Books: Lost in the Fog
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James De Mille >> Lost in the Fog
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16 Edited by Charles Aldarondo Aldarondo@yahoo.com
LOST IN THE FOG
by
JAMES DE MILLE
1870
I.
Old Acquaintances gather around old Scenes.--Antelope, ahoy!--How
are you, Solomon?--Round-about Plan of a round about Voyage.--The
Doctor warns, rebukes, and remonstrates, but, alas! in vain.--It
must be done.--Beginning of a highly eventful Voyage.
It was a beautiful morning, in the month of July, when a crowd of
boys assembled on the wharf of Grand Pre. The tide was high, the
turbid waters of Mud Creek flowed around, a fresh breeze blew, and
if any craft was going to sea 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 face of Arthur, the bright eyes of Bart, the slender frame of
Phil, and the earnest glance of Tom. There, too, was Pat's merry
smile, and the stolid look of Bogud, and the meditative solemnity
of Jiggins, not to speak of others whose names need not be
mentioned. Amid the crowd the face of Captain Corbet was
conspicuous, and the dark visage of Solomon, while that of the
mate was distinguishable 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 eyes were turned.
The good schooner Antelope had made several voyages during the past
few months, and now presented herself to the eye of the spectator
not much changed from her former self. A fine fresh coat of coal
tar had but recently ornamented her fair exterior, while a coat of
whitewash inside the hold had done much to drive away the odor of
the fragrant potato. Rigging and sails had been repaired as well
as circumstances would permit, and in the opinion of her gallant
captain she was eminently seaworthy.
On the present occasion things bore the appearance of a voyage.
Trunks were passed on board and put below, together with coats,
cloaks, bedding, and baskets of provisions. The deck was strewn
about with the multifarious requisites of a ship's company. The
Antelope, at that time, seemed in part an emigrant vessel, with a
dash of the yacht and the coasting schooner.
In the midst of all this, two gentlemen worked their way through
the crowd to the edge of the wharf.
"Well, boys," said one, "well, captain, what's the meaning of all
this?"
Captain Corbet started at this, and looked up from a desperate
effort to secure the end of one of the sails.
"Why, Dr. Porter!" said he; "why, doctor!--how 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?"
"Yes. You see the boys kine o' want to go home by water, rayther
than by land."
"By water! 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, I
kine o' thought it would redound to our mootooil benefit if we went
off on sich a excursion,--bein pleasanter, cheaper, comfortabler,
an every way preferable to a land tower."
"Hem," said Dr. Porter, looking uneasily about. "I don't altogether
like it. Boys, what does it all mean?"
Thus appealed to, Bart became spokesman for the boys.
"Why, sir," said he, "we thought 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 us. Bruce, and Arthur, and
Tom, and Phil, and Pat, besides myself."
"Bruce and Arthur?" said the doctor; "are they going home by the
Bay of Fundy?"
"Yes, sir," said Bart, with a smile.
"I don't see how they can get to the Gulf of St. Lawrence and
Prince Edward's Island from the Bay of Fundy," said the doctor,
"without 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."
"O, is that the idea?"
"Yes, sir."
"And where will you go from Moncton?"
"To Shediac, and 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."
"O, 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 anxious?"
"O, 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 Chester."
"Well, sir, you see I'm going to visit Bart at St. John."
"O, I understand. And that is your plan, then?"
"Yes, sir," said Bart. "Pat is going too."
"Where are you going first?"
"First, sir, we will sail to the Petitcodiac River, and go up it 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! Solomon! 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 which he had
dived at the first appearance of the doctor. His eyes were
downcast, his face was demure, his attitude and manner were abject.
"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, I clean forgot it."
"What are you going away for?"
"Why, sah, for de good oh my helf. Docta vises sea vyge; sides, I
got frens in St. John, an business 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 ought to have let me
known 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 away, he spoke a few
words apart with Mr. Long.
"Well, boys," said the doctor, at last, "this project of yours
doesn't seem to me to be altogether safe, and I don't like to trust
you in this way without 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 be found than
Captain Corbet?"
The doctor and Mr. Long both shook their heads. Evidently neither
of them attached any great importance 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.
"O, yes, sir; and he told me I might go. What's more, he promised
to charter a schooner for me to cruise about with Phil and Pat
after I arrived home."
"And we got permission, too," said Bruce.
"Indeed!" said the doctor. "That changes the appearance of things.
I was afraid that it was a whim of your own. And now, one thing
more,--how are you off for provisions?"
"Wal, sir," said Captain Corbet, "I've made my calculations, an I
think I've got enough. What I might fail in, the boys and Solomon
have made up."
"How 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 yourselves."
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. Captain 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 boys. Farther and farther it moved away, then down the
tortuous channel of Mud Creek, until at last the broad expanse of
Minas Basin received them.
For this voyage the preparations had been complete. It had first
been thought of several weeks before, and then the plan and the
details had been slowly elaborated. It was thought to be an
excellent idea, and one which was in every respect worthy of the
"B. O. W. C." Captain Corbet embraced 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, he found himself unable to withstand, and
thus everything was gradually prepared. Other details were
satisfactorily arranged, though not without much serious and earnest
debate. The question of costume 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 felt to be a security against any menacing
famine; and that assurance was made doubly sure by the presence of a
cooking stove, which Captain Corbet, mindful of former hardships,
had thoughtfully procured and set up in the hold. Finally, it was
decided that the flag which had 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. O. W. C." floated on high, with its blazonry of a skull, which
now, worn by time, looked more than ever like the face of some mild,
venerable, and paternal monitor.
Some time was taken up in arranging the hold. Considerable
confusion was manifest in that important 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 squalor 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 the ship's company evinced, without exception. The first
thing which they did in the way of preparation for the voyage was
to doff the garments of civilized life, and to don the costume of
the "B. O. 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 rents and patches which were here and
there visible on their fair exteriors, served as mementos of former
exploits, and called up associations of the past without at all
deteriorating from the striking effect 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 they all emerged from the hold and
ascending to the deck, looked around upon the scene. Above, the
sky was blue and cloudless, and between 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 continued, meditatively, "when I kine
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 you see what I'm druv to. It's a great thing for
a man to have a companion of sperrit, same as I have, that keeps a'
drivin an a drivin at him, and makes him be up an doin. An now, I
declar, if I ain't gittin to be a confirmed wanderer agin, same as
I was in the days of my halcyon an shinin youth. Besides, I have a
kine o' feelin as if I'd be a continewin this here the rest of all
my born days."
"I 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 buzzum
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 moments, and then resumed.
"Yes," he continued, "I have my consolations. Surroundins like
these here air a consolation. I like your 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 elements."
"It's a comfort to know that, at any rate," said Tom. "We'll give
you 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, solemnly, "but I begin
to feel a sort of somethin towards you youngsters that's very
absorbin. It's a kine o' anxious fondness, with a mixtoor of
indulgent tenderness. How ever I got to contract sech a feelin
beats me. I s'pose it's bein 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 they traversed the waters, carried swiftly on by the
united forces of the wind and tide. At last they found themselves
close by Blomidon, and under his mighty shadow they sailed for some
time. Then they doubled the cape, and there, before them, lay a
long channel--the Straits of Minas, 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 past 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-torn, its crest fringed with trees,
towering overhead many hundreds 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 cliff.
On the other 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 impetuous 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 power of wind and wave. The
cliff ends abrupt, broken off short, and beyond this arise from the
water several giant fragments of rock, the first of which, shaped
like an irregular pyramid, rivals the cliff itself in height, and
is surrounded by other rocky fragments, all of which form a
colossal group, whose 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 between the
interstices 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 dreadful 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, until at length they were fairly in the bay. Here, on one
side, the coast of Nova Scotia spread away, until it faded from
view in the distance, while on the other side the coast of New
Brunswick extended. 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 with trees.
"What island is that?" asked Tom.
"That," said Captain Corbet, "is Isle o' Holt."
"I think I've heard it called Ile Haute," said Bart.
"All the same," said Captain Corbet, "ony I believe it was named
after the man that diskivered it fust, an his name was Holt."
"But it's a French name," said Tom; "Ile Haute means high island."
"Wal, mebbe he was a Frenchman," said Captain Corbet. "I won't
argufy--I dare say he was. There used to be a heap o' Frenchmen
about these parts, afore we got red of 'em."
"It's a black, gloomy, dismal, and wretched-looking place," said
Tom, after some minutes of silent survey.
II.
First Sight of a Place destined to be better known.--A Fog Mill.--
Navigation without Wind.--Fishing.--Boarding.--Under Arrest.--
Captain Corbet defiant.--The Revenue Officials frowned down.--
Corbet triumphant.
The Antelope had left the wharf at about seven in the morning. It
was now one o'clock. For the last two 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
Ile Haute, and had an opportunity of inspecting the place which Tom
had declared to be so gloomy. In truth, Tom's judgment was not
undeserved. Ile 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 black
sea-weed, which covered all that rocky shore. The upper end of the
island, which was nearest them, was lower, however, and went down
sloping to the shore, forming a place where a landing could easily
be effected. From this shore mud flats extended into the water.
"This end looks as though it had been cleared," said Bart.
"I believe it was," said the 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 property?"
"O, 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?"
"O, not much longer. The tide's about on the turn, and we'll have
a leetle change."
"What! will we drift back again?"
"O, I shouldn'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?"
"O, dear, no. We can anchor hereabouts somewhar."
"You won't anchor by this island,--will you?"
"O, dear, no. We'll have a leetle driftin first." As the captain
spoke, he looked earnestly out upon the water.
"Thar she comes," he 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
puff came up the bay, which filled the languid sails, and another
puff came up more strongly, and yet another, until at length 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 through the water, heading across the bay
towards the New Brunswick shore, in such a line as to pass near to
that cape which has already been spoken of.
"If the wind holds out," said Captain Corbet, "so as to carry us
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 Brunswick shore. "An if it goes
down, an we 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 breeze that blew now, bore them
onward rapidly, and they soon approached Cape d'Or. They saw that
it terminated in a rocky cliff, with rocky edges jutting forth, and
that all the country adjoining was wild and rugged. But the wind,
having done this much for them, now began to seem tired of favoring
them, and once more fell off.
"I don't like this," said Captain Corbet, looking around.
"What?"
"All this here," said he, pointing to the shore.
It was about a mile away, and the schooner, borne along now by the
tide, was slowly drifting on to an unpleasant proximity to the
rocky shore.
"I guess we've got to anchor," said Captain Corbet; "there's no
help for it."
"To anchor?" said Bruce, in a tone of disappointment.
"Yes, anchor; we've got to do it," repeated the captain, in a
decided tone. The 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 they
suppressed their disappointment, and in a few minutes the anchor
was down, and the schooner's progress was stopped.
"Thar's one secret," said the captain, "of navigatin in these here
waters, an that is, to use your anchor. My last anchor I used for
nigh on thirty year, till it got cracked. I mayn't be much on
land, but put me anywhars on old Fundy, an I'm to hum. I know
every current on these here waters, an can foller my nose through
the thickest fog that they ever ground out at old Manan."
"What's that?" asked Bart. "What did you say about grinding out
fog?"
"O, nothin, ony thar'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 allus found
the fog so mighty thick down thar that I think thar's a good deal
in the story."
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