^%. V>7^> <> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 !r"- IIM I.I 1.25 i4£ 12.2 '- -'" I" 2.0 1.8 1-4 IIIIII.6 V] <^ /} VI /a J^ i^? ^#%^^ ^ w //A CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICIVIH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut canadien de microreproductions historiquds 1980 Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. □ n n D D n n Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur Covers damaged/ Couverturf endommag6e Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurde et/ou pelliculde Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ Cartes gdographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Reli6 avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge intdrieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout^es lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 film^es. L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la mdthode normale de filmage sont indiqu6s ci-dessous. D D D D D n D Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur Pages damaged/ Pages endommag^es Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaurdes et/ou pellicul6es Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages d6color6es, tachetdes ou piqu6es Pages detached/ Pages d6tach6es Showthrough/ Transparence Quality of print varies/ Quality indgale de I'impression Includes supplementary material/ Comprend du materiel supplementaire 1 s 1 V l\ d e b ri r( n I I Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont 6t6 film6es d nouveau de fagon d obtenir la meilleure image possible. D Additional comments:/ Commentaires suppl6mentaires; m This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checkeJ below/ Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction inidiqui < t-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X / 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X ails du idifier une lage The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: Saint John Regional Library The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol —^(meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: L'exemplaire filmd fut reproduit grace d la g^n6rosit6 de: Saint John Regional Library Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettet^ de l'exemplaire film§, et en conformit6 avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprimde sont film6s en commenpant par le premier plat at en terminant soit par la dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'imprassion ou d'illustration, scit par le second plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmds en commenpant par la premidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de chaque microfiche, selon le cas: le symboie -^ signifie 'A SUIVRE ", le symbole V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent §tre film^s d des taux de reduction difl§rents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clichd, il est filmd d partir de Tangle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 'rata o )elure. Id 3 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 S 6 r\ ff^f ■.'^r?^^ A - '"' LOST LN fiy BT 0^ c JAMES DE MILLE. AUTHOR OF "THK B. O. W. O.," " TllK BOYS SCHOOL," KTC. OF GRAND Pr4 y. ■I. h U. Q ILILVSTRATED. I30ST0N : LEE AND SIIEPATJ7). PUBLISHERS, Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, Bv LEE AND SIIEPARD, In the Oftice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washing, on- t t CONTENTS. I. PAGE Old Acquaintances gather around old Scenes.- Antelope akoyl-Uou, are you, Solomon? - Roundabout Plan of a roundabout Voyage. _ ne Doaor u,arns, rebukes and remonstrates, but, alas / in ,ain. - /, „,„,, ,, ^„„; - J^'^a'm.ngof a kiyhlyevcnt/ul Voyage. . . . „ 11. rirstSig,t of a Place destined to be better kno.n. - A Fog Mill. - Navigation without Wind. - Fishing. ~ Board, ^ng. ~ Under Arrest. - Captain Corbet defiant. - The ^«'«« OJicials frowned down. - Corbet triun.phant. . n III. Solon^on surpasses Mu,seV. - A i'eriod of Joy ,, ,,„„.„„, followed by a Time of Sorrow. - aioon.y Forebodings. - r,u Legend of Petticoat Jack. - Captain Corbet dis- courses of the JJaugers of the Beep, andputs in Practice "<"« and original Mode of Navigation. ... 44 . ,11*1 i.iwii|iwj«;i>i!!nn, 6 CONTENTS. IV. In Clouds and Darkness. — A terrible Warning. — Nearly run down. — A lively Place. — Bart encounters an old Acquaintance. — Launched into the Deep. — Through the Country. — The swift Tide. — The lost Boy. . . 58 V. A Cry of Horror. — What shall we do ? — Hard and fast. — Bart and Bruce. — Gloomy Intelligence. — The Prom- ontory. — The Bore of the Peiitcodiac. — A Night of Misery. — A mournful Waking. — Taking Counsel. . 73 VI. Tom adrift. — The receding Shores. — The Paddle. — The Roar of Surf. — The Fog Horn. — The Thunder of the unseen Breakers. — A Horror of great Darkness. — Adrift in Fog and Night 88 VII. Lost in the Fog. — The Shoal and its Rocks. — Is it a Reef? — The Truth. — Hoisting Sail. — A forlorn Hope. — Wild Steering. — Where am I ? — Land, ho ! . . . 101 VIII. Off in Search. — Eager Outlook. — Nothing but Fog, — Speaking a Schooner. — Pleasant Anecdotes. — Cheer up. — The Heart of Corbet. 115 CONTENTS. IX. Awake once more Where are we ? — The giant Cliff. — Out to Sea. — Anchoring and Drifting. — The Harbor. — The Search. — No Answer. — Where's Solomon * . 129 X. Torn ashore. — Storm at Night. — Up in the Morning. — The Cliffs and the Beach. — A startling Discovery. — A desert Island. — A desperate Effort. — Afloat again. . 144 XI. Afloat again. — The rushing Water. — Down to the Bot- tom. —Desperate Circumstances. —Can they he remedied ? — New Hopes and Plans. 258 XII. Waiting for high Water. — A Trial. — A new Discovery. — Total Failure. — Down again. — Overboard. — A Struggle for Life Uj XIII. Where's Solomon? — An anxious Search. — The Beach. — The cavernous Cliffs, — Up the Precipice. — Along the Shore. — Back for Boats 184 xiy. Back again. — Calls and Cries. — Captain Corbet's Yell. — A significant Sign. — The old llat. — The return Cry. — The Boat rounds the Point. ..... 197 ^^ 8 CONTENTS. XV. Exploring Juan Fernandez. — The Cliffs. — The tangled Underbrush. — The Fog Bank. — Is it coming or going ? — The Steamer. — Vain Appeals. — New Flans. . .211 XVI. A Sign for the outer World. — A Shelter for the Outcast's Head. — Tom's Camp and Camp-bed. — A Search after Something to vary a too monotonous Diet. — Brilliant Success. 224 XVII. Solomon's solemn Tale. — A costly Lobster. — Off again. — Steam Whistles of all Sizes. — A noisy Harbor. — Ar- rival Home. — No News 237 XVIII. Dow.v the Bay. — Drifting and Anchoring. — In the Dark, morally and physically. — Eastport, the jumping-off Place. — Grand Manan. — Wonderful Skill. — Navigat- ing in the Fog. — A Plunge from Darkness into Light, and from Light into Darkness. 250 XIX. Tom's Devijes. — Rising superior to Circumstances. — Roast Clams. — Baked Lobster. — Boiled' Mussels. — Boiled Shrimps. — Roast Eggs. — Dandelions. — Ditto, with Eggs. — Roast Dulse. — Strawberries. — Pilot- bread. — Strawberry Cordial. 264 CONTENTS. 9 XX. New Discoveries. - The Boat. ~ A great Swell. ~ Medita- tions and Plans. - A new, and wonderful, and before unheard-of Application of Spruce Gum. - Pm afloat ! I'm afloat ! . 277 XXI. ScotVs Bay and Old Bennie. - His two Theories. - Off to the desert Island. - Landing. _ A Picnic Ground. _ Gloom and Despair of the Explorers. - All over. - Sud- den Summons. 200 XXII. .istounding Discovery. - The whole Party of Explorers overwhelmed. - Meeting with the Lost - Captain Corbet improves the Occasion. ~ Conclusion 304 •■■■f '\-i L 1 f w LOST IN THE FOG. ■■'. ''si 1-3 ^ «i^. 3>«C I. Old Acquaintances gather around old Scenes. — An- telope, ahoy ! — Jfoiu are you, Solomon ? — Hound- ahout Plan of a round about Voyage. — IVie Doctor ivarns, rebukes, and remonstrates, but, alas ! in vain. — It must be done. — Beginning of a highly eventful Voyage, 5PT was a beautiful morning, in the month of J* '^^^b'j ^^''icn a crowd of boys assembled on tlio wharf of Grand Pre. Tlie tide was high, tlie turbid waters of Mud Creek flowed around, a fresh breeze blew, and if any craft was going to Hca she could not have found a better time. The crowd consisted chiefly of boys, though a few men were mingled with them. ' These boys were from Grand Pre School, and are all old acquaintances. There was the stalwart frame of Bruce, the Roman (11) 12 LOST IN THE B'OG. face of Arthur, tlie bright eyes of Bart, the slender frame of Pliil, and the earnest glance of Tom. There, too, was Pat's merry smile, and the stolid look of Bogud, and the meditative solenniity of Jiggins, not to speak of others whose names need not be mentioned. Amid the crowd the face of Ci4)taiii Corbet v/as conspicuous, and the dark vis- age of Solomon, while that of the mate was distin- guishable in the distance. To all these the good schooner Antelope formed the centre of attraction, and also of action. It was on board of her that the chief bustle took place, and towards her that all eves were turned. The good schooner Antelope had made several voyages during the past few months, and now pi'c- sented herself to the eye of the spectator not much changed from her former self. A fine fresh coat of coal tar had but recently ornaiuented her fair exterior, while a coat of whitewash inside the hold had done nuicli to <\y\\o away the odor of the fra- grant potato. Rigging and sails had been repaired as well as circumstances would permit, and in the opinion of her gallant captain she was eminently seawortliy. On the present occasion things bore the appear- ance of a voyage. Trunks were passed on board and put below, together with coats, cloaks, bedding, and baskets of provisions. Tiie deck was strewn about with the nudtifarious reipiisites of a ship's comjiany. The Antelope, at that time, seemed in t m. J \V ANTELOPE, ahoy! 13 the n cr WU ip's in part an emigrant vessel, with a dash of the yacht and tlie coasting schooner. In the midst of all this, two gentlemen worked their way through the crowd to the edge of the wliarf. " Well, boys," said one, '^ well, captain, what's the moaning of all this ? " Captain Corbet started at this, and looked np irom a desperate ellbrt to secure the end of one of the sails. " Why, Dr. Porter ! " said ho ; " why, doctor 1 — liow d'ye do ? — and Mr. Long, too ! — why, railly ! " The boys also stopped their work, and looked towards their teachers with a little uneasiness. "What's all this?" said Dr. Porter, looking around with a smile ; " are you getting up another expedition ? " " Wal, no," said Captain Corbet, " not 'xactly ; fact is, we're kine o' goin to take a vyge deoun the bay." '' Down the bay ? " " Yea. You see the boys kino o' want to go home by water, rayther than l)y land." " By water I Home by water ! " repeated Mr. Long, doubtfully. " Yes," said Captain Corbet ; " an bein as the schewner was in good repair, an corked, an coal- tarred, an whitewashed up fust rate, T kine o^ thought it would redound to our mootooil benefit "^T- 14 LOST IN THE FOG. if WG went off on sich a excursion, — bein pleas- antcr, cheaper, conifortabler, an every way prefer- able to a land tower." '' Hem," said Dr. Porter, looking uneasily about. '' T don't altogether like it. Boys, what does it all mean ? " Thus appealed to, Bart became spokesman for the boys. " Why, sir," said he, " wo tlionght we'd like to go home by water — that's all." " Go home by water ! " repeated the doctor once more, with a curious smile. " Yes, sir." " What? by the Bay of Fundy ? " " Yes, sir." "Who are going ? " '' Well, sir, there are only a few of ua. Bruce, and Arthur, and Tom, and Phil, and Pat, besides myself." " Bruce and Arthur ? " said the doctor ; " are they going homo by the Bay of Fundy ? " " Yes, sir," said Bart, with a smile. '' T don't see how they can got to the Gulf of St. Lawrence and Prince Edward's Island from the Bay of Fundy," said tlie doi^tor, '' witliout going round Nova Scotia, and that will be a journey of many hundred miles." " O, no, sir," said Bruce ; " we are going first to Moncton." "0, is that the idea?" A ROUNDABOUT VOYA(JE. Ifj ICS it " Yes, sir." " And where will you go from Monctoii ? " " To Shediac, a.nd then home." " And are you going to Newfoundland by that route, Tom ? " asked the doctor. " Yes, sir," said Tom, gravely. " From Shediac ? " " Yes, sir." " I never knew before that there were vessels going from Shediac to Newfoundland." '* 0, I'm going to Prince Edward's Island first, sir, with Bruce and Arthur," said Tom. " I'll find my way home from there." The doctor smiled. " I'm afraid you'll find it a long journey before you reach home. Won't your friends be anx- ious ? " " 0, no, sir. I wrote that I wanted to visit Bruce and Arthur, and they gave me leave." " And you, Phil, are you going home by the Antelope ? " " Yes, sir." " You are going exactly in a straight line away from it." "Am I, sir?" '^ Of course you are. This isn't the way to Cliester." " Well, sir, you see I'm going to visit Bart at St. John." " 0, 1 understand. And that is your plan, then ? " 16 LOST IN THE POG. ii OS, sir, V , ^.., said Bart. *' Pat is going too." " Where are you going first ? " " First, sir, we will sail to the Petitcodiac River, and go up io as far as Moncton, where Bruce, and Arthur, and Tom will leave us." " And then ? " " Then we will go to St. John, where Phil, and Pat, and I will leave her. Solomon, too, will leave her there." " Solomon ! " cried the doctor. " What ! Solo- mon ! Is Solomon going ? Why, what can I do without Solomon ? Here ! — Hallo ! — Solomon ! What in the world's the meaning of all this ? " Thus summoned, Solomon came forth from the cabin, into w^hich he had dived at the first appear- ance of the doctor. His eyes were downcast, his face was demure, his attitude and manner were a,bject. " Solomon," said the doctor, " what's this I hear? Are you going to St. John ? " " Ony temp'ly, sah — jist a leetle visit, sah," said Solomon, very humbly, stealing looks at the boys from his downcast eyes. " But what makes you go off this way without asking, or letting me know ? " " Did I, sah ? " said Solomon, rolling his eyes up as though horrified at his own wickedness ; " the sakes now ! Declar, T clean forgot it." " What are you going away for?" " Why, sail, fur de good ob my helf. Docta vises .K- HOW ARE YOU, SOLOMON? 17 said boys Lhout ;s up l«the visea sea vyge ; sides, 1 got Irens in St. John, an busi- ness dar, what muss be tended to." " Well, well," said the doctor, " I suppose if you want to go you'll find reasons enough ; but at the same time you ouglit to have let me knowii before." " Darsn't, sah," said Solomon. ^ '' Why not ? " " Fraid you'd not let me go," said Solomon, with a broad grin, that instantly was suppressed by a demure cough. " Nonsense," said the doctor ; and then turning awiiy, he spoke a few words apart with Mr. Long. '' Well, boys," said the doctor, at last, " this pro- ject of yours doesn't seem to me to be altogether safe, and I don't like to trust you in this way with- out anybody as a responsible guardian." Bart smiled. '' O, sir," said he, " you need not be at all uneasy. All of us are accustomed to take care of ourselves ; and besides, if you wanted a responsible guardian for us, what better one could bo found than Cap- tain Corbet ? " Tiie docte)r and Mr. Long both shook their heads. Kvidontly neither of them attached any great im- [lortance to Captain Corbet's guardianship. " Did you tell your father how you were going?" asked the doctor, after a few further words with Mr. Long. " 0, yes, sir ; and he told me I might go. What's niore, he promised to charter a schooner for me to 4 X. / •^J 18 V OST IN THE FOG. V qrp^He ,ii%iiit with Phil and Pat after I arrived "IranTe?'' " And we got permission, too/' said Bruce. " Indeed ! " said tlie doctor. " That clianges the appearance of things. I was ai'raid tliat it was a wliim of your own. And now, one thing more, — how are you off for provisions ? " '^ Wal, sir," said Captain Corbet, " Pvo made my calculations, an I think Pve got enough. What I might fail in, the boys and Solomon have made up." " ITow is it, Solomon ? " asked the doctor. Solomon grinned. " You sleep in the hold, I see," continued the doctor, " Yes, sir," said Bruce. " It's whitewashed, and quite sweet now. We'll only be on board two or three days at the farthest, and so it really doesn't much matter how we go." " Well, boys, I have no more to say ; only take care of yoursalves." With these words the doctor and Mr. Long bade them good by, and then walked away. The other boys, however, stood on the wharf, waiting to see the vessel off. They themselves were all going to start for home in a few minutes, and were only waiting for the departure of the Antelope. This could not now be long delayed. The tide was high. The wind fresh and fair. The luggage, and provisions, and stores were all on board. Cap- W' \ ^^ BEOTNNTXG OF THE VOYAGE. 19 larf, Ives ites, ithe tide ige, taiii Corbet was at the helm. All was ready. At length the word was given, the lines were cast off, and the Antelope moved slowly round, and left the wharf amid the cheers of the bovs. Farther and farther it moved away, then down the tortuous chiuniel of Mud Creek, until at last the broad ex- piinse of Minas Basin received them. For this voyage the prepai-ations had been com- plete. It had first been thought of several weeks before, and then the plan and the details had been slowly elaborated. Tt was thought to be an excel- lent idea, and one which was in every respect worthy of the " B. 0. W. C." Captain Corbet em- braced the proposal with enthusiasm. Letters home, requesting permission, received favorable answers. Solomon at first resisted, but finally, on being solemnly appealed to as Grand Panjandrum, ho found himself unable to withstand, and thus every- thing was gradually prei)ared. Other details were satisfactoril}" arranged, though not without much serious and earnest debate. The question of cos- tume received very careful attention, and it was decided to adopt and wear the weather-beaten uniforms that had done service amidst mud and water on a former occasion. Solomon's presence was folt to be a security against any menacing famine ; and that assurance was made d(uibly sure by the presence of a cooking stove, which Captain Corbet, mindful of former hardships, had thought- lully procured and set up in the hold. Finally, it ■""* 20 LOST IN THE FOG. was decided that tlie flag which liad formerly flaunted the breeze should again wave over them ; and so it was, that as the Antelope moved through Mud Creek, like a thing of life, the black flag of the " B. 0. W. C." floated on high, witli its blazonry of a skull, which now, worn by time, looked more than ever like the face of some mild, venerable, and ])aternal monitor. Some time was taken up in arranging the hold. Considerable confusion was manifest in that impor- tant locality. Tin pans were intermingled with bedding, provisions with wearing apparel, books with knives and forks, while amid the scene the cooking stove towered aloft prominent. To tell the truth, the scene was rather free and easy than elegant ; nor could an unprejudiced observer have called it altogether comfortable. In fact, to one who looked at it with a philosophic mind, an air of scpialor might possibly have been detected. Yet what of that? The philosophic mind just alluded to would have overlooked the squalor, and regarded rather the health, the buoyant animal spirits, and the determined habit of enjoyment, which all tlie ship's company evinced, without exception. The first thing which they did in the way of prepara- tion for the voyage was to doff the garments of civilized life, and to don the costume of the " B. 0. W. C." Those red shirts, decorated with a huge white cross on the back, had been washed and mended, and completely reconstructed, so that the 1 ARRANCJEMKNTS ON BOARD. it rents and patclies wliiclj were liero and tliorc visi- ble on their fair exteriors, served as mementos of former exploits, and ealled up associations of the past witliout at all deteriorating frcjm the striking ed'ect of the present. Glengary bonnets adorned their heads, and served to complete the costume. The labor of dressing was followed by a hurried arrangement of the trunks and bedding; after which tiiey all emerged from the hold, and ascend- ing to the deck, looked around ui)()n the scene. Above, the sky was blue and cloudless, and be- tween them and the blue sky floated the flag, from whose folds the face looked benignantly down. The tide was now on the ebb, and as the wind was fair, both wind and tide united to bear them rapidly onward. Before them was Blomidon, while all around was the circling sweep of the shores of Minas Bay. A better day for a start could not have been found, and everything promised a rapid and pleasant run. " I must say," remarked Captain Corbet, who had for some time been standing buried in his own meditations at the helm, — "I must say, boys, that I don't altogether regret bein once more on the briny deep. There was a time," he contiiuied, medita- tively, " when I kinc o' anticipated givin up this here occypation, an stayin to hum a nourishin of the infant. But man proposes, an woman disposes, as the sayin is, — an y^u see what Pm druv to. It's a great thing for a man to have a companion 90 LOST IN THE FOG. of sperrit, same as I have, that keeps a drivin an a drivin at him, and makes liim be up an doin. An now, I declar, if I ain't gittin to be a confiiiiied wanderer agin, same as I was in tlie days of my halcyon an sliinin youtli. Besides, 1 have a kine o' feelin as if I'd be a contincwin this here the rest of all my born days." " 1 hope you won't feel homesick," remarked Bart, sympathetically. " Homesick," repeated the captain. " Wal, you see thar's a good deal to be said about it. In my hum thar's a attraction, but thar's also a repulsion. The infant drors me hum, the wife of my buzzwm drives me away, an so thar it is, an I've got to knock under to the strongest power. An that's the identical individool thing that makes the aged Corbet a foogitive an a vagabond on the face of the mighty deep. Still I have my consolations." The captain paused for a few Inoments, and then resumed. " Yes," he continued, " I have my consolations. Surroundins like these here air a consolation. I like j'^our young faces, an gay an airy ways, boys. I like to see you enjoy life. So, go in. Pitch in. Go ahead. Sing. Shout. Go on like mad. Carry on like all possessed, an you'll find the aged Corbet smilin amid the din, an a flutterin of his venerable locks triumphant amid the ragin an riotin ele- ments." " It's a comfort to know that, at any rate," said I REFLECTIOiNS OF CAPTAIN COUBET. 23 Tom. '' We'll give yon enough of that before we leave, especially as we know it don't annoy you." '' I don't know how it is," said the captain, sol- emnly, " but I begin to feel a sort of somethin towards you youngsters that's very absorbin. It's a kine o' anxious fondness, witli a mixtoor of indul- g(uit tenderness. How ever I got to contract sech a feolin beats me. I s'pose it's boin deprived of my babby, an exiled from home, an so my vacant buzzom craves to be filled. I've got a dreadful talent for doin the pariential, an what's more, not only for doin the pariential, but for feelin of it. So you boys, ef ever you see me a doin of the pariential towards youns, please remember that when I act like an anxious an too indulgent parient towards youns, it's because I feel like one." For some hours the}^ traversed the waters, carried swiftly on by the united forces of the wind and tide. At last they found ^emselves close by Blomidon, and under his mighty shadow they sailed for some time. Then they doubled the cape, and there, be- fore them, lay a long channel — the Straits of Mi- nas, through which the waters pour at every ebb and flood. Their course now lay through this to the Bay of Fundy outside ; and as it was within two hours of the low tide, the current ran swiftly, hurrying them rapidly i)ast the land. Here the scene was grand and impressive in the extreme. On one side arose a lofty, precipitous cliff, which extended for miles, its sides scarred and tempest- '■!• 24 LOST IN THE FOG. torn, its crest fringed with trees, tuwering over- head many Imndreds of feet, black, and menacing, and formidable. At its base was a steep beach, disclosed by the retreating tide, which had been formed by the accumulated masses of rock that had fallen in past ages from the cliffs above. These now, from the margin of the water up to high-water mark, were covered with a vast growth of sea-weed, which luxuriated here, and ran parallel to the line of vegetation on the summit of the clilf. On the oth- er side of the strait the scene was different. Here the shores were more varied ; in one place, rising high on steep precipices, in others, thrusting forth black, rocky promontories into the deep channel ; in others again, retreating far back, and forming bays, round whose sloping shores appeared places fit for human habitation, and in whose still waters the storm-tossed bark might find a secure haven. As they drifted on, borne along by the impetu- ous tide, the shores on either side changed, and new vistas opened before them. At last they reached the termination of the strait, the outer portal of this long avenue, which here was marked by the mighty hand of Nature in conspicuous characters. For here was the termination of that long extent of precipitous cliff which forms the outline of Blomidon ; and this termination, abrupt, and stern, and black, shows, in a concentrated form, the pow- er of wind and wave. The cliff ends abrupt, bro- ken off short, and beyond this arise from the water I K'lf ■*•»>« PROGRESS OF THE VOYA(JE. or: several giant fVagUionts of rook, the first of vvliicii, shaped like an irregular pyramid, rivals the elifl* itself in height, and is siirroiuided by other rocky fragments, all of which form a colossal group, whoso aggregated effect never fails to overawe the mind of the spectator. Such is Cape Split, the terminus of Cape Blomidon, on the side of the Bay of Fundy. Over its shaggy summits now fluttered hundreds of sea-gulls; round its black base the waves foamed and thundered, while the swift tide poured be- tween the niterstices of the rugged rocks. " Behind that thar rock," said Captain Corbet, pointing to Cape Split, ^' is a place they call Scott's Bay. Perhaps some of you have heard tell of it." " I have a faint recollection of such a place," said Bart. " Scott's Bay, do you call it ? Yes, that must be the place that I've heard of; and is it behind this cape ? " " It's a bay that runs up thar," said the captain. " We'll see it soon arter we get further down. It's a fishin and ship-buildin place. They catch a dread- ful lot of shad thar sometimes." Swiftly the Antelope passed on, hurried on by the tide, and no longer feeling much of the wind ; swiftly she passed by the cliffs, and by the cape, and onward by the sloping shores, till at length the broad bosom of the Bay of Fundy extended before their eyes. Here the wind ceased altogether, the water was smooth and calm, but the tide still swept them along, and the shores on each side receded. • 3» 26 LOST IN THE FOG. until fit length they were fairly in the bay. Here, on one side, the co.ast of Nova Scotia spread away, until it faded from view in the distance, wliile on tlie otlicr side the coast of New Brunswick extend- ed. Between the schooner and this latter coast a long cape projected, while immediately in front arose a lofty island of rock, whose summit was crowned wnth trees. " What island is that? " asked Tom. '' That," said Captain Cor])et, " is Isle o' Holt." '^ I think I've heard it called He Haute," said Bart. *' All the same," said Captain Corbet, " ony I be- lieve it was named after the man that diskivered it lust, an his name was Holt." '' But it's a French name," said Tom ; " Ho Hauto means high island." " Wal, mebbe he was a Frenchman," said Cap- tain Corbet. '•' I won't argufy — I dare sa}^ he was. Tliere us^jd to be a heap o' Frenchmen about these parts, afore we got red of 'em." " It's a black, gloomy, dismal, and wretched-look- ing place," said Tom, after some minutes of silent survey. f li^ VIEW OF ILE HAUTE. 27 II. Flrfit Slijlit of a Place destined to be tictter known. — A Foij Mill. — Navigation icilhoid Wind. — Finh- i)i(j. — Boarding. — Under AiireM. — Ca2)tain Cor/jet dejiant. — The Revemce OJicials frowned down. — Corbet triuniphant. lii TIE Antelope had left the wharf at ahout seven in the morning. It was now one o'clock. For the last tv j or three hours there had been but little wind, and it was the tide which had carried her along. Drifting on in this way, they had come to within a mile of He Haute, and had an opportunity t)f inspecting the place which Tom had declared to be so gloomy. In truth, Tom's judgment was not undeserved. He Haute arose like a solid, unbroken rock out of the deep waters of the Bay of Fundy, its sides precipitous, and scarred by tempest, and shattered by frost. On its summit were trees, at its base lay masses of rock that had fallen. The low tide disclosed here, as at the base of Blomidon, a vast growth of blacjk Hoa-woed, which covered }dl that rocky shore. The upper end of the island, which was nearest them, uaES.i 28 LOST IN THE FOG. was lower, liowevcr, Jiiid went duwii slupiug to tlio shore, tunning- a place wliero a landing could easily be ellected. From this shore mud Hats extended into the water. " This end looks as though it had been cleared," said Bart. " 1 believe it was," said tlie captain. ^' Does anybody live here ? " '' No." " Did any one ever live here?" " Yes, once, some one tried it, I believe, but gave it up." " Does it belong to anybody, or is it public prop- erty ? " "• 0, I dare say it belongs to somebody, if you could only get him to claim it." *• I say, captain," said Bruce, '' how much longer are we going to drift? " " 0, not much longer. Tiie tide's about on the turn, and we'll liave a leetle change." '' What! will we drift l)ack again?" " 0, I sliouldn't wonder if we had a leetle wind afore long." " But if we don't, will we drift back again into the Basin of Minas ? " '^ 0, dear, no. Wo can anchor hereabouts some- wliar." " You won't anclior by this island, — will you?" " (), dear, no. We'll have a leetle driftin first." As thc! ca[)tain spoke, he looked earnestly out upon the water. '^■■f t I ■I SAILING ALONG SHORE. 29 lO y (i jj •' Thar slic comes," ho cried at last, pointing over the water. The boys looked, and saw the surface of the bay all rippled over. They knew the signs of wind, and waited for the result. Soon a faint pulT came up the hay, which filled the lan- guid sails, and another pulF came up more strongly, and yet another, until at lengtli a moderate breeze was blowing. The tide no longer dragged them on. It was on the turn; and as the vessel caught the wind, it yielded to the impetus, and moved througli the v/ater, heading am'oss the bay towai'ds the New IJrunswick shore, in such a line as to pass near to that cape which has already been spoken of. " If the wind holds out,'' said Ca])tain Corbet, " so as to carry ns past Cape d'Or, we can drift up with this tide." " Where's Cape d'Or?" " That there," said Captain Corbet, pointing to the long cape which stretched between them and the New Hrunswick shore. " An if it goes down, an wo can't get by the cape, we'll be able, at any rate, to drop anchor there, an hold on till the next tide." The returning tide, and the fresh l)reeze that blow now, bore them onward rapidly, and they soon npproached Cape d'Or. They saw that it t(>rminat(Ml in a rocky clift', with rocky edges jut- ting forth, and that all the country adjoining was wild and rugged. But the wiiK^ ving done this nuich for thoin, now Ix^gan to so. :.ired of favor- ing them, and once more f(3il dff. I i 30 LOST IN THE FOC. "I clon't like tliis," said Captain Corbet, looking j| around. | " What ? " ^ " All this here," said he, pointing to the shore. ,* f rt was about a mile away, and the schooner, l>()rne along now by the tide, was slowly drifting on to an unpleasant proximity to the rcx^ky shore. " I guess we've got to anchor," sai^l Captain Corbet; " there's no help for it," "To anchor?" said Bruce, in a tone of disap- pointment. " Yes, anchor ; we've got to do it," repeated the captain, in a decided tone. T'le boys saw that there was no help for it, for the vessel was every moment drawing in closer to the rocks ; and though it would not have been very dangerous for her to run ashore in that calm water, yet it would not have been pleasant. So tliey suppressed their dis- appointment, and in a few minutes the anchor was down, and the schocmer's progress was stopped. " Thar's one secret," said the captain, " of navi- gatin in these here waters, an that is, to use your anchor. My last anchor T used for nigh on thirty year, till it got cracked. 1 mayn't be much on land, but put mo anywhars on old Fundy, an I'm to hum. 1 know every current on these here wa- ters, an can foller my nose through the thickest fog that thoy ever ground out at old Manan." ■rt,j» "What's that?" asked P>art. ^' What did you siiy about grinding out fog? " t»- A POG MILL. 31 I " 0, notliin, ony tliar's an island down the bay, you know, called Grand Manan, an seafarin men say that they've got a fog mill down thar, whar they grind out all the fog for the Bay of Fundy. I can't say as ever I've seen that thar mill, but I've alius found the fog so mighty thick down thar that 1 think thar's a good deal in the story." " I suppose we'll lose this tide," said Phil. '' Yes, Pm afeard so," said the captain, looking around over the water. " This here wind ain't much, any way ; you never can reckon on winds in this bay. 1 don't care much about them. Pd a most just as soon go about the bay without sails as with them. What I brag on is the tides, an a jodgmatical use of the anchor." " You're not in earnest?" " Course I am." " Could you get to St. John from Grand Pr^ without sails?" " Course I could." " I don't see how you could manage to do it." " Do it? Easy enough," said the captain. '' You see Pd leave with the ebb tide, and get out into the bay. Then Pd anchor an wait till the next ebb, an so on. Bless your hearts, Pve often done it." '' But you couldn't get across the bay by drift- ing." "Course I could. Pd work my way by short drifts over as far as this, an thou Pd gradually move along till I kine o' canted over to the Now ^0 LOST IN THE FOO. Brunswick shore. It takes time to do it, course it docs ; but what 1 mean to say is this — it can be done." " Well, I wouldn't like to be on board while you were trying to do it." " Mebbc npt. I ain't invitin you to do it, either. All I was sayin is, it can be done. Sails air very good in their way, course they air, an who's ob- jectin to 'em ? I'm only sayin that in this hero bay thar's things that's more important than sails, by a hmg chalk — such as tides, an anchors in par- ticular. Give me them thar, an I don't care a hooter what wind thar is." Lying thus at anchor, under the hot sun, was soon found to be rather dull, and the boys sought In vain for some way of passing the time. Differ- ent amusements were invented for the occasion. The first amusement consisted in paper boats, with which they ran races, and the drift of these frail vessels over the water affbrded some excitement. 1'hon they made wooden boats with huge paper sails. In tliis last Bart showed a superiority to the others; for, by means of a piece of iron hoop, which he inserted as a keel, he produced a boat which was able to cany an immense press of sail, and in the faint and scarce perceptible breeze, easily distanced the others. This accomplishment Bart owed to his training in a seaport town. At length one of them proposed that they should try to catch fish. Captain Corbet, in answer to I tS-r i FISHING. 33 "I ' ' their eager inquiries, informed them that there were fish everywhere about the bay ; on learning which they became eager to try their skill. Some herring w^ere on board, forming part of the stores, and these were taken for bait. Among the miscel- laneous contents of the cabin a few hooks were found, which were somewhat rusty, it Is true, yet still good enough for the purpose before them. Lines, of course, were easily procured, and soon a half dozen baited hooks were down in the water, while a half dozen boys, eager with suspense, watched the surface of the water. For a half hour they held their lines suspended without any result ; but at the end of that time, a cry from Phil roused them, and on looking round they saw him clinging with all his might to his line, which was tugged at tightly by something in the water. Bruce ran to help him, and soon their united efforts succeeded in landing on the deck of the vessel a codfish of very respectable size. The sight of this was g''eeted with cheers by the others, and served to stimulate them to their work. After this others were caught, and before half an hour more some twenty codfish, of various sizes, lay about the deck, as trophies of their piscatory skill. They were now more excited than ever, and all had their hooks in the water, and were waiting eagerly for a bite, when an exolamrttion from Cap- tain Corbet roused them. On turning their heads, and looking in the direc- :-v 34 LOST IN THE FOG. tion where he was pointing, they saw a steamboat approaching them. It was coming from the iiead of tiie bay on tlio No\v Brunswick side, and had iiitherto been concealed by the projecting cape. '' Whiit's tliat? '' said Bart. " Is it the St. J(yhn steamer ? '' " No, .siV," said tlie captain. Slic's a man-o'-war steamer — the revcnoo cutter, I do believe." '' flow d(^ you know?" " Why, by her shape." " She seems to be coming this way." " Yes, bound to Minas Bay, I s'pose. Wal, wal, wal! strange too, — how singoolarly calm an onti3n-ified I feel in'ardly. Why, boys, I've seen the time when the sight of a approachin revenoo ves- sel would make me shiver an shake from stem to starn. I>ut now how changed ! Such, my friends, is the mootability of human life!" The boys looked at the steamer for a few mo- ments, but at length went back to their fishing. The ap[)roaching steamer had nothing in it to ex- cite curiosity : such an object was too familiar to withdraw their tliouii'hts from tiie excitement of their lines and hooks, and the hope which each had of sur})assing the other in the number of catch- es animated tluMu to new trials. So they soon for- got all about the iip[)roaching steamer. But Captain Corbet liad nothing else to do, and so, whether it was on account of his lack of employ- ment, or because of the sake of old associations, 'it 'I HBffi .|i»w*TO«n»p5i^ww A (3UN FTRED. 35 i •t^- -> lie kept his eyes fixed on- the steamer. Time passed on, and in the space of anotlior lialf hour slie liad drawn very near to the Antelope. Suddenly Captain Corbet slapped his hand n.gainst his thigh. " Declar, if they ain't a goin to overhaul us ! " he cried. At this the boys all turned again to look at the steamer. " Declar, if that fellow in the gold hat ain't a squintin at us through his spy-glass ! " cried the captain. As the boys looked, they saw that the Antelope had become an object of singular attcuition and in- terest to those on board of the steamer. ^len were on the forecastle, others on the main deck, the ollicers were on the (piarter-deck, and all were earnestly scrutinizing the Antelope. One of them was looking at her through his glass. The Ante- lope, as she lay at anchor, was now turned with her stern towards the steamer, and her sails flap- ping idly against the masts. In a few moments the paddles of the steamer stopped, iind at the same instant a gun was fired. " Highly honored, kind sir," siiid Captain Corbet, with a grin. " What's the matter ? " asked Bart. " Matter ? Why that thar steamer feels kino o' in- terested in us, an that thar gun means, Heave to,''^ "Are you going to heave to? " 3G LOST IN THE FOG. " Niiry heave." "Why not?" " Can't come it no how ; cos why, I'm hove to, with tlio ancliur liard and fast ony tlioy can't see tliat we're ancliorcd." Suddenly a cry came over the water from a man on the quarter-deck. " Sliip aho-o-o-o-o-oy I " '^ Ilel-lo-o-o-o-o ! " Sucli was tlie informal reply of Captain Corbet. " Ifoave to-o-o-o, till I send a boat aboard." " ]Ioo-r-a-a-a-a-ay ! " Such was again Captain Corbet's cheerful and informal answer. " Wal ! wal ! wal ! " he exclaimed, '' it does beat my grandmother — they're goin to send a boat aboard." ''What for?" Capt;un Corbet grinned, and shook his head, and cIiucUI'mI very vehemently, but said nothing. He appeared to be excessively amused with his own thoughts. The boys looked at the steamer, and then at Captain Corbet, in some wonder ; but as he said nothing, they Avcre silent, and waited to see Avhat was going to happen. Meanwhile Solomon, roused from some mysterious culinary duties by the report of the gun, had scrambled ujion the deck, and stood with the others looking out over the water at the steamer. ' "^1 In a few moments the steamer's boat was launclied, • *"•' ■''^' BOARDING. 3f aiul a luilf dozen sailors got in, followed by an officer. Then they put oil', and rowed with vigorous strokes towards the schooner. Captain Corbet watched the boat for some time in silence. '' Cur'ouser an cur'ouser," ho said, at length. " I've knowed the time, boys, when sech an inci- dent as this, on the briny deep, would have fairly keeled nie over, an made me moot, an riz every har o' my head ; but look at me now. Do I trem- ble? do 1 shake? Here, feel my pulse." Phil, who stood nearest, put his finger on the outstretched wrist of the captain. "Does it beat?" - No," said Phil. " Course it beats ; but then it ony beats nateral. You ain't feeliii the right spot — the humane pulse not bein sitooated on the hack of the hand," he added mildly, '' but here ; " and he removed Phil's inexperienced finger to the place where the pulse lies. " Thar, now," he added, " as that pulse beats now, even so it beat a half hour ago, before that thar steamer hev in sight. Why, boys, I've knowed the time when this humane pulse bet like all pos- sessed. You see, I've lived a life of adventoor, in spite of my meek and quiet natoor, an hev dabbled at odd times in the smugglin business. But they don't catch me this time — I've retired from that thar, an the Antelope lets the revenoo rest in peace." 1 i 38 LOST IN THE FOG. Tlie bout drew nearer and nearer, and tlie ol- ficer at the stern looked senitinizingly at the An- tehjpe. There was an air oi" perplexity about his face, which was very visible to those on board, and the perplexity deepened and intensified as his eyes rested on the flag of the '' B. O. W. C." h " Leave him to me," said Captain Corbet. " Leave that thar young man to me. I enjy h.ivin to do witli a revenoo officer jest now; so don't go an put in your oars, but jest leave him to me." '' All right, captain ; we won't say a word," said Bruce. " We'll go on with our fishing quietly. Come, boys — look sharp, and down with your lines." The interest which they had felt in these new proceedings had caused the boys to pull up their hooks ; but now, at Bruce's word, they put them in the water once more, and resumed their fishing, only casting sidelong glances at the approaching boat. In a few minutes the boai: was alongside, and the officer leaped on board. He looked all around, at the fish lying about the deck, at the boys en- gaged in fishing, at Captain Corbet, at Solomon, at the mysterious flag aloft, and finally at the boys. These all took no notice of him, but appeared to be intent on their task. "What schooner is this? " he asked, abruptly. "The schooner Antelope, Corbet master," replied the captain. \w * Uli <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. '/' I JEE AND SHEPARD'S O Star Juveniles MKmUks. J.i:I'. and SiiKrAup :uinounce tlio f()llo\viii<]; now lino of IJino.Iuvoniles, oonsl^tin^' of books by Ki:i,i,()<;<;, Kin<ist<)n, 1$ai,i,an tvnk, IlKADi.KV, and others, I'rinted on a fino qualit)' of paper, fully illustrated, and uound ii. the best English cloth, at !?1.0<) per volume. By ELIJAH KELLOGG. Lion Ben of Elm Island. Charlie Bell ; The Waif of Elm Island. The Ark of Elm Island. The Boy Farmers of Elm Island. Tiie Young Shipbuilders of Elm Island. The Hardscrabble of Elm Island. Sowed by the Wind ; or, The Poor Boy's Fortune. Wolf Run ; or. The Boys of the Wilderness. Brought to the Front; or, The Young Defenders. The Mission of Black Rifle ; or, On the Trail. Forest Glen ; or, Tho Mohawk's Friendship. Burying the Hatchet; or, The Young Brave of the Delawares. A Strong Arm and a Mother's Blessing. The Uns'ien Hand ; or, Jarae.s Renfow and his Boy Helpers. The Liv^ Oak Boys ; or, The Adventures of Richard Oonstable Af*08.t and Ashore. Arthur Brown, the Young Captain. The '/oung Deliverers of Pleasant Cove. ,. . The Cruise of the Casco. The Child of the Island Glen. John Godsoe's Legacy. The Fisher Boys of Pleasant Cove. A Stout Heart ; or, The Student from Over the Sea. A Spark of Genius ; or. The College Life of James Trafton. The Sophomores of Radcliffe ; or, James Trafton and his Bos- ton Friends. The Whispering Pino ; or. The Graduates of Radcliflfe. The Turning of the Tide ; or, Radcliffe Rich and his Patients. Winning his Spurs ; or, Henry Morton's First Trial. By P. C. HEADLEY. Fight it out on this Line ; The Life and Deeds of Gen. U. S. Grant. Facing the Enemy ; The Life of Gen. William Tecvimseh Sher- man. Fighting Phil ; The Life of Lieut. Gen. Philip Henry Sheridan. Old Salamander; Tho I^ife of Admiral David GlascoeFarragut. The Miner Boy and his Monitor; The Career of John Ericsson, engineer. Old Stars : The Life of Major-Gen- Ormsby McKnigbt Mltcbel. .By GEORGE MAKEFKACE TOWLE. Heroes and Martyrs of Inverilion. Vasco da Gama ; His Voyages and Adventures. Pizarro ; His Adventures and Conquests. Magellan ; or, The First Voyage Round the World. Marco Polo; His Travels and Adventur0s; Raleigh; His Voyages and Adventures. Drake ; The Sea King of Devon. By CAPT. CHARLES W. HALL. Adrift in the Ice Fields. By DR. ISAAC I. HAYES. Cast Away in the Cold; An Old Man's Story of a Younf^ via; Adventures. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. The Adventures of Dicli Onslow among the Redsk Ernest Bracebridge ; or. School Boy Days. By JAMES D. McCA^^" J^ Planting the Wilderness ; or, The Pic ^er By DR. C. H. PE*i.RS The Cabin on the Prairie. The Young Pioneers of the Northw. By jamej: JE MILI Tke Lily and the Cross ; A Tale of Acadi By P. G. ARMS'^ The Young Middy: or, The Peril- OCacer. .-.dentuioa o By R. M. BALLANTYNE. The Life Boat ; A Tale of Our Coast Heroes. Sent by mail, postpaid, o7i receipt of Lee and Shepard, Publishers, Bo3TON „ ;l : >,.