By the time that he had finished these preparations and deliberations the boat was afloat. Eagerly Tom pushed it away from the shoal; eagerly, and with trembling hands, he let the sail unfold, and thrust the board into the water astern. The boat followed the impulse of the wind, and the young sailor saw with delight that his experiment was successful, and before long the dark rocks of Quaco Ledge were lost to view.

Now, where there is a definite object to steer by, or a compa.s.s to guide one, and a decent rudder, even an inexperienced hand can manage to come somewhere near the point that he aims at. But take a boat like Tom's, and a rude and suddenly extemporized sail, with no other rudder than a bit of board, with no compa.s.s, and a surrounding of thick fog, and it would puzzle even an experienced sailor to guide himself aright.

Tom soon suspected that his course was rather a wild one; his board in particular became quite unmanageable, and he was fatigued with trying to hold it in the water. So he threw it aside, and boldly trusted to his sail alone.

The boat seemed to him to be making very respectable progress. The wind was fresh, and the sea only moderate. The little waves beat over the bows, and there was quite a commotion astern. Tom thought he was doing very well, and heading as near as possible towards the Pet.i.tcodiac. Besides, in his excitement at being thus saved from mere blind drifting, he did not much care where he went, for he felt a.s.sured that he was now on the way out of his difficulties.

In an hour or two after leaving the ledge it grew quite dark, and Tom saw that it would be necessary to prepare for the night. His preparations were simple, consisting in eating a half dozen biscuit.

He now began to feel a little thirsty, but manfully struggled against this feeling. Gradually the darkness grew deeper, until at last it a.s.sumed 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 cease. Hours pa.s.sed 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 indifferent, being satisfied fully with his progress. As long as the wind distended his sail, and bore the boat onward, he cared not whether the tide favored or opposed.

Hours pa.s.sed, 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 pa.s.sed on, and the wind never ceased to fill the sail, and the boat never ceased to go onward in a course of which Tom could have no idea. It was a course totally different from the one which be intended--a course which depended on the chance of the wind; and one, too, which was varied by the sweep of the tide as it rose or fell; but the course, such as it was, continued on, and Tom watched and waited until, at last, from sheer exhaustion, he fell sound asleep.

His dreams were much disturbed, but he slept on soundly, and when he awaked it was broad day. He looked around in deep disappointment. Fog was everywhere, as before, and nothing could be seen. Whether he was near any sh.o.r.e or not he 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 the theory that the boat had turned, and not that the wind had changed. The latter idea seemed impossible. The wind was the chill, damp fog wind--the sou-wester. Convinced of this, Tom turned the boat, and felt satisfied that he had resumed his true course.

After a time the wind went down, and the sail flapped idly against the mast. Tom was in a fever of impatience, but could do nothing. He felt himself to be once more at the mercy of the tides. The wind had failed him, and nothing was left but to drift. All that day he drifted, and night came 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 midnight the wind sprung up a little; and now Tom determined to keep awake, so that the boat might not again double on her track. He blamed himself for sleeping 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 sh.o.r.e, no matter where, and his fear of again losing what he had gained, kept sleep from his eyes. All that night he watched his boat.

The wind blew fitfully, sometimes carrying the boat on rapidly, again dying down.

So the next morning came.

It was Thursday.

It was Monday night when he 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 pa.s.sed on; the wind had sprang 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, towering far overhead, towards which the boat was sailing. At its base the waves were dashing. Over its brow trees were bending. In the air far above he heard the hoa.r.s.e cries of sea-gulls.

In his madness he let the boat drive straight on, and was close to it before he thought of his danger. He could not avoid it now, however, for he did not know how to turn the boat. On it went, and in a few moments struck the beach at the base of the cliff.

The tide was high; the breeze was moderate, and there was but little sun. The boat was not injured by running ash.o.r.e there. Tom jumped out, and, taking the rope in his hands, walked along the rough and stony beach for about a hundred yards, pulling the boat after him.

There the cliff was succeeded by a steep slope, beyond which was a gentle, gra.s.s-grown declivity. Towards this he bent his now feeble steps, still tugging at the boat, and drawing it after him.

At length he reached the gra.s.sy slope, and found here a rough beach.

He fastened the boat securely to the trunk of a tree that grew near.

Then he lifted out the box of biscuit, and over this he threw the sail.

He stood for a few moments on the bank, and looked all around for signs of some human habitation; but no signs appeared. Tom was too exhausted to go in search of one. He had not slept for more than thirty hours.

The country that he saw was cleared. Hills were at a little distance, but the fog which hung all around concealed everything from view. One look was enough.

Overwhelmed with grat.i.tude, he fell upon his knees, and offered up a fervent prayer of thankfulness for his astonishing escape.

Then fatigue overpowered him, and, rolling himself up in the sail, he went to sleep.

VIII.

Off in Search.--Eager Outlook.--Nothing but Fog.--Speaking a Schooner.--Pleasant Anecdotes.--Cheer up.--The Heart of Corbet.

After the arrival of Bruce and Bart, Captain Corbet did not delay his departure much longer. The vessel was already afloat, and though the tide was still rising, yet the wind was sufficiently favorable to enable her to go on her way. The sails were soon set, and, with the new boat in tow, the Antelope weighed anchor, and took her departure.

For about two hours but little progress was made against the strong opposing current; yet they had the satisfaction of 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 respectable progress.

During this time they had all kept an anxious lookout, but without any result. No floating craft of any kind appeared upon the surface of the water. Coming down the river, the sky was unclouded, and all the surrounding 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."

"What'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 gloom over the minds of all, for they 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 nothing else was to be done, and they tried to hope for the 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 knowed 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, as they enveloped them, struck additional chill to their hearts. It was into the midst of this that poor Tom had drifted, they thought, and over these seas, amidst this impenetrable atmosphere, he might even now be drifting. In the midst of the deep dejection consequent upon such thoughts, it was difficult for them to find any solid 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 sh.o.r.es; but as time pa.s.sed, the bay widened, and Captain Corbet kept away from the land as much as possible. All the time the boys never ceased to maintain 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 drifting 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 go on. Why, look at me. You mind the time when that boat, that thar i-dentical, individdle boat, drifted away onst afore, with youns in it. You remember all about that,--course. Well, look at me. Did I mourn? Did I fret? Was I cast down? Nary down; not me. I cheered up. I 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 enjyin of yourselves like all possessed, along with old O'Rafferty.

"Again, my friends," he continued, as the boys made no remark, "consider this life air short an full of vycissitoods. Ups an downs air the lot of pore fallen hoomanity. But if at the fust blast of misforten 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 whar 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 borne 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 sperrits 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 Corbet, and the effort seemed quite an exhaustive one. He paused some time for a reply; but as no reply was forthcoming, he continued his remarks.

"Now, see here," said he; "this here whole business reminds me of a story I once read in a noospaper, about a man up in this here identical river, the Petticoat Jack, who, like a fool, pulled up his boat on the bank, and wont off to sleep in her. Wal, as a matter of course, he floated off,--for the tide happened to be risin,--an when he woke up out of his cool an refreshin slumbers, he found himself afar on the briny deep, a boundin like 'a thing of life,' o'er the deep heavin sea.

Besides, it was precious 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 driftin in that thar fashion, in that thar fog; an he drifted, an drifted, an derifted, 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, he drifted, an d-e-e-e-rifted,--until at last he druv ash.o.r.e.

An now, whar d'ye think he druv?"

The boys couldn't think.