Books: Lost in the Fog

J >> James De Mille >> Lost in the Fog

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Nothing occurred during the day to disturb the quiet of the island,
and Tom went to bed early that night, so as to have a long sleep,
and fortify himself for the labors of the morrow. The ashes were
raked carefully round the coals, which, when Tom waked in the
morning, were easily kindled again.

He was up early on that Monday morning. He saw, with deep
disappointment, that the fog still covered every thing, and that
the wind was blowing quite brisk from the south-west, and raising
rather a heavy sea. But he had a great deal to do now, and to this
he turned his attention.

First of all, he had to finish his signal-staff and set it up. He
was very much troubled about the proper material for a flag. The
canvas was rather too heavy; but as he had nothing else, he had to
take this. He fastened a bit of the rope to the head of the staff,
so as to form a loop, and through this he ran a piece which was
long enough to serve for halyards. Thus far he had not used up
more than a quarter of the coil of rope; but he needed all that was
left for other purposes. The next thing was to set up his staff.
To do this required much labor. He had already selected the place
which seemed most suitable. It was at the extreme point of a
tongue of land which projected beside the brook, and only a little
distance from his resting-place. Here the ground was soft; and
choosing a sharp stone, he worked diligently for about a couple of
hours, until at length he succeeded in digging a hole which was
about eighteen inches in depth. Then he fastened ropes to the
staff, where the pole joined it, so that four lines came down far
enough to serve as stays. Having done this, he inserted the end of
the staff in the hole, and thrust in the earth all around it,
trampling it in, and beating it down as tight as he could with a
stone. After this he procured some sticks from the drift-wood,
and, sharpening the ends, he secured the stays by fastening them to
these sticks, which 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 difficulty, securing
it at half mast, so that it might serve unmistakably as a signal of
distress.

Upon completing this, Tom rested on the mound, and from that
distance he contemplated the signal with a great deal of calm and
quiet satisfaction. It was his own device, and his own handiwork,
and he was very proud of it. But he did not allow himself a long
rest. There yet remained much to be done, and to this he now
directed his attention.

He had been thinking, during his last employment, upon the
necessity which he had of some shelter. A plan had suggested
itself which he felt confident that he could carry into execution
without any very great trouble. The fog that now prevailed, and
which was far different 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 the fog would be bad enough;
but if it should happen to rain also, his situation would be
miserable indeed.

He now set out for the beach, and found, without much difficulty,
some pieces of wood which were necessary to his purpose. Bringing
these back, he next looked about for 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 flat, and covered with short grass. On the left
it sloped to the 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 likely to flood it. With all
these it also possessed the advantage of being sufficiently
conspicuous to any passing vessel which might be attracted by the
signal-staff. Here, then, Tom determined to erect his place of
residence.

His first work was to select two long and slender pieces of wood,
and sharpen the ends of them. Then he drove each of them into the
ground in such a way that their tops crossed one another. These he
bound fast together. Two other stakes were driven into the ground,
and secured in the same way, about six or seven feet off. Another
long piece of scantling was then placed so as to pass from one to
the other of the two crossed sticks, so that it rested upon them.
This last was 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 it down to the ground
on either 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 placed on these heavy stones, until at length it seemed
sufficiently protected from the entrance of any rain that might
flow down the roof. His last task consisted 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 fragrant 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 noticed this with surprise. He had been
working so incessantly that he was not mindful of the flight of
time, and now the day was done, and the evening 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 flickering
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 of drift-wood from
the beach. Placing these near the fire, he kindled it up afresh,
and flung upon the rising flames a generous supply of fuel. The
fires caught at it, and crackled as they spread through the dry
wood, and tossed up their forked tongues on high, till in the dusk
of evening they illuminated the surrounding scene with a pleasant
light. A few more armfuls were added, and then 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 the 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 his ingenuity and his
industry.

The camp opened towards the fire, from which it was not so far
distant but that Tom could attend to it without any very great
inconvenience. The fire 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 unusually large supply of fuel, this
evening, for the express purpose of burning it all up; partly for
his own amusement, and partly in the 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 effecting a
speedy escape. Who could tell what might be out on the neighboring
sea? How did he know but that the Antelope might be somewhere near
at hand, with his companions on board, cruising anxiously about in
search after the missing boat? He never ceased to think that they
were following after him somewhere, 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 the 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 heaped 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 biscuit only; but now,
as he ate his 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 additional food could in any way be procured,
it would not only be a relish, but would also lessen his demand
upon his one sole source of supply. He thought earnestly upon the
subject of fish. He turned his thoughts very seriously to the
subject of fish-hooks, and tried to think of some way by which he
could capture some of the fish with which these waters abounded.
But this idea did not seem to promise much. In the first place, he
could think of no possible way in which he could procure any
serviceable hook; in the second place, even if he had a hook and
line all ready and baited, he did not see how he would be able to
cast it within reach of any fish. His boat would not float him
even for the little distance that was required to get into the
places where fish might be. He could only stand upon the beach out
of their reach.

But, in the course of his thoughts, he soon perceived that other
sources of food were possible to him besides the fish that were
caught by hook and line. His mind reverted to the populous realm
of shell-fish. These were all before him. Round the rocks and
amid the sea-weed there certainly must be mussels. At low tide,
amid the ledges and the sand, there surely must be some lobsters.
Before him there was an extensive mud flat, where there ought to be
clams. Here was his fire, always ready, by night and by day. Why
should he not be able to make use of that fire, not only for
cheering his mind, and giving him warmth, and signaling to passers-
by, but also for cooking his meals?

This was the question that he asked himself as he ate his biscuit.
He could not see why he should not be able to accomplish this. As
far as he could see, there ought to be plenty of shell-fish of
various kinds on these shores. The more he thought of it, the more
probable it seemed. He determined to solve the difficulty as soon
as possible. On former occasions he had arranged his work on the
evening for the succeeding day. On this evening he marked out this
work for the morrow, and arranged in his mind a comprehensive and
most diligent search for shell-fish, which should embrace the whole
circuit of the island.

With this in his mind, he arranged the fire as usual, so as to keep
it alive, and then retired to his camp for the night. The presence
of a roof over his head was grateful in the extreme. He let down
the canvas folds over the entrance, and felt a peculiar sense of
security and comfort. The moss and ferns which he had heaped up
were 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 on the preceding
day. To his surprise, he soon noticed that it had been raining
quite heavily through the night. Around, in many places, he saw
pools of water, and in the hollows of the rocks he saw the same.
This could only have been done by the rain. Going back to his
camp, he saw that the canvas was quite wet. And yet the rain had
all rolled off. Not a drop had entered. The moss and the fern
inside were perfectly dry, and he had not the slightest feeling 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 low. 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 indications of the presence of clams beneath.
Turning up the sand, he soon threw out some of them. 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-fish, by means of which his resources
might be enlarged and improved.

XVII.

Solomon's solemn Tale.--A costly Lobster.--Off again.--Steam
Whistles of all Sizes.--A noisy Harbor.--Arrival Home.--No News.

The shout of joy uttered by those on the top of the 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 he, "on a splorin scursion, cos I was termined to
try an skewer somethin to make a dinnah to keep up de sperrit ob
dis yah party. Ben trouble nuff, an dat's no reason why 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 hadn't ben fur dat ar pint; dat's
what knocked me. Lots o' lobstas--could hab picked up a barl full,
ony hadn't any barl to pick 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 ob dat
ar pint when I went up de sho,--but knowed I had lots ob time; so 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 see that the tide was coming up to the point?"

"Nebber see a see,--not a see; lookin ober de lobstas all de time,
an mos stracted wid plexity cos I couldn't cide bout de best ones.
Dar was lots an lots up dar at one place, dough I didn't go fur,--
but ef I'd gone fur, I'd hab got better ones."

"How far did you go?"

"Not fur,--ony short distance,--didn't want to go too fur away for
feah 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 pint, I
rose my ole head, an looked straight afore me, an thar, clar ef I
didn't fine myself shut in,--reglar prison,--mind I tell you,--an
all round me a reglar cumferince ob water an rock, widout any way
ob scape. Tell you what, if dar ebber was a ole rat in a trap, I
was at dat ar casion."

"Couldn't you have waded through it before it got too high?"

"Waded? Not a wade; de water was rough an deep, an de bottom was
stones dat I'd slipped oba an almost broke my ole head, sides bein
drownded as dead as a herrin. Why, what you tink dis ole nigga's
made ob? I'm not a steam injine, nor a mowin machine, nor a life
boat. I'm ony a ole man, an shaky in de legs too,--mind I tell
you."

"Well, how did you manage it?"

"Manage! Why, 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 find the place?"

"Wal, I jes got up dar. I stood on de sho till de water drobe me,
an I kep out ob its way till at las I found myself tied up de way
you saw me."

"Why didn't you halloo?"

"Hollar? Didn't I hollar like all possessed?"

"We didn't hear you."

"Wal, dat ar's dredful sterious. An me a hollarin an a yellin like
mad. Tell you what, I felt as ef I'd bust my ole head open, I did
yell that hard."

"Couldn't you manage to climb up that cliff?"

"Dat cliff? Climb up? Me? What! me climb up a cliff? an dat
cliff? Why, I couldn't no more climb up dat ar cliff dan I could
fly to de moon. No, sah. Much as I could do to keep whar 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, chil'en! did you, railly? Ef I'd
a ony knowed you war a comin so near, wouldn't I a yelled? 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 anyting 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 circumbendibus,
an trabelled clean an clar away from me."

"We thought at first you could not be so near the point."

"But de pint was de 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 dem 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'en; but dis time I
almost put myself out ob dis mortial life. So when you get your
dinnas to-day, you may tink on what dat ar dinna come nigh to
costin."

"I wonder that you held on to them so tight, when they brought you
into such danger."

"Hole on? Why, dat ar's de berry reason why I did hole on. What,
let go ob dem arter all my trouble on dat count? No. I was bound
to hab somethin to show whenebber I got back, if I ebber did 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 we 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 tremulous voice. Tears started to his eyes as he
said it, and all power of saying anything more seemed to depart
from him. He fell back behind the others, and walked on for the
rest of the way in silence, but at times casting upon Bart glances
that spoke volumes, and talking to himself in inaudible tones.

In this way they soon reached the wharf where the schooner was
lying.

The first thing that they noticed was, that the schooner was
aground. The tide had gone out too far for her to float away, and
consequently there was no hope of resuming their voyage for that
day.

"We're in for it, captain," said Bruce

"Yes; I felt afeard of it," said the captain. "We've got to wait
here till the next tide."

"We'll leave to-night, of course."

"O, yes. We must get off at the night's tide, and drop down the
bay."

"How far had we better go?"

"Wal, I ben a thinkin it all over, an it's my opinion that we'd
better go to St. John next. We 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 he remained 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 hoss to answer that thar. It mought hold
on, an then agin it moughtn't."

"At any rate, I suppose we can drift."

"O, yes; an of the wind doosn't come round too strong, we can git
nigh down pooty close to St. John by mornin."

"We'll run down with the tide."

"Percisely."

"Well, I suppose we'll have to put the time through the best way we
can, and try to be 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 bright day, when we can see where we're
going, here we are tied up in Quaco all day and all night."

"It doos seem hard," said Captain Corbet, gravely, "terrible hard;
an ef I owned a balloon that could rise this here vessel off the
ground, an convey her through the air to her nat'ral element, I'd
hev it done in five minutes, an we'd all proceed to walk the waters
like things of life. But I don't happen to own a balloon, an so
thar you air.

"But, boys," continued the captain, in a solemn voice, elevating
his venerable chin, and regarding them with a patriarchal smile,--
"boys, don't begin to go on in that thar old despondent strain.
Methinks I hear some on you a repinin, an a frettin, cos we're
stuck here hard an fast. Don't do it, boys; take my advice, an
don't do it. Bear in mind the stirrin an memiorable events of this
here mornin. See what a calamity was a threatenin us. Why, I
declare to you all, thar was a time when I 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
attitood, I concealed a heart that bet with dark despair. At that
moment, when we in our wanderins had reached the furthest extremity
that we attained onto, I tell you my blood friz, an my har riz in
horror! Methought it were all up with Solomon; and when I see his
hat, it seemed to me jest as though I was a regardin with despairin
eye his tumestun whereon war graven by no mortial hand the solemn
an despairin epigram, 'Hic jacet!'

"So now, my friends," continued the captain, as he brushed a tear-
drop from his eye, "let us conterrol our feelins. Let us be calm,
and hope for the best. When Solomon took his departoor, an was
among the missin, I thought that an evil fortin was a berroodin
over us, and about to consume us. But that derream air past.
Solomon is onst more among the eatables. He cooks agin the mortial
repast. He lives! So it will be with our young friend who has so
mysteriously drifted away from our midst. Cheer up, I say! Them's
my sentiment. He'll come to, an turn up, all alive--right side up--
with care,--C. O. 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, Corbet 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. If Solomon had escaped,
so also might Tom. And, as their anxiety on Solomon's account had
all been dispelled by his restoration, so also might they hope that
their anxiety about Tom would be dispelled. True, he had been lost
to them for a much 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 show them that all might not be so dark as
they had feared. Thus, therefore, they began to be more sanguine,
and to hope that when they reached St. John, some tidings of the
lost boy might be brought to them.

Solomon's exertions towards giving them a dinner were on this day
crowned with greater success than had been experienced for some
days past. Their exertions had given them an appetite, 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 midnight. At that time they waked, and went
on deck, when they had the extreme satisfaction of seeing the
vessel get under way. A moderate breeze was blowing, which was
favorable, and though the tide was not yet in their favor, yet the
wind was sufficient to bear them out into the bay. Then the boys
all went below again, full of hope. The night passed away quietly,
and without any incident whatever. They all slept soundly, and the
dreams that came to them were pleasant rather than otherwise.

Awaking in the morning by daylight, they all hurried up on deck,
and encountered there a new disappointment; for all around them
they saw again the hated presence of the fog. The wind also had
died away, and the vessel's sails flapped idly against her masts.

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