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 'rata 
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 )elure. 
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 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 <p'Mi..iU«I.UJPI 
 
 u uHi II I II « I i-jt^iy wii^w ^v '.HI" ■* |i wi u u imv i" ■■■■wv^i. ,upi "i^j^ I ■ r' 
 
 '"i^r' 
 
 A PARLEY. 
 
 39 
 
 <' Are you the master ? " 
 
 '^ I urn." 
 
 " Where do you belong?" 
 
 " Grand rr(3." 
 
 " Grand Pre ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 '' Ilm," he replied, with a stare around — " Grand 
 
 Pr,;: _ ah — hm." 
 
 " Yes, jest so." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 ^' I briefly remarked that it was jest so." 
 
 '' What's the reason you didn't lie to, when you 
 were hail(3d ? " 
 
 " Lay to ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Couldn't do it." 
 
 " What do you mean by that? " asked the officer, 
 who was rather ireful, and somewhat insulting in 
 
 his manner. 
 
 "Wal, bein as I was anchored here hard an 
 fast, I don't exactly see how I could manage to 
 go thi-ough that thar manoeuvre, unless you'd kind- 
 ly lend me the loan of your steam ingine to do 
 
 it on." 
 
 " Look here, old man ; jfou'd better look out." 
 " Wal, I dew try to keep a good lookout. How 
 
 much'U you take for the loan o' that spy-glass o^ 
 
 yourn 
 
 V" 
 
 " Let me see your papers." 
 "Tapers?" 
 
40 
 
 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 )'' 
 
 " Yes, your papers." 
 
 " Hain't got none." 
 
 " Wliat'8 that ? " 
 
 " Hain't got none." 
 
 " You — hav^en't — any — papers ? " 
 
 " Nary i)aper." 
 
 Tlie officer's brow grew dark. TTe looked around 
 the vessel once more, and tlien looked frowningly at 
 Captain Corbet, who encountered his glance with 
 a serene smile. 
 
 " Look here, old man," said lie ; "you can't come 
 it over me. Your little game's up, old fellow. This 
 schooner's seized." 
 
 "Seized? What for?" 
 
 " For violation of the law, by fishing within the 
 limits." 
 
 "Limits? What limits?" 
 
 " No foreign vessel can come within three miles 
 of the shore." 
 
 " Foreign vessel ? Do you mean to call me a 
 p foreigner ? " 
 
 " Of course I do. You're a Yankee fisherman." 
 
 "Ami?" 
 
 " Of course you are ; and what do you moan by 
 that confounded rag up there ? " cried the officer, 
 pointing to the flag of the " B. 0. W. C." " If you 
 think you can fish in this style, you'll find your- 
 self mistaken. I know too much about this busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " Do you ? Well, theU; kind sir, allow me to men- 
 

 CAPTAIN Corbet's arrest. 
 
 4i 
 
 tion that you've got somethin to larii yet — spite o^ 
 your steam injines au spy-glasses." 
 
 " What's that? " cried the officer, furious. " I'll 
 let you know. I arrest you, and this vessel is 
 seized." 
 
 ^' Wait a minute, young sir," cried Captain Cor- 
 bet ; '^ not quite so fast, ef you pleasu. You'll get 
 yourself arrested. What do you mean by this here ? 
 Do you know who I am? I, sir, am a subject of 
 Queen Victory. My homo is here. I'm now on 
 my own natyve shore. A foreigner, am I ? Let 
 me tell you, sir, that I was born, brung up, nour- 
 ished, married, an settled in this here province, an 
 I've got an infant born here, an I'm not a lislier- 
 man, an this ain't a fishin vessel. You arrest me ef 
 you dar. You'll see who'll get the wust of it in 
 the long run. I'd like precious well to get dam. 
 ages — yea, swingin damages — out of one of you 
 revenoo fellers." 
 
 Tlie officer looked around again. It would not 
 do to make a mistake. Captain Corbet's words were 
 not without effect. 
 
 " Yea ! " cried Captain Corbet. " Yea, naval sir ! 
 I'm a free Nova Scotian, as free as a bird. I cruise ' 
 Jibout my natyve coasts whar I please. Who's to 
 bender? Seize me if you dar, an it'll be the dear- 
 est job you ever tried. This here is my own pri- 
 vate pleasure yacht. These are my young friends, 
 natyves, an amatoor fisliennen. Cast your eye down 
 into yonder hold, and see ii this hero's a (ishin craft." 
 
41^ 
 
 LOST TN THE FOG. 
 
 The officer looke I down, luid saw a cooking 
 stove, trunks, and I edding. He looked around in 
 doubt. 
 
 But this scene had lasted long enough. 
 
 '' 0, nonsense ! " said Bart, suddenly pulling up 
 his line, and coming forward ; "see here — it's all 
 riglit," said he to the officer. " We're not fisher- 
 men. It's as he says. We're only out on a short 
 cruise, you know, for pleasure, and that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 As Bart turned, the others did the same. Bruce 
 lounged up, dragging his line, followed by Arthur 
 and the others. * 
 
 " We're responsible for the schooner," said Bruce, 
 quietly. " It's ours for the time being. We don't 
 look like foreign fishermen — do we? " 
 
 The officer looked at the boys, and saw his mis- 
 take at once, lie was afraid that he had made 
 himself ridiculous. The faces and manners of the 
 boys, as they stood confronting him in an easy and 
 sell-possessed manner, showed most plainly the ab- 
 surdity of his position. Even the mysterious Hag 
 became intelligible, when he looked at the faces of 
 those over whom it floated. 
 
 " 1 suppose it's all riglit," he muttered, in a vexed 
 tone, and descended into the boat without another 
 word. 
 
 " Sorry to liave troubled you, captain," said Cor- 
 bet, looking blandly after the officer ; " but it wan't 
 my fiiult. 1 didn't have charge of that thar injine." 
 
CORBET TRIUMPHANT. 
 
 43 
 
 The officer turned liis back witliout a word, and 
 the men pulled oil' to the steamer. 
 
 The captain looked after the boat in silence for 
 some time. 
 
 " I'm sorry/' said he, at length, as he heaved a 
 gentle sigh, — ''I'm sorry that you put* in your 
 oars — I do so like to sass a revonoo ollicer." 
 
44 
 
 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 III. 
 
 Solomon surpasses Jiunself. — A Period of Joi/ is 
 generaUy folloioed by a Time of Sorrow. — Gloomij 
 Fo7'ehodinijs. — Tlie Leyeml of Petticoat Jack. — 
 Captain Corbet diseotcrscs of the Dangers of tlie 
 Deep, and pats in Practice a new and original 
 Blode of Navigation. 
 
 I IIS interruption put an end to their attempts 
 at (isliing, and was succeeded by another in- 
 terruption of a more pleasing cliaracter, in the 
 shape ot'dinner, which was now loudly announced by 
 Solomon. For some time a savory steam had been 
 issuing from the lower regions, and had been wafted 
 to their nostrils in successive puffs, until at last 
 their impatient api)etite8 had been roused to the 
 keenest point, and the enticing fragrance .lad sug- 
 gested all sorts of dishes. When at length the 
 summons came, and they w^ent below, they Ibund 
 the dinner in every way worthy of the occasion. 
 Solomon's skill never was manifested more con- 
 spicuously than on this occasion; and whether the 
 repast was judged of by the (piantity or the (jual- 
 ity of the dishes, it equally deserved to be con- 
 
 \ 
 
r 
 
 SOLOMON SURPASSES HIMSELF. 
 
 45 
 
 
 I. 
 
 
 •4,,'- 
 
 riiderecl as one of tho masterpieces of the distiu- 
 guislied artist who had prepared it. 
 
 '' Dar, cliireii," he exclaimed, as they took tlieir 
 l)laces, " dar, cap'en, jes tas dem ar truut, to 
 begin on, an see if you ever saw anythin to 
 l)eat 'cm in all your born days. Den try do stew, 
 den do meat pie, den de calf's head ; but dat ar \ue, 
 down dar mustn't be touched, nor eben so much as 
 looked at, till de las ob all." 
 
 And wit) I tlicse words Solomon stepped back, 
 leaning both hands on his hips, and surv(-yed the 
 ban(|uet and the company with a smile of serene 
 and ineffable complacency. 
 
 '^ All right, Solomon, my son," said Bart. " Your 
 dinner is like yourself — unequalled and unap- 
 proachable." 
 
 " I>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 
 
 T<OST IN THE FOO. 
 
 bo iill right; but, as it is — well, 1 don't care about 
 sayin what I tliiuk." 
 
 " 0, you're all too despondont/' said Mrs. Wat- 
 son. " What is the use of looking on the dark 
 side? Come, Bart, cheer uj). I'll look on the 
 ])right side. Hope for the best. Set out on the 
 search witli hope, and a good heart. I'm confident 
 that he will be safe. You will pick him up your- 
 selves, or else you will hear of his escape some- 
 where. I remember two men, a few years ago, that 
 went adrift and were saved." 
 
 " Ay," said one of the men, " I mind that well. 
 They were Tom Furlong and Jim Spencer. But 
 that there boat was a good-sized fishing boat; an 
 such a boat as that might ride out a gale." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Mrs. Watson. " You're all a 
 set of confirmed croakers. AVhy, Bart, you've read 
 enough shipwreck books to know that little boats 
 have floated in safety for hundreds of miles. So 
 hope for the best; don't be down-hearted. I'll 
 send two or three men down now to get the boat 
 ready for you. You can't do anything till the 
 morning, you know. Won't you stay here ? You 
 had better go to bed at once." 
 
 But Bart and Bruce could not think of bed. 
 
 " Well, come back any time, and a bod will be 
 ready* for you," said Mrs. Watson. '•' If you want 
 to see about the boat now, the men are ready to go 
 with you." 
 
 With these words she led the way out to the 
 
 1 
 
 -4. 
 
THE PETITrODIAC. 
 
 81 
 
 kitchen, whore n couple of men were waiting. 
 Bart and Bruce followed them down to a boat- 
 liouse on the river bank, and saw the boat there 
 which Mrw. Watson luid offered them. This boat 
 coidd be launched at any time, and as there was 
 nothing more to be done, the boys strolled discon- 
 solately about, and finally went to the end of the 
 promontory, and spent a long time looking out over 
 the wjitor, and conversing sadly about poor Tom's 
 chances. 
 
 There they sat late in the night, until midnight 
 came, and so on into the morning. At last the 
 scone before them changed from a sheet of water 
 to a broad expanse of mud. The water had all re- 
 tired, leaving the bed of the river exposed. 
 
 Of all the rivers that flow into the Bay of Fundy 
 none is more remarkable than the Petitcodiac. 
 At high tide it is full — a mighty stream ; at low 
 tide it is empty — a channel of mud forty miles 
 long ; and the intorvenmg periods are marked 
 by the furious flow of ascending or descending 
 waters. 
 
 And now, as the boys sat there looking out upon 
 the expanse of mud before them, they became 
 aware of a dull, low, booming sound, that came up 
 from a far distant point, and seemed like the voice 
 of many waters sounding from the storm-vexed 
 ba}- outside. There was no moon, but the light 
 was sulliciont to enable them to see the exposed 
 rivor l)ed, far over to the shadowy outline of the 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 LOST TN THK F()(]. 
 
 opposite shore. Flore, wliore in the morning a 
 niiglity ship had floated, nothing couhl now float ; 
 but the noise tliat broke upon their ears tohl tlieni 
 of'tlie return of the waters that now were about to 
 pour onward with resistless might into the empty 
 channel, and send successive waves far along into 
 the heart of the land. 
 
 " What is that noise ? " asked Bruce. " It grows 
 lou ler and louder." 
 
 " That/' said Bart, " is the Bore of the Petitco- 
 diac." 
 
 " Have you ever seen it ? " 
 
 " Never. IVe heard of it often, but have never 
 seen it." 
 
 But their words wen3 interrupted now by the 
 deepening thunder of the approaching waters. 
 Towards the quarter whence the sourid arose tlu^y 
 turned their heads involuntarily. At lirst chey 
 could see nothing through the gloom of night ; 
 but at length, as they strained their (^yes looking 
 down the rivei, they saw in the distance a faint, 
 white, pho^.^>iu)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 mi<rhtv marc;!', 
 
 I*y llic time the w!ive had passtsd, the boys fonnd 
 themselvt's (excessively W(Mry with their long wake- 
 fulness. 
 
 '' IJart,my boy," said I>ruce, " w(^ must g(et some 
 rest, or \\y\ won't be W(»rth anvlhin-^ to-inorrow. 
 What <lo you say ? Sha" u'e go back to Mrs. Watr 
 son's?" 
 
84 
 
 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 ■J 
 
 "It's toolato — isn't it?" 
 
 " Well, it's pretty late, no doubt. I dare say it's 
 lialt* ])ast two; but that's all the niuro reason why 
 we should go to bed." 
 
 " Well." 
 
 *' Wliat do yon say ? Do yon think we had better 
 dislnrb Mrs. Watson, or not?" 
 
 "(), no; let's go into the barn, and lie down in 
 the hay." 
 
 *' Very well. ITay makes a capital bed. For my 
 part, I Cf)nld sleep on stones." 
 
 "So eould 1." 
 
 " I'm determined to hope for the best about 
 1'nm," said IJrnce, risiii^:; and walking oil", followed 
 by Hart. " Mrs. Watson was right. There's no 
 use letting ourselves be dow^ncast by a lot of croak- 
 ers — is there ? " 
 
 " No," said fJart. 
 
 The boys iben walked on, and in a few minutes 
 Reached the ship-yard. 
 
 Here a man came up "to them. 
 
 " We've been looking for you everywhere," said 
 the man. " Mrs. Watson is anxious about you." 
 
 '' Mrs. Watson ? " 
 
 " Yes. She w^on't go to bed till you get bsick 
 to the house. There's another man out for you, up 
 the river." 
 
 " 0, I'm sorry we have given you all so much 
 trouble," said Uart; " but we didn't think that any- 
 body woidd bother themselves about us." 
 
 I 
 
 :i- 
 
A MOURNFUL WAKING. 
 
 85 
 
 
 up 
 
 " Well, you don't know ivrrs. Wutson — ihaV^ all," 
 sjiid the nuiii, wjilkint^ along with tlioni. '' She's 
 hcL'n .'i worrytin licrseli' to dealh al)()ut yoii ; and 
 the sooner she sees you, tlie better for her and lor 
 you." 
 
 On rcachiiiijj the house the boys were received 
 by Mrs. Watson. One look at iter was euoug'h to 
 show them that the man's account of her was tiu(>. 
 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, an<l launched hvv. 
 
 Then IJait and l>ruce 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 pad<lle until his 
 nerveless arms seemed like weights of lead, and 
 could scarce carry the board through the water. 
 But the result, which at the outset, and in the very 
 freshness of his strength, had been but trifling, 
 grew less and less against the advance of his own 
 weakness and the force of that tremendous tide, 
 until at last liis feeble exertions ceased to have any 
 ap})reciable effect whatever. 
 
 There was no moon, but it was light enough for 
 him to see the shores — to sec that ho was in the 
 very centre of that rapid current, and to perceive 
 that he was being borne past those dim shores with 
 fearful velocity. The sight iillcd him with despair, 
 but his arms gained a fn^sh energy, from time to 
 time, out of the very desperation of his soul. H'3 
 was one of those natures which aro too obstinate 
 
 
THK UECKDINfJ SHORKS. 
 
 91 
 
 lit 
 
 to j;'ive tip cvlmi in the prescnco ol" despair itsclij 
 iui<l wliicli, (J von when hope is dead, still ioreen 
 hope to linger, and struj^g'les on wliile a })article ot* 
 lite or of strength remains. So, as he toiled on, ami 
 Ibugliton, against this late whieh had suddenly lixed 
 itself ujion him, lie saw the shores on eithei' side 
 reeede, and knew that every passing moment was 
 hearing him on to a wide, ii cruel, and a periK)Us 
 sea. He took one hasty glance behnid him, and 
 saw what he knew to be the mouth of the river 
 close at hand ; and beyond this a waste of waters 
 was hidden in the gloom of night. The sight lent 
 new energy to his fainting limbs, lie called aloud 
 for help. Shriek after shriek burst from him, and 
 rang wildly, piercingly, thrillingly u[)un the air of 
 night, lint those despairing shrieks came to no 
 liuman e;ir, and met with no response. They died 
 away upon the wind and the waters ; and the licrce 
 tide, with swifter How, bore him onward. 
 
 The last headland swept past him; the river and 
 the river bank were now lost to him. Around him 
 the ex})aiiso of water grew darker, and broader, 
 and more terribK;. Above him the stars glimmered 
 more faintly from the sky. But the very habit of 
 exertion still remained, and his faint plunges still 
 dipped the little board into the water ; and a vague 
 idea of saving himself was still uj)permost in his 
 mind. Deep down in that stout heart of his was 
 a (h'sperato resolution never to give u\) while 
 strength lasted; and well he sustained that deter- 
 
02 
 
 LOST IN TIIR FOO. 
 
 miiiiitioii. Ovor liiiii tlio mist cjuik^ llnafiiiL;', borno 
 along l>y 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 lon<i--rcsisted slumber came once 
 more to his eyes. Still his terror kept off sleep, 
 and as his eyes would close, they would every mo- 
 ment open again, and he would start in terror and 
 look around. 
 
 At length he saw that the darkness was less pro- 
 foun<l. Light was coming, and that light was in- 
 creasing. He could see the dark waters, and the 
 gloomy folds of the enclosing mist l)ecame appar- 
 ent. ' e gave a heavy sigh, partly of terror at the 
 thought of all that he had gone througli, and partly 
 of relief at the approach of light. 
 
 Well might he sigh, for this light was the dawn 
 of a new day, and showed him that he had been a 
 whole night upon the waters. 
 
 And now he could no longer struggle against 
 sleep. ITis eyes closed for the last time. His head 
 fell forward on the wet sail. 
 
 He was sound asleep. 
 
 
TOM AWAKES. 
 
 101 
 
 VII. 
 
 Lost ill the Fog. — The Shoal and its Bodes. — Is it 
 a Uiii'f? — The Truth. — lloistiiuj Sail. — A for- 
 lorn Hope. — Wild Steciiuj. — Where ant I? — 
 Land, ho ! 
 
 awn 
 on ii 
 
 linst 
 ead 
 
 1 
 
 f 
 ft 
 
 
 H)^[ sle[)t for many hours ; and wlion lie at 
 longlli awoko, ho was stillcnod in ovcry Hinl), 
 and wot to tlio skin. It was liis consti'ainod 
 |)ositioii and tho lioavy fog which liad done tliis. 
 IIo sat up and lookod around with a bowildered 
 air ; but it did ncjt tako a long time for liim to col- 
 lect his wandering faculties, and arrive at tho 
 full recollection of his situation. Gradually it all 
 caine before In'm — the niglit of horror, the long 
 (hi ft, the frantic struggles, the boom of the surf, 
 tlie shrill, penetrating tone of the fog horn, his own 
 wild screams for lielj), the thunder of the breakers, 
 and the grasp of the giant wave ; all these, and 
 many more, came back to his mind ; and he was all 
 too soon enabled to coiniect his present situation 
 with the desperate position of the preceding night. 
 In spite of all these gloomy thoughts, which thus 
 rushed in one accumulated mass over his soul, his 
 
'r- 
 
 102 
 
 LOST IN TIIK FOG. 
 
 first iiiipulso had nothing to do witli tlicsc tilings, 
 but was concerned witli soinetliing very dillereiit 
 from useless retrospect, and sonietliing I'ar nioie 
 essential. He found himself ravenously liuugi}-; 
 and his one idea was to satisfy the cravings of jiis 
 appetite. 
 
 lie thought at once of the box of biscuit. 
 
 The sail which he had pulled forward had very 
 fortunately covered it \\\), else the contents might 
 have been somewhat damaged. As it was, tlie 
 upper edges of the biscuits, which had been ex- 
 posed before being covered by the sail, were some- 
 what damp and soft, but otherwise they were not 
 harmed ; and Tom ate his frugal repast with ex- 
 treme relish. [Satisfying his appetite had the 
 natural eflect of cheering his spirits, and led him 
 to reflect with thankfulness on the very fortunate 
 presence of that box of biscuit in the boat. Had 
 it not been for that, how terrible wouki his sit- 
 uation be ! But with that he could afford to en- 
 tertain hope, and might reasonably expect to endure 
 tiie hardsiiips of his situation. Strange to say, he 
 was not at all thii'sty ; which probably arose from 
 the fact that he was wet to the skin. 
 
 Immersing one's self in water is often resorted 
 to by shipwrecked mariners, when they cannot get 
 a drink, and with successful results. As for Tom, 
 his whole night had been one long bath, in which 
 he had been exposed to the penetrating effects of 
 the sea air and the fog. 
 
THE SHOAL AND ITS ROCKS. 
 
 103 
 
 He luid no idea wluitover of the time. TIio siiii 
 L'oiild not be seen, Jiiid so thick was the fog that ho 
 could not even make out in what part of the sky 
 it might be. He had a general impression, how- 
 ever, that it was midday; and this impression was 
 not very much out of the way. His' breakfast 
 rei'reshed him, and he learned now to attach so 
 much value to his box of biscuit, that his chief 
 desire was to save it from further injury. So he 
 hunted about for the cover, and finding it under- 
 neath the other end of the sail, he put it on the 
 l)ox, and then covered it all up. In this position 
 the precious contents of the box were safe. 
 
 The hour of the day was a subject of uncertainty, 
 and so was the state of the tide. Whether he was 
 drilling up or down the bay he could not tell for 
 certain. His recollection of the state of the tide 
 at Petitcodiac, was but vague. He Reckoned, how- 
 ever, from the ship launch of the preceding day, 
 and then, allowing sufficient time for the difierence 
 in the tide, he approximated to a correct conclu- 
 sion. If it were midday, he thought that the tide 
 would be about half way down on the ebb. 
 
 Tlieso thoughts, and acts, and calculations took 
 up some time, and he now began to look around 
 him. Suddenly his eye caught sight of something 
 not far away, dimly visible through the mist. It 
 looked like a rock. A further examination showed 
 liim that such was the case. It was a rock, and 
 he was drifting towards it. No sooner had ho us- 
 
 •Sci 
 
f 
 
 !L. 
 
 104 
 
 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 certaincd this, than all liis cxcitomeiit onco more 
 awakened. Trembling from hoad to foot at this 
 sudden prospect of escape, he started to his feet, 
 and watched most eagerly the progress of the boat. 
 Jt was drifting nearer to the rock. Soon another 
 appeared, and then another. The rocks were black, 
 and covered with masses of sea-weed, as though 
 they were submerged at high tide. A little nearer, 
 and ho saw a gravelly strand lying just beyond the 
 ' rocks. His excitement grew stronger and strong- 
 er, until at last it was quite uncontrollable. ITo 
 began to fear tliat he would drift past this place, 
 into tb'^ deep water again. He sprang into the 
 bows, and grasping the rope iji his hand, stood ready 
 to leap ashore. lie saw that he was drawing nearer, 
 and so delayed for a while. Nearer he came and 
 nearer. At length the boat seemed to pass along 
 by the gravelly beach, and move by it as though 
 it would go no nearer. This Tom could not 
 endure. He determined to wait n ^ longer. He 
 sprang. 
 
 He sank into the water up to his armpits, but ho 
 did not lose his hold of the rope. Clutching this 
 in a convulsive grasp, he regained his footliold, 
 which he had almost lost, and struggled forward. 
 For a few moments ho made no headway, for the 
 boat, at the pressure of the current, pulled so hard 
 that he could not drag it nearer. A terrible fear 
 came to him that the rope might break. Fortu- 
 nately it did not, and, after a short but violeui 
 
 :% 
 
TPSt 
 
 i 
 
 } 
 
 IS IT A REEF? 105 
 
 struggle, Tom conquered the resistance of tlie tide, 
 hirI i)ulled the boat slowly towards the shore, lie 
 then towed it near to the rocks, dragged its bows 
 np as far as he could, and fastened it securely. 
 Then he looked around. 
 
 A lew rocks were near him, about six feet high, 
 jutting out of the gravel; and beyond these were 
 t)thers, which rose out of the water. Most of them 
 were covered Avith sea-weed. A few sticks of tim- 
 ber were wedged in the interstices of the nearest 
 rocks. As to the rest, he saw only a rocky ledge 
 of small extent, which was surrounded by water. 
 Beyond this nothing was visible but fog. 
 
 At first he had thought that this was a beach, 
 but now he began to doubt this. lie walked all 
 le and around, and went into the water on every side, but 
 
 along I'ound no signs of any neighboring shore. The 
 
 })lace seemed rather like some isolated ledge. But 
 
 not where was it, and how far away was the shore? 
 
 lie If he could only tell that ! He stopped, and listened 
 
 intently ; he walked all around, and listened more 
 intently still, in hopes of hearing the sound of some 
 neigliboring surf. In vain. Nothing of the kind 
 came to his ears. All was still. The. water was 
 not rough, nor was there very much wind. There 
 was only a brisk breeze, which throw up light 
 waves on the surface. 
 
 After a time he noticed that the tide was going 
 down, and the area of the ledge was evidently en- 
 larging. This inspired hope, for he thought that 
 
 • ji-'.'" -^ 
 
 ,_%; 
 
^emmt 
 
 106 
 
 LOST IN THE FOO. 
 
 perhaps some long sliua! miglit be diwclosed by the 
 retreating tide, whicli might conniiimicate vvitli the 
 main land. For tliis lie now watched intently, and 
 occupied himself with measuring the distance I'rom 
 the rock where .his boat was tied. Doing this from 
 time to time, he found that every little while the 
 number of paces between the rock and the water's 
 edge increased. This occupation made the time 
 pass rapidly ; and at last Tom found his stopping- 
 place extending over an area of about a hundred 
 yards in length, and half as many in breadth. The 
 rocks at one end had increased in apparent size, 
 and in number ; but tlic ledge itself remained un- 
 changed in its general character. 
 
 This, he saw, was its extreme limit, beyond which 
 it did not extend. There was no communication 
 with any .shore. There was no more indication 
 now of land than when he had first arrived. This 
 discovery was a gradual one. It had been heralded 
 by many fears and suspicions, so that at last, when 
 it forced itself on his convictions, he was not alto- 
 gether unprepared. Still, the shock was terrible, 
 and once more poor Tom had to struggle with his 
 despair — a despair, too, that was all the more 
 profound from the hopes that he had been enter- 
 taining. Jle found, at length, in addition to this, 
 that the tide was rising, that it was advancing to- 
 wn i-ds his resting-place, and that it would, no doubt, 
 overllow it all before lv)ng. It had been half tide 
 when he landed, and but a little wad uncovered; 
 
THE TRUTH. 
 
 107 
 
 1 by the 
 ^itli the 
 tly, and 
 ICO from 
 I lis from 
 liilo the 
 water's 
 lie time 
 toppiiig- 
 lundrcd 
 h. The 
 silt size, 
 nod un- 
 
 d which 
 nication 
 dication 
 1. This 
 icralded 
 ^t, when 
 lot alto- 
 tcrriblo, 
 with his 
 10 more 
 n enter- 
 to this, 
 [icing to- 
 10 doubt, 
 lialf tide 
 covered J 
 
 !h 
 
 at full tide he saw that .t would all be covered up 
 by the water, — sea v eed, rocks, and all, — and 
 concealed from human eye. 
 
 In the midst of these painful discoveries there 
 suddenly occurred to him the true name and nature 
 of this place. 
 
 (^uaco Ledge ! 
 
 'J'liut was the place which Captain Corbet had 
 described. lie recalled now the full description. 
 Here it lay before him ; upon it he stood ; and he 
 found that it corresponded in every respect with 
 llie description tluit tlie captain had given. If this 
 were indeed so, and tlie description were true, — and 
 ho could not doubt this, — how desperate his situa- 
 tion was, and how he hud boon deceived in his 
 liilso Iiopos ! Far, fur away w^as he from any shore ! 
 ■ — in the middle of the bay ; on a place avoided by 
 all — a place wliich he should shun above all other 
 places if lie hoped ibr final escape I 
 
 And now jio was as eager to quit this ill-omened 
 place as ho had once been to roach it. Tho tide 
 was yot low. IIo tried to push the boat down, but 
 could not. lie saw that ho would have to wait. 
 So ho got inside tho i)oat, and, sitting down, ho 
 Will tod patiently. Tho time passed slowly, and 
 'i'oin looked despairingly out over the water. 
 Something attracted his attention. It was a long 
 j)olc, wliich had struck against the edge of tho shoal. 
 II ' got out of the boat, and, securing it, he walked 
 buck again. It was some waif that had been drift- 
 
rrr 
 
 I 
 
 108 
 
 LOSl IN THE FOG. 
 
 iiig tibout till it was tliiis cast at his feet. TTe 
 tlionglit of taking it for a mast, and making use of 
 the sail. The idea was an attractive one. Jle 
 pulled tlie sail out, unfolded it, and ibund it to he 
 the jib of some schooner. He cut oif one end of 
 tiiis, and tlien with his knife began to make a liole 
 in tlie seat for his mast. It was xcry slow work, 
 but he succeeded at last in doing it, and inserted 
 the pole. Then he fastefied the sail to it. lie was 
 rather ignorant of navigation, but lie had a general 
 idea of the science, and thought he would learn ])y 
 experience. By cutting off the roi)e from the edge 
 of the sail he obtained a sheet, and taking olf the 
 cover of the biscuit box a second time, he put 
 this aside to use as a ruddei'. 
 
 But now, in what direction ought he to steer? 
 
 This was an insoluble pi'oblem. ITc could tell 
 now by the flow of the current the points of the 
 compass, but could not tell in which direction 
 he ouglit to go. The New Brunswick coast he 
 thought was nearest, but he dreaded it. It seemed 
 l>erilous 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<i to bleeve 
 
 the tide il to be. You also must see that thar's every reason 
 
 oor was ^"i' hope. So up with your gizzards ! Pluck up 
 
 current. your sperrits ! Rise and look i in an tlic footoor 
 
 ift rolled stpuir in the face. Squar oft' at fortin, an hav it out 
 
 oaten bv > ^^'\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 
 <laikness. 
 
 " Tlie best thing to do," said Captain Corbet, 
 *' is t<» go to sleep. In all kinds of darkness, 
 whether intunnel or extunnel, I've alius Ibund th'" 
 
126 
 
 LOST IN THE FOO. 
 
 .<f<, 
 
 best plan to be to sleep it oil'. An I've knowed 
 great men who war of my opinion. Sleep, then, 
 young sirs, while yet you may, wliile yer young 
 blood is warm, an life is fresh an fair, an don't ])ut 
 it off to old age, like me, ibr you mayn't be able to 
 do it. Look at me ! How much d'ye think I've 
 sh'p sence 1 left Mud Creek? Precious little. I 
 don't know how it is, but bein alone with you, an 
 havin the respons'bility of you all, I kino o' don't 
 feel altogether able to sleep as 1 used to do; an 
 sence our late loss — I — wal, I feel as though I'd 
 never sleep agin. I'm talkin an talkin, boys, but 
 it's a solemn time with me. On me, boys, rests the 
 fate of that lad, an I'll scour these here seas till 
 he turns up, ef I hev to do it till I die. Anxious? 
 Yes, I am. I'm that anxious that the diskivery of 
 the l(^st boy is now the one idee of my life, for 
 which I ibrget all else ; but allow me to say, at the 
 same time, tliat I fully, furmly, an conshuentiously 
 bleve an allum, that my conviction is, that that 
 thar lad is bound to turn up all right in the end — 
 riglit side up — with care — sound in every respect, 
 in good order an condition, jest as when fust 
 shipped on 'board the good schooner Antelope, 
 Corbet master, for Petticoat Jack, as per bill 
 ladin." 
 
 The captain's tones were mournful. He heaved 
 .1 deep sigh as ho concluded, and relapsed into a 
 profound and melancholy silence. 
 
 The boys waited on deck for some time longer, 
 
THE HEART OF CORBET. 
 
 127 
 
 of 
 for 
 tlie 
 lously 
 tluit 
 ml — 
 poet, 
 fust 
 ■lupc, 
 
 • bill 
 
 UJ 
 
 and finally followed his cidvicc, and sought refuge 
 below. They were young and strong, and the fa- 
 tigue which they felt bruuglit on drowsiness, which, 
 in spite of their anxiety, soon deepened into sleep. 
 All slo})t, and at length Captain Corbet only 
 was awake. It was true enough, as he had said, 
 tlio fate of the lost boy rested upon him, and he 
 felt it. Ilis exhortations to the boys about keei)ing 
 up their courage, and his stories about lost men 
 who had drifted to a final rescue, were nil s})oken 
 more with reference to himself than to them. lie 
 sought to keep up his own courage by these words. 
 Yet, in spite of Ids efforts, a profound depression 
 came over him, and well nigh subdued him. No 
 one knew better than he tlie many perils wliich 
 beset the driftino; boat in these dnncrerous waters 
 — the perils of storm, the perils of fog, the perils 
 of thick darkness, the perils of furious tides, tlie 
 perils of sunken rocks, of shoals, and of iron- 
 bound coasts. The boys had gone to sleep, but 
 there was no sleep for him. He wandered restless- 
 ly al)out, and heavy sighs escaped him. Thus the 
 time passed with him until near midnight. Then 
 h(! roused the mate, and they raised the anchor and 
 hoisted the sails. It was now the turn of tide, and 
 the waters were falling again, and the current once 
 mon) ran down the bay. To this current lie trust- 
 ed the vessel again, beating, as before, against the 
 head wind, which was slill blowing; and thus the 
 Antelope worked her way onward through all that 
 
 V. 
 
128 ' LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 dark and dismal night, until at last the faint streaks 
 of light in the east proclaimed the dawn of anoth- 
 er day. 
 
 Through all that night the boys slept soundly. 
 The wind blew, the waves dashed, but they did not 
 awake. The anchor was hoisted, and the sails were 
 set, but the noise failed to rouse them. Weariness 
 of body and anxiety of mind both conspired to 
 make their sleep profound. Yet in that profound 
 sleep the anxiety of their minds made itself mani- 
 fest ; and in their dreams their thoughts turned to 
 their lost companion. They saw him drifting over 
 the stormy waters, enveloped in midnight darkness, 
 chilled tlirough with the damp night air, pierced 
 to the bone by the cold night wind ; drifting on 
 amid a thousand dangers, now swept on by furious 
 tides towards rocky shores, and again drawn back 
 by refluent currents over vast sunken sea-ledges, 
 white with foam. Thus through all the night they 
 slept, and as they slept tlio Antelope dashed on 
 through the waters, whose foaming waves, as they 
 tumbled against her sides and over her bows, sent 
 forth sounds that mingled with their dreams, and 
 became intermingled with poor Tom's mournful 
 cries. 
 
THE SITUATION. 
 
 129 
 
 IX. 
 
 JioaJceonce more.- Where are xce?-~.Tlie giant 
 Cliff. ~ Out to Sea. — Anchorinq and Driftinq 
 -The Harbor. _ The Search. - No Answer. - 
 Where's Solomon ? 
 
 CARCE had the streaks of hght greeted Cap- 
 tain Corbet's eyes, and given him tlie grateful 
 prospect of anotlier day, when the boys awaked 
 and hurried up on deck. Tlioir first act was to 
 take a hurried look all around. Tlie same gloomy 
 and dismal prospect appeared - black water and 
 thick, impenetrable fog. 
 " Where are we now, Captain ? " asked Bruce. 
 " Wal, a con-siderable distance down the bay." 
 '' What are you going to do ? " 
 "Wal ~ I've about made up my mind whar to 
 
 go 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 '' I'm thinkin of puttin into Quaco." 
 " Quaco ? " 
 ''Yes." 
 
 " How far is it from here ? " 
 " Not very fur, 'cordin to my calc'lations. My 
 
 9 ^ 
 
130 
 
 LOST ]N Till-: FOfi. 
 
 idoo i?, tliat tlio boat may have drifted down along 
 here and got ashore. Ef so, he may have made for 
 Quaco, an its jest possible that wo may hear 
 about him." 
 
 " Is this the most likely place for a boat to go 
 ashore ? " 
 
 " Wal, Jill things considered, a boat is more 
 likely to go ashore on the New l]runswick side, 
 drifiiii fi-om Petticoat Jack; but at the same time 
 'tain't at all certain. Thar's ony a ghost of a chance, 
 nn'nd. I don't feel over certain about it." 
 
 " Will we get to Quaco this tide ? " 
 
 " Scacely." 
 
 " "^o you intend to anchor again?" 
 
 "Tal, T raytlier think I'll hev to do it. But 
 we'd ought to got to Quaco by noon, I calc'late. 
 I'm a tiiinkin — ITello ! Good gracious ! " 
 
 The captain's sudden exclamation interrupted 
 his words, and made all turn to look at the object 
 that had called it forth. One glance showed an ob- 
 ject which might well have elicited even a stronger 
 exj)ression of amazement and alarm. 
 
 Immediately in front of them arose a vast cliff, 
 — blacdc, rocky, frowning, — that ascended straight 
 up from tlie deep w iter, its summit lost in the thick 
 fog, its base white with the foaming waves that 
 thundered tliere. A hoarse roar came up from 
 those breaking waves, which blended fearfully with 
 the whistle of the wind through the rigging, and 
 seemed like the warning sound of some dark, drear 
 
THE GIANT CLIFF. 
 
 131 
 
 for 
 
 ate. 
 
 itecl 
 )ject 
 ob- 
 
 cliff, 
 •aigbt 
 
 thick 
 that 
 from 
 with 
 
 J, and 
 
 drear 
 
 fate. The diff was close by, and tlic schooner had 
 been steering straiglit towards it. So near was it 
 that it seemed as though one could have easily 
 tossed a biscuit ashore. 
 
 But though surprised, Captain Corbet was not in 
 .the least confused, and did not lose liis presence 
 of mind for a moment. Putting tlic lidm Iiard up, 
 he issued the necessary commands in a cool, <juiet 
 manner; the vessel went round, and in a few mo- 
 ments the danger was passed. Yet so close were 
 they, that in wearing round it seemed as tliougli one 
 could almost have junijxxl from tlie stern upon tlie 
 rocky shelves which ap])eared in tlic face of the 
 lofty cliff. 
 
 Cai)tain Corbet drciw a long breath. 
 
 " That's about the niii'hest scratch I remember 
 ever havin had," w.is his remark, as the Ant(dope 
 went away iroin the land. " Cur'ous, too; I don't 
 see how it happened. I lost my reckonin it litll(\ 
 I'm a mile further down than I calc'lated on bein." 
 
 ''Do you know that place?" asked J>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 a<jaln. — Over- 
 hoard.— A Stru(j(jle for Lfe. 
 
 K)iM\S work Wcis tlius,at len,t,4,li, accomplished, 
 and it remained now to get the boat in readi- 
 ness and wait. Slowly and carel'ully he 
 raised the bow by means of the lever, and one by 
 one he withdrew the boards which held it up. At 
 last I lie boat lay on the beach, ready to receive the 
 uplilting arms of the returning tide whenever it 
 yhould make its appearance again. Tom saw with 
 satisfaction that the boat was about tlu-ce yards 
 down below high-water mark, on the spot to which 
 he had dragged it after the failure of his last ex- 
 periment. This, of course, would be so much in 
 his favor, for it would thus be able to float before 
 the water should reach its height. 
 
 Pie had worked hard all the afternoon, and it 
 was already dark. The tide, which had been lull- 
 ing, had some time ago reached its lowest point, 
 itiid was now returning. iJetween him and the 
 lowest point was a great distance, lor the tides 
 
172 
 
 LOST IN THE FOfi. 
 
 ! 
 
 i li 
 
 here rise to a porpciidic.'ular liciglit uf over forty 
 feet; but Tuiu knew tliat the time retiuired lo 
 traverse the lung spuee that liere iiiterveiieil })e- 
 tween liigli and low-water mark was precisely the 
 same as if it had only to rise a lew ieet. 
 
 He was very hungry, hut some things jiad yet 
 to he done. Tie had to [)ut on hoard tlie boat the 
 articles that he had taken ashore. J I is matclies 
 were now (juite dry, and he put them in his pocket 
 with a deep sense of their value to him in Iiis 
 present position. His clotlies als(j were dry, and 
 these he put on. The Hail, the coil of rope, and 
 the hox of biscuit were put on board the boat. 
 Tom had still to make his frugal repast; but this 
 was soon accomplished, and he felt again a sense 
 of exceeding thankfulness at the possession of the 
 box of biscuit. At length his evening meal was 
 over, and by the time that he had finished it, it had 
 grown (luito dark. He now went to the boat, and 
 tied up the sail around the mast. Tiiere was noth- 
 ing to which he could fasten the boat: but it was 
 not necessary, as he was on the watch. The water 
 continued smooth, the wind was from the north, as 
 before, and there was no sign of fog. Overlu^ad 
 tlie sky was free from clouds, and the stars twin- 
 kled pleasantly to his upturned eyes, as if to en- 
 courage him. There was no moon, however, and 
 though it was not very dark, yet it was sufficiently 
 so to veil the nearest shores in gloom, and finally to 
 withdraw them altogether from his view. Still it 
 
TEDIOUS WATTTNO. 
 
 173 
 
 Wfis unt a iruittor of necessity that lie slioiilcl soo 
 th(3 <)p})u.sito slK)ros, for lie knew that his chief, and 
 indeed liis only reh'ance must be upon the tide; and 
 tliis would bear hiui in its upward course on the 
 UKjrrow. Tlie nig-ht was only needed to float the 
 boat down as far as low-water mark. '^I'he })roci*ss 
 of floating her would serve to test the security of 
 the fistening's, and show whether he could venture 
 to make the attempt. 
 
 For hours Tom waited, sometimes seated in the 
 boat, at other times walking along the beach down 
 to the water. lie found it diflicult to keej) him- 
 self awake, and therefore did not venture to sit 
 down long". AVearied with Ids long work through 
 tlu^ day, the necessity of constant exertion wearied 
 him still more, until at length he could scarce draw 
 his legs after him. But all things have an end, 
 and so it wa. with Tom's weary watch ; for at 
 length the waters came up, and touched the boat, 
 and Hurrounded it, until at last, to liis great joy, 
 '^I'om found himself afloat. ITq seized his stick, 
 and pushed the boat into deeper water, a few yards 
 off, with the intention of keeping her at .about that 
 distance from the shore. 
 
 The one thoii^hr that was now in his mind re- 
 ferred exclusively to his work in the boat. Was 
 it firm ? Would it hold ? Did it leak ? Tha boat 
 was floating, certainly. ITow long would it con- 
 tinue to do so? For a few minutes lie waited anx- 
 iously, as he floated there in deep water, with hia 
 
.' ''■1 
 
 174 
 
 LOST IN TIIK FOfl. 
 
 oyos fixed on the work in the bow, and iiis cars listen- 
 ing intently to detect any sign of that warning, gur- 
 gling sound, which had struck terror to his heart on 
 his last embarkation. JUit no sign came ol' any 
 Sound of that sort, and he heard notiiing but the 
 g<Mitle dash of the water against tlie sides of the 
 boat. 'I'hus about live minutes passed. At the 
 end of that time, he raised the sail, which he had 
 laid along the bottom of the boat, and examined 
 underneath it. The first touch of his fingers at 
 the bottom lessened very largely the h()i)e that 
 was in him, and at once chased away the feel- 
 ing of exultation that was rising. For there, in 
 the bottiun of the boiit, he felt as nnich as an 
 inch of water. After the first shock, he tried to 
 believe that it was only the water that was in the 
 boat before ; and so, taking comfort in this thought, 
 he waited for further developments, but at the 
 same time took the dipper, so as to be ready to 
 bale out the water, and have a struggle for it in 
 case the worst should ')pen. 
 
 Another minute assured him that this was not 
 the water which had been in the boat before. A 
 new supply was entering, and in tlie si)ace of that 
 short time of wailing it had risen to (he height of 
 another inch. T(»m felt a sudden pang of dismay, 
 but his stout heart did not ([uail, nor did his obsti- 
 nate resolution faltc^r Since il; was the sea water 
 that was coming in, he detcM'mined to have a light 
 with it tor the possession of the boat. So he set 
 
 ^'1 
 
TOM CRIKS WITH VKXATION. 
 
 175 
 
 to work bravely, and began to bale. ITe j)ulle(l up 
 the sail, so as to have plenty .)i' elbow-room, and 
 worked away, dipping out the water ; but, as ho 
 dipped, he perceived that it was gradually getting 
 deeper. He di})ped faster, but without any visible 
 im[)rovcment. Indeed, his efforts seemed to have 
 l)ut very little effect in retarding the entrance of 
 the water. It grew deeper and deo})er. One inch 
 of water soon deepened to two inches, and thence 
 io three. Soon after four inches were felt. 
 
 And now the water came in more rapidly. It 
 seemed to Tom as though it had been delayed at 
 first, for a little time, in finding an entrance, but 
 that now, after the entrance was found, it came 
 pouring in with ever-accelerated speed. Tt)m 
 struggled on, hoping against hope, and keeping up 
 his efforts long after they were proved to be use- 
 less. l>ut 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 ha<l so miserably failed. If 
 he could only procure some tar, he nn"ght then 
 stoj) »ip tlie interstices ; but as it was, nolhing (tf 
 his construction would avail to kee[) back tlie 
 treacherous entrance of th(i water. It scMuned 
 now to him that his stay on tlui island was des- 
 tined to be ])rolong(Ml to a much greater extent 
 than he had first thought of, and tlun'o did not 
 seem any lougei- a ho})e of saving himself by his 
 own exertions. 
 
 Alone on a desert island ! 
 
 1 
 
ALUNK ON A DESKIJT ISLAND! 
 
 181 
 
 It was a (li'oadrul fact which now lincod ItscII' 
 iiioro and nn)rc upon 'I'oni's mind, until at length 
 lie could think of nothinLi" else. Ilillicito ho Iiad 
 I'ou^ht oil' the idea whenever it presented it sell", 
 and so hn\\^ as he had heen ahle to in(hil,^e in any 
 lio|)e ol' freeing' hiinseli' by his own exertions, he 
 ju'evented hiniself IVoni sinkin^i;' into (he i^Iooni of 
 uder despair. Hut now he could no limber sa\e 
 himself from that <j;loom, and the thought grew 
 darker and (hearier before him — the one fact oi" 
 his j)resent situation. 
 
 Alone on a desert island ! 
 
 A very interesting thing to read about, no doubt ; 
 an<l Tom, like all boys, had revelled in the portray- 
 als of such a situation which he had encountered 
 in his reading. No one had entered with more zest 
 than he into the })ag(js of Robinson Crusoe, and no 
 one had enjoyed moi'c than he the talks which ])oys 
 love U) have about their possible doings under such 
 circumstances. l>ut 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'<s. — l/j) the Prcci- 
 2)ice. — Alomj the Shore. — Back for Boats. 
 
 ^ITE luss of Solomon had filled tlio boyw with 
 anxiety, and oven Captain Corbet sliared in 
 tlio common feeling. He Jiad prel'erred to 
 set out, as he said, witli a coil oi' rope; hut the 
 sight of this seemed to make Solomon's fate ai)pear 
 darker, and looked as though he might have I'allcHi 
 over a precipice, or into a deep pool of watei*. 
 They all knew that a serious accident Avas not 
 at all improbable. They had seen the lofty and 
 rugged clids that lined the bay shore, and knew 
 that the rising waters, as they dashed over them, 
 might form the grave of a man I'ar younger and 
 more active than the aged Solomon. He was weak 
 and rheumatic ; he was also timid and easily con- 
 i'used. If the water had overtaken him anywhere, 
 he might easily fall a prey. In his efforts to es- 
 cape, ho would soon become so terrified that his 
 limbs would be paralyzed. lie might then stumble 
 over the rocks, and l)reak some of his bones, or lie 
 
 I 
 
LOOKING FOR SOLOMON. 
 
 185 
 
 IIIG 
 
 'rcci- 
 
 mip;l»t be intrai)pcd in some rocesH of the clifls, 
 fVoiii wliicli es(;ape might ho impossihle witlioiit 
 external lielp. 
 
 Full of thouglits like tliese, tlie Itoys went on, 
 wilh ('ii])tain Corhet, iq) tlirough the viMago, K)ok- 
 ing carefully around as they went on, and making 
 in([uiries of every (jne whom tliey met. No one, 
 however, could give them any information. At last 
 they reached the end of the village. Ileic*, on the 
 left, there arose a high hill. The road wound round 
 this, and descended into a valley, through which a 
 stream nin to the hay. In this valley there was a 
 ship-yard, m here the half-finished fahiic of a large 
 ship stood l>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 <il)le to got to tlio boacli. I wisli I'd coinc i^ 
 tlio boat. Wliat a fix)! I was not to think of it ! '' 
 
 " 0, 1 daro say the top of tlio oliir will do," said 
 I]ruco. 
 
 " Wal, it'll liav^o to do. At any rate I've got the 
 kilo of ropo.'' 
 
 " Wo shall bo abl(5 to sco him Iroiii the top just 
 as woll, and porhap^ l)ottor.'' 
 
 *' Wal, 1 liopo so; but who'll bo a lootlo too far 
 above hiui for my laiicy, — ony wc can riso tho 
 rope, 1 s'poso. Can any of you youngsters climb ? " 
 
 " O, yes," said Bart,*'- all of us." 
 
 " What kind of heads lia\o you got — stiddy ?" 
 
 " Yes, good enough," said Bruce. " I'll engage 
 to go anywhere that 1 can lind a foothold; and 
 here's J>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 <lon't tliink 3^011 can git tliar." 
 
 '' 0, it isn't far/' said Bart. "I'll run back and 
 look down. Tlio rest of you liad bettor go on ; 
 I'll join you soon." 
 
 " I'll go with you," said Bruce. 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 Biuce and Bart then set out, and forced tlioir 
 way til rough the dense alder bushes, until at 
 lengtli they found themselves near tlic place. 
 Here there was a chasm in the line of cliff, reach- 
 ing from the top to the bottom. The sides were 
 precipitous, and the}-^ could see perfectly well all 
 the way down. At the bottom the water was roll- 
 ing and tossing ; and this, together with the pre- 
 ci])it()us cliffs, showed them plainly that no cme 
 could have found shelter here. 
 
 Sadly and silently they returned, and rejoined 
 the others, who had been walking along in ad- 
 vance. 
 
 " Wal ? " said Captain Corbet, interrogatively. 
 
 Bart shook his head. 
 
 They then walked on for some time in silence. 
 
 " Come," said Captain Corbet; " we've been makin 
 one mistake ever sence we started." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " We've kep altogether too still. How do wo 
 know but we've passed him somewhar along down 
 thar. We can't see behind all them corners." 
 
 " Let's shout now — the rest of the way." 
 
 " Yes ; that's it ; yell like all possessed." 
 
 fi ,„t 
 
THE BOYS SHOUT. 
 
 193 
 
 Tlio cries of tlic boys now burst fortb in sbrill 
 screams and yells, which were echoed among the 
 ^V()ods and rocks around. 
 
 •' Now," cried Captain Corbet, " all together ! " 
 
 The boys shouted all together. 
 
 "That'll fetch him," said the captain, " ef any- 
 thin doos. It's a pity we didn't think of this afore. 
 What an ole fool I must ha ben to forgit that ! " 
 
 The boys now walked on shouting, and scream- 
 ing, and yelling incessantly, and waiting, from time 
 to time, to listen for an answer. 
 
 But no answer came. 
 
 At times Captain Corbet's voice sounded forth. 
 His cry was a very peculiar one. It was high pitched, 
 shrill, and penetrating, and seemed as though it 
 ought to be heard for miles. But the united voices 
 of the boys, and the far-piercing yell of the cap- 
 tain, all sounded equally in vain. No response 
 came, and at last, after standing still and listening 
 for a longer time than usual, they all looked de- 
 spond ingly at one another, as though each were 
 Avaiting for the other to suggest some new plan of 
 action. 
 
 Captain Corbet stood and looked musingly out 
 upon the sea, as though the sight of the rolling 
 waters assisted his meditations. It was some time 
 before he spoke. 
 
 " T tell you what it is, boys," said he at last. 
 " We've ben makin another mistake." 
 
 '' How so ? " . 
 
 13 
 
104 
 
 LOST IN THE FOO. 
 
 
 " We've g;ono to work wrong." 
 
 "Well, wliat can we do now?" 
 
 " Wal, fiist an foremos^t, T ninve we go back on 
 our tracks." 
 
 "Go back?" 
 
 " Yas." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Wal, you sec, one thing, — Solomon can't hev 
 ('(liiic i'urthcr than this b}' no ])ossibility, onless ho 
 started straight off to walk all the way up the bay 
 agin, back to Petticoat Jack by the shore route, — 
 an as that's too rough a route for an ole man, why, 
 I calc'late it's imt to be thought of. Ef, on the con- 
 trairy, he only kern out to hunt for fish, 'tain't lik(^ly 
 he come as fur as this, an in my pinion he didn't 
 come nigh as fur. You see we're a good piece on, 
 and Solomon wouldn't hev come so fur if he'd cal'- 
 latiul to get back to the scliewner. What d'ye say 
 to that?" 
 
 " I'ye thought of that already," said Bnu^e, sad- 
 ly. " We'ye certainly gone as far as he could pos- 
 sibly Iwive gone." 
 
 " Terrew," said Captain Corbet, solemnly, 
 
 " r^ut what can we do now ? " asked Bart. 
 
 " Fust of all, go back." 
 
 " What! giye him up?" 
 
 " T didn't say that. I said to go back, an keej) a 
 good lookout along the shore." 
 
 " But we've done that already." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; but then we didn't begin to yell 
 
 SUh 
 
CAPTAIN conui-yr's mistakk. 
 
 lOf) 
 
 /; 
 
 go back on 
 
 I can't hev 
 
 , ouless lio 
 
 11}) tlio bay 
 
 e route, — 
 
 mail, wliy, 
 
 111 tlie coii- 
 
 aiii't likolv 
 
 1 lie di(bi't 
 
 I piece on, 
 
 ' heVl cal'- 
 
 t d'ye say 
 
 • 
 
 ni(3e, sad- 
 coiild pus- 
 
 'Iv, 
 irt. 
 
 fin k 
 
 oej) a 
 
 in to yell 
 
 till quite lately, whereas we'd ouglit to licv yelled 
 from the time of fust startin. Now, I think ef we 
 went back yellin all the way, we'd have a chanre 
 of turnin him up soinewliar bark thar wliar we fust 
 • •Mine in sit;-]it of the cliif. Very likelv, if lie ain't 
 iilready drownded, he's a twisted himself up in 
 sniiK! holler in the cliff back thar. He couldn't 
 Iicv gf>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}. 
 
 <Sm ./' 
 
 " rii-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i !" 
 
 " Solomo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oii ! " 
 
 " He-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ev ! " 
 
 " Is that yo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ou ? " 
 
 " It's inc-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e ! " 
 
 " Where are y-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ou ? " 
 
 " He-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-re ! " 
 
 " Come u-u-u-u-u-u-u-up ! " 
 
 " Ca-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a '^'t ! '' 
 
 '^ Wliy no-o-o-o-o-o-c-o-o-ot ? " 
 
 " Too lii-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-gli ! " 
 
 " Go round the pi-i-i-i-i-i-nt I " 
 
 '' Too high ti-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-de ! " 
 
 " Wa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-it ! " 
 
 '' All ri-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-glit ! " 
 
 Captain Corbet now sprang np as nimbly as a 
 young lad, and looked at Phil and Pat with an ex- 
 pression of sucli exceeding triumph, that his face 
 seemed fairly to shine. 
 
 " It is Solomon ! " ho cried. But it was of no 
 use for him to convey that piece of information to 
 the boys, who already knew that fact quite as well 
 as he did. 
 
 " It is Solomon," he repeated ; " an now the pint 
 is, liow air we to git him up? " 
 
 " Let me go down," said Pat. 
 
 '^ How ? " 
 
 " Sure an I can git down wid that bit o' rope 
 you have." 
 
 " Mebbe you can, an then agin niebbe you can't; 
 
WATTTNC FOR TIIK I'.OAT. 
 
 207 
 
 but s'posin you was to git down, liow upon airtli 
 would that help the matter ? " 
 
 " Sure an we cud give him a pull up." 
 
 " I don't think we could manage that," said Cap- 
 tain Corbet, " and you couldn't, at any rate, if 3^ou 
 were down thar with him. As far as I see, we'll 
 hev to wait till the tide falls." 
 
 " Wouldn't it be better," said Phil, " for us to go 
 around, so as to come nearer? " 
 
 '- How ? Whar ? " 
 
 " Why, down to the beach, and then we could 
 walk around the point." 
 
 " Walk ? Why, it's high water." 
 
 "So it is — I forgot that." 
 
 " The fact is, we can't git any nearer than we 
 air now. Then, agin, the boys'll be along in a boat 
 soon. The}^ ought to be here by this time ; so let's 
 sit down here, an wait till they heave in sight." 
 
 With a call of encouragement to Solomon which 
 elicited a reply of satisfaction. Captain Corbet sat 
 down upon the grass, and the boys followed his ex- 
 ample. In this position they waited quietly for 
 the boat to come. 
 
 Meanwhile, Bart and Bruce had hurried on as 
 rapidly as their legs could carry tlicm, and at 
 length reached the path which went down to the 
 beach. Down this they scrambled, and not long- 
 afterwards they reached the ship-yard. Here they 
 obtained a boat without any difficulty, which the 
 workmen launched for them ; and then tht^y pushed 
 
208 
 
 LOST IN THE FOO. 
 
 u I 
 
 off, fuid j)ullo(l for the point, witli tlio intention of 
 rowing along opposite the vshore, and narrowly in- 
 specting it. 
 
 Scarcely liacl they reached the point, however, 
 when a loud and well-known voice sounded from 
 on high. They both turned and looked up, still pul- 
 ling. There they saw^ Captain Corbet, and Phil, 
 and Pat, all of whom were shouting and making 
 furious gestures at them. 
 
 " We've found him I Come in closer ! " cried 
 Ca[)tain Corbet. 
 
 " Whe-e-e-re ? " cried Bruce. 
 
 But before any answer could come, a loud, shrill 
 scream, followed by a yell of delight, burst forth 
 IVom some place still nearer. 
 
 Bart and Bruce both started, and looked towards 
 the place from which this last cry came. 
 
 There a very singular and pleasing sight met 
 their eyes. 
 
 About six feet above the water was a shelf of 
 rock, that ran down sloping to the beach, and over 
 this there projected a great mass of the cliff. In 
 this recess there crouched a familiar figure. He 
 had no hat, but between his legs, as he sat there, 
 he held a basket, to which he clung with his knees 
 and his hands. As ho sat there his eyes were fixed 
 upon them, and their wdiites seemed enlarged to 
 twice their ordinary dimensions, while yell after 
 yell came from him. ' 
 
 " Help, he-e-e-e-e-lp ! Mas'r Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-art ! 
 
 .11 
 
SOLOMON RESCaED. 
 
 200 
 
 O, Mcis'r Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-}Kirt ! Ile-e-e-o-o-e-e-e-e-e-lp ! 
 Sa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-avo mc ! " 
 
 '' Hurrah ! liurrali ! " cried Bart and Bruce, in a 
 burst of heartfelt joy. 
 
 '• Ile-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-lp ! " came forth once more 
 i'roHi Sulomon. 
 
 "All right," cried Bart; and at once the boat 
 pointed towards the place where Solomon was sit- 
 ting-. The water nearer the shore was somewhat 
 rougii, but fortunately there were no rocks just 
 there, and they were able to bring tb.c boat in close 
 to tlie place where Solomon was confined. At 
 their approach Solomon moved slowly down the in- 
 cline of tlie rock, on his hands and knees, for there 
 Avas not room for him to stand upright ; and as he 
 moved he pushed the basket before him, as though 
 tluTc was something inside of uncommon value. 
 Reaching, at length, a spot where the rock was 
 about the level of the boat, he waited for them to 
 ap])roach. Soon the boat touched the rock. 
 
 '■ Come, old Sol,'' cried Bart, " jump in ! " 
 
 '' ITyah, take hole ob dis yar," said Solomon, even 
 in that moment of rescue refusing to move till his 
 precious basket should be safe. 
 
 Bart grasped it, and put it into the boat, noticing, 
 as he did so, that it was full of lobsters. 
 
 ''' Come, Solomon, hurry up. I don't like the 
 boat to be knocking here this way." 
 
 " All right, sail," said Solomon, crawling along 
 rather stiffly ; " ben tied up in a knot all day, an 
 
 li 
 
210 
 
 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 feel SO stiff dat I don't know as I'll git untied agin 
 fur ebber mo. Was jest makin my will, any way, 
 as you came along." 
 
 J]y this time Solomon had tumbled into the 
 boat, and worked his way aft, though not without 
 many groans. 
 
 '' It's de cold rocks, an de wet," he groaned. 
 '' Sech an attack o' rheumaticses as diy ole nigga's 
 gwine to hab beats all ! Any how, I ben an sabed 
 de lobsta. Loss me ole hat, but didn't car a mite 
 fer dat so long as I sabed de lobsta." 
 
 " All right," cried Bart ; and at this the two boys 
 pulled away from the rocks and rounded tlie point. 
 As they came into the sight of those who were 
 waiting on the top of the clilf, a shout of joy arose. 
 
TOM EXPLORTNO TITI-: ISLAND. 
 
 211 
 
 XV. 
 
 Explorlmi Juan Fcrnandc::. — TJie Cliffs. — The 
 tamjkd Underhrmh. — 21ie Fo(j Bank. — Is it 
 comimj or c/ounj ? — llie Steamer. — Vain Jp- 
 pcals. — Neiv Plans. 
 
 TAUTINCt off, as wo liavo seen, to explore tlio 
 island, Tom first direeted Iiis stei)s towards 
 the elevated land wlileli has before been men- 
 tioned. At first liis ])atli was easy, and the descent 
 very <;-radual ; but at length it became more difficult, 
 and he had to ascend a steep hill, which was over- 
 strewn with stones and interspersed with trees and 
 mounds. Up among these he worked his way, and 
 at length the ascent ceased. lie was on the sum- 
 mit of the island. Here he walked to the edge of 
 the area on which he stood, and found himself on 
 the edge of a preci[)icc that went sheer down to a 
 beach, which was apparently two hundred feet be- 
 neath him. The precipice seemed actually to lean 
 forward out of the perpendicular, and so tremen- 
 dous was the view beneath, that 'J\jm, although not 
 by any means inclined to be nervous, found his 
 head grow giddy as he looked down. Looking 
 
^iv ! 
 
 212 
 
 LOST IN THE POC. 
 
 1 
 
 forth tlius from liis dizzy elevation, lie could see 
 across the bay to the New TJruiiswick shore, and 
 coultl mark the general course which his drifting 
 boat must have taken over those deep, dark, and 
 treacherous waters. 
 
 The sea was broad, and blue, and tranquil, and 
 desolate, for even from this commanding heiglit 
 not a sail was visible. There was nothing hero 
 which could attract Tom's attention for any long- 
 period ; so he pre})arcd to continue his i)rogress. 
 In front of him lay a wood, before plunging in 
 which he turned to see if there were any vessels 
 coming through the Straits of j\Iinas. None were 
 visible ; so, turning back once more, ho resumed his 
 journey, and went forward among the trees. 
 
 Flis [)ath now became a dillicult one. It was 
 necessary to kee[) away from the edge of the cliff, 
 but still not to go out of sight of it. The trees 
 were principally spruce and fir, but there were also 
 birch and maple. ITe also noticed mountain ;ish 
 and willow. Rencath him all the ground was 
 covered with soft moss, in which he sank to his 
 ankles, while on every side were luxuriant ferns 
 and evergreen trailers. Tom recognized all 
 these with great satisfaction, for they showed him 
 tlje means of furnishing for himself a soft couch, 
 that might be envied by many a man in better cir- 
 cumstances. Progress soon grew more diflicult, 
 for there were numerous mounds, and dense under- 
 brush, through which he could only force his way 
 
HIS PROGRESS SLOW AND LABORIOUS. 
 
 213 
 
 (\ see 
 e, and 
 rifting 
 k, and 
 
 il, and 
 lioio'lit 
 i; liore 
 
 y l^'"g 
 egress. 
 
 ing in 
 
 k^esselrf 
 
 > 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<l been, beiiig light and dry, so that the ground 
 was not at all moislened; but still the view was 
 obscured, so that no vessel could be seen unless it 
 came witinn lialf a milo ; and that was rather closed' 
 than most vessels would care to come to his island. 
 
 This day was Sunday, and all Tom's plans had 
 to be deferred until tlie following day. However, 
 it was not at all disajLTeeable to him to get rid of 
 the necessity of work ; and, indeed, never Ixif'oi'o 
 did he iully a[)prociate the nature of the Day of 
 Rest. T!ie rest was sweet indeed to his exhausted 
 and overworn frame, and he did not go fai- away 
 irom his tire. He had found some embers still 
 glowing in the morning, and had kindled the liiMi 
 iuu'w IVom these, without drawing any more upon 
 his precious store of matches. lie resolved now 
 to keep th(* coals alivi^ all the tim(\ by feeding the 
 fire during tho day, and covering it up with ashes 
 by night. 
 
 It was Sunday, — tho Day of Rest, — and Tom 
 
 i 
 
SUNDAY, THK DAY OF REST. 
 
 907 
 
 felt all the blcssodnoss of rest. On the whole, it 
 
 turned out to be the pleasantest day which he had 
 
 known since he left the schooner. Left now to 
 
 (juiet reflection, he recalled the events of the last 
 
 week, and had more leisure to feel thankful over 
 
 the wonderful safety which he had met with. 
 
 Even now on the island he was not without his 
 
 comforts. He had food and warmth. So, on the 
 
 whole, thougli he had his moments of sfidness, yet 
 
 the sadness was driven out bv cheerCulness. It 
 
 was not all dismal. The words of that po(Mn 
 
 which is familiar to every school-boy rang in his 
 
 ears : — 
 
 *' O, Solitude, whoro are II10 cliiirms 
 That saifos have seen in tii\' face? 
 Better dwell in the midst of alarms 
 Than reign in this horrible plaee." 
 
 Yet these words were accompanied and coun- 
 terbalanced by the more pleasing and consoHng 
 sentiments of otiiers, which on this day accorded 
 better with Tom's mood: — 
 
 "There's merey in every plaei' ; 
 
 And mercy — encourajfing thought ! 
 Gives even alHiction a grace, 
 And reconciles man to his lot." 
 
 Nothing occurred dui'ing tlie diiy to disturb the 
 (|uiet of the island, and Tom \\v\\{ to Ix'd cjirly 
 tliat night, so as to have a, long shM'|>, 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 aroun<l it, tranii)Iing 
 it in, and beating it down as tight as he could with 
 a stone. After this he i)roeured )nie sticks from 
 (he drift-wood, and, shar[)ening the ends, he secured 
 the stays by fastening them to these sticks, wdiich 
 he drove into the ground. The staff then seemed 
 to be as secure as was necessary. It only remained 
 now to hoist up his flag; and this he did without 
 any difliculty, securing it at half mast, so that it 
 juight serve unmistakably as a signal of distress. 
 
 Upon completing this, Tom restt.M] on the mound, 
 and from that distance he contemplated the signal 
 with a great deal of calm and ([uiet satisfaction. 
 It was his own device, and his own handiwork 
 and he was very proud of it. Ibit he did not allow 
 himself a long rest. '^I'here yet remained much to 
 be done, and to this he now directed his attention. 
 
 ITe had been thinking, during his last employ- 
 ment, upon the necessity which he had of some 
 shelter. A i)lan had suggested itself which ho felt 
 confident that he could carry into execution with- 
 out any \(}ry great troul)lo. The fog that now [)re- 
 vailed, and which was far dinerent from the light 
 mist of the previous day, accompanied also, as it 
 was, by the damp south-west wind, made some sort 
 of a shelter imperatively necessary, and that, too, 
 before another night. To pass this night in tho 
 fog w^ould bo bad enough ; but if it should luippon 
 
230 
 
 T.OST IN THE FOG. 
 
 'IJiii;i; 
 
 to mill cilso, liis situcition would ])c misemhlo in- 
 dood. 
 
 ll(j now set out lor tlic bojicli, and found, witliout 
 inucli difliculty, souio pieces of wood which were 
 necessary to his pui'pose. J>i-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 lon<r and slender 
 })ieces of wood, and sliarpen the ends of them. 
 Then he drove each of them into the ground in 
 such a way tiiat their tops crossed one another. 
 
 rv 
 
 These he l)ound fast together. Two other stakes 
 were driven into the ground, and secured in the 
 same wav, about six or seven feet oil'. Another 
 long piece of scantling avjis then placed so as to 
 pass from one to the other of tlio two crossed 
 sticks, so that it rested upon them. This last Avas 
 bound tight to the crossed sticks, and thus the 
 whole structure formed a camp-shaped frame. 
 Over this Tom now threw the sail, and brought 
 
H 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 o 
 re 
 
TOM PREPARES HIS CAMP. 231 
 
 it down to the ground on citlior side, securing it 
 there with pegs. At the back of the camp a piece 
 of the sail was folded over and secured so as to 
 cover it in; while in front another piece of the 
 sail hung down until it nearly reached the ground. 
 This could hang down at night, and be folded over 
 the top by day. Tom now tore up some sods, and 
 laid them over the edge of the canvas on each 
 side, where it touched the ground, and j)laced on 
 these heavy stones, until at length it seemed suf- 
 ficiently protected from the entrance of any rain 
 that might How down the roof. His last task con- 
 sisted in collecting a large quantity of moss and 
 ferns from the woods, which he strewed over the 
 ground inside, and heaped up at one end, so as to 
 form a soft and I'ragrant bed. When this was 
 accomplished the camp was finished. 
 
 It had taken a long time, and when at last the 
 work was done, it began to grow dark. Tom no- 
 ticed this with surprise. He had been working 
 so incessantly that he was not mindful of the (light 
 of time, and now the day was done, and the even- 
 ing was upon him before he was aware. But 
 there were other things still for him to do before 
 he could rest from his labors. His fire was just 
 nickering around its last embers, and if he wished 
 to have a pleasant light to cheer the solitude and 
 the darkness of his evening hours, it would be 
 necessary to prepare a supply of fuel. To this he 
 attended at once, and brought up several armfuls 
 
232 
 
 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 i 
 
 of drift-wood from thu beacli. Pl;iciiig tlicso near 
 the fire, he kindled it up afresli, and flung upon the 
 rising flames a generous supply of fuel. The fires 
 eaught at it, and crackled as they spread through the 
 dry wood, and tossed up their forked tongues on 
 high, till in tlie dusk of evening they illuminated 
 the surrounding scene with a pleasant liglit. A 
 few more armfuls were added, and tlien the work 
 for the day was over. That work had been very 
 extensive and very important. It had secured a 
 means of communication with the outer world, and 
 had also formed a shelter from tlie chill night air, 
 the fog, and the storm. It was with a very natural 
 pride that Tom cast his eyes around, and surveyed 
 the results of liis ingenuity and his industry. 
 
 The camp opened towards tlie fire, from which 
 it was not so far distant but that Tom could attend 
 to it without any very great inconvenience. The 
 lire shone pleasantly before him as he sat down at 
 his evening repast. As the darkness increased, it 
 threw a ruddier glow upon all the scene around, 
 lighting up field and hill, and sending long streams 
 of radiance into the fog that overhung the sea. 
 Tom had prepared an uimsually large supply of 
 fuel, this evening, for the express purpose of burn- 
 ing it all up ; partly for his own amusement, and 
 partly in tli hope that it might meet the eyes of 
 some passing navigator. It was his only hope. 
 To keep his signals going by night and day was 
 the surest plan of efiecting a speedy escape. Who 
 
THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ANTELOPE. 
 
 233 
 
 \ nil 
 
 
 could tell what might be out on the ueighburiiig 
 sen? How did ho know but that the Antelope 
 might be somewhere near at hand, with his com- 
 panions on board, cruising anxiously about in 
 search after the missing boat ? He never ceased 
 to think that they were following after him some- 
 where, and to believe that, in the course of their 
 wanderings, they might come somewhere within 
 sight of him. He knew that they would never give 
 him up till they assuredly knew his fate, but would 
 follow after him, and set other vessels on the 
 search, till the whole bay, with all its shores and 
 islands, should be thoroughly ransacked. 
 
 Fortunate was it for him, he thought, that there 
 was so large a supply of drift-wood at hand on tlie 
 beach, dry, portable, and in every way convenient 
 for use. Thanks to this, he might now disperse 
 the gloom of dark and foggy nights, and keep up 
 a better signal in the dark than he could do in the 
 light. Thus the fuel was her«.ped on, and the fire 
 flamed up, and Tom sat near, looking complacently 
 upon the brilliant glow. 
 
 Thus far, for nearly a week, he had fed on bis- 
 cuit only; but now, as he ate hi repast, he began 
 to think that it was a very monotonous fare, and to 
 wonder whether it might not be possible to find 
 something which could give a zest to his repasts. 
 The biscuit were holding out well, but still he felt 
 a desire to husband his resources, and if any addi- 
 tional food could in any way be procured, it would 
 
234 
 
 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 not only be a rclisli, but would also lessen bis de- 
 nuuid upon bis one sole source of supply. lie 
 tboujbt earnestly upon tlie subject of fisli. lie 
 turned bis tbougbts very seriously to tbe subject 
 of fisb-books, and tried to tbink of some way by 
 wbicb be could capture some of tbe fisb witb vvbicb 
 tbese waters abounded. T'at tbis idea did not 
 seem to promise mucli. In tbe first place, be could 
 tbink of no possible way in wbicb bo could procure 
 any serviceable book ; in tbe second place, even if 
 be bad a book and line all ready and baited, be did 
 not see bow be would be able to cast it witbin 
 reacb of any fisb. His boat would not float bim 
 even for tbe little distance tliat was required to 
 get into tbe places wbere fisb migbt be. He could 
 only stand upon tbe beacb out of tbeir reacb. 
 
 But, in tbe course of bis tbougbts, be soon per- 
 ceived tbat otlier sources of food were possible to 
 bim besides tbe fisb tbat were caugbt by book 
 and line. His mind reverted to tbe populous realm 
 of sbell-fisb. Tbese were all before bim. Round 
 tbe rocks and amid tbe sea-weed tbere certainly 
 must be mussels. At low tide, amid tbe ledges 
 and tbe sand, tbere surely must be some lobsters. 
 Before bim tbere was an extensive mud flat, wbere 
 tbere ougbt to be clams. Here Avas bis fire, al- 
 ways ready, by nigbt and by day. Wby sbould be 
 not be able to make use of tbat fire, not only for 
 cbeering bis mind, and giving him warmtb, and 
 signaling to passers-by, but also for cooking bis 
 meals ? 
 
SEARCH FOR SHELL-FISH. 
 
 235 
 
 This wa.s the question tluit he iisked himself as 
 he ate his biscuit. He could not see why he should 
 not he able to accomplish this. As far as he could 
 see, there ought to be plenty of shell-lish of vari- 
 ous kinds on these shores. The more he thought 
 of it, the more probable it seemed. IJe determined 
 to solve the difticulty as soon as possible. On for- 
 mer occasions he had arranged his work on the 
 evening for the succeeding day. On this evening 
 ho marked out this work for the morrow, and ar- 
 ranged in his mind a comprehensive and most dili- 
 gent search for shell-fisli, which should embrace 
 the whole circuit of the island. 
 
 AVitli this in his mind, he arranged the fire as 
 usual, so as to keej) it alive, and then retired to his 
 camp for the night. The presence of a roof over 
 his head was grateful in the extreme. lie let 
 down the canvas folds over the entrance, and felt 
 a peculiar sense of security and comfort. The 
 moss and ferns wliich he had heaped up w^ere 
 luxuriously soft and deliciously fragrant. Over 
 these he stretched his wearied limbs with a sigh 
 of relief, and soon was asleep. 
 
 So comfortable was his bed, and so secure his 
 shelter, that he slept longer than usual. It was 
 late when he awaked. He hurried forth and looked 
 around. The fog still rested over everything. If 
 possible it was thicker and more dismal than even 
 I'll liie preceding day. To his surprise, he soon 
 noli('0(l tliat it had been raining quite heavily 
 through the night. Around, in many places, he 
 
236 
 
 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 saw pools of water, and in the hollows of the rocks 
 he saw tlie same. This couKl only have boon dune 
 by the rain. Going back to his camp, he saw that 
 the canvas was quite wet. And yi;t the rain had 
 all rolled off. Not a drop had entered. The moss 
 and the fern inside were perfectly dry, and he had 
 nut the slightest feeiing of dampness about him. 
 His camp was a complete success. 
 
 He now went off to search for clams. The tide 
 had been high at about six in the morning. It was 
 now, as he judged, about ten or eleven, and the 
 water was quite hnv. Selecting a piece of shingle 
 from his wood-pile, he walked down over the mud 
 flat that extended from the point, and, after going 
 a little distance, he noticed the holes that give in- 
 dications of the presence of clams beneath. Turn- 
 ing up the sand, he soon threw out some of tliem. 
 He now dug in several different places, and obtained 
 sufficient for the day. These he carried back to 
 the bank in triumph. Then he stirred up his fire, 
 heaped on plenty of wood, and arranged his clams 
 in front so as to roast them. 
 
 In spite of Mrs. Pratt's theories, the clams were 
 found by Tom to be delicious, and gave such relish 
 to the biscuit, that he began to think whether he 
 could not make use of the baling dipper, and make 
 a clam chowder. 
 
 This breakfast was a great success, and Tom now 
 confidently expected to find other shell-fisli, l>y 
 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, — <lidn't want to 
 go too fur away for i'eah ob not gittin back in time. 
 An so I started to come back pooty soon, an 
 walked, an walked. Las, jes as I got to de i)int, T 
 rose my ole head, an looked straight afore me, an 
 thar, dar of I didn't fine myself shut in, — reglar 
 j)rison, — mind I t(dl you, — an all round me a reg- 
 lar cumforince ob water an rock, widout any way 
 ob sciipo. Tell you what, if dar ebber was a ole 
 rat in a trap, I was at dat ar casion." 
 
HE CAPTUnKs; T.onSTKHS. 
 
 230 
 
 JJ 
 
 -'1 
 
 an 
 ole 
 
 " Couldn't you liavo waded tlirougli it before it 
 got too high ? " 
 
 " Waded ? Not a wade ; do water was rough 
 an deep, an de bottom was stones dat I'd sli})pe(l 
 oba an almost broke my ole head, sides bein 
 drownded as dead as a herrin. Why, Avliat you 
 tink dis ole nigga's made ob? I'm not a steam 
 injine, nor a mowin macliine, nor a liib boat. I'm 
 ony a ole man, an shaky in do legs too, — mind I 
 tell you." 
 
 " Well, how did you manage it? " 
 
 " Manage ! Wliy, I didn't manage at all." 
 
 " How did you find that place where you were 
 sitting ? " 
 
 " Wasn't settin. I was tied up in a knot, or rolled 
 up into a ball. Any way, I wasn't settin." 
 
 " Well, how did you fin(l the place? " 
 
 '' Wal, 1 jes got up dar. I stood on de sho 
 till de water drobc me, an I kep out ob its way 
 till at las I found myself tied up do way you 
 saw me." 
 
 " Why didn't you halloo ? " 
 
 " Hollar? Didn't I hollar like all possessed? " 
 
 " Wo didn't hear you." 
 
 " Wal, dat ar's dredful stcrious. An me a hol- 
 larin an a yellin like mad. Tell you what, 1 felt as 
 of I'd bust my ole lunidopen, 1 did yell that hard." 
 
 " Couldn't you manage to climb up that cliff? " 
 
 '' Dat cliff? Climb up ? Me ? What ! mo climb 
 up a cliff? an dat cliff? Why, I couldn't no more 
 
240 
 
 LOST IN THE FOCt. 
 
 climb up dat ar cliff dan I could fly to de moon. No, 
 sail. Much as I could do to keep wliar I was, out ob 
 de water. Dat was enough." 
 
 " Don't you know that we walked two miles up 
 the shore ? " 
 
 " Two miles ! Two ! De sakes, now, chiPen I 
 did you, railly ? Ef I'd a ony knowed you war a 
 comin so near, wouldn't I a veiled ? I bet I 
 would." 
 
 " Why, you didn't think we'd have left you." 
 
 " Lef me ? Nebber. But den I didn't tink you'd 
 magine any ting was wrong till too late. What I 
 wanted was help, den an dar. De trouble was, 
 when you did come, you all made dat ar circum- 
 bendibus, an trabelled clean an clar away from me." 
 
 " We thought at first you could not be so near 
 the point." 
 
 " But de pint was do whole difficulty. Dat's de 
 pint." 
 
 " Well, at any rate, you've saved the lobsters." 
 
 " Yah ! yah ! yah ! Yes. Bound to sabe dem 
 dar. Loss my ole hat, an nearly loss my ole self; 
 but still I hung on to dom dar lobstas. Tell you 
 what it is now, dey come nigh onto bein de dearest 
 lobstas you ebber eat. I'be done a good deal in 
 de way ob puttin myself out to get a dinna at odd 
 times for you, chil'cn ; butdis time T almost put my- 
 self out ob dis mortial life. So when you get your 
 iiinnns to-day, you may tink on what dat ar diuna 
 come nigh to costiu." 
 
•BOUND TO MAKE A SHOW. 
 
 241 
 
 le 
 
 in 
 
 " I wonder that you held on to them so tight, 
 when they brouglit you into such danger." 
 
 '' ITole on? Why, dat ar's de berry reason why 
 I did liole on. Wliat, let go ob dem arter all my 
 trouble on dat count? No. 1 was bound to hab 
 somethin to show whenebber I got back, if! cbber 
 ^id get back ; and so here I am, all alibe, an a 
 bringin my lobstas wid me." 
 
 " Well, Solomon," said Bart, in a kindly tone, 
 "old man, the lobsters have come near costing us 
 pretty dear, and we felt bad enough, I can tell you, 
 when wo went up there along the shore calling for 
 you and getting no answer." 
 
 '' What, you did car for de ole man, Mas'r Bart 
 ■ — did you? "said Solomon, in a ti'cmulous voice. 
 Tears started to his eyes as he sjiid it, and a;l 
 power of saying anything more seemed to depart 
 from him. He fell back beliind the others, and 
 walked on for the rest of the way in silence, but at 
 times casting upon Bart glance;} that spoke vol- 
 umes, and talking to himself in inaudible tones. 
 
 In this way they soon reached the wharf where 
 the scliooner was lying. 
 
 Tlie first thing that they noticed was, that the 
 schooner was aground. The tide had gone out too 
 fiir lor her to float away, and consecpiently there 
 WMs no hope of resuming their voyage for that 
 day. 
 
 " We're in for it, captain," said Bruce. 
 16 
 
242 
 
 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 " Yes ; I felt afoard of it," said tlic captain. 
 " We've ffot to wait hero till the next tide." 
 
 " We'll leave to-night, of course." 
 
 *' 0, yes. We must get off at the night's tide, 
 and drop down the bay." 
 
 " ITow far had we better go ? " 
 
 " Wal, I ben a thinkin it all over, an it's mv 
 opinion that we'd better go to St, John next. Wo 
 may hear of him there, an ef he don't turn up we 
 can send out some more vessels, an give warnin 
 that he's astray on the briny biller." 
 
 "At what time will we be able to leave?" 
 
 " Wal, it'll not be high tide till near one o'clock, 
 but we can git off ef thar's a wind a leetle before 
 midnight." 
 
 "Do you think the wind will hold on?" 
 
 The captain raised his head, and looked at the 
 sky ; then he looked out to sea, and then lie re- 
 mained silent for a few minutes. 
 
 " Wal," said he, at last, slowly and thoughtfully, 
 " it'll take a man with a head as long as a boss to 
 answer that thar. It mought hold on, an then agin 
 it moughtn't." * 
 
 " At any rate, I suppose wo can drift." 
 
 "0, yes; an ef the wind doosn't come round too 
 strong, wo can git nigh down pooty close to St. 
 John by mornin." 
 
 " We'll run down with the tid^o." 
 
 " Percisely." 
 
 " Well, I suppose we'll have \o put the time 
 
TIED UP IN QUACO. 
 
 243 
 
 
 the 
 r(3- 
 
 agm 
 
 time 
 
 tlirougli the best way we can, and try to bo 
 patient. Only it seems hard to be delayed so 
 much. First there was the fog, which made our 
 search useless ; and now, when there comes a 
 brig-lit day, when we can see where we're going, 
 liere we are tied up in Quaco all day and all 
 night." 
 
 " It doos seem hard," said Captain Corbet, grave- 
 ly, " terrible hard ; an of 1 owned a balloon that 
 could rise this here vessel oil' the ground, an con- 
 vey her through the air to her nat'ral element, I'd 
 hev it done in live minutes, an we'd all proceed to 
 walk the waters like things of life. I>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 <piito 
 as valuable in their way as the clams and Kjbsters. 
 First of all, he found an immense (piantity of large 
 mussels. These were entangled among the thi(^k 
 masses of sea-weed. He knew that the flavor ol 
 
270 
 
 LOST TN TFIE FOG. 
 
 mussels was miicli more delicate than that of clams 
 or lobsters, and that by many connoisseurs these, 
 when g'ood and fresli, were ranked next to oysters. 
 Tills discovery, therefore, pjavc him great joy, and 
 he fdled his pan, which he had carried down, and 
 took them back to the shore. He also took an 
 iirmfnl of sea-weed, and, reaching his cam})ing- 
 place, he threw the mussels in a hollow place in 
 the sand, placing the sea-weed around them. In 
 this way he knew that they would koc|) fresh and 
 ejweet for any reasonable length of time. 
 
 Returning to the ledges of rock, ho walked al)out 
 among them, and found a number of pools, some of 
 which were of considerable size. These had been 
 left by the retreating water; and in these hollows 
 he soon saw a number of small objects moving 
 
 about. Some of them he caught without much 
 difficulty, and saw that they were shrimps. He 
 had hoped to find some of these, but th(3 discovery 
 came to him like some unexpected [)leasure, and 
 seenusd more than he had any right to count on. 
 Beside the shrimps his other discoveries seemed 
 inferior. There was a large number, and they 
 could be caught without much trouble. He soon 
 filled his })aii, and brought these also to his camp- 
 ing-place. Th(^se he de})osited in a little ])ool, 
 which was on the surface of some rocks that lav 
 not far from the shore. Over those he also laid 
 some sea-weed. 
 
 The tide was now coming up, but Tom made a 
 
TIIS MODE or LIFE. 
 
 271 
 
 further journey to tlio bencli, so as to secure somo- 
 tliing wliicli lie had noticed during his previous 
 expedition. This was a marine plant called dulse, 
 wliich, in these waters, grows very plentifully, and 
 is gatliered and dried by the people in large quan- 
 tities. Tt was a substance of whicli Turn was very 
 fond, and he determined to gather some, and dry it 
 in the sun. Collecting an armful of this, he took 
 it to the shore, and spread it out over tlie grass, 
 though, in that damp and foggy atmosphere, there 
 was not much ])rospect of its drying. 
 
 It was now about three o'clock in the afternoon, 
 and Tom's researches along the shore were suc- 
 cessfully terminated. Tie had found all the diifer- 
 ent articles that he had thought of, and hisnewacqui- 
 sitions were now lying about him. 
 
 These were, — 
 
 Clams, 
 
 Lobsters, 
 
 Mussels, 
 
 Shrimps, 
 
 Dulse. 
 
 As ho murmured to himself the list of things, he 
 smiltMl triumi)haiitly. 
 
 J>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 
 won<lered whether other islands, in tropical cli- 
 mates, could yield a more varied or more nu- 
 tritious supply. lie thought of otiier plants which 
 might 1)0 found here, and determined to try some 
 that seemed to be nutritious. 
 
 ITere is the repast which Tom, on that occasion, 
 spread before himself: — 
 
 1. Roast clams, 
 
 2. IJaked lobster, 
 
 3. l>oilod 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, an<l the 
 wood, thui^ saturated with water so frequently, had 
 no chance of getting dry. Tom thought, therefore, 
 
I 
 
 tom's boat grows tighter. 
 
 279 
 
 
 that the wooden framework, which he had con- 
 structed so a ^ to tighten tlie leak, had been gradu- 
 ally swelling from the action of the water ; and 
 the planks of the boat had been tightening tlieir 
 cracks from the same cause, so that now the open- 
 ing was not nearly so bad as it had been. Thus 
 the boat, which once had been uble to float him for 
 a quarter of an hour or more, ought now to bo 
 able to float him for at least double that time. 
 
 Tom watched the boat very attentively while the 
 tide was up ; and, when at length it began to re- 
 treat, and leave it once more aground, he noticed 
 that it was not more than half full of water. If any 
 confirmation had been needed to the conclusions 
 which he had drawn from seeing the improved 
 buoyancy of the boat, it would have been allbrded 
 by tills. Tom accepted this with delight, as an 
 additional circumstance in his favor; and now, 
 having become convinced of this much, he set his 
 wits to work to see if some plan could not be hit 
 upon by means of which the boat could once more 
 be made sea-worthy. 
 
 Tom's indefatigable perseverance must have been 
 noticed by this time. To make the best of circum- 
 stances; to stand face to face with misfortune, and 
 shrink not; to meet the worst with e(|uaninn'ty, 
 and grasp eagerly at the slightest favorable change, 
 — such was the character that Tom liad shown 
 during his experience of the past. Now, once 
 more, lie grasped at this slight circumstance that 
 
 K 
 
 _^ 
 
 i 
 
280 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 appeared to favor his hopes, and sought to find 
 some way by whicli that hall-floating boat could be 
 made to float wholly, and bear him away to those 
 shores that were so near by. Too long had he been 
 submitting to this imprison,ment ; too long had he 
 been waiting for schooners to pass and to bring 
 him help; too Icmg had he been shut in by a fog 
 that seemed destined never to lift no long as he was 
 here. If he could only form some kind of a boat 
 that would float long enough to land him on the 
 nearest coast, all that he wished Avould be gratilied. 
 
 As he thought over this subject, he saw plainly 
 what he had felt very strongly before — that the 
 boat could not bo sea-worthy unless he had some 
 tar with which to plaster over the broken bow, and 
 fill in the gaping seams ; but there was no tar. 
 Still, did it follow that there was nothing else? 
 Might not something be found upon the island 
 which would serve the purpose of tar? There 
 must be some such substance and perhaps it 
 might be found here. 
 
 Tom now thought over all the substances that he 
 could bring before his mind. Would clay do ? No ; 
 clay would not. Would putty ? No, and besides, 
 ho could not get any. What, then, would serve 
 th's important purpose? 
 
 Tar was produced from trees. Were there no 
 trees here that produced some sticky and glutinous 
 substance like tar ? There was the resin of pine 
 trees, but there were no pines on the island. What 
 

 SPRUCE GUM. 281 
 
 then? The.se fir trees luid a sort of sticky, bal- 
 samic juice that exiuled pleiititiilly Iroiii tlicm 
 wherever tliey were cut. Might lie iiut make some 
 use of tluit? Suddenly, in tlie midst ui' reflections 
 like these, he thought of the gum that is found on 
 spruce trees — spruce gum ! It was an idea that 
 deserved to be followed up and carried out. Thus 
 far he had never thought of spruce gum, except as 
 something which he, like most boys, was fond of 
 chewing; but now it appeared before his mind as 
 aftbrding a possible solution of his diiliculty. The 
 more he thought of it, the more did it seem that 
 this w^ould be adapted to his purpose. The only 
 question was, whether he could obtain enough of 
 it. lie thought that he might easily obtain enough 
 if he only took the proper time and care. 
 
 With this new plan in his mind, Tom retired for 
 the night, and awaked the next morning by the 
 dawn of day. It was still foggy ; but he was now 
 so resigned, and was so full of his new plan, that it 
 did not trouble him in the slightest degree. In 
 fact, he was so anxious to try this, that the sight of 
 a boat landing on the beach, all ready to take him 
 otr, would not have afforded him an unmixed satis- 
 faction. 
 
 lie took his tin dipper, and went uj) at once into 
 the woods. Here he looked around very carefully, 
 and soon found what he wanted. He knew per- 
 fectly well, of course, how to distinguish spruce 
 trees from (ir, by the sharp, prickly spires of the 
 
282 
 
 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 former, and so he was never at a loss which trees 
 to search. No sooner had lie begun, than he was 
 surprised at the quantities that he found. To an 
 ordinary observer the trunk of tlie spruce tree 
 seems like any otlier tree trunk — no rougher, and 
 perhaps somewhat smoother than many ; but Tom 
 now found that on every tree ahnost tliere were 
 h'ttle round excrescences, wliich, on being picked 
 at with tlie knife, came off readily, and proved to 
 be gum. Vast quantities of a substance which 
 goes by the name of spruce gum are manufactured 
 and sold; but the pure gum is a very different ar- 
 ticle, having a rich, balsamic odor, and a delicate 
 yet delicious flavor ; and Tom, as he filled his pan, 
 and inhaled the fragrance that v/as emitted by its 
 contents, lamented that his necessities compelled 
 him to use it for such a purpose as that to which 
 this was destined. After four or five hours' work, 
 he found that he had gathered enough. lie had 
 filled his pan no less than six times, and had se- 
 cured a supj^ly which was anqjly suflicient to give 
 a coating of thick gum over all the fractured place. 
 The tide, wliich had already riser, was now falling, 
 and, as soon as the boat was aground, and the 
 water out of her, Tom proceeded to raise her 
 bows, in precisely the same manner as lie had 
 raised the boat on a former occasion. 
 
 The next thing was to briiig the gum into a fit 
 condition for use. This he did by kindling the 
 lire, and melting it in' his tin pan. This would 
 
TOM APrijKs THE cmi. 283 
 
 ratlier intorf'ero witli the use of that article as a 
 CDokiiig utcMisil, 1)11 1 1U)W that Tom's miiul was lull 
 of this HOW piirposo, cooking and things of that 
 sort had lost all attractions for him. As for food, 
 there was no fear about that. He had his biscuit, 
 and the lobster and shell-fish which he had cooked 
 on the preceding day were but partially consumed. 
 Enough remained to supply many more ineals. 
 
 The gum soon melted, and then a brush was 
 needed to apply it to the boat. This was pro- 
 cured by cutting oil' a little strip of cjinvas, altout 
 a yard long and six inches wide. By picking out 
 some of the tlu'eads, and rolling it up, a very ser- 
 viceablo brush was formed. 
 
 Taking the gum now in its melted state, Tom 
 dipped his brush into it, and applied it all over 
 the broken surface of the bow, })rcssing the hot 
 li(piid in close, and allowing it to harden in the 
 cracks. His first coating of gum was Viivy satis- 
 factorily applied, and it seemed as though a fcw^- 
 more coatings ought to ':ccurc the boat from the 
 entrance of the water. The gum was tenacious, 
 and its oidy bad (piality was its brittleness; but, 
 as it would not be exposed to the blows of any 
 hard substances, it seemed (piite able to servo 
 Tom's wants. 
 
 Tom now went down to the drift-wood and 1) rough t 
 up a fresh supply of fuel, aft(M- which he melted 
 a second panl'ul of gum, and a[)pli(Ml this to the 
 boat. lie endeavored to secure an entrance for it 
 
284 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 into all tlie oracks tliat. did not seem to be sufficient* 
 ]y filled at tlie first application, and now had the 
 satisfaction of seeing* all of those deep marks filled 
 up and efi'aced hy the gum. 
 
 One [)lace still remained which had not yet been 
 made secure ai2;ainst the enti'ance of the water, 
 and that was where the planks gaped open from 
 the blow that had crushed in the bows. Here the 
 canvas that was inside protruded slightly. Tom 
 ripped up some of the canvas that was on the tent, 
 and taking the threads, stuffed them in the open- 
 ing, mixing thcjn with gum as he did so, until it 
 was filled ; and then over this he put a coating of 
 the gum. After this another pan, and yet another, 
 were melted, and the hot gum each time was ap- 
 plied. This gave the whole surface a smooth 
 appearance, that promised to be impenetrable to 
 the water. 
 
 The gu. which he had collected was enough to 
 fill two more pans. This he melted as l>efore, 
 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. 
 
 
 '/' 
 
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 By ELIJAH KELLOGG. 
 
 Lion Ben of Elm Island. 
 
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 Sowed by the Wind ; or, The Poor Boy's Fortune. 
 
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