Books: Lost in the Fog
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James De Mille >> Lost in the Fog
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"Where are we now?" asked Bruce, in a despondent 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?"
"O, 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.
Breakfast came, and passed. The meal was eaten in silence. Then
they went on deck again, fretting and chafing at the long delay.
Not 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 I thought we'd have
it all the way."
"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 somethin like southerly weather.
Hence this here fog."
After a few hours the vessel began 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 they could
distinguish 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 raised anchor until
she reached the wharf. In passing up the harbor, the shadowy forms
of vessels at anchor became distinguishable amid the 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.
"O, no," said Bart; "those are the saw-mills whistling for twelve
o'clock."
The boys had already completed their preparations for landing, and
had changed their eccentric clothing for apparel which was more
suited to making 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 accepted his hospitable invitation.
They stepped on shore full of hope, not doubting 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 communicate 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 come down here in the hope of hearing about him. So we'll
find him there all right, after all. Hurrah!"
But, on reaching his home, Bart's joyous meeting with his family
was very much marred by the deep, dark, and bitter disappointment
that awaited him and his companions.
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 at once instituted a search among the
coasting vessels. The search was a thorough one, but resulted in
nothing. There was no one who had seen anything of a drifting
boat. All reported thick fog in 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
different places, but without result.
The fate of the missing boy now became a serious question
As for Bart and his friends, they were inconsolable.
XVIII.
Down the Bay.--Drifting and Anchoring.--In the Dark, morally and
physically.--Eastport, the jumping-off Place.--Grand Manan.--
Wonderful Skill.--Navigating in the Fog.--A Plunge from Darkness
into Light, and from Light into Darkness.
It was Saturday when Bart reached home. As 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 his father
gave his permission for him to start off again in the Antelope.
The other boys also were to go with him. They determined to scour
the seas till they found Tom, or had learned his fate.
Mr. Damer 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 instituted. Every part
of the coast should be explored, and even the islands should be
visited.
All this gave as much consolation to Bart and his friends as it was
possible for them to feel under 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 boys
waited with great impatience, and finally on Monday morning 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 a head
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 here first, an not cross
over till we get as fur as Quoddy Head. I think, while we air down
thar, 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 Monday 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.
"I've allus said," remarked Captain Corbet, "that in navigatin this
here bay, tides is more important than winds, and anchors is more
important than sails. That's odd to seafarin men that ain't
acquainted with these waters, but it air a oncontrovartible fact.
Most of the distressin casooalties that happen hereabouts occur
from a ignorance of this on the part of navigators. They WILL pile
on sail. Now, in clar weather an open sea, pile it on, I 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! When I can git along without, why, I git. At the
same time, I don't think you'll find it altogether for the good of
your precious health, boys, to be 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 Captain Corbet's remarks,
and as it was really midnight, 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 the pillows.
Before they were awake on the following day the anchor was hoisted,
and the Antelope was on her way again.
"Here we air, boys," said the captain, as they came on deck, "under
way--the Antelope on her windin way over the mounting wave, a
bereasting 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?"
"I don't car for the fog. Arter we get to Eastport harbure we
cease goin down the bay. We then cross over an steal up the other
side. Then it's all our own. If the fog lasts, why, the wind'll
last too, an we can go up flyin, all sails set; an I'll remuve from
my mind, for the time bein, any prejudyce that I have agin wind at
sails."
"Do you intend to go ashore at Eastport?"
"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, irrewspective of tides,
across the bay."
By midday the captain informed them that they were in Eastport
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 pootyish
place; but as it's this thick, you won't hev much chance to see it.
Don't you want to go ashore an walk about?"
"Not if we can help it. Of course we'll have to ask after poor
Tom, but we haven't any curiosity."
"Wal, p'aps not--ony thar is people that find this a dreadful
cur'ous place. It's got, as I said, a pootyish harbure; but that
ain't the grand attraction. The grand attraction centres in a rock
that's said to be the eastest place in the neighborin republic,--in
short, as they call it, the 'jumpin-off place.' You'd better go an
see it; ony you needn't jump off, unless you like."
Sailing up the harbor, the fog grew light enough for them to see
the shore. The town lay in rather 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 inquiries could gain no information
about Tom; nor could they learn anything which gave them the
slightest encouragement.
"We've got to wait here a while so as to devarsefy the time.
Suppose we go an jump off?" said the captain.
The boys assented to this in a melancholy manner, and the captain
led the way through the town, till at last he halted at the extreme
east end.
"Here," said he, "you behold the last extremity of a great an
mighty nation, that spreads from the Atlantic to the Pacific, an
from the Gulf of Mexiky to the very identical spot that you air now
a occypyin 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 not very
imposing, yet, on the other hand, it was not without a certain wild
beauty. Before them spread the waters of the bay, with islands
half concealed in mist; while immediately 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 Pilgrims, 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, and left
the harbor. On leaving it, they did not go back the way they had
come, but passed through a narrow and very picturesque channel,
which led them by a much shorter route into the bay. On their left
were wooded hills, and 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 into 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 straight across to Nova Scotia now?" asked Bart.
"Wal, yes; kine o' straight across," was the reply; "ony on our
way we've got to call at a certain 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
southerly 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? O, dear, yas. Thar's a heap o' people 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?"
"O, 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 hundred feet high,
and the hull shore runs straight on for ever so fur without a
break, except two triflin coves."
"How is it on the other side?"
"Wal, the east side ain't a bad place. The shore is easier, an
thar's harbures 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 driftin boat might touch thar somewhar."
The Antelope pursued her course, but it was as much as three hours
before she reached her destination. They dropped anchor then, and
landed. The boys had already learned not to indulge too readily in
hope; but when they made their inquiries, and found the same answer
meeting them here which they had received in other places, they
could not avoid feeling a fresh pang of disappointment and
discouragement.
"Wal, we didn't git much good out of this place," said Captain
Corbet. "I'm sorry that 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 here, but perceed on our way."
"Where do we go next--to Nova Scotia?"
"Wal, not jest straight across, but kine o' slantin. We head now
for Digby; that's about straight opposite to St. John, an it's as
likely a place as any to make inquiries at."
"How long will it be before we get there?"
"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 settin up. You ain't a mite of good to me, nor to
yourselves, a stayin here. You'd ought all to be abed, and, ef
you'll take my advice, you'll go to sleep as soon as you can, an
stay asleep as long as you can. It'll be a foggy night, an we
won't see a mite o' sunshine till we git into Digby harbure. See
now, it's already dark; so take my advice, an go to bed, like
civilized humane beings."
It did not need much persuasion to send them off to their beds.
Night was coming on, another 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 they made was, after all, a secondary
consideration. The matter of first importance 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 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 frowning
rocks. A light-house stood here, upon 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 sailin," exclaimed Captain
Corbet, glancing at the lighthouse with sparkling eyes. "I tell
you 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 scientific captings would do with his vessel last
night on sech a track as I run over! Wouldn't I like to run a race
with him? an ef I did, wouldn't I make a pile to leave and bequeath
to the infant when his aged parient 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
right. On they sailed for about a quarter of a mile, when suddenly
the fog vanished, and, with scarce a moment's notice, there burst
upon them a blaze of sunlight, while overhead appeared the 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 width,
with shores on each side that were as high as Blomidon. On the
right the heights 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 snowy 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 head they found a place which seemed
to them the best spot in Acadie to become the capital of the new
colony which they were going to found here. So they established
their little town, and these placid waters became the scene of
commercial activity and of warlike enterprise, till generations
passed away, and the little French town of Port Royal, after many
strange vicissitudes, with its wonderful basin, remained in the
possession of the English conqueror.
"Now," said Captain Corbet, "boys, look round on that thar, an tell
me of you ever see a beautifuller place than this. Thar's ony one
place that can be compared with this here, an that's Grand Pre.
But for 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 province. But it shows their
taste an judgment--it doos, railly."
It was not long before the Antelope had dropped anchor in front of
the town of Digby, and Captain Corbet 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 Digby, so as
to resume his journey, so rudely interrupted, and make his way
thence to his friends.
Digby is a quiet little place, that was finished long ago. It was
first settled by the 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 much beauty of scenery around
it, that it may yet attract a large population. On landing here,
Captain 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 Ile Haute, an I'll cruise around Minas.
You see these drifts may take him in a'most any direction. I don't
see why he shouldn't hev drifted up thar as well as down here."
It was Wednesday when they reached Digby.
On the evening of that day the Antelope weighed anchor, and sailed
out into the Bay of Fundy.
It was bright sunshine, with a perfectly cloudless sky inside, but
outside the Antelope plunged into the midst of a dense and heavy
fog.
XIX.
Tom's Devices.--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.
Meanwhile another day had passed away on Ile Haute.
When we last saw Tom he had succeeded in finding some clams, which
he roasted in front of his fire, and made thus a very acceptable
relish. This not only gratified his palate 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 them 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 that other articles of food
might be reckoned on, by means of which he would be able to relieve
his diet from that monotony which had thus far been its chief
characteristic. If he could find something 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 directed 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.
The more he thought of all this, the more astonished 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 gratifying his
appetite, as to find some occupation, that he now entered eagerly
upon putting this new project into execution. Fish, flesh, and
fowl now offered themselves to his endeavors, and these were to be
supplied by land, sea, and sky. This sudden enlargement of his
resources, and also of his sphere of operations, caused him to feel
additional satisfaction, together with a natural self-complacency.
To the ordinary mind Ile Haute appeared utterly deserted and
forlorn--a place where one might starve to death, if he had to
remain for 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 intelligent efforts, with dire necessity to act as a stimulus
to his ingenuity.
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