at its licight, and would soon turn,
if it was not turning already. The current, tliore-
fure, was but a weak one, and Tom found himself al»lo
to move slowly back ; but his progress was very
slow, and working at such a disadvantage was
excessively fatiguing. At last he saw that if he
trusted to paddling he could never reach the shore.
In a moment another idea suggested itself; there
was no time to lose, and ho at once acted on it.
J)a,rtii)g forward, he loosed the sail. The wind was
still blowing from the north; at once the sail was
filled, and, yielding to this new jiower, the bt)at
began to move more rapidly. Tom tied the sheet
astern, and, seizing his paddle, tried O scull the
boat, r.-r some minutes he kept up this work, and
the lioat moved steadily forward, nearer and still
nearer, until the land was at length not more than
thirty or forty yards off.
But by this time the dan,«^er had come nenror,
\\\W th(i boat was already half full of water. Tom
began to see that it could not float as far as th(^
shore. What was he to do? He waited a litth*
longer. Tie looked around. The boat was drawing
nearer, yet soon it must go down. To ease it, it
would bo necessMry to relieve it of his own weight.
He did not lose his presence of mind for a moment,
an
T
1
lit
rr
it
It.
it.
"1
PRESKRVKS HIS KI'TIX'TS.
177
but determined at once to jnnij) overboard. In I'is
perfect coohiess he tliouglit of one or two things
wliicli were of iiu[)ortanco to liini, and performed
tliem swiftly and ])r()mptly. First lie took the box
of ])iscnit, and })lac(Ml it on tlie heap of boards and
canvas in the bows, so tliat it nn'ght remain as long
as possible out of renrji of the water. Then ho
t(tok tlie card of matciies out of his waistcoat
pocket, and i)ut tluMu in his hat, which ho replaced
on his head. To secure thus from damage the two
necessaries of food and fire was but the work of a few
seconds. To tlirow olf his ccvat, waistcojit, and trou-
sers, and hang them over the top of the short mast,
was the work of a few seconds more. Bv the time
this had been done, tlie water was nearly up to the
gunwales. In five sf^r-onds more the boat would
have gone down ; but, so well had Tom's work been
done, and so promptly, that these five seconds were
saved. Having done what ho wished, ho let him-
self down into the water; and, holding on by the
st(M-n ol' the boat, he allowed himself to float after
it, kicking out at the same time, so as to assist,
rather than retard, its progress.
V*y this time the land was not more than twenty
yards away. The boat did not sink so rapidly now,
but kept afloat much better; still the water rose to
a level with the gunwales, and Tom was too much
rejoiciMl to find that it kept afloat at all to find fault
wi!h this. The Avind still blew, and the sail was
still up; so that the water-logged vessel went on
12
178
LOST IN THE FOO.
at a very respectable rate, until at length half the
distance which Tom had noticed on going over-
board was traversed. The boat seemed to float
now, though full of water, and Tom saw that his
precious biscuit, at any rate, would not be very
nmch harmed. Nearer and nearer now he came,
until at last, letting himself down, his feet touched
bottom. A cry of delight escaped him; and now, bra-
cing himself firmly against the solid land below, he
urged the boat on faster, until at length her deep-
sunk bows grated against the gravel of the beach.
llo hurried up to the box of biscuit, and put
this ashore in a safe place ; after which he secured
the boat to a jagged rock on the bank. He Ibund
now that he had come to a diflerent part of the
beach altogether, for his boat was lying at the spot
where the little brook ran into the sea. Well was
it for him, in that rash and hazardous experiment,
that he had floated off before the tide was high.
It had led to his drifting up the bay, instead of
down, and by a weak current, instead of a strong-
one. The wind had thus brought him back. ITad
it been full tide, he would have drifted out fntui
the sliore, and then have been carried down the
bay by the lidling water to swift and sure destruc-
tion.
Tom now took off his wet shirt, and put on the
dry clotiies which he had so prudently hung on the
top of tlie mast. IFe jKn'oeived that he had not a
very pleasant lookout for tlie night, for the sn'n
li ,1
Bi
AN evp:ntpul day
179
I
m
which he had formerly used to envelop himself witli
was now completely saturated. It was also too dark
to go to the woods in search of ferns or mosses on
which to sleep. However, the nig-ht was a pleasant
one, and the grass around wunid not be so had a
res(ing-j)lace as he had been I'orced to use while
di'irting in the boat. Tie had now become aocus-
tomed to hardsiii]) by bitter experience, and so he
looked I'orward to the night without care.
The day had been an event! ul one, indeed, for
ln"m, and his last adventuie had been full of i)eril,
from which he had been most wonderi'ullv rescued.
These thoughts were in his mind, and he did not
fjiil to oiler up prayei-s of iKiartlcil giatitude to
that good and merciful Px'ing who had thus far so
wonderfully preserved hiiu. With such feelings in
his heart, he sought out a slccping-{)!ace, and after
some search he found a mossy knoll. Seating him-
Bcir here, he reclined his back against it, and in a
few minutes the worn-out boy was buried in a deep
sleep.
lie slept until late on the following day, and on
waking looked around to see if thei'e were any
sails in view. None were visible. Tiie tide was
about half way uj), and the wide waters spread be-
fore him without any vessel in sight. lie then
began his preparations for the day. He hung his
shirt upon a bush, and spread out the w«.t sail on
the grass. An examination of the biscmit shewed
him that they had scarcely been injured at all, the
IftO
LOST IN THE F0(7.
Witter liaviiig poiietviitnd only tlio lower part of tlio
liox. IFo roinovcd tlio l(»W(»r layer of biscuit, and
spreml them out on a roek in the sun to dry. After
this he l)ri'akfast(3d, and wandered ahont for a time.
Ifo tluui took a swim, and feltmueli refreshed. \)y
till! linu! thiit his swim was over, he found that tlu^
hot sun had dric^l his shirt, so that ho eould onec^
more assume that very imnortnnt article of clot hi ii!*'.
Tlie sun eMml)od high towards the zenith, and the
tide ciime up higher, as I'om sat there alone on his
(lesiM't island, looking out Ujxtu the sea. Tlie hoat
from which ho had hoped so much had })roved false
to those ;L.)pes, and all the lahoi-s of the previous
day had [irovecl useless. IFis attempt to escape had
neaily resulted in his destru('tion. lie had leaiMUMl
from Ihat ex])eriment that no efforts of his could
now ellect his rescue. 11(5 had donc^ thc^ very best
he could, and it would not be possible for him,
with his present resimrccs, to contrive anything
better than that which haut now, to l»e here, and (ind him-
self in such a ]»lace, — to be brought face to face with
the hard, steiMi, dismal fact, — was another thing
ahogether. What oppressed him most was not the
hardships of his position. These he could have
wiihstood if there had been nothing worse, 'i'he
Worst part of his present life was its solitude. If
Hart had bi'cn here with him, or Bruce, or Arthur,
or Phil, Ol- Pat. how dilferent it W(»ul(l have been!
Even old Solomon would have enabled him to pass
the time contentedly. IJut to be alone, — all alone,
— without a soul to speak to, — that was terrible.
n
! I
182
LOST IN THIO FOr..
Tom soon found tlial tlio veiy way to dooiK'n liis
misery was to sit still and hrood over it. IFo was
not inclined to give way to trouble. It lias already
been seen that lie was a boy of obstinate courage,
resolute will, and invincible determination. Jle
was capable of struggling to the last against any
adversity ; and even if he had to lose, he knew
how to lose without sinking into complete despaii-.
These moods of depression, or even of despair,
whicli now and then did come, v/ere not perma-
nent. In time he shook them olf, and looked about
for some new way of carrying on the struggle with
evil fortune.
Ho now he shook off this fit of depression, and
starting up he determined not to sit idle any longer.
" 1 won't stand it," he nuittered. " There's lots
of things to be seen, and to be done. And first
of all I've got to explore this island. Come, Tom,
my boy; cheer up, old fellow. You've [)retended
to admire Robinson Crusoe ; act up to your pro-
fession. And first of all, my boy, you've got to
explore Juan Fernandez."
The sound of his own voice had the elTeft of
encouraging and inspiriting him, wliile the pui'pose
which he thus assigned to himself was sullicient
to awaken his prostrated energies. IMiere was
something in the plan which roused all his curi-
osity, and turned his thoughts and feelings into a
totally new direction. No sooner, then, had this
tliought occurred to him, than he at once set out
to put it into execution.
liVLi>
_ i J
AN EXPLOUATION.
183
ii
First of all he took one parting look at the scctio
around him. The sun had now passed its nioridiari,
aud it seemed to be one o'clock or after. The tide
was high. The boat, which had at first floated,
was now nearly full of water. Tom threw a mel-
ancholy glance at this fresh proof of the utter fu-
tility of all his labor, and then examined the fas-
tenings, so that it might not drift away during his
absence. Then he searched among the drift-wood
until he found a stout stick to assist him in climb-
ing, and to serve as a companion in his walk, after
which he started.
The sun was bright, but over the sky some
clouds were gathering, and the opposite shores
seemed to have grown darker than they were a
few hours ago, having assumed a hue like tdive
green. The wind had also died away, and the
water was as smooth as glass.
184
LOST IN THE FOG.
XIII.
JVliere\s Solomon ? — Jn anxious Search. — 17ie
Beach. — The cavernous (JIiJI'elore them, and from which the rattle
of a hundred axes rose into the air. The valley
itself was a beautiful place, running up among
steep hills, till it was lost to view among a mass of
evergreen trees and rich foliag(\ IJelow the ship-
yard was a cove of no very great depth, but of ex-
treme beauty. Beyond this was a broad beach,
which, at the farthest end, was bounded by the
})rojecting headland before alluded to. The head-
land was a precipitous cliff of red sandstone,
crowned at the summit with a fringe of forest trees,
while at its base were two or three hollow caveins,
worn into the solid rock by the action of the surf.
One uf these was about thirty feet in height at its
mouth, and ran back for sixty or seventy feet, nar-
rowing all the way, like a funnel, from its entrance
to its farthest extremity.
a%
^<'^>
.0^. ^t>T.^.
IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)
1.0
LI
1.25
If: lii
iITil^
It ti^
M
1.8
U lii 1.6
V]
<^
/^
V
^l
/A
V
«^
s?
\
\
^. .
"^
LsS-
W '^T
%
h
186
LOST IN THE FOG.
The tide was now noLirr' at its liciglit, and
progress down the beacli and along tlie clifF was
impossible. The caves were cut ofT also, and the
water penetrated them for some distance. At low
tide one could easily walk down to the extreme
point of tlie headland, and ronnding this, he would
find it possible to go along in front of the clills for
an immense distan(X\, either by walking along the
rough beacli at their foot, or, if the water should
rise again, by going along rocky shelves, which
projected for miles from the surface of the clilF.
Keaching the head of the beach. Captain Corbet
paused, and looked around.
" Before goin any further,'' said he, " we'd Itetter
ask the folks at this ship-yard. It ain't possible to
tell whether he's gone by the beach or not. He
may have gone up the valley."
'^ 0," said J5art, dolefully, " he must have gone
by the beach."
'' I ray the r think I'll ask, at any rate," said the
captain.
So saying, ho walked up toward;:^ a house that was
not far off, and accosted some men who were stand-
ing there. On hearing his question, tlu^y were
silent for a few moments ; and at last one of them
recollected seeing an aged colored man passing by
early in the morning. He had a basket on his arm,
and in every way corresponded to the description
of St)lomon. He was on his way up tho shore.
*' Did lie go down to the ])int," asked Captain
Corbet, '' or up to the top of tho cliff?"
A HAZARDOUS ROUTE.
187
eight
The man couldn't say for certain; but as far as
lie coukl recollect, it seemed to him that he went
down t(3 the pint.
'' About what time ? " ,
" Between eight and nine o'clock — in fact, about
- not much later."
'' Did he speak to any one here ? "
''No; he walked past without stoppin. An do
you say he ain't got back ? "
'' Not yet."
'' Wal," said the man, " for an old feller, an a feller
Avliat don't know the country hereabouts, he's gone
on a dangerous journey ; an ef he's ti'ied to get
back, he's found it a pooty hard road to travel."
'' Isn't there any chance of his gettin back by
the cliir?"
'' Not with the water risin onto his path."
" Is there any way of gettin up to the to, . of the
cliir?"
" Wal, fur a active young feller it wouldn't be
hard, but for a po.e old critter like that tliar, it
couldn't be done — no how."
" Wal, boys," said Captain Corbet, sorrowfully,
" I guess we'd better get on, an not lose any more
time."
'i'liey walked away In silence for some time, until
at last they readied the foot of the cliff. A path
here ran up in a winding direction so as to reach
the top.
" It seems too bad," said Captain Corbet, •' not to
188
LOST IN THE ¥00.
bo art, that'll go certainly as I'ar, rjid perhaps
farther. And here's Phil, tliat can do his share.
As for Pat, he can boat us all ; he can travel like
a fly, upside down, or in any direction."
" Wal, Pm glad to hear that, boys, for it's likely
you'll bo wanted to do some climbin afore we got
back. I used to do somethin in that way; but
since I've growed old, an rheumatic, Pve got kino
o' out o' tho way of it, an don't scacely feel socli
confidence in myself as I used to oust. But come,
we mustn't be waitin here all day. '
At this they started up the path, and soon reached
tho top of tho cliff.
Arriving hero, they found themselves in a culti-
vated meadow, passing through which they reached
A VIEW FROM THE CLTPP, 189
a pasture field. After a walk of about a quarter
of a mile, they came to the cliff that ran along tlie
shore of the bay, and on reaching this, the whole
1»;iy burst upon tlieir view.
It was still a beautiful day; the sun was shining
brilbantly, and liis rays were reflected in a path of
dazzliim' lustre from tlie face of the sea. The wind
was fresh, and the little waves tossed up their
fieads ticross where the sunlight fell, flashing back
the rays of the sun in perpetually changing light,
and presenting to the eye tlie appearance of in-
numerable dazzling stars. Far away rose the
Nova Scotia shore as they had seen it in tlie morn-
ing, wliihi up the bay, in tlic distance, abrupt, dark,
Mild precipitous, arose tlie solitary He Haute.
Beneath them tlie waters of the bay foamed and
splashed; and though there was not much surf, yet
the waters came rolling among the rocks, seething
and boiling, and extending as far as the eye could
reach, uj) and down, in a long line of foam.
Reaching the edge, they all looked down. At
the bottom there were visible the heads of black
rocks, which arose above the waves at times, but
which, however, at intervals, were covered with
the rolling waters that tossed around them in foam
and spray. Nearer and higher up there were
rocks which projected like shelves from the face
of the cliff, and seemed capable of affording a foot-
hold to any climber; but their projection served
also to conceal from view what lay immediately
beneath.
100
LOST IN THK FOG.
Along the wliolo bcacli, however, up find down,
there appeared no sign of liuman lii'e. Anxiously
they looked, hoping to see some human forrii, in
some part of that long line of rock ; but none was
visible, and they look ^ at one another in silence.
" Wal, he don't turn u}) yet ; that's clar, " said Cap-
tain (yorbet.
'^ VVe can see a great deal from here, to >," said
Bart, in a desi)ondent tone.
" Ay, an that's jest what makes the wust of it.
I thought that one look from a conunandin pint
would reveal the wanderer to our eyes."
" Perhaps he is crouching in among the rocks
down there."
" Wal, I raytlier think he'd manage to git up a
leetlc further out of the reach of the surf than all
that."
" He may be farther on."
" True ; an I dare say he is, too."
" There don't seem to be any place below these
rocks, where he would be likely to be."
"No; I think that jest here he could dim)) up,
as fur as that thar shelf, certain. He may be old an
rheumatic, but he's able enough to climb that fur."
" 1 don't think an^^thing could have hapi)ened to
him here, or we should see some signs of him."
" (;Ourse we would — we'd see his remains —
we'd sec his basket, or his hat, floatin and driftin
about. l>ut thar's not a basket or a hat anywhar
to be seen."
THE SEAHCII fOXTlNlTES.
101
jl) up,
1)1(1 an
fur."
led to
'?
Ins —
Irif'tin
Iwhar
4
" Tho cliff is long'lioro, and runs in so from tliat
point, tliat if he went np any distance, it would be
easy for him to be cau|i2^1h by the rising tide."
" Course it would. 0, yes, course. That's the
very thing" that struck me. It's very dangerous for
an ole inexperienced man. But come, we mustn't
slaiid talkin, we must hurry on, or we may as well
go back agin, at oust."
Starting forward, they walked on for some time
in silence. For about a hundred yards tliey were
able to keep close to the edge of the cliff, so as to
look over: but after that they encountered a dense
aider thicket. In order to traverse this, they had
to go farther inland, where there was some sort of
an opening. There they came to a wood wliere the
underbrush was thick, and the walking difficult.
I'his they traversed, and at length worked their
way once more to the edge of the cliff. Looking
down here, they found the scene very much like
what it had been fartlicr back. The waves were
dashing beneath them among rocks whose black
crests were at times visil)le among the foam, while
from the cliffs there were the same projecting
shelves which they had noticed before.
" See there ! " cried Bart, pointing to a place be-
hind them. " Do you see how the cliff seems to go
in there — just where the alder bushes grow?
That looks like a place wliere a man might bo
caught. 1 wonder if ho isn't there."
" Can't we go and see ? "
I
^-
102
r.OST IN THE Fon.
'' J t this fur, certain, — unless he'd ben a run-
nin away."
All this seemed so certain to the boys that tlu^y
had nothing to say in opposition to it. Tu (act, as
IJruce said, they had already gone as far as Sol-
onion could possibly have gone, and this thought
had occurred to them .all. (^ijitain Corlx^t's prop-
osition, therefore, seemed to them the only coursi^
to follow. So they all turned and went back again.
'^ What I was a goin to say," remarked Captain
Corbet, after walking a few ])aces, — "what I was
a goin to say was this. The. mistake I made was
in not gettiii a boat."
" A boat? Why we've traced the coast from the
cliir well enoup-h — haven't we? "
" No, not well enough. We'd ought to have
planned this hero exyieditioii more k(n*fully. It
wan't enough to go along the top of the cliff this
here way. You see, we've not been able to take
ill the lower part of the cliff underneath. We'd
on<;ht to hev got a boat. Some of us could hcv
goiK^ along the cliff, jest as we hey ben doin, and
tlie others could have pulled aloi^' the shore an
100
LOST IN THE F0(;.
^
kop lip a Kliarp lookout tliat way. "We've lost
any (luantity o' time that way, but tliat's no reason
wliy wo sliould lose any more; so I mnve that
some of us g-o back, right straiglit ofl', an get a
1)oat at tlie ship-yard, an come l)a('k. I'll go, iniless
some o' youns think yourselfes sinnrter, which
aiti't onlikely."
" 0, you can't run, captain," said l>art. '^ Bruce
and 1 will go, and we'll run all the way."
" WmI, that's the ycvy best thing that yon could
do. You're both young, an actyvc. As for me,
my days of youth an actyvity air over, an I'm in
the sere an yaller leaf, with spells o' rheumatics.
So you start off as cpiick as your legs can carry
you, an ef you run all the way, so much the better."
The boys started off at this, and going on the
lull run, they hurried, as fast as possible, back over
the patii they had traversed, and through the woods,
and over the fields, and down the cliff towards the
si lip-yard.
Phil and Pat, however, remained with Captain
Corbet ; and these three walked back along the
edge of the cliff, still looking down carefully for
signs of Solomon, and keeping up constantly their
loud, shrill cries.
Thus they walked back, till, at length, they
reached the place where the alders were growing.
Here they were compelled to make a detour as be-
fore, after which they returned to the cliff, and
walked along, shouting and yelling as when they
came.
A NEW START.
107
XIV.
Back cKja'ui. — Calls and Cries. — Captain CorheVs
Yell. ~ A siynijteenl Sign. — The old Hat. — The
return Cry. — The Boat rounds the Point.
>|JaPTAIN CORBET, with Phil and i^lt, walked
^^ along the top of tli(3 clill' in this way, narrow-
T^ \y .scrutinizing the rocks l)elow, and calling
and shouting, until, at length, they reached the
place at which they had first come out upon the
shore.
'^ Now, boys," said the captain, '' from here to the
l)int down thar is all new ground. We must go
along here, an keep a good lookout. If we hev
any chance lei't of findin anythin, it's thar. I'm
ony sorry we didn't examine this here fust an fore-
most, before ^.vanderin away off up thar, whar 'tain't
at all likely that Solomon ever dreamed of goin.
I hope the boys won't be long gettin off that thar
boat."
*' Perhaps they can't get one."
'^ 0, yes, they can. I saw two or three down
thar."
• They now walked on a little farther.
I: i
■•^ILIl
198
LOST IN THE FOG.
At this place the clifl' was as steep as it liaci l)een
behind ; but tiie rocky shelves were more iiuiner-
oiis, and down near the shore they projected, one
beyond another, so that they looked like natural
steps.
'^ If Solomon was caught by the tide anywhar
hereabouts," said Captain Corbet, 'Khar's no ulhly
reason why he sliouldn't save himself. He could
walk up them rocks jest like goin up stairs, an git
out of the way of the heaviest surf an the highest
tide that these shores ever saw."
'^ It all depends," said Phil, '^ on whether he
staid about here, or went farther iq)."
''Course — an it's my opinion that he did stay
about here. He was never such an old fool as to
go so far u}) as we did. Why, ef he'd a done so
over them rocks, he'd never have got the use of
his legs agin."
" Strange we don't see any signs of him."
■ '. '" 0, wal, thar's places yet we hevn't tried."
"One thing is certain ^ — we haven't found any
signs of him. If anything had happened, we'd have
seen his basket iloating."
" Yes, or his old hat."
" 1 should think, if he were anywhere hereabouts,
he'd hear the noise ; we are shouting loud enough,
I'm sure. As for your voice, why, he ought to
lioar it a mile away ; and the point down there
doesn't seem to be a quarter that distance."
" 0, it's further than that ; besides, my voice can't
THE captain's YELL.
199
penetrate so easily down tliar. It gits kine o' lost
among the rocks. It can go very easy in a straight
line ; but when it's got to turn corners, an go kine
o' round the edges o' sharp rocks, it don't get on
so well by a long chalk. But I think I'll try an di-
varsify these here proceedins by yellin a ieetlo
lower down."
So saying, Captain Corbet knelt down, and put-
ting his head over the cliil', he uttered the loudest,
and sharpest, and shrillest yell that he could give.
Then he listened in silence, and the boys also lis-
tened in breathless expectation lor some time.
But there was no response whatever.
Captain Corbet arose with a sigh.
^^ Wal, boys," said he, in a mournful tone, " we
nuist git on to the pint. We'd ought to know the
wust pooty soon. But, at any rate, I'm bound to
hope for the best till hope air over."
The little party now resumed their progress,
and walked on towards the })oint, shouting at in-
tervals, as before.
From this place on as far as the point, the ground
was clear, and there Avas nothing to bar their way.
They could go along without being comj)elled to
make any further detour, and could keep near
enough to the edge to connrand a view of the
rocks below. They walked on, and shouted with-
out ceasing, and thus traversed a portion of the
way.
•Suddenly Captain Corbet's oyo caught sight of
200
LOST IN THE FOG.
something in the water. It was round in shape,
and was floating witliin a few feet of the shore, on
the top of a wave. As Captain Corbet looked, the
wave rolled from underneath it, and dashed itself
upon the rooks, while the floating object seemed to
be thrown farther out. The tide had turned al-
ready, and was now on the ebb, so that floating
articles, such as this, were carried away from the
shore, rather than towards it.
Upon this Captain Corbet fastened his gaze, and
stood in silence looking at it. At length he put
his hand on Phil's slioulder, and directed the atten-
tion of the boys to the floating object.
" Do you see that ? " said he.
" What ? "
" That thing."
" What — that round thing ? "
" Yes, that round thing. Look sharp at it now.
What doos it look like to your young eyes ? "
Phil and Pat looked at it very carefully, and in
silence. Then Pliil looked up into Captain Cor-
bet's face without saying a word.
" Wal ? "
" What is it, do you think ? " asked Phil, in a low
voice.
" What do you think ? "
" Sure an it's a hat — a sthraw hat," said Pat.
Captain Corbet exchanged a meaning glance
with Phil.
*' Do you think it's his hat ? " asked Phil.
THE OLD HAT.
201
" Whose else can it be ? "
Phil was silent, and his gaze was once more di-
rected to the floating object. As it rose and fell
on the waves, it showed the unmistakable outline
of a straw hat, and was quite near enough for
them to recognize its general character and color.
It was dark, with the edges rather ragged, a broad
brim, and a roomy crown, not by any means of a
fashionable or graceful shape, but coarse, and big,
and roomy, and shabby — just such a hat as Solomon
had put on his head when he left Grand Pre with
them on this memorable and ill-fated voyage.
" They looked at it for a long time in silence, and
none of them moved.
Captain Corbet heaved a deep sigh.
'^ This here," said he, " has been a eventfool
v/ge. I felt a derred pcrsentment afore I started.
Long ago I told you how the finger of destiny
seemed to warn me away from the ocean main. I
kem to the conclusion, you remember, that hence-
forth 1 was to dwell under my own vine an fig
tree, engaged in the tender emplymint of nussin
tlie infant. But I'rom this I was forced agin my
own inclynations. An what's the result? Why,
tliis — that thar hat ! See here, boys ; " and the
venerable seaman's tone grew dee})er, and more
solemn, and more impressive ; " see here, boys," ho
repeated ; " for mor'n forty year hev I follered the
seas, an traversed the briny deep ; but, though
Pve hed my share of storms an accy dints, thougli
202
LOST IN THE FOG.
t^-
I've ben shipwrecked onst or twisto, yet never lias
it ben my lot to experience any loss of liuman life.
But now, but now, boys, call to mine! the startlin
events of this here vygo ! Think of your com-
panion an playmate a driftin off in that startlin
manner from Petticoat Jack ! An now look here
— gaze upon that diar ! Words air footil ! "
*' Do you give him up, then ? " cried Phil. ^' Poor,
2)oor old Solomon 1 "
Captain Corbet shook his head.
" 'Deed, thin, an I don't ! " cried Pat. " What's
a hilt? 'Tain't a man, so it isn't. Many's the man
that's lo?t his hat, an ain't lost his life. It's a
windy place here, an ole Solomon's hat's a mile too
big for him, so it is — 'deed an it is."
Captain Corbet shook his head more gloomily
than ever.
" Ow, sure an ye needn't bo shakin yer head that
way. Sure an haven't ye lost hats av yer own,
over an over ? "
" Never," said the captain. ''1 never lost a hat."
" Niver got one blowed oif ? 'Deed an ye must
have."
" I never got one blowed olf. When the wind
blowed hard 1 alius kcp 'em tied on."
" Well, Solomon hadn't any tie to his, an it cud
tumble olf his old pate asy enough, so it cud. Sure
he's lost it jumpin over the rocks. Besides, whero's
his basket?"
" At the bottom, no doubt."
i
THE RETURN CRY.
20.-)
iiid
" Sure an it cud float."
" No ; I dar say it was full of lobsters."
'' Any how, I'll not believe lie's gone till I see
him," cried Pat, earnestly. " Seein's believin."
'' Ef he's gone," said Captain Corbet, more sol
cmnly than ever, "ye'll never see him. These
Avaters take too good care of a man for that."
'' Well, yer all givin up too soon," said Pat.
'•Come along now; there's lots of places yet to
exaiiiin. Give one of yer loudest yolls."
Captain Corbet did so. In spite of his despon-
dency as to poor old Solomon's fate, he was not at
all unwilling to try any further chances. On this
occasion he seemed to gain unusual energy out of
liis very despair; and the yell that burst from him
was so high, so slirill, so piercing, and so far pene-
ti'ating, that the former cries were nothing com-
i)ared to it.
'' Well done ! " cried Pat. " Sure an you bet
yerself that time, out an out."
'' Stop I " cried Phil. " Listen. What's that ? "
Far away, as they listened, tliey heard a faint
cry, that seemed like a response.
"Is tiiat the echo?" asked Phil, anxiously.
*' Niver an echo ! " cried Pat, excitedly. " Shout
agin, captain, darlin."
Ca[)tain Corbet gave another shout as loud and
as shrill as the preceding one.
They listened anxiously.
Again they heard the cry. It was faint and fiir
204
LOST IN THE FOG.
't 8!
off; yet it was unmistakably a liMiuan cry. Tlicir
oxcitoniout now grew intense.
" Where did it come from?" cried Pliil.
" Wal, it kine o' seemed to me tluit it came back
thar," said tlie captain, pointing to the woods.
" 'Deed an it didn't," cried Pat ; ^^ not a bit of
it. It was from the sliore, jest ahead ; from the
pint, so it was, or I'm a nagur."
"I think it came from the sliore, too," said Fhil;
" but it seemed to be behind us."
^' Niver a bit," cried Pat ; " not back there.
We've been there, an whoever it was wud have
shouted afore, so he wud. Xo, it's ahead at the
pint. He's jest heard us, an he's shoutin aftlier
us. Hooray ! Hurry up, an we'll be there in time
to save him."
Pat's confidence was not without its effect on the
others. Without waiting any longer, they at once
set oft' at a run, stojjping at intervals to yell, and
then listening for a response. To their delight,
that response came over and over again ; and to
their still greiiter joy, the sound each time was
evidi^ntly louder.
Beyond a doubt, they were drawing nearer to
the place from which the sounds came.
This stimulated them all the more, so that they
hurried on faster.
The edge of the cliff was not covered by any
trees, but tlie ground at its summit luid been cleared,
80 that progress was not at all difficult. They
CORBET'S CALL, AXD THE ANSWER.
205
:s.M
tlu?rof()r(3 (lid not take muoli time in traversing tlie
space tliat intervened between tlie spot where
tliey had first lieard tlie cry, and tlie point where
the cliff terminated. Tlie cry grev,'" steadily loud-
er, all tlie way, nntil at last, when they approached
the point, it seemed to come directly from beneath.
The clin* here was perpendicular for about I'orty
feet down, and below this it seemed to retreat, so
that nothing could be seen. The tide was on the
ebb ; but it was still so high that its waves l)eat
below them, and seemed to strike the base of the
rock. Beyond, on the right, there was a sloping-
ledge, which descended from the cliffs into the
soa, over which the waves were now pla^'ing.
It was from the IkjUow and unseen recess down
at the foot of the cliff that the cry seemed to arise,
which had come in response to the calls of those
on the summit. On reaching the place above, they
knelt down, and looked over, but were not able to
distinguish any human being, or any sign of the
presence of one. But as they looked anxiously
over, the cry arose, not very loud, but quite dis-
tinct now, and assured them that this was the
place which sheltered the one who had uttered
that cry.
Captain Corbet now thrust his head over as fiir
as he could, and gave a call in his loudest voice.
" TTal-lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o ! "
To which there came up in answer a cry that
sounded like —
206
LOST IN THE FOf}.
W('re
l)y extreme eiTort. Windfalls alsij lay around in
all directions, and no sooner would lie luive fairly
surmounted one of them, than another would a[)-
pear. Thus his progress was exceedingly slow
and laborious.
After about a half an hour of strenuous exertion,
'^fom found himself in the midst of an ahnost im-
passable jungle of tangled, stunted fir trees. Ho
Iriud to avoid these by making a detour, but found
that they extended so far that lie could only i»ass
them by going along close to the edge of the cliiV.
This last path he chose, and clinging to the In'anchcs,
he passed for more than a huncb'ed yards along the
crest of a frightful precipice, where far down there
yawned an abyss, at whose bottom was the sea;
while abreast of him in the air there floated great
flocks of gulls, uttering their hoarse yells, and flut-
tering fiercely about, as though trying to drive
l)ack this intruder upon their domains. Once or
twice Tom was compelled to stop, and turn away
his face from the abyss, and thrust himself in among
the trees; but each time he regained his courage,
after a little rest, and went on as before.
At length he passed the thick spruces under-
brush, and found the woods less dense. He could
now work his way among them without l)eing com-
pelled to go so close to the edge of the cliff; and
tlie dizzv heic'ht and the shrieks of the ^'ulls no
longer disturbed his senses. The trees here were
not so high as those at the other end of the island,
214
LOST IN THE FOG.
but were of much smaller size, uiid seemed stunted.
There were no maples or other forest trees, but
only scraggy fir, that seemed too exposed to the
winds from the sea to have much health or verdure.
The underbrush was wanting to a great extent,
but moss was here in large quantities, and thick
clusters of alder bushes. Wild shrubs also — such
as raspberries and blueberries — were frerpiently
met with ; while ledges of weather-beaten rock
jutted out from amid thick coverings of moss.
Walking here was not at all diilicult, and he went
on without any interruption, until, at last, he found
any farther progress barred by a precipice. He
was at the lower or western end of the island.
lie looked down, and found beneath him a great
precipice, while rocks jutted out from the sea, and
ledges projected beyond. Tlie gulls were present
here, as elsewhere, in great flocks, and stili kept
up their noisy screams.
Tom looked out over the sea, and saw its waters
spread far away till it was lost in the horizon. On
the line of that horizon he saw a iaint gray cloud,
that looked like a fog bank. It had, to his eyes, a
certain gloomy menace, and seemed to say to him
that he had not seen the last of it yet. On the left
of the broad sea, the Nova Hcotia coast ran along
till it was lost in the distance ; and on the right was
the long line of the New Brunswick shore, both of
which had now that dark hue of olive green which
he bad noticed on the land op])osite before he had
started.
I
TOM DISCOVERS A SAIL.
215
Suddenly, while he was looking-, his eyes caught
sight of something white thut glistened brightly
I'runi the blue water. It was about midway be-
tween the two coasts, and he knew it at once to be
some sailing vessel. He could not make out more
tlian one sail, and that showed that the vessel was
either coming up the bay or going down; for if
it had been crossing, she would, of course, have lain
broadside on to his present locality, and would have
thus displayed two sails to his view. The sight
of this vessel agitated him exceedingly ; and the
question about her probable course now entered his
mind, and drove away all other thouglits. Whether
that vessel were going up or down became of ex-
chisive importance to him now. If she were coming
u]), she might approach him, and hear his hail, or
catch sight of his signals. Suddenly lie reflected
that he had no way of attracting attention, and a
wild desire of running back and setting up the
longest pole or board that ho could find came into
his mind ; but such was the intensity of his curi-
osity, and the weight of his suspense, that he could
not move from the spot where he was until he had
satislied himself as to the vessel's course.
He sat down not far from the edge of the preci-
pice, and, leaning forw ird with his hands supporting
his chin, he strained his eyes over the intervening
distance, as he tried to make out in which way the
vessel was going. It seemed fully ten miles away,
and Iier hull was not visible. It was only the
216
LOST IN THE FOG.
wliite of lier nails tluit lu3 saw ; and as tlie sun-
liglit played on those from time to time, or fell off
from the angle of reflection, the vessel was alter-
nately more or less visible, and thus seemed by
turns to draw nearer and dejjart farther from his
siglit.
Thus for a long time he sat, alternately hoping
and desponding, at every play of those sails in the
sunlight. The calm of the water showed Inin that,
even if the vessel were coming up, he could not
expect any very rapid progress. There was now
no wind; and the surface of the water was jx-rfect-
ly unruffled. Besides, he knew that the tide was
falling rapidly. How, then, could he ex})ect that
the vessel could come any nearer, even if she were
trying to? Thoughts like these at last made him
only anxious to keep the vessel in sight. If lier
destination lay up the bay, she would probably an-
chor ; if it lay down the bay, she would drift with
the tide. He thought, then, that if she only would
remain in sight, it would be a sufficient proof of
her course.
Thus he sat, watching and waiting, with all his
soul intent upon those flashing sails, and all his
thoughts taken up with the question as to the
course of that solitary bark. It seemed a long
time to him, in his suspense ; but suspense always
makes time seem long. At last, however, even
though he hoped so persistently for the best, his
hope began to die within him. Fainter and fainter
THE SAIL DISAPPEARS.
217
grew those sails ; at intervals rarer and rarer did
their fhisli come to liis eyes, until at length the
sight of them was lost altogether, and nothing met
his eyes but the gloomy gray of the fog cloud on
tiie I'ar horizon.
Even after he had lost hope, and become con-
vinced that she was gone, Tom sat there for a long
time, in a fixed attitude, looking at that one spot.
lie would have sat there longer, but suddenly there
came to his ears a peculiar sound, which made him
start to his feet in a moment, and filled him with a
new excitement. *
He listened.
Tne sound came again.
A flush of joy spread over his face, his heart
beat faster and faster, and he listened as though
ho could scarce believe his senses.
As ho listened, the sounds came again, and this
time much louder.
There was now no mistake about it. It was a
regular beat, which Tom knew well to be the pecu-
liar sound made by the floats of a steamer's i)ad-
dles. He had often heard it. He had but recently
heard it, when the revenue steamer was approach-
ing the Antelope, and again during the foggy
night, when the whistle roused them, and the
same beat of the paddles came over the midnight
waters.
And now, too, he heard it.
He gave a shout of joy, and started off to catch
eight of her.
218
LOST IN THE FOG.
For a few pac(3s only he ran, and then stopped.
He was puzzled. He did not know in whieh di
reetion it was best to go. He was at the west end
of the island, but could not make out very well the
direction of the sounds. He tried to think wheth-
er the steamer would pass the island on the north
side or the south. He did not know, but it seemed
to him that she would certainly ^o to the north of
it. TJiere was no time to be lost, and standing
there to listen did not seem to be of any use, even
if his impatience had allowed him to do so. Ac-
cordingly he hurried back by the way that he had
come along the north side of the island.
For some time he ran along through the trees,
and at length, in about fifteen or twenty minutes, he
reached tlie place where the dense underbrush was,
by the edge of the cliff. From this point a wide view
was commanded. On reaching it he looked out, and
then up the bay, towards the Straits of Minas. He
could see almost up to the straits, but no steamer
appeared. For a moment he stood bewildered^ and
then the thought came to him, that he had mistaken
altogether the steamer's course. She could not be
coming down on the north side of the island, but
on the south side. With a cry of grief he started
back again, mourning over his error, and the time
that he had lost. On reaching the more open wood,
he thought that it would be better to hurry across
tlie island to the south side, and proceeded at once
to do so. The way was rough and tedious. Once
A STEAMER IN THE BAY.
210
or twice lie liad to burst tlirougli thickets of aider,
tUid several times he had to cliinl) over wiiidlalls.
At length, ill his confusion, he lost his way altogeth-
er; he had to stop and think. The shadows of the
trees showed him where the soutl; lay, and he re-
sumed his journey. At length, after most exhaus-
tive elforts, he reached a part of the clilf, wliere a
fringe of alders grew so thick, that he was scarce
aware that he was at his destination, until the
precipice opened beneath him. Here he stood,
and, pressing apart the dense branches, he looked
out.
There was the steamer, about two miles off, al-
ready below where he was standing, and going
rapidly down the bay with the falling tide.
Another cry of grief burst from Tom. Where
he was standing he could see the vessel, but he
himself was completely concealed by the clustering
bushes. He now lamented that he had left his first
position, and saw that his only chance was to have
remained there.
To stay where he was could not be thought of.
There was scarce a chance now of doing anything,
since the steamer was so far away ; but what
chance there was certainly depended on his be-
ing in some conspicuous position. He started off,
therefore, to the west [)oint, where he had watched
the schooner for so long a tim(\ lie hurried on
with undiminished energy, and bounded over wind-
i'alls, Mild burst through thickets, as belbre. But
220
LOST IN THE FOG.
in spite of his efforts, liis progress coul'l not be
more rapid than it liad formerly been. ITis route
was necessarily oircnitons, and 1)clbre he could find
the desired point, many more miiuites had elapsed.
But he reached it at last, and there, on the bare
rock, springing forward, he waved his hat in the
air, and sent forth a piercing cry for help. But the
steamer was now as much as four or five miles
away — too lar altogether for his loudest cry to go.
His screams and his gestures did not appear to at-
tract the slightest attention. She moved on her
way right under the eyes of the frantic and de-
spairing boy, nor did she change her course in tlie
slightest degree, nor did her paddles cease to re-
volve, but went rolling round, tossing up the foam,
iind bearing far, far away that boat on which poor
Tom had rested his last hope.
As for Tom, he kept up his screams as long as
he could utter a sound. He tore off his coat, and
shook it up and down, and waved it backward and
forward. But none of these things were heard or
seen. The steamboat passed on, until, at length,
even Tom became convinced that further eftbrts
were useless.
This last blow was too much. Tom sank under
it, and, falling on his face, he burst into a flood of
tears.
Struggling up at length from this last affliction,
Tom roused himself, and his buoyancy of soul be-
gan once more to assert itself.
I
I
TOM ROUSES HIMSELF.
221
"■#
"Come now, Tliomns, my son," said lie, as lie flried
his eyes, " tliis sort ol'tlifng will never do, you know.
You're not a baby, my boy ; you've never been
given to blubbering, I tliink. Cheer up, then, like
a man, and don't make me feel ashamed of you."
This little address to himself had, as before, the
effi^ct of restoring his e(|uanimity, and he thought
with cahiiness ujion his recent disappointments.
Tie saw, by the passage of these vessels, what
he had for a time lost sight of, namely, that this
island, though uninhabited, was still in the middle
of a l)ay whieh was constantly traversed by sailing
vessels and steamboats. The latter ran regularly
up to the Basin of Minas from St. John. As to the
former, they were constantly passing to and fro,
from the large ship down to the small fishing ves-
sel. Tnlial)ited countries surrounded him on every
side, between the coasts of which there was a con-
stant communication. If he only kept patient, the
time must come, and that, too, before very long,
when he would be delivered.
In order to secure this delivery, however, he saw
that it would be necessary to arrange some way by
wdiich he might attract the notice of passing ves-
sels. On this suliject he meditated for a long time.
It would be necessary, he thought, to have some
sort of a signal in some conspicuous place. Among
the drift-wood he might, perhaps, be able to find
some sort of a pole or staff which he could set up.
One might not be enough, but in that case he could
put up two, or three, or half a dozen.
222
LOST IN THE FOC.
Tlio next tiling to decide about was tlic clioico
of a [»lace. There was the east end, and tlie west
end — which was the better ? The west end, where
he was standing, was high; but then it was sur-
rounded l)y trees, and unless he could set up a
very tall staff, it could scarcely be noticed. Tiie
east end, on the contrary, was lower; but then it
was bare, and any kind of a signal which iTu'ght be
set up there could hardly fail to attract attention.
Pie could also pile up a heap of drift-wood, and set
fire to it, and, by this means, if a vessel were ])ass-
ing by, he could be certain of securing attention.
It did not make much difference which end the sig-
nals were placed upon, as far as referred to the
passing of vessels ; for all that })assed by would go
along the island, so that both ends would be visible
to them.
As to the signals, he felt confident that he could
find a staff, or, if one would not be long enough,
several could be fastened together. I'he coil of
rope in the boat would enable him to do this. The
sail would afford material for a fiag.
All these plans came to his mind as he stood
there ; and the prospect of once more doing some-
thing which was to help him to escape from his
prison drove away the last vestige of his grief.
His courage again arose, hope revived, and he burst
forth into a light and joyous song. Ver}^ different
was he now from the despairing lad who, but a
short time before, had been pouring forth his tears
i
PLAN FOR MAKING A SIO.NAL.
22.'^.
of sorrow ; and yet but a, few miiiutoH liiul passer!
since tlien. Tlie steamer was yet in siglit down
the bay, 1)ut Tom, wl»o liad lately ])ccn so frantic
in his efforts to attract her attention, now cast a
glance after her of perfect in(bfferenco.
And now it was necessary i'or him to return to
tlio east end of the island, and look about for the
means of ])uttiiig- into execution his plan for mak-
ing a signal.
fTe started off on his return without any further
delay. The path back was as rough and toilsome
as the way down had been ; but Tom was now full
of hope, and his elastic spirits had revived so thor-
oughly that he cared but little for the fatigue of
the journey. It was traversed at last, and he de-
scended the slope to the place from which he hud
started.
His exploration of the island had been quite com-
plete. It seemed to him to be about a mile and a
half in length, and a half a mile or so in width.
The east end, where he liad first arrived, was the
only place where it was at all desirable to stay.
Immediately on his arrival he examined the boat,
and found it secure. To his surprise it was now
about sunset. lie had forgotten the lapse of time,
lie was hungry; so he sat down, ate his biscuit,
drank his water, and rested from the toils of tho
day.
224
LOST IN THE FOG.
Ill
iv'
• »>
u
XVI.
A Sign for the outer World. — A Shelter for the
Outcast's Head. — Tom's Camp and Cantji-hed. —
A Search after Somethhaj to vary a too inonotonous
Diet. — Brilliant Success.
K)M sat down after liis eventful clay, and took
his evening meal, as has been said. He
rested then for some time. His excessive
labors had fatigued him Jess than the great excite-
ment which he had undergone, and now he felt
disinclined to exert himself. But the sun had set,
and darkness was coming on rapidly ; so he rose, at
last, and went over to the drift-wood. Here, after
a search of about half an hour, he found some-
thing which was very well suited to his purpose.
It was a piece of scantling about twenty feet long,
and not very thick ; and to this he saw thnt he
could fasten the pole that he had made up in the
woods. These two pieces would make, when
joined, a very good flag-staff. These he brought
up to the bank. Then he collected an armful of
dry chips and sticks, which he carried over to a
spot near where the boat lay. A rock was there,
FIRE THE BEST KIND OF SIGNAL.
225
I
and against one siflc of tliis lie bailt a pile of the
chips. He tlien tried a match, and found that it
was quite dry, and lighted it without any difficulty.
With tliis he kindled the fire, and soon saw, with
great satisfaction, a bright and cheerful blaze.
He was so delighted with the fire that he brought
up a dozen more loads of wood, which he laid near.
Then he drew up the bit of scantling, and bringing
the coil of rope, he cut a piece off, and proceeded
to fasten to the scantling the pole which he had
procured in the woods. lio did this by winding
the rope around in a close and even wind ; and,
finally, on concluding his task, he found that it was
bound firmly enough to stand any breeze. It took
a long time to finish this; but Tom had 'slept late
in the morning, and, though fatigued, he was not
sleepy. After this he sat down in front of the
fire, and enjoyed its friendly light and its genial
glow. He kept heaping on the fuel, and the bright
flames danced up, giving to him the first approach
to anything like the feeling of comfort tliat he had
known since he had drifted away from the Ante-
lope. Nor was it comfort only that he was mind-
ful of while he watched and fed the fire. He saw
in this fire, as it shone out over the water, the best
kind of a signal, and had some hope of being seen
and hailed by some passing vessel. In this hope
he sat up till midnight, looking out from time to
time over the water, and expecting every instant
to see the shadow of some approaching vessel.
15
22(5
LOST IN THE FO(J.
m
But niidiiiglit came, and Tom at length tlionglit
of sleep. The sail had dried thoroughly through
the day ; so now he used it once more as a coverlet,
and, folding himself in it, lie reclined, as before,
against the mossy bank, and slept.
On iiwakinij: tlio next day, he arose and looked
ardund. To his deep disap])ointment, he could see
Dolhing. There was a fog over all the scene. '^Fhe
Avind had changed, and his old enemy was once
more besi(^ging him. It was not so thick, indeed, as
it ha, and foiiily
himself for the labors of the Uforrow. 1'lie ashes
LOST m THE F0(}.
wore riik(Ml carotiilly rouiul tlic coals, wliicli, wlien
Tom waked in tlie morning, were easily kindled
agani.
Tie was up early on that IVIonday morning. He
saw, with deep disappointment, that the fog still
covered every thing, and that the wind was blow-
ing qnite hrisk from the south-west, and raising
rather n heavy sea. Bnt he had a great deal to
do now, and to this he turned his att(Mif'on.
First of all, he had to finish his signal-stalf and
set it up. ITe was \ory much troubled about the
pi-o])er material for a flag, 'i'he canvas was rather
too iieavy; but as he had nothing else, he had to
take this. ITe fastened a bit of the rope to the
head of the stalf, so as to form a loop, and through
this he ran a piece which was long enough to
serve for halyards. Thus far ho had not used up
more thsm a (piarter of the coil of rope; but ho
needed all that was left for other purposes. The
next thing was to set up his stalf. To do this
recpiired much labor. He had already selected
the place which sei^med most suitabh^ It was at
the extreme point of a tongue of land which pro-
jected l)eside the brook, and only a litth^ distance
iVom his resting-place. Here the ground was soft ;
and choosing a sharp stone, he W(U-ked diligently
for about a couple of hours, until at length he suc-
cccmIc^I in digging a hole whi(di was about eight(*(Mi
inches in depth. '^Phen Im^ fastiuied ropes io the
staff, where the pole joined it, so that foui" lines
TOM RAISES A SKJNAI. OF DISTRESS.
to
to
up
l»0
The
tC(l
s ;it
nlly
SIK*-
t«MMl
tllO
lines
crtiiio down liir cuioiigli t(t servo as sttiNs. TTaviiis^
done this, lie inserted the end of" the stall' in the
lioh), and thrust in tlie earth all arouni-inginjj,- tlicse hack,
lie next looked about lor a good situation. There
was a rock not far from the fire, and in front of
this was a smooth spot, where the land was Hat,
and covered with short grass. On the left it
sloped to tlie brook. This seemed to him to be
the best place on the island. It was sufficiently
sheltered. It was dry, and in case of rain the
water would not be likelv to flood it. With all
these it also })ossessed the advantage of being suf-
ficiently conspicuous to any })assing vessel which
might be attractc^d by the signal-stalf. Here, then,
Tom determineil to erect his place of residence.
riis first work was to select two lony
means of which his resources might be enlarged
and improved.
SOLOMON'S STORY OF HIS ADVENTURES. 237
XVII.
Solomon^ s solemn Tale. — A cosfhj Lobster. — Off
again. — Steam WJiistles of all Sizes. — A noisy
Harbor. — Arrival Home. — No News.
^HE shout of joy uttered by those on the top
of tlie cliff at seeing old Solomon safe was
responded to by those in the boat; and then,
as the latter went on her way, Captain Corbet set
out to return to the beach, followed by Phil and
Pat. Soon they were all reunited, and, the boat
being landed, they returned in triumph to the
Antelope.
On their way back, Solomon told them the story
of his adventures.
" Went out," said ho, " on a splorin scursion, cos
I was termined to try an skewer somethin to make
a dinnali to keep up de sperrit ob dis yali party.
Ben ti;ouble nuflf', an dat's no reason wliy we should
all starb. I tought by de looks ob tings dar was
lobstas somewhar long dis yah sho, an if I got a
chance, I knowed I could get 'em. Dar was lots
ob time too, ef it 1 \dn't ben fur dat ar pint ; dat's
what knocked me. Lots u' lobstas — could hab
238
LOST IN THE FOG.
r"^":
picked lip a barl full, ony Iiauii't any barl to i)ick
up."
" Well, but how did you happen to get caught? "
" Dat ar's jes what I'm a comin to. You see, I
didn't tink "b dat ar pint when 1 went up de slio,
— but knowed 1 had lots ob time; ao I jes tought
I'd make sure ob de best ob de lobstas. Wan't
goin to take back any common lobstas, — bet you
dat, — notin for me but de best, — de bery best
ones dar. Dat ar's what kep me. It takes a heap
ob time an car to get de best ones, when dar's a
crowd lyin about ob all sizes, an de water comin
in too."
" But didn't you sec that the tide was coming
up to the point? "
" Nebber see a see, — not a see; lookin ober dj
lobstas all de time, an mos stractcd wid plcxity
cos I couldn't cide bout de best ones. Dar was
lots an lots up dar at one place, dough 1 didn't go
fur, — but of I'd gone fur, I'd hal) got better ones."
" ITow far did }'ou go?"
" Not fur, — ony short distance, — ut 1 don't
hapj)en to own a balloon, an so thar you air.
'^ But, boys," continued the caj)tain, in a r-;olemn
voice, elevating his venerable chin, and regai'ding
them with a patriarchal smile, — '^ boys, don't begin
to go on in that thar old despondent strain. Me-
thinks I hear some on you a rc[)inin, an a fret-
tin, cos we're stuck here hard an Hist. Don't do it,
boys; take my advice, an don't do it. Bear in
mind the stirrin an memiorable events of this hero
mornin. See what a calamity was a threatenin us.
Why, I declare to you all, thar was a time when T
expected to see our aged friend Solomon no more
in the flesh. You could not tell it by my manner,
for I presarved a calm an collected dumeanour;
but yet, I tell you, underneath all that icy calm an
startlin good-natur of my attitooil, I concealed a
heart that bet with dark despair. At that moment,
t'
i'-..
i^i
244
LOST IN THE FOG.
when wc in our wanderins had readied the furthest
extremity that we attained onto, I tell you my
blood (Viz, an my liar riz in horrt)r ! Methought it
were all up with Solomon ; and when I see his hat,
it seemed to me jest as though I was a regardin witli
despairin eye his tumestun whereon war graven by
no inortial hand the solemn an despaii'in epigram,
' H'lc jacct I '
" So now, my friends," continue I the captain, as
he brushed a tear-drop from his eye, " let us con-
terrol our feelins. Let us be calm, and hope for the
best. When Solomon took his de])arto()r, an was
among the niissin, I thought that an evil fortin was
a berroodin over us, and {d)()ut to consume us.
But that derream air past. Solomon is oust more
j\mong the eatables. lie cooks agin the mortial
repast. He lives ! So it will be with our young
friend who has so mysteriously drifted away from
(mr midst. Cheer u|), I say ! Them's my senti-
ment. He'll come to, an turn up, all alive — right
side up — with care, — C. 0. D., — O. K., — to be
shaken before taken, — marked and numbered as
per margin, — jest as when shipped, in good order
an condition, on board the schooner Antelope, Cor-
bet master, of Grand Pre."
These words of Captain Corbet had a very good
effect upon the boys. They had already felt very
much cheered by the escape of Solomon, and it
seemed to them to be a good omen. Jf Solomon
Lad escaped, so also miglit l^om, And, as their
BECIN TO BE MORE SANGUINE.
2i5
•tial
:o bo
d as
trdor
o
very
,11(1 it
oiiu>i»
their
anxiety on Solomon's account had all hccii dis-
pelled by his restoration, so also might they liopt;
that their anxiety about "^J'om would be dis[)cllcd.
True, he had been lost to them for a niucli longer
time, and his absence was certainly surrounded
by a more terrible obscurity than any which had
been connected with that of Solomon. Yet this
one favorable circumstance served to wlu»w them
that all might not be so dark as they had ieared.
Thus, therefore, they began to be more sanguine,
and to hope that when they reached St. John, some
tidings of the lost boy might bo brought to them.
Solomon's exertions towards giving them a din-
ner were on this day crowned with greater suc-
cess than had been experienced for some days
past. Their exertions had given them an aj»petite,
and they were able to eat heartily for the first
time since Tom's departure.
The rest of the day passed very slowly with
them. They retired early, and slept until mid-
night. At that time they waked, and went (jii
deck, when they had the extreme satisfaction of
seeing the vessel get under way. A moderate
breeze was blowing, Avhich was favorable, and
though the tide was not yet in their favor, yet the
wind was sufHcient to bear them out into the bay.
Then the boys all went below again, full of hope.
The night passed away (piietly, and without any
incident whatever. They all slept soundl}', and
the dreams that camo to them were pleasant ratiier
than otherwise.
246
LOST IN THE FOG.
Awaking in tlie morning by daylight, tliey all
hurried up on dock, and encountored there a new
disappointment ; for all around them iliey saw again
the hated presence of the fog. The wind also had
died away, and the vessel's sails Happed idly
against her masts.
"Where are we now?" asked. Bruce, in a de-
spondent tone.
" Wal," said Captain Corbet, " as nigh as I can
reckon, we're two or three miles outside of St.
John harbor."
" How is the tide ? "
" Wal, it's kine o' agin us, jest now."
" There doesn't seem to be any wind."
" Not much."
"' Shall we get into St. John to-day ? "
" Wal, I kine o' think we'll manage it."
" How soon ? "
" Wal, not much afore midday. You see we're
driftin away jest now."
" Don't you intend to anchor till the next rise of
tide ? "
" 0, yes ; in about ten minutes we'd ought to be
about whar I want to anchor."
At this disheartening condition of affairs the boys
sank once more into a state of gloom. In about
ten minutes, as Captain Corbet said, the schooner
was at anchor, and there was nothing to do but to
wait.
" We'll run in at turn o' tide," said he.
THE ANTELOPE UNDER WAY.
247
Breakfast came, and passed. The meal was eat-
en in silence. Then they went on deck again,
fretting and chafing at the long dehiy. Nut much'
was said, but the boys stood in silence, trying to
see through the thick fog.
''It was so fine when we left," said Bart, " that
1 thought we'd have it all the wav."
" Wal, so we did — pooty much all ; but then, you
see, about four this mornin we run straight into a
fog bank."
" Has the wind changed ? "
" Wal, thar don't seem jest now to be any wind
to speak of, but it kine o' strikes me that it's some-
thin like southerly weather. Hence this here fog."
After a few hours the vessel begfin to get under
way again; and now, too, there arose a light breeze,
which favored them. As they went on they heard
the long, regular blast of a steam whistle, which
howled out a mournful note from time to time.
Together with this, they heard, occasionally, the
blasts of fog horns from unseen schooners in their
neighborhood, and several times t'^y could dis-
tinguish the rush of some steamer past them,
whose whistle sounded sharply in their ears.
As they drew nearer, these varied sounds became
louder, and at length the yell of one giant whistle
sounded close beside them.
" We're a enterin o' the harbure," said Captain
Corbet.
Hours passed away from the time the Antelope
248 LOST IN THE FOG.
raised anclior until slic reached the wliarf. In
passing up tlie liarltor, the sliadowy forms of ves-
sels at anchor became distinguishaljle amid tlie
gloom, and in front of them, as they neared the
wharf, there arose a forest of masts belonging to
schooners. It was now midday. Suddenly there
arose a fearful din all around. It was the shriek of
a large number of steam whistles, and seemed to
come up from every side.
" Is that for the fog? " asked Bruce.
•' 0, no, " said Bart ; " those are the saw-mills
whistling for twelve o'clock."
The boys had already completed their prepara-
tions for landing, and had changed their eccentric
clothing for apparel which was more suited to mak-
ing their appearance in society. Bart had insisted
that they should go to his house, and wait until
they might decide what to do ; and the boys had ac-
cepted his hospitable invitation.
They stepped on shore full of hope, not doubt-
ing that they would hear news of Tom. They had
persuaded themselves that he had been picked up
by some vessel which was coming down the bay,
and had probably been put ashore here ; in which
case they knew that he would at once communi-
cate with Bart's people. They even thought that
Tom would be there to receive them.
" Of course he will be," said Bart ; " if he did turn
up, they'd make him stay at the house, you know ;
and he'd know that we fellows would coine down
NO NEWS OF TOM.
249
here in the hope of hearing about liim. So we'll
find him there all right, after all. Iliinah ! "
But, on reaching his home, J^art's joyous meet-
ing with his family was very much marred by the
deep, dark, and bitter disappointment that awaited
him and his compjinions.
They knew nothing whatever about Tom.
Bart's father was shocked at the story. He knew
that no boy had been picked up adrift in the bay
during the past week. Such an event would have
been known. He felt exceedingly anxious, and af
once instituted a search among the coasting ves-
sels. The search was a thorough one, but resulted
in nothing. There was no one who had seen any-
thing of a drifting boat. All reported thick ihg m
the bay.
The result of this search plunged Bart and his
friends into their former gloom.
Other searches were made. Inquiries were
sent by telegraph to difierent places, but without
result.
The fate of the missing boy now became a se-
rious question.
As for Bart and his friends, they were incon-
solable.
250 *K LOST IN THE FUG.
I
I
XVIII.
Down the Bmj. — Drifting and- Andiorimj. — In
the Dark, morally and physlcalUj. — Eastport, the
■ jumpimj'Off Place. — Grand Manan. — Wonder-
ful Skill — Navigating in the Fog. — A Flange
from Darkness into Light, and from Light into
Darkness.
f|»T was Saturday when Bart reached home. As
4C much was done on that day as possible. Bart
•*• was in the extreme of wretchedness, and so
eager was he to resume the search for his friend,
that liis father gave his permission for him to start
off again in the Antelope. The otl)or boys also
were to go with him. They determined to scour
the seas till they found Tom, or had learned his
fate.
Mr. Darner also assured Bart that he would take
the matter in hand himself, and would send out
two schooners to go about the bay. In addition to
this, he would telegraph to different places, so that
the most extensive search possible might be insti-
tuted. Every part of the coast should be ex-
plored, and even the islands should be visited.
THE ANTELOPE ANCHORS DOWN THE BAY. 251
AH this gavo sis iiiiich coiisolatiuii to Jjiirt and
his liiuiids as it was possible for tlicin to feel un-
der the circumstances.
As much as possible was done on Saturday, but
the next day was an idle one, as far as the search
was concerned. Bart and the buys waited with
great impatience, and finally on Monday niurning
they left once more in the Antelope. It was about
five o'clock in the morning, the tide was in their
favor, and, though there was ajiead wind, yet be-
fore the turn of tide they were anchored a good
distance down the bay.
" My idee is this," said Captain Corbet. " I'll
explore the hull bay in search of that driftin boy.
I'll go down this side, cross over, and come up on
t'other. We'll go down lie re first, an not cross
over till we get as fur as Quoddy Head. I think,
while we air down tliar, I'll call at Eastport an ask
a few questions. But I must say it seems a leetle
too bad to have the fog go on this way. If this
here had ony happened a fortnight ago, we'd have
had clear weather an fair winds. It's too bad, I
declar."
They took advantage of the next tide to go
down still farther, and by twelve o'clock on Mon-
day night they were far down. Since leaving St.
John they had seen nothing whatever, but they
had heard occasionally the fog horns of wandering
schooners, and once they had listened to the yell
of a steamer's whistle.
LOST IN THE FOG.
I've alius said/' remarked Captain Corbet,
" that in navigatin this here bay, tides is more im-
portant than winds, and anchors is more im^^ortant
than sails. That's odd to seafarin men that ain't
ac(piainted with these waters, but it air a oncon-
trovartible fact. Most of the distressin casooalties
that happen hereabouts occur from a ignorance of
this on the part of navigators. They ivill pile on
sail. Now, in clar weather an open sea, pile it on,
1 say ; but in waters like these, whar's the use ?
Why, it's flyin clar in the face of Providence.
Now look at me — do I pile on sail ? Not me.
Catch me at it ! AVhen I can git along without,
why, 1 git. At the same time, I don't think you'll
find it altogether for the good of your })recious
health, boys, to bo a movin about here in the fog at
midnight. Better go below. You can't do no
good a settin or a standin up here, squintin
through a darkness that might be felt, an that's as
thick as any felt I ever saw. So take my advice,
an go below, and sleep it off."
It was impossible to gainsay the truth of Cai)taln
Corbet's remarks, and as it was really l idnight,
and the darkness almost as thick as he said, the
boys did go below, and managed to get to sleep in
about a minute and a half after their heads touched
tlie pillows.
Before they were awake on the following day
the anchor was hoisted, and the Antelope was on
lior way again.
AGAIN UNDER WAY.
253
" ITero WG iur, boys/' said the captain, as tliey
caine on deck, " iiiidor way — tlic Antelope on lier
windin way over the mounting wave, a hereasting
of the foamin biller like all possessed. I prophesy
for this day a good time as long as the tide lasts."
" Do you think we'll get to Eastport harbor with
this tide?"
"Do I think so? — I know it. I feel it down
to my butes. Eastport harbure ? Yea ! An arter
that we hev all plain sailin."
" Why, won't the fog last?"
" J don't car for the fog. Arter we get to East-
port harl)ure wo cease goin down the bay. Wo
then cross over an steal up the other side. Then
it's {ill our own. If the fog lasts, why, the wind'll
last too, an wo can go up flyin, all sails set; an I'll
reniHve from my mind, for the time bein, any preju-
dyco that I have agin wind an sails."
" Do you intend to go ashore at P]astport ? "
" Yes, for a short time — jest to make inquiries.
It will be a consolation, you know."
" Of course."
" Then I'll up sail, an away we'll go, irrcwspcc-
tive of tides, across the bay."
By midday the captain informed them that they
were in P^astport harbor.
" See thar," said he, as he pointed to a headland
with a light-house. " That thar is the entrance.
They do call this a [)()otyish ])lace ; but as it's this
thick, you won't hev much cha;tce to sei^ it. Don't
you want to go ashore an walk about?"
254 LOST IN THE FOG.
" Not if we can help it. Of course we'll have
to ask after poor Tom, but we haven't any curi-
osity."
J. " Wal, p'aps not — ony thar is people that find
this a dreadful cur'ous place. It's got, as I siJd,
a pootyish harbure ; but tliat ain't the grand attrac-
tion. The grand attraction centres in a rock that's
said to be the eastest place in the noighboriu re-
public, — in short, as they call it, the 'jumpin-olf
place.' You'd better go an see it ; ony you needn't
jump off, unless you like."
Sailing up the fearbor, the fog grew light enough
lor them to see the shore. The town lay in ratiier
an imposing situation, on the side of a hill, which
was crowned by a fort. A large number of vessels
lay about at the wharves and at anchor. Here
they went ashore in a boat, but on making inrpiir-
ies could gain no information about Tom ; nor could
they learn anything which gave them the slightest
encouragement.
II We've got to wait here a while so as to dcvar-
sefy the time. Suppose we go an jump oft'?" said
the captain.
The boys assented to this in a melancholy man-
ner, and the captain led the way through the town,
till at last ho halted at the extreme east end.
" Here," said he, "you behold the last extremity
of a great an mighty nation, that spreads IVom the
Atlantic to the Pacific, an from the (lulf of Mcxiky
to the very identical spot that you air now a occy*
WEIGHING ANCHOR.
255
pyiri of. It air a celebrated spot, an this here air
a memorable momient in your youthful lives, if you
did but know it."
There was nothing very striking about this place,
except the fact which Captain Corbet had stated.
Its appearance was Dot very imposing, yet, on the
other hand, it was not without a certain wild beau-
ty. Before them spread the waters of the bay,
with islands half concealed in mist ; while imme-
diately in front, a steep, rocky bank went sheer
down for some thirty or forty feet to the beach
below. "^
" I suppose," said the captain, " that bein Pil-
grims, it air our dooty to jump ; but as it looks a
leetle rocky down thar, I think we'd best defer that
to another opportoonity."
Returning to the schooner, they weighed anchor,
set sail, ond left the harbor. On leaving if, they
did not go back the way they had come, but passed
through a narrow and very picturescjue channel,
which led them by a much shorter route into the
bay. On their left were wooded hills, an'd on their
right a little village on the slope of a hill, upon
whose crest stood a church. *
Outside the fog lay as thick as ever, and info
this they plunged. Soon the monotonous gray
veil of mist closed all around them. But now their
progress was more satisfactory, for they were
crossing the bay, and the wind was abeam.
" Are you going sfraight across to Nova Scotia
now ? " asked Bart.
25G
LOST IN THE FOG.
" Wal, yes ; kine o' straight across," was the re-
ply ; " ony on our way we've got to call at a cer-
tain place, an contenoo our investergations."
" What place is that ? "
" It's the Island of Grand Manan — a place that I
allers feel the greatest respect for. On that thar
island is that celebrated fog mill that I told you
of, whar they keep grindin night an day, in south-
erly weather, so as to keep up the supply of fog for
old Fundy. Whatever we'd do without Grand
Manan is more'n I can say."
" Is the island inhabited?" asked Bruce.
'' Inhabited ? 0, dear, yas. Thar's a heap o' peo-
ple thar. It's jest possible that a driftin boat might
git ashore thar, an ef so we'll know pooty soon."
'' How far is it ? "
" (), ony about seven or eight mile."
" We'll be there in an hour or so, then ? "
" Wal, not so soon. You see, we've got to go
round it."
"Around it?"
" Yes."
" Why ? "
" Cos thar ain't any poppylation on this side, an
we've got to land on t'other."
" Why are there no people on this side ? "
" Cos thar ain't no harbures. The cliffs air six
Imndred feet high, and the hull shore runs straight
on for ever so fur without a break, except two
triflin coves."
WHALE COVE.
257
" How is it oil tlie other side? "
*'■ Wal, the east side ain't a bad place. The shore
is easier, an tluir's liarbures an anchorages. Thar's
a place they call Whale Cove, whar I'm goin to
land, an see if I can hear anythin. The people air
ony fishers, an they ain't got much cultivation ; but
it's mor'en likely that a driftiu boat might touch
thar somewhar."
Tlie Antelope pursued her course, but it was as
much as three hours before she reached her desti-
nation. They dropped anchor then, and landed.
The boys had already learned not to indulge too
readily in hope ; but when they made their inqui-
ries, and found tlie same answer meeting them here
which they had received in other places, they
could not avoid feeling a fresh pang of disappoint-
ment and discourac-ement.
" Wal, we didn't git much good out of this
place," said Captain Corbet. " I'm sorry tliat we
have sech a arrand as ourn. Ef it warn't for that
we could spend to-night here, an to-morry I'd
take you all to see the fog mill ; but, as it is, I
rayther think I won't linger hero, but perceed on
our way."
" Where do we go next — to Nova Scotia?"
" Wal, not jest straight across, l)nt kino o' slant-
in. We head now for Digby ; that's about straight
opposite to St. John, an it's as likely a place as any
to make incpiiries at."
" How long will it be before we get there?"
17
258
LOST IN THE FOG.
" Wal, some time to-morry mornin. To-night
we've got nothin at all to do but to sweep through
the deep while the stormy tempests blow in the
shape of a mild sou-wester ; so don't you begin
your usual game of* settiii up. You ain't a mite
of good to me, nor to yourselves, a stay in here.
"^'oiiM ought all to be abed, and, of you'll take my
iulvico, ycm'll go to sleep as soon as you can, an
st;vy asleep as long as you can. It'll bo a ibggy
night, an we won't see a mite o' sunshine till we
git into Digby harbure. See now, it's already
dark ; so i 3 my advice, an go to bed, like civil-
ized humane beings."
It did not need much persuasion to send them
off to their beds. Night was coming on, an-
other night of fog and thick darkness. This time,
however, they had the consolation of making some
progress, if it were any consolation when they had
no definite course before them ; for, in such a
cruise as this, when they were roaming about from
one place to another, without any fixed course, or
fixed time, the progress that thoy made was, after
^ all, a secondary consideration. The matter of first
imi)ortance was to hear news of Tom, and, until
they did hear something, all other things were of
little moment.
The Antelope continued on her way all that night,
and on the next morning the boys found the weather
unchanged. Breakfast passed, and two or three
hours went on. The boys were scattered about
a
^'•'
an
til
THE CAPTAIN HRATS SC^TKNTIPIC NAVIGATION. 259
Icr
:st
til
of
lit,
lier
ree
DUt
the decks, in a languid way, looking out over the
water, when suddenly a cry from Pat, who was in the
bows, aroused all of them. Immediately before them
rose a lofty shore, covered in the distance with dark
trees, but terminating at the water's edge in frown-
ing rocks. A light-house stood here, u{)on which they
had come so suddenly that, before they were over
their first surprise, they were almost near enough
to toss a biscuit ashore.
"Wal, now, I call that thar pooty slick sailiu,"
exclaimed Captain Corbet, glancing at the light-
house with sparkling eyes. '^ I tell yon what it is,
boys, you don't find many men in this here day an
age that can leave Manan at dusk, when the old
fog mill is hard at work, and travel all night in the
thickest fog ever seen, with tide agin him half the
time, an steer through that thar fog. an agin that
thar tide, so as to hit the light-house as slick as
that. Talk about your scientific navigation —
wouldn't I like to see what one of them thar sci-
(Mitific captings would do with his vessel last night
on sech a track as T run over?' Wouldn't T like to
run a race with him? an ef I did, wouldn't! make
a pile to Vave and bequeath to the infant when
his aged parieat air buried beneath the cold
ground? " ,
While Captain Corbet was speaking, the schooner
sailed past the light-house, and the thick fog closed
around her once more. On one side, however,
they could see the dim outline of the shore on their
2G0
LOST IN THE FOa.
riglit. On they sailed for about a quarter of a
mile, wlien suddenly the fog vanished, and, witli
scarce a moment's notice, there burst upon them a
blaze of sunliglit, while overhead appeared tlie
glory of the blue sky. The suddenness of that
transition forced a cry of astonishment from all.
They had shot forth so quickly from the fog into
the sunlight that it seemed like magic.
They found themselves sailing along a strait
about a mile in widtl with shores on each side
that were as high as ..lomidon. On the right the
lieights sloped up steep, and were covered with
trees of rich dark verdure, while on the other side
the slope was bolder and wilder. Houses appeared
upon the shore, and roads, and cultivated trees.
This strait was several miles in length, and led into
a broad and magnificent basin.
Here, in this basin, appeared an enchanting view.
A sheet of water extended before their eyes about
sixteen miles in length and five in breadth. All
around were lofty shores, fertile, well tilled, covered
with verdurous trees and luxuriant vegetation.
The green of the shores was dotted with white
houses, while the blue of the water was flecked
with snow}^ sails. Immediately on the right there
appeared a circular sweep of shore, on which arose
a village whose houses were intermingled with
green trees.
Into this beautiful basin came the old French
navigators more than two centuries ago, and at its
h
s
r
ri
PORT ROYAL.
261
hcjul they found a place vvhicli seemed to them the
best spot in Acadio to become the capital of^the
new colony wliich tliey were going to found liere.
So they established their little town, and tliese
placid waters became the scene of commercial ac-
tivity and of warlike enterprise, till generations
})a8sed away, and the little French town of Port
Royal, ai'ter many strange vicissitudes, with its
wonderful basin, remained in the possession of the
English con(^ueror.
'' Now," said Captain Corbet, *^ boys, look round
on that thar, an tell me ef you ever see a beauti-
fuller place than this. Thar's oiiy one place that
can be coiiii)ared with this here, an that's Grand
Pre. But foi- the life o' me, I never can tell which
o' the two is the pootiest. It's strange, too, how
them French fellers managed to pick out the best
places in the hull i)rovince. But it shows their taste
an judgment — it does, railly."
It was not long before the Antelope had dropped
anchor in front of the town of Digby, and Captain
C\M-bet landed with the boys as soon as possible.
There was as good a chance of Tom being heard
of here as anywhere ; since this place lay down
the bay, in one sense, and if by any chance Tom
had drifted over to the Nova Scotia shore, as now
seemed probable, he would be not unlikely to go to
Pigby, so as to resume his journey, so rudely inter-
rupted, and make his way thence to his friends.
Digby is a quiet little place, that was finished
262 LOST IN THE FOG.
long ago. It was first settled by tlie Tory refugees,
who came here after the revolutionary war, and
received land grants from the British government.
At first it had some activity, but its business soon
languished. The first settlers had such bright
hopes of its- future that they regularly laid out
a town, with streets and squares. But these have
never been used to any extent, and now appear
grown over with grass. Digby, however, has so
nmcli beauty of scenery around it, that it may yet
attract a large population. On landing here. Cap-
tain Corbet pursued the same course as at other
places. He went first to one of the principal shops,
or the post office, and told his story, and afterwards
went to the schooners at the wharves. But at
Digby there was precisely the same result to their
inquiries as there had been at other places. No
news had come to the place of any one adrift, nor
had any skipper of any schooner noticed anything
of the kind during his last trip.
" What had we better do next ? "
" Wal," said Captain Corbet, " we can ony finish
our cruise."
" Shall we go on ? "
"Yes." ' ' •■
" Up the bay ? "
" Yes. I'll keep on past He Ilautc, an I'll cruise
around Minas. You see these drifts may take him
in a'most any direction. I don't see why he
sliouldn't hev drifted up thar as well as down
here."
THE BAY OF FUNDY. 263
It was Wednesday when tliey reached Digby.
On the evening of that day the Antelope weighed
anchor, and sailed out into the Bay (^f Fundy.
It was bright sunshine, with a perfectly cloud-
less sky inside, but outside the Antelope plunged
into the midst of a dense »ud heavy fog.
264 LOST IN THE FOG.
Tarn's Devices. — Rising sfiperior to Circumstances.
— Roast Clams. — Baked Lobster. — Boiled Mus-
sels. — Boiled Shrimps. — Roast Eggs. — Dande-
lions. — Ditto, with Eggs. — Roast Dulse. —
Strawberries. — Pilot-bread. — Strawberry Cor-
dial.
Vlf^EANWHILE another day had passed away
1 Jtt on He Haute.
^^" When we hist saw Tom, he had succeeded
in finding some chxms, which he roasted in front of
his fire, and made thus a very acceptable rehsh.
This not only gratified his piilate for the time, but
it also stimulated him to fresh exertions, since it
showed him that his resources were much more
extensive than he had supposed tlicm to be. If he
had ever dreaded getting out of all his provisions,
he saw now that the fear was an unfounded one.
Here, before his eyes, and close beside his dwelling-
place, there extended a broad field full of food. In
that mud flat there were clams enough to feed him
for all the rest of his life, if that were necessary.
But what was more, he saw by this the possibility
SUPPT.IES FROM LAND, SEA, AND SKY.
265
tluit other articles of food might bo reckoned on,
by means of which he would be able to relieve his
diet from tliat monotony which had thus far been
its cliief characteristic. If he could find some-
thing else besides clams and biscuit, the tedium of
his existence here would be alleviated to a still
greater degree.
He spent some time in considering this subject,
and in thinking over all the possible kinds of food
which he might hope to obtain. Sea and land
might both be relied on to furnish food for his table
in the desert. The sea, he knew, ought to supply
the following : —
1. Clams,
2. Lobsters,
3. Mussels,
in addition to other things which he had in his mind.
The land, on the other hand, ought to furnish
something. Now that his attention was fairly di-
rected to this important subject, he could think of
several things which would be likely to be found
even on this island, and the search for which would
afford an agreeable amusement.
Tlie more he thought of all this, the more aston-
ished he was at the number of things which he
could think of as being likely to exist here around
him. It was not so much for the sake of. gratify-
ing his appetite, as to find some occupation, that
be now entered eagerly upon putting this new
266
LOST IN THE FOG.
project into exocution. Fisli, flosli, aiul fowl now
oirorcd thoinsclvcrf to his endeavors, and these
were to be supplied by land, sea, and sky. ''IMiis
sudden enlargement of his resources, and also oi"
his sphere of operations, caused him to feel addi-
tioir.d satisfaction, together with a natural si'll-
coiiiplacency. To the ordinary mind He Haute ap-
peared utterly deserted and forlorn — a place where
one miglit starve to death, if lie had to remain
ior any length of time ; but Tom now determined
to test to the utmost the actual resources of the
island, so as to prove to himself what one unaided
boy could do, when thus thrown upon his own in-
telhgent efforts, with dire necessity to act as a
stimulus to his ingenuity.
First of all, then, there was his box of biscuit,
which he had brought with him.
To this must be added his first discovery on the
island, namely, the clams. Nothing could be of
greater importance than this, since it allbrded not
merely a relish, but also actual food.
The >ext thing that he sought after was lob-
sters, and he went off hi search of these as soon
as he could on the following day.
He waited till the tide was low, which was at
about twelve o'clock, and then went down along
the beach. At !agh tide, the water came close up
to tlie foot of the lofty clilf; but at ebb, it de-
scended for some distance, so that there was some
eort of a beach even in places that did not prom-
ise any.
LAR(JK SIJITLY OF I.OIJSTKRS.
2G7
The beucli iioaiost to where Tuin had taken i.p
hi.s abode was an expanse ol" mud and sand ; hut
l)assing along beyond tliis, on the north side, it
became gravelly. Al)out a hundred yards to tlie
west, on this side of" the island, he came to the
place where he had tied his boat, on that eventful
time when he had drifted here. Uelow this, the
beach extended down for a long distance, and at
the lowest point there were rocks, and sharp
stones, and i)ebbles of every si/e. Here Tom be-
gan his search, and before ?»e had looked live min-
utes, he foinid several lobsters of good size. A
little farther search showed him that there was a
large sup[)ly of these, so that, in fact, sullicient
sup])ort might have been obtained for a wholo
ship's com})any. I>y the time that he had found a
half dozen of these, and had brought them back to
his hearth-stone, it had grown too dark to i^earch
Vol- any more. Tom's siNirch, however, had been
bo successful, that he felt (piite satislied; and
though the day had passed without any cliangi! in
t!ie weather or any biting of the fog, though he
had listened in vain for any sound over the waters
Avhich might tell of passers by, though his signal
had not been seen, and iiis bright burning fin* had
not been noticed, yet the occupation of thouglit
and of action which he had found for himself, had
been sullicient to mabe the time i)ass not uiiph as-
antlv.
Iliri evening repast was now a decided improve-
268 LOST IN THE FOG.
menl on that of tlio procotling clay. First of all,
he spread some clams in the hot ashes to roast ;
and then, taking the dipper which had been used
ibr l)aling, he filled it with water, and placing this
on the lire, it soon began to boil. Into this he
thrust the smallest lobster, and watched it as the
water bubbled around it, and its scaly covering
turned slowly from its original dark hue tu a
bright red color.
His success thus far stimulated him to make
some attempts at actual cookery. Removing some
of tiie lobster from its shell, he poured out most of
the water from the pan, and into what rem lined
he again i)ut the lobster, cutting it up as fine as
he could w^ith his knife. Into this he crumbled
some biscuit, and stirred it up all togethei*. He
then phiced it over the fire till It was well baked.
On removing it and tasting it, he found it most
palatable. It was already sufficiently salt, and
only needed a little pej)per to make it quite eipiai
to any scolloped lobster tiiat he had ever tasted
His repast consisted of this, followed by the
roast clams, which formed an agreeable variety.
Tom now felt like a giant refreshed; and while
sitting in front of the evening fire, he occupied
his mind with ])lans for the morrow, which were
all directed towards enlarging his supply of pro-
visions.
iJe awaked late on the n(^xt morning, and found
Uie weather unchanged. He tried to quell liu- im-
tom's perseverance.
260
patience and disfippointment, and feeling; that idle-
ness would never do, he determined to go to work
at once, and carry out the plans of the preceding-
day. It was now Thursday, tlie Uiiddlo of the
second week, and the fog had clung pertinaciously
around liiiu idmost all tliat time. It was indcMMl
dislieartening, and idleness under such circum-
stances would have ended in misery and despair;
but Tom's perseverance, and obstinate courage,
and buoyant spirits enabled him still to rise above
cii'cumstances, and struggle with the gloom around
him.
" (), go on, go on," ho muttered, looking around
upon the ibg. " Lot's see who can stand it longest.
And now for my foraging expedition."
Making a hearty repast out of the remnants of
the su[)per of the ])receding ev^ening, he went first
to the shore, so as to complete his search there
while the tide should be low\ It was going down
now, and the beach was all before^ him. lie wan-
dered on till he came to where there was an im-
mense ledge of shai'p rocks, that went from the
foot of the precii)ico down into the bay. Over
these he clambered, looking carefully around, until
at last ho reached the very lowest point. Here he
soon found some articles of diet, whic^h wei'(3 ut still there was work to be done. Tom in-
tended to keep fashionable hours, find dine late,
with only a lunch in the middle of tlie da}'. Tlis
explorations of the afternoon were to be important,
and he hoped that they would be crowned with a
272
LpST IN THE FOfi.
portion of that succoris wliicU had attended the
work of the moniing. lie took, therefore, a Iiasty
luncli of biscuit and cold lobster, washed down
with water, and then set forth.
This time he turned away from the shore, and
went to the top of the island. He carried in his
hand a bit of rope, about a dozen fe(^t in length,
and went along the edge of the clilf as liir as he
could, turning aside at times to avoid any clumps
of trees or bushes that grew too thickly. In front
of him the line of clilf extended for some distance,
and he walked along, until, at last, he came to a
placic where the gulls flew about in larger flocks
than usual, almost on a line with the top of the
rock, lie had not noticed them particularly on his
former walk along here ; but now he watched them
very attentively, and finally stood still, so as to see
their actions to better advantaire.
Tom, in fact, had made up his mind to procure
some Q'ulls' C2:c:s, thinking' that these would make
an addition to his repast of great importance; and
he now watched the motions of these birds, so as
to detect the most accessible of their nests. He
did not have to watch long. A little observation
showed him a place, just under the clilf, not far
away from liim. Hastening forward, he bent over,
and, looking down, he saw a large number of nests.
They had been constructed on a shelf of rock im-
mediately below the edge of the cliff, and the eggs
wore within easy reach. The gulls fi(Mv about
wildly, as the intruder reached down his hands
ABaNDANCE OP PUOVISTONS. 273
towards tlicir no^t^. j
'"'" -J "eat l,in ;,r S'"? "^•>', "'^'^ --"
''"' ""t folter. IIo cin ,1 ' 'J«to.™i„ation
■'■ t'-y wore so .:„ ; " 1 ::";''°, '" *"° ^""^ '''-
egg.s as Lo could can-v T '"""■''' ''^ ■>''"'/
"aok to his ca,np. • ''"'" '"^ '"^^ with hi,!,
-"ong tho g,.as:, f ti ^"^ "^-^ *'- "Po„ ground,
vory i;.,„i,i„: to 1 in, Zl ^ ""*' "■'"'^•'' '^"'•e
'^™' -- ". then, sonS nV7,n;'"''^'r'--''
•noi-o than anv of hi, nt\ ^ ^""''""^ worth
forth in soari, of the l,'' '^'^'l^'-'fo"- Going
Pa» full of thor... il°' ''° "'r'^Se.I to get his
f"S oir the roovs, he m t ^ '•^' ""^ "^^"' ''''"■
ton and then .et Ihenf to Te fi 'T T ^"■*" ^-
While thev wo,-„ I 1 ^ ''''° t" "oil-
-"'found ::ri':f'T"-'°ff 0-0 more,
;i'"-to Plontifu, 1 'Le rdi;™^- '^''^^ --
'o'- them, ilo stripped w' T ,' '"''' *''« ««''«o„
t'oo, as the coun ? n;2 ." "' ^"'^ '''"""' '^ ""■«''
t"'^ a dish which Ldhu ?' ""' '■"™'^'' «■-•"
"0 «"ecl ai^er a u.drte'ltct" ^ ''''' ^'"'^
"'-•■•eh bark, out o^vict;: f "??' ^"»° "--
t was now ahout fit 'Irtd t'''T"'''"''^'^-
274
LOST IN THl'] F0(7.
The dandelions were not quite cooked as }'et ; so
Tom had to wait ; but while doing so, he heated
some stones in the fire. By the time tliey were
heated, the dandelions were cooked ; and Tom, re-
moving the pan, put some shrimps and mussels in
it, to boil over the fire. He then removed the
slonos, and placed one of the lobsters among them
in such a way, that it was surrounded on every
side in a hot oven. He then buried a few clams
among the hot ashes, and did the same with three
or four of the gulls' eggs.
One of the hot stones was reserved for another
purpose. It was the lai-gest of them, and was rod
hot when he drew it from the fire, but soon cool cm!
down enough to resume its natural color, although
it retained an intense heat.
Over this he spread some of the wet dulse, which
soon crackled and shrivelled up, sending forth a
rich and fragrant steam. In roasting this dulse, a
large piece would shrink to very small proportions,
so that half of Tom's armful, wlien thus roasted, was
reduced to but a small handful.
After finishing this, he drew the gulls' eggs from
the fire, and taking off the shells, he cut them in
slices, and put them with the dandelions. Then ho
took the shrimps and mussels from the fire, and ro-
moving them from the pan, he separated them, and
put them into different bark dishes. The clams
wore next drawn forth, and though rather over-
done, they wore, nevertheless, of tempting appear-
es.
tom's bill of fare.
275
ance and appetizing odor. Finally, the lobster
was removed, and Tom contented himself with one
of the claws, which he placed on a dish, reserving
the remainder for another time.
And now the articles were all cooked, and Tom's
repast was ready. lie looked with a smile of grati-
iicaticm npon the various dishes which his inge-
nuity and industry had draw ii forth from the rocks,
and cliffs, and mud, and sand of a desert island, and
wonoilod mussels,
4. Boiled shrimps,
5. Roast eggs,
G. Dandelions,
7. Dandelions with eggs,
8. Roast dulse,
0. Strawberries,
10. Pilot-bread.
In one thing only did Tom fall short of his wish-
es, and that was in the way of drinks. Uut before
that diiuier was linished, even this was remedied ;
27G
LOST IN THE FOG.
for necessity, the p,Toat mother of invention, in-
stigated Tom to squeeze about lialf of his straw-
berries into a little water. Out of this he formed
a drink with a flavor that seemed to him to be
quite delicious. And that made what Tom called, —
11. Strawberry cordial.
THE SITUATION.
277
XX.
Neio Discovci'ies. — The Boat. — A (jreat Swell. —
Meditations and Flans. — A 7ieiv, ami wonder-
ful, and, hcfore unheard-of Applieation of Sjrritce
Gum. — Tin ajloat ! Tin ajloat !
^OM sat there over liis bcinquet until late.
He then went down to the beach, and
brought up a vast collection of drift-wood,
and throwing a plenteous supply upon the fire, he
lay down beside it, and looked out over the water,
trying, as usual, to see something through the thick
mist. The flames shot up with a crackle and a
great blaze, and the bright light shone brilliantly
upon the water. The tide was now up, and the
boat was full before him. Tom fixed his eyes upon
this boat, and was mournfully recalling his unsuc-
cessful experiment at making her sea-worthy, and
was waiting to see her sink down to her gunwales
as she filled, when the thought occurred to him
that she was not filling so rapidly as she might,
but was floating much better than usual. A steady
observation served to show him that this was no
fancy, but an actual fact ; and the confirmation of
IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)
I.I
1.25
'- Ih II 2.2
I" 1^
U ill 1.6
i.
#
<^
*>
A-'
q)
C^V^'**^.
O^
«•
;\
278 LOST IN THE FOG.
tfiis first impression at once drove away all other
thoughts, and brought back all the ideas of escape
which he once had cherished.
liie boat was admitting the water, certainly, yet
she certainly did not leak quite so badly as ])el'ore,
but was floating far better than she had done on
the night of his trial. What was the meaning of
this ?
Now, the fact is, he had not noticed tlie boat par-
ticularly during the last few days. lie had given
it up so coaipletely, that it ceased to have any
interest in his eyes. Raising his signal, l)uilding
his house, and exploring the island had taken up
all his thoughts. Latterly he had thought of noth-
ing but his dinner. J>ut now the change in the
boat was unmistakable, and it seemed to him that
the change might have been going on gradually
all this time without his noticing it until it had be-
come so marked.
What was the cause of this change ? That was
the question which ho now sought to answer.
After some thought he found a satisfactory exi)la-
nation.
For a luimber of days the boat had been admit-
ting the water till she was full. This watei- had
remained in for an hour or more, and this i)rocess
of filling and emptying had been repeated every
tide. The atm()si)here also had been wet, anefore,
and applied to the bows. Each new application
clung to the" one that had preceded it, in a thick
and quickly hardening layer, until at last, when the
work was done, there appeared a coating of this
gum formed from six successive layers, that was
smooth, and hard, and without any crack whatever.
It seemed absolutely water-tight ; and Tom, as he
looked at it now, could not imagine where the
water could penetrate. Yet, in order to make
assurance doubly sure, he collected two more pan-
'
HIS PLAN FOR FLOATING OFF. 2^5
fills, and melting this lio api)lie(l it as Itufore.
After this was over, he made a torch of birch hark,
and lighting- this, lie held the flame against the gnin
till the whole outer surface began to melt and
run together. This served to secure any crevices
that his brush might have passed by Avithout prop-
erly filling.
The work was now complete as far as Tom could
do it ; and on examining it, he regretted that ho
had not thought of this before. lie felt an exul-
tation that he had never known in his life. If he,
by his own efforts, could thus rescue himself, what
a cause it would bo always after to struggle against
misiortune, and rise superior to circumetanccs !
As to the voyage, Tom's plan was the same tluit
it had been on a former occasion. TTe would float
the boat at high tide, and then push off, kcei)ing
her near the shore, yet afloat until ebl) tide. Then,
when the tide should turn, and the current run up
the bay, he would put off, and float along with the
stream until ho readied land.
According to his calculations it would be high
tide about two hours after dark, which would be
some time after ten. He would liave to be up all
night; for the tide would not turn until after four
in the morning. But that did not trouble him. He
would have too much on his mind to allow him to
feel sleepy, and, besides, the hope which lay before
him would prevent him from feeling fatigue.
One thing more remained, and that was, to bring
28G
LOST IN T!TE FO(J.
up a fresh supply of fuel. The night woukl be
dark, and wliile floating in the boat, lie would need
the liglit of the fire. So he brought \\\) from the
beach an ample supply of drift-wood, and laid it
with the rest.
When Tom's work was ended, it was late in the
day, and he determined to secure some sleep before
he began his long night's work. He knew that he
could waken at the right time ; so he laid himself
down in his tent, and soon slept the sleep of the
weary.
By ten o'clock he was awake. He found the
water already up to the boat. There was no time
to lose. He carried his box of biscuit on board,
and filled his pan with water from the brook, so as
to secure himself against thirst in case the boat
should float away farther than he anticipated.
Then he took his paddle, and got into the boat.
The water came up higher. Most anxiously Tom
watched it as it rose. The fire was burning low,
and in order to make more light. Torn went ashore
and heaped an immense quantity of wood upon it.
The flames now blazed up bright, and on going
back again to the boat, the water was plainly visible
as it closed around the bows.
Most anxiously he now awaited, with his eyes
fastened upon the bottom of the boat. He had not
brought the old sail this time, but left it over his
tent, and he could see plainly. Higlier came the
water, and still higher, yet none came into the
THE BOAT FLOATS, 287
boat, and Tom could r.caroo believe in his good
fortune.
At last the boat floated !
Yes, the crisis had come and passed, and the
bout floated !
^I'here was now no longer any doubt. His work
was successful; his deliverance was sure. The
way over the waters was open. Farewell to his
island prison ! Welcome once more the great
wiu'ld ! Welcome home, and friends, and happi-
ness !
In that moment of joy his heart seemed almost
ready to burst. It was with difliculty that he
cahned himself; and then, offering up a prayer of
thanksgiving, he pushed off from the shore.
The boat floated !
The tide rose, and lingered, and fell.
The boat floated still.
There was not the slightest sign of a leak.
Every hour, as it passed, served to give Tom a
greater assurance that tlic boat was sea-worthy.
He found no difficulty in keeping her afh)at,
even while retaining her near the shore, so that
she might bo out of the way of the currents.
At lengtli, when the tide was about half way
down, he found the fire burning too low, and deter-
mined to go ashore and re[)lenish it. A rock jut-
ted above the water not far off. To this he secured
the boat, and then landing, ho walked up the beach.
Reaching the fire, he threw upon it all the remain-
2S8 LOST IN THE F0<^.
ing- wood. Rctarning then to the boat, ho board-
ed hor without difficulty.
Tiie tide full lower and lower.
And now Torn found it more and more difficult
to keep the boat afloat, without allowing her to be
caught by the current. He did not dare to keep
her bows near the shore, but turned her about, so
that her stem should rest from time to time on the
gravel. At last the tide was so low that rocks ap-
peared above the surface, and the boat occasionally
struck them in a very unpleasant manner. To stay
so near the shore any longer was not possible. A
slight blow against a rock might rub off all the
brittle gum, and then his chances would be de-
stroyed, lie determined to put out farther, and
trust himself to Providence.
Slowly and cautiously he let his boat move out
into deeper water.
But slowness and caution were of little
avail. In the deeper water there was a strong
current, which at once caught the boat and bore
her along. Tom struggled bravely against it, but
without avail. He thought for a moment of seek-
ing the shore again, but the fear that the boat
would be ruined deterred him.
There was a little wind blowing from the south-
west, and he determined to trust to the sail. He
loosened this, and, sitting down, waited for further
developments.
The wind filled the sail, and the boat's progress
BELOW ILE HAUTE.
289
was checked somewhat, yet still she drifted down
the bay.
She was drifting down past the north shore of
the island. Tom could see, amid the gloom, the
frowning clilfs as he drifted past. The firelight
was lost to view; then he looked for some time
upon the dark form of the island.
At last even that was lost to view.
He was drifting down the bay, and was already
below He Haute.
Id
y
y
290 LOST IX Tin: Foa.
XXI.
Scolfs Bay and Old Bennie. — His tivo TJieories. —
Off to the desert Island. — Landing. — A Picnic
Ground. — Gloom and Despair of the Explorers.
— All over. — Sadden Summons.
^IffT was on Wednesday evening that the Antelope
2ls passed from the sunshine and beauty of Digby
Basin out into the fog and darkness of the
Bay of Fundy. The tide was faUing, and, though
the wind was in their favor, yet their progress was
somewhat slow. But the fact that they were mov-
ing was of itself a consolation. In spite of Cap-
tain Corbet's declared preference for tides and
anchors, and professed contempt for wind and sails,
the boys looked upon these last as of chief impor-
tance, and preferred a slow progress with the wind
to even a more rapid one by means of so unsatis-
factory a method of travel as drifiing.
At about nine on the following morning, the An-
telope readied a little place called Wilmoi Landing,
whore they went on shore and made the usual in-
quiries with the uguol result. Embarking again,
they sailed on for the remainder of that day, and
stopped at one or two places along the coast.
SCOTT S BAY.
291
in-
lin,
On the Dcxt morning (Friday) they dropped an-
chor in front oflTall's llarljor — a little plaee whoso
name liad become familiar to tliem (hiring- their
memorable excursion to Blomidon. 11(^1-0 they met
with the same discouraging answer to their ques-
tion.
" Wal," said Captain Corbet, " we don't seem to
meet witli nuich success to speak of — do we?
" No," said Bart, gloomily.
" 1 suppose your pa'll be sendin schooners over
this here same ground. 'Tain't no use, though."
" Where shall we go next ? "
" Wal, we've ben over the hull bay mostly; but
thar's one place yet, an tha^ ^\'e'll go to next."
"What place is that?"
-' Scott's Bay. •
"My idee is this," continued Captain Corbet:
" We'll finish our tower of ins})ection round the
Bay of Fundy at Scott's Bay. Thar won't be
nothin more to do ; thar won't remain one single
settlement Init what we've called at, ^cept one or
two triflin places of no 'count. So, after Scott's
J>ay, my idee is to go right straight off to old
Minas. Who knows 'but what he's got on thar
somev/har? "
" I don't see much chance of that."
"Why nnt?"
"Because, if he had drifted into the Straits of
iSIinas, he'd manage to get ashore."
" 1 don't see that."
. i- ■■ 5PV1JPIV- W*"*" -'"^ '
202
LOST IN THE FOG.
" Wliy, it's so narrow."
" Narrcr ? 0, it's wider'n you think for ; besides,
ef lie got stuck into tlie middle of that thar curn't,
how's ho to i»'et to the shore? an him without any
oars? Answer me that. No, sir ; the boat that'll drift
down Petticoat Jack into the bay, without gettin
ashore, '11 drift up them straits into Minas jest the
??
same.
'"Well, there does seem something in that. 1
didn't think of his drifting down the Petitcodiac."
" Somethin ? Bless your heart ! ain't that every-
thin?"
'^ J Jut do you think there's really a chance
yet ? "
" A chance ? Course thar is. While thar's life
thar's hope."
" But how could he live so long? "
" Why shouldn't he ? "
" lie might starve."
" Not he. Didn't he carry off my box o' bis-
cuit?"
-' Think of this fog."
" 0, fog ain't much. It's snow an cold that tries
'\ man. He's tough, too."
" But he's been so exposed."
, " Exposed ? What to ? Not he. Didn't he go
an carry oft* that ole sail ? "
" I cannot help thinking that it's all over with
him ? "
" Don't give him up ; keep up ; cheer up. Think
^
CAPTAIN CORBET HOPEFUL.
293
how wo got, liold of olo Solomon after giviii liim
up. I toll you that thai* was a good sign.''
" lie's been gone too long. Why, it's going on
a fortniglit? " *
'' Wal, what o' that cf he's goin to turn up all
right in the end? I tell you he's sonicwhar. Kf
lie ain't in the Bay of Fundy, he may be driftin off
the coast o' Maine, an picked up long ago, an on
his way home now per steamer."
Bart shook his head, and turned away in deep
despondency, in which feeling all the other boys
joined him. They had but little hope now. The
time that had elapsed seemed to be too long, and
their disap[)ointments had been too many. The
sadness which they had felt all along was now
deeper than ever, and they looked forward with-
out a ray of hope.
On Friday evening they landed at Scott's Bay,
and, as old Beniiie Griggs's house was nearest, they
went there. They found both the old ])eople at
home, and were received with an outburst of wel-
come. Captain Corbet was an old accjuaintance,
and made himself at home at once. Soon his
errand was announced.
Bennie had the usual answer, and that was, that
nothing whatever had been heard of any drifting
boat. But he listened with intense interest to
Captain Corbet's story, and made him tell it over
and over again, down to the smallest particular,
lie also questioned all the boys very closely.
294 LOST IN THE FOG.
After the questioning wan uver, he sat in silence
for a lung time. At last he luukecl keenly at Cap-
tain Corbet.
" He's not ben heard tell of for about twelve
days ? "
" No."
"An it's ben ony moderate weather?"
" Ony moderate, but foggy."
" 0, of course. Wal, in my 'i)inion, fust an fore-
must, he ain't likely to hev gone down."
" That thar's jest what I say."
"An he had them biscuit?"
"Yes — a hull box."
" An the sail for shelter ? "
" Yes."
" Wal ; it's queer. He can't hev got down by
the State o' Maine ; for, ef he'd got thar, he'd hev
sent word home before this."
" Course he would."
Old Bennie thought over this for a long time
again, and the boys watched him closely, as though
some result of vital importance huug upon his final
decision.
" Wal," said Bennie at last, " s'})osin tliat he's
alive, — an it's very likely, — thar's ony two ways
to account for his oiniat'ral silence. Them Oiir
these : —
" Fust, he may liev got picked up by a timber
ship, outward bound to the old country. In that
case he may be carried the hull way acrost. I've
OLD BENNIE's theories.
295
knowed one or two sech cases, an hev heerd of
severial more.
" Second. He may hev drifted onto a oninhab-
ited island."
"An oninhabited island?" repeated Captain
Corbet. ^
" Yea."
" Wal," said Captain Corbet, after a pause, " I've
knowed things stranger than that."
" So hev I."
" Air thar any isle of the ocean in particular that
you happen to hev in your mind's eye now '<*"
" Thar air."
" Which ? "
" lie Haute."
" We', now, railly, I declar — ef I wan't thinkin
o' tiiat very spot myself. An I war thinkin, as I
war a comin up the bay, that that thar isle of the
ocean was about the only spot belongin to this here
l>ay that hadn't been heerd from. An it ain't on-
likely that them shores could a tale onfbld that
mought astonish some on us. I shouldn't wonder
a mite."
" Nor me," said Bonnie, gravely.
" It's either a timber ship, or a desert island, as
you say, — that's sartin," said Captain Coi-bet, after
further thought, speaking with strong emphasis.
" Thar ain't a mite o' doubt about it ; an which o'
them it is air a very even question. For my part,
I'd as soon bet on one as t'other."
296
LOST IN THE FOG.
" I've heerd tell o' several seafarin men that's
got adrift, an lit on that thar isle," said Bennio,
solemnly.
" Wal, so hev I ; an though our lad went all
the way from Petticoat Jack, yet the currents in
thar wanderins'to an fro could eftectooate that thar
pooty mighty quick, an in tlio course of two or
three days it could land him high an dry on them
thar sequestrated shores."
" Do you think there is any chance of it ? " asked
Bruce, eagerly, directing his question to Bennic.
" Do I think ? Why, sartin," said Bennic, re-
garding Bruce's anxious face with a calm smile.
" Hain't I ben a expoundin to you the actool facts ? "
" Well, then," cried Bart, starting to his feet,
" let's go at once."
" Let's what ? " asked Captain Corbet.
" Why, hurry off at once, and get to him as soon
as we can.
jj
" All pray, young sir, how could we get to him
by leavin here jest now ? "
'' Can't we go straight to He ITaute ? "
" Scacely. The tide '11 be agin us, an the wind
too, till nigh eleven."
Bart gave a deep sigh.
" But don't bo alarmed. We'll go thar next, an
as soon as we can. You see we've got to go on
into Minas Basin. Now we want to leave liere so
as to drop down with the tide, an then drop up
with the flood tide into Minas Bay. I've about
CONVERSATION IN THE KITCHEN.
297
concluded to wait hero till about three in the
mornin. We'll drop down to the island in about a
couple of hours, and'll liev time to run ashore,
look round, and catch the flood tide."
" Well, you know best," said Bart, sadly.
" I think that's the only true an rational idee,"
said Bennie. " I do, railly ; an meantime you can
all get beds here with me, an you can hev a good
bit o' sleep before startin."
This conversation took place not long after their
arrival. The company were sitting in tlie big old
kitchen, and Mrs. Bennie was spreading her most
generous repast on the table.
After a bounteous supper the two old men talked
over the situation until bedtime. They told many
stories about drifting boats and rafts, comi^ared
notes about the direction of certain currents, and
argued about the best course to pursue un-
der certain very difficult circumstances, such, for
example, as a thick snow-storm, midnight, a heavy
sea, and a strong current setting upon a lee shore,
the ship's anchor being broken also. It was gen-
erally considered that the situation was likely to
be unpleasant.
At ten o'clock Bennie hurried his guests to tlieir
beds, where they slept soundly in spite of their
anxiety. Before three in the morning he awaked
them, and they were soon ready to reiimbark.
It was dim morning twilight as they bade adieu
to their hospitable entertainers, and but little could
298 LOST IN THE FOG.
be seen. Captain Corbet raised his head, and
peered into the sky above, and snifTed the sea air.
" Wal, railly," said he, '' I do dechir — ef it don't
railly seem as ef it railly is a change o' weather —
it railly doos. Why, ain't this rich ? We're ben
flivored at last. We're agoin to hov a clar day.
Hooray ! "
The boys could not make out wliether the cap-
tain's words were justified or not by the facts, but
thought that they detected in the air rather tlie
fragrance of the land than the savor of the salt
sea. There was no wind, however, and they could
not see far enough out on the water to know
whether there was any fog or not.
Bennie accompanied them to the boat, and urged
them to come back if they found the boy, and let
him rest in Scott's Bay. But the fate of that boy
was so uncertain, that they could not make any
promise about it.
It was a little after three when the Antelope
weighed anchor, and dropped down the bay.
There was no wind whatever. It was the tide
only that carried them down to their destination.
Soon it began to grow lighter, and by the time
that they were half way, they saw before them
the dark outline of the island, as it rose from the
black water with its frowning cliffs.
The boys looked at it in silence. It seemed, in-
deed, a hopeless place to search in for signs of poor
Tom. How could he ever get ashore in such a
CAPTAIN CORBET COULD NOT BE MISTAKEN. 299
place as this, bo far out of tlio line of liis drift ; or
if he had gone ashore there, liow couM he liavo
Hved till now ? Such were the gloomy and de-
spondent thoughts that filled the minds of all, as
they saw the vessel drawing nearer and still near-
er to those I'ro wiling cliifs.
As they went on the wind grew stronger, and
they found that it was their old friend — the sou-
wester. The light increased, and they saw a fog-
cloud on the horizon, a little beyond He TTaute.
Captain Corbet would not acknowledge that he
had been mistaken in his impressions about a
change of weather, but assured the boys that this
was only the last gasp of the sou-wester, and that
a change was bound to take place before evening.
But though the fog was visible below He Haute, it
did not seem to come any nearer, and at length
the schooner approached the island, and dropped
anchor.
It was about half past four in the morning, and
the light of day was beginning to be diffused
around, when they reached tlieir destination. As
it was low tide, they could not approach very
near, but kept well off the precipitous sliores on
the south side of the island. In the course of her
drift, while letting go the anchor, she went off to
a point about half way down, opposite the shore.
Scarce had her anchor touched bottom, than the
impatient boys were all in the boat, calling on
Captain Corbet to come along. The captain and
Wade took the oars.
300 LOST IN THE FOG.
It was a long pull to the shore, and, when tliey
reached it, the tide was so low that there re-
mained a long walk over the beach. They had
landed about half way down the island, and, as
they directed their steps to the open ground at the
east end, they had a much greater distance to
traverse than they had anticipated. As they
walked on, they did not speak a word. But al-
ready they began to doubt whether there was any
hope left. They had been bitterly disappointed
as they came near and saw no sign of life. They
had half expected to see some figure on the beach
waiting to receive them. But there was no figure
and no shout of joy.
At length, as they drew nearer to the east end,
and the light grew brighter, Bart, who was in ad-
vance, gave a shout.
They all hurried forward.
Bart was pointing towards something.
It was a signal-staff, with something that looked
like a flag hoisted half mast high.
Every heart beat faster, and at once the wildest
hopes arose. They hurried on over the rough
beach as fast as possible. They clambered over
rocks, and sea-weed, and drift-wood, and at length
reached the bank. And still, as they drew nearer,
the signal-staff rose before them, and the flag at
half mast became more and more visible.
Rushing up the bank towards this place, each
trying to outstrip the others, they hurried forward,
REMAINS or TOM'S CAMP FOUND.
301
full of liopc now that some signs of Tom might bo
liorc. At longth thoy reached the place where
Tom had heeu so long, and here their steps woro
aiM'estcd hv the scene heforc them.
On the ])()int arose the signal-staff, willi its
heavy Hag hanging down. The wind was now
blowing, hut it necdi^d almost a gale to liold out
that cumbi-ons canvas, (lose by were the smonl-
dering remains of whai: had been a huge iiri;, and
all around this were chips and sticks. In the im-
mediate neighboi'hood were some bark dishes, in
some of which were shrimps and nnissels. ClaniB
and lobsters lay around, Avith shells of both.
Not far off was a canvas tent, which looked sin-
gularly coml'oi'table and cosy.
Captain Corbet looked at all this, and shook his
head.
" Bad — bad — bad," he murmured, in a doleful
tone. " My last hope, or, rayther, one of my last
hopes, dies away inside of me. This is wuss than
findin' a desert place."
"Why? Hasn't ho been here? He must have
been here,*' cried Bart. " Tuese are his marks. I
dare say lie's here now — perhaps asleep — in the
camp. I'll go — "
"Don't go — don't — you needn't," said Captain
Corbet, with a groan. " You don't iniderstand.
It's ben no pore castaway that's come here — no
pore driftin lad that fell upon these lone and des-
olate coasts. No — never did he set foot here.
302 LOST IN THE FOCJ.
All this is not the work o' shipwrackcd people.
It's some festive picnickers, engaged in wliilin
away a few pleasant summer days. All around
you may perceive the signs of luxoorious feastin.
Here you may see all the different kind o' shell-
fish that the sea produces. Yonder is a luxoori-
ous camp. But don't mind what 1 say. Go an
call the occoopant, an satisfy yourselves."
Captain Corbet walked with the boys over to
the tent. His words had thrown a fresh dejection
over all. They felt the truth of what ho said.
These remains spoke not of shipwreck, but of pleas-
"ure, and of picnicking. It now only remained to
rouse the slumbering owner of the tent, and put
the usual questions.
Bart was there first, and tapped at the post.
No answer.
He tapped again.
Still there was no answer.
He raised the canvas and looked in. He saw
the mossy interior, but perceived that it was empty.
All the others looked in. On learning this they
turned away puzzled.
" Wal, I thought so," said Captain Corbet. " They
jest come an go as the fancy takes 'em. They're off
on Cape d'Or to-day, an back liere to-morrer."
As he said this he seated himself near the tent,
and the boys looked around with sad and sombre
faces.
It was now about half past five, and the day had
i-ii.
THE FOG HAD LIFTED.
303
dawned for some time. In the east the fog had
iilted, and the sun was shining brightly
"I told you thar'd be a change, boys/' said the
captain. ,
As he spoko there came a long succession of
«harp, shnll blasts from tlio fog horn of tl,o Ante-
'>po, winch started every one, and „,ade thorn run
to tlie rising gronad to fine' out the cause
304
LOST IN THE FOG.
XXII.
Astounding Discover?/. — The loliole Party of Ex-
2)lorers overivhelnied. — Meetliaj ivlfh the Lost.
— Captain Corbet improves the Occasion. — Con-
clusion.
}T the sound from the Antelope tliey liad all
started for the rising ground, to see what it
might mean. None of them had any idea
what might be the cause, but all of them felt star-
tled and excited at hearing it under such peculiar
circumstances. Noi- was their excitement lessened
by tlie sight that mot their eyes as they reached
the rising ground and looked towards the schooner.
A change had taken place. Wlien they had left,
Solomon only had remained behind. But now there
were two figures on the deck. One was amid-
ships. The schooner was too far away for them to
see distinctly, but this one was undoubtedly Sol-
omon ; yet his gestures were so extraordinary that
it was difficult to identify him. He it was by
whom the blasts on the fog horn were produced.
Standing amidships, he held the fog horn in one
hand, and in the other he held a battered old cap,
SOLOMON EXECUTES A DOUBLE-SHUFFLE. 305
which supplied the place of the old straw hat lost
at Quaco. After letting off a series of blasts from
the horn, he brandished his cap wildly in the air,
and then proceeded to dance a sort of complex
donble-shuflle, diversified by wild leaps in the air,
and accompanied by brandishings of his hat and
fresh blasts of the horn. But if Solomon's appear-
ance was somewhat bewildering, still more so was
that of the other one. This one stood astern. Sud-
denly as they looked they saw him hoist a flag, and,
wonder of Avonders, a black flag, — no other, in
short, than the well-known flag of the " B. 0. W. C."
That flag had been mournfully lowered and put
away on Tom's disappearance, but now it was
hoisted once more ; and as they looked, the new
comer hoisted it and lowered it, causing it to rise
and fjxU rapidly before their eyes.
Nor did the wonder end here. They had taken
away the only boat that the schooner possessed in
order to come ashore, leaving Solomon alone. They
had noticed no boat whatever as they rowed to
land. But now they saw a boat floating astern of
the Antelope, with a small and peculiarly shaped
sail, that now was flapping in the breeze. Evi-
dently this boat belonged to the new comer. But
who was he ? How had he come there ? What
was the meaning of those signals with tliat pecu-
liar flag, and what could bo the reason of Solomon's
joy ?
They stood dumb with astonishment, confused,
20
306
LOST IN THE FOG.
and almost afraid to think of the one cause that
each one felt to be the real explanation of all this.
Too long had they searched in vain for Tom, — too
often had they sunk from hope to despair, — too
confident and sanguine had they been; and now,
at this unexpected sight, in spite of the assurance
which it must have given them that this could be
no other than Tom, they scarce dared to believe in
such great happiness, and were afraid that even
this might end in a disappointment like cho others.
But, though they stood motionless and mute, the
two figures on board the Antelope were neither
one nor the other. Solomon danced more and
more madly, and brandished his arms more and
more excitedly, and there came forth from his fog
horn wilder and still wilder peals, and the Hag rose
and fell more and more quickly, until at last the
spectators on the shore could resist no longer.
" G-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-d ger-ra-a-a-cious ! "
This cry burst from Captain Corbet.
It was enough. The spell was broken. A wild
cry burst forth from the boys, and with loud, long
shouts of joy they rushed down the bank, and over
the beach, back to their boat. Tlio captnin was
as (piick as any of them. li< his entliusiasm l»o
forgot his rheumatism. Tliero was a race, and
tliough he was not even with IJrucc and Bart, he
kept ahead of Pat, and Arthur, and Phil, and old
Wade.
Hurrah 1 . ' ' .
■■ '4
\
WITH SHRIEKS OF JOY THEY SEIZE TOM. 307
And hurrah again !
Yes, and hurrah over and over ; and many were
the liurrahs that burst from them as they raced
over the rocky beach.
Then to tumble into the boat, one after anotlier,
to grasp the oars, to push her off, to head her for
the schooner, and to dash through the water on
their way back, was but the work of a few minutes.
The row to the schooner was a tedious one to
those impatient young hearts. But as they drew
nearer, they feasted their eyes on tlie figure of tlie
new comer, and tlie last particle of doubt and fear
died away. First, they recognized the dress —
the familiar red shirt. Tom had worn a coat and
waistcoat ashore at Hillsborough on that eventful
day ; but on reaching the schooner, he had flung
them off, and appeared now in the costume of the
"13. O. W. C." Tliis they recognized first, and then
his face was revealed — a face that bore no partic-
ular indication of suffering or privation, wliich
seemed certainly more sunburnt than formerly,
but no thinner.
Soon they reached the vessel, and clambered up;
and then with what shouts and almost shrieks of
joy they seized Tom ! With what cries and cheers
of delight they welcomed him back again, by turns
overwdielming him with questions, and then pour-
ing forth a torrent of description of their own
long search I
Captain Corbet stood a little aloof. His face
308 LOST IN THE FOG.
was not so radiant as tlio faces of -the boys. His
features were twitching, and his hands were clasped
tight beliind his back. Ho stood leaning against
the mainmast, his eyes fixed on Tom. It was thus
that he stood when Tom caught sight of him, and
rushed up to shake hands.
Captain Corbet grasped Tom's hand in botli of
his. He trembled, and Tom felt that his hands
were cold and clammy.
" My dear boys," he faltered, " let us rejice —
and — be glad — for this my son — that was dead
— is alive agin — "
A shudder passed through him, and he stopped,
and pressed Tom's hand convulsively.
Then he gave a great gasp, and, " Thar, thar,"
he murmured, '^ it's too much ! I'm onmanned.
I've suffered — an agonized — an this — air — 'too
much ! "
And with these words he burst into tears.
Then he dropped Tom's hand, and retreated in-
to the cabin, where he remained for a long time,
but at last reappeared, restored to calmness, and
with a smile of sweet- and inexpressible peace
wreathing his venerable countenance.
By this time the boys had told Tom all about
their long searcli ; and when Captain Corbet reap-
peared, Tom had completed the story of his ad-
ventures, and had just readied that part, in his
wanderings, where he had loft the island, and found
himself drifting down the bay. As that was the
tom's account of his adventures.
309
}0
point at which Tom was last lost sight of" in tliese
pages, his story may be given here in his own
words.
" Yes," said he, "you see I found myself drift-
ing down. There was no help for it. The wind
was slight, and (he tide was strong. 1 was swe[)t
down into a fog bank, and lost sight of lie Haute
altogether. Well, it didn't matter very mueli, and
I wasn't a bit anxious. I knew that the tide would
turn soon, and then I'd come up, and fctcli tlie land
somewhere ; so I waited patiently. At last, aftei*
about — well, nearly an hour, the tide must have
turned, and I drifted back, and there was wind
enough to give me quite a lift ; and so all of a sud-
den 1 shot out of the fog, and saw He Haute before
me. I was coming in such a way that my course
lay on the south side of the island, and in a short
time I came in sight of the schooner. I tell you
what it is, I nearlv went into fits — I knew her at
once. A little farther on, and I saw you all cutting
like mad over the beach to my camp. I was going
to put after you at first ; but the fact is, I hated the
island so that I couldn't bear to touch it again, and
so I concluded I'd go on board and signal. So I
came up alongside, and got on board. Solomon
was dov/n below ; so I just stepped forward, and put
my head over the hatchway, and spoke to him. I
declare I thought he'd explode. He didn't think I
was a ghost at all. It wasn't fear, you know — it
was nothing but delight, and all that sort of thing,
10
310
LOST IN THE FOC.
you know. Well, you know, thou we went to
work signtilin^' to you, and lie took the fog horn,
and 1 went to the Hag, and so it was."
" J don't know how we happened not to sec your
boat," said Bruce.
" 0, that's easy enough to account for," said
Tom. " 1 was hid by the east point of the island.
I didn't see the schooner till I got round, and you
nuist have been just getting ashore at that time."
During all this time Solomon had been wander-
ing about in a mysterious manner ; now diving be-
low into the hold, and rattling the pots and pans ;
again emerging upon deck, and standing to Hsten
to Tom and look at him. His face shone like a
polished boot; there was a grin on his fico that
showed every tooth in his head, and his httle
twinkling black beads of eyes shone, and sparkled,
and rolled about till the winking black pupils were
eclipsed by the whites. At times he would stand
still, and whisper solemnly and mysteriousl}^ to
himself, and then, without a moment's warning, he
A^ould bring his hands down on his thighs, nnd
burst into a loud, long, obstreperous, and deafening
peal of uncontrollable laughter.
" Solomon," said Tom, at last, " Solomon, my son,
won't you burst if you go on so ? Vm afraid you
may."
At this Solomon went off again, and dived into
the hold. But in a minute or two he was back
again, and giggling, and glancing, and whispering
SOLOMON PREPARES A BANQUET.
311
to himself, as before. Solomun and Captain Cor-
bet thus Iiad each a difterent way of exhibiting the
same emotion, for the feehng that was thus various-
ly displayed was nothing but the purest and most
unfeigned joy.
" See yah, Mas'r Tom — and chil'n all," said Sol-
omon, at last. " Ise gwine to pose dat we all go
an tend to sometin ob de fust portance. Ilyah's
Mas'r Tom habu't had notin to eat more'n a mont ;
an hyah's de res ob de blubbed breddern ob de
Bee see double what been a fastin since dey riz at
free clock dis shinin and spicious morn. Dis
yah's great an shinin casium, an should be lionnad
by great and strorny stivities. No^v, dar ain't no
stivity dat can begin to hole a can'l to a good
dinna, or suppa, or sometin in de eatin line. So
Ise gwine to pose to honna de cobbery ob de
Probable Son by a rale ole-fashioned, stunnin
breakfuss. Don't be fraid dar'll be any ficiency
liyali. I got tings aboard dat I ben a savin for
dis spicious an lightful cobbery. Ben no eatin in
dis vessel ebber sence de loss chile took his parter
an drifted off. Couldn't get no pusson to tetch
nuffin. Got 'em all now ; an so, blubbed breddern,
let's sem'l once more, an ole Solomon'll now ficiate
in de pressive pacity ob Gran Pandledrum. An I
pose dat we rect a tent on de sho ob dis yah
island, and hab de banket come off in fust chop
style."
" The island I " cried Tom, in horror. " What !
312 LOST IN THE FOG.
the island? Breakfast on the island? What a
horrible proposal ! Look hero, captain. Can't we
get away from this ? "
" Get away from this ? " repeated the captain, in
mild surprise.
" Yes," said Tom. " You see, the fact is, wlien
a fellow's gone through wliat 1 have, he isn't over
fond of the place where he's had that to go
through. And so this island is a horrible place to
me, and I can't feel comfortable till I get away out
of sight of it. Breakfast ! Why, the very thought
of eating is abominable as long as that island is in
sight."
" Wal, railly, now," said Captain Corbet, " I
shouldn't wonder if thar was a good deal in that,
though 1 didn't think of it afore. Course it's nat-
ral you shouldn't be over fond of sech, Avhen
you've had sech an oncommon tough time. An
now, bein' as thar's no uthly occasion for the An-~
telope to be a lingerin' round this here isle of the
ocean, I muve that we histe anchor an resume
our vyge. It's nigh onto a fortnight sence wo fust
started for Petticoat Jack, and sence that time
we've had rare and strikin vycis^toods. It may
jest happen that some on ye may be tired of the
briny deep, an may wish no more to see the billers
bound and scatter their foamin spray ; some on ye
likewise may be out o' sperrits about the fog. In
sech a case, all I got to say is, that this here
schooner'll be very happy to land you at the nigh-
1
/
'(
THE ANTELOPE FOR PETITCODIAC.
313
est port, Scott's Bay, frinccnse, from wliirli you
may work your wjiy by land to your desired
haven. Sorry would 1 bo to part with yc, sj)e-
eially in this here moment of jy ; but ef ye've got
tired of the Antelope, tain't no more'n's natral.
Wid, now, — what d'ye say — shall we go up to
Scott's Bay, or will ye contenoo on to Petticoat
Jack, !in accomplitch the riginal vyge as per char-
ter party?"
The boys said nothing, but looked at Tom as
though referring the question to him.
" As far as I am concerned," said Tom, who no-
ticed this reference to him, '' it's a matter of indif-
ference where we go, so long as wc go Out of sight
of this island. If the rest prefer landing at Scott's
Bay, I'm agreed ; at the same time, I'd just as
soon go on to Petitcodiac."
" An what do the rest o' ye say ? " asked the
captain, somewhat anxiously.
" For my part," said Bruce, " I think it's about
the best thing we can do."
The others all expressed similar sentiments, and
Captain Corbet listened to this with evident de-
light.
" All right," said he, " and hooray ! Solomon, my
aged friend, we will have our breakfast on board,
as we glide past them thar historic shores. Pile
on what you have, and make haste."
In a few minutes more the anchor was up, and
the Antelope was under way.
314
LOST IN THE FOG.
In about half an hour ^Solomon .summoned tliem
below, where he laid bei'ore them a breakiast that
cast into the shade Tom's most elaborate meal on
the island. With appetites that seemed to have
been growing during the whole period of Tom's
absence, the joyous company sat down to that re-
past, while Solomon moved around, his eyes glisten-
ing, his lace shining, his teeth grinning, and his
lips moving, as, after his fashion, he whispered lit-
tle Solomonian pleasantries to his own aftectionato
heart. At this repast the boys began a fresh series
of questions, and drew from Tom a full, complete,
and exhaustive history of his island life, more par-
ticularly with regard to his experience in house-
building, and housekeeping; and with each one,
without exception, it was a matter of sincere regret
that "t had not been his lot to be Tom's companion
in the boat and on the island.
After breakfast they came up on deck. The
wind had at length changed, as Captain Corbet had
prophesied in the morning, and the sky overhead
was clear. Down the bay still might be seen the
Fog banks, but near at hand all was bright. Behind
them He Haute was already at a respectful distance,
and Cape Chignecto was near.
" My Christian friends," said Captain Corbet,
solemnly, — " my Christian friends, an dear boys :
Agin we resoom the thread of our eventfool vyge,
that was brok of a suddent in so onparld a man-
ner. Agin we guUide o'er the foamin biller like a
CAPTAIN CORBP:t's AFIDUESS.
315
arrcr sliot from a cross-bow, an culloavo the l^'iii)'
main. Wo liavo lived, an wo liavo sufforod, but
now our suilbrins seem to bo over. At last wo have
a lair wind, with a tide to favor us, an we'll be oil'
Hillsborough before daybreak to-niorrer. An now
I ask you all, young sirs, do you feel any regretses
over the eventfool past ? 1 answer, no. An wan't 1
right? Didn't 1 say that that thar lad would oust
more show his sliinin face amongst us, right side
up, with care, in good order an condition, as when
shi])})cd on board the Antelope, Corbet master, from
Grand Pre, an bound for Petticoat Jack ? Methinks
1 did. Hence the vally of a lofty sperrit in the
face of difficulties. An now, young sirs, in after
life take warnin by this here vyge. Never say die.
Don't give up the ship. No surrender. England
expects every man to do his dooty. For him tl^at
rises superior to succumstances is terewly great ;
an by presarvin a magnanumous mind you'll be able
to hold up your heads and smile amid the kerrash
of misfortin. Now look at me. 1 affum, solemn,
that all the sulTerins Pve suffered have ben for my
good ; an so this here vyge has eventooated one of
the luckiest vyges that you've ever had. An
thus," he concluded, stretching out his venerable
hands with the air of one giving a benediction, —
'^ thus may it be with the vyge of life. May all its
storms end in calms, an funnish matter in the foo-
toor for balmy rettuspect. Amen ! "
It was a close approach to a sermon ; and though
I
316
LOST IN THE FOG.
the words were a little incoherent, yet the tone
was solemn, and the intention good. After this
the captain dropped the lofty part of a Mentor,
and mjngled with tiie boys as an equal.
This time the voyage passed without any acci-
dent. Before daybreak on the following m'orning
they reached Hillsborough, whore Mrs. Watson
received them with the utmost joy. In a few days
more the boys had scattered, and Bart arrived
home with the story of Tom's rescue.
'/'
I
JEE AND SHEPARD'S
O Star Juveniles
MKmUks. J.i:I'. and SiiKrAup :uinounce tlio f()llo\viii<]; now lino of IJino.Iuvoniles,
oonsl^tin^' of books by Ki:i,i,()<;<;, Kin,.