Books: Lost in the Fog
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James De Mille >> Lost in the Fog
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According to his calculations it would be high tide about two hours
after dark, which would be some time after ten. He would have 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 up a fresh supply
of fuel. The night would be dark, and while floating in the boat,
he would need the light of the fire. So he brought up 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,
Tom 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. Higher came the
water, and still higher, yet none came into the boat, and Tom could
scarce believe in his good fortune.
At last the boat floated!
Yes, the crisis had come and passed, and the boat floated!
There 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 world! Welcome
home, and friends, and happiness!
In that moment of joy his heart seemed almost ready to burst. It
was with difficulty that he calmed 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 the boat was
sea-worthy.
He found no difficulty in keeping her afloat, even while retaining
her near the shore, so that she might be out of the way of the
currents.
At length, when the tide was about half way down, he found the fire
burning too low, and determined to go ashore and replenish it. A
rock jutted above the water not far off. To this he secured the
boat, and then landing, he walked up the beach. Reaching the fire,
he threw upon it all the remaining wood. Returning then to the
boat, he boarded her without difficulty.
The tide fell lower and lower.
And now Tom 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 appeared 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 destroyed. He 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 seeking the shore again, but the fear
that the boat would be ruined deterred him.
There was a little wind blowing from the southwest, 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 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 cliffs 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 Ile Haute.
XXI.
Scott's Bay and Old Bennie.--His two Theories.--Off to the desert
Island.--Landing.--A Picnic Ground.--Gloom and Despair of the
Explorers.--All over.--Sudden Summons.
It was on Wednesday evening that the Antelope passed from the
sunshine and beauty of Digby Basin out into the fog and darkness of
the Bay of Fundy. The tide was falling, and, though the wind was
in their favor, yet their progress was somewhat slow. But the fact
that they were moving was of itself a consolation. In spite of
Captain Corbet's declared preference for tides and anchors, and
professed contempt for wind and sails, the boys looked upon these
last as of chief importance, and preferred a slow progress with the
wind to even a more rapid one by means of so unsatisfactory a
method of travel as drifting.
At about nine on the following morning, the Antelope reached a
little place called Wilmot Landing, where they went on shore and
made the usual inquiries with the usual result. Embarking again,
they sailed on for the remainder of that day, and stopped at one or
two places along the coast.
On the next morning (Friday) they dropped anchor in front of Hall's
Harbor--a little place whose name had become familiar to them
during their memorable excursion to Blomidon. Here they met with
the same discouraging answer to their question.
"Wal," said Captain Corbet, "we don't seem to meet with much
success to speak of--do we?"
"No," said Bart, gloomily.
"I 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 that we'll go to next."
"What place is that?"
"Scott's Bay.
"My idee is this," continued Captain Corbet: "We'll finish our
tower of inspection round the Bay of Fundy at Scott's Bay. Thar
won't be nothin more to do; thar won't remain one single settlement
but what we've called at, 'cept one or two triflin places of no
'count. So, after Scott's Bay, my idee is to go right straight off
to old Minas. Who knows but what he's got on thar somewhar?"
"I don't see much chance of that."
"Why not?"
"Because, if he had drifted into the Straits of Minas, he'd manage
to get ashore."
"I don't see that."
"Why, it's so narrow."
"Narrer? O, it's wider'n you think for; besides, ef he got stuck
into the middle of that thar curn't, how's he to get 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, 'll drift up them straits into Minas jest the same."
"Well, there does seem something in that. I didn't think of his
drifting down the Petitcodiac."
"Somethin? Bless your heart! ain't that everythin?"
"But 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?"
"He might starve."
"Not he. Didn't he carry off my box o' biscuit?"
"Think of this fog."
"O, fog ain't much. It's snow an cold that tries a man. He's
tough, too."
"But he's been so exposed."
"Exposed? What to? Not he. Didn't he go an carry off that ole
sail?"
"I cannot help thinking that it's all over with him?"
"Don't give him up; keep up; cheer up. Think how we got hold of
ole Solomon after givin him up. I tell you that thar was a good
sign."
"He's been gone too long. Why, it's going on a fortnight?"
"Wal, what o' that ef he's goin to turn up all right in the end? I
tell you he's somewhar. Ef he 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
disappointments had been too many. The sadness which they had felt
all along was now deeper than ever, and they looked forward without
a ray of hope.
On Friday evening they landed at Scott's Bay, and, as old Bennie
Griggs's house was nearest, they went there. They found both the
old people at home, and were received with an outburst of welcome.
Captain Corbet was an old acquaintance, 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. He also questioned
all the boys very closely.
After the questioning was over, he sat in silence for a long time.
At last he looked keenly at Captain Corbet.
"He's not ben heard tell of for about twelve days?"
"No."
"An it's ben ony moderate weather?"
"Ony moderate, but foggy."
"O, of course. Wal, in my 'pinion, fust an foremust, 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 hung
upon his final decision.
"Wal," said Bennie at last, "s'posin that he's alive,--an it's very
likely,--thar's ony two ways to account for his onnat'ral silence.
Them air these:--
"Fust, he may hev 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 knowed one or two sech cases, an hev heerd of
severial more.
"Second. He may hev drifted onto a oninhabited 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?"
"Ile Haute."
"Wal, now, railly, I declar--ef I wan't thinkin o' that 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 bay that hadn't been heerd from. An it ain't onlikely that
them shores could a tale onfold that mought astonish some on us.
I shouldn't wonder a mite."
"Nor me," said Bennie, gravely.
"It's either a timber ship, or a desert island, as you say,--that's
sartin," said Captain Corbet, 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."
"I've heerd tell o' several seafarin men that's got adrift, an lit
on that thar isle," said Bennie, solemnly.
"Wal, so hev I; an though our lad went all the way from Petticoat
Jack, yet the currents in thar wandorins to an fro could
effectooate that thar pooty mighty quick, an in the 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 Bennie.
"Do I think? Why, sartin," said Bennie, regarding 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."
"An pray, young sir, how could we get to him by leavin here jest
now?"
"Can't we go straight to Ile Haute?"
"Scacely. The tide'll be agin us, an the wind too, till nigh
eleven."
Bart gave a deep sigh.
"But don't be 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
here so as to drop down with the tide, an then drop up with the
flood tide into Minas Bay. I've about concluded to wait here till
about three in the mornin. We'll drop down to the island in about
a couple of hours, and'll hev 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 the 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, compared notes about the direction of certain currents, and
argued about the best course to pursue under 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 generally considered that
the situation was likely to be unpleasant.
At ten o'clock Bennie hurried his guests to their beds, where they
slept soundly in spite of their anxiety. Before three in the
morning he awaked them, and they were soon ready to reembark.
It was dim morning twilight as they bade adieu to their hospitable
entertainers, and but little could be seen. Captain Corbet raised
his head, and peered into the sky above, and sniffed the sea air.
"Wal, railly," said he, "I do declar 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 favored at last. We're agoin to hev a clar day.
Hooray!"
The boys could not make out whether the captain's words were
justified or not by the facts, but thought that they detected in
the air rather the 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 boys 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, indeed, a hopeless
place to search in for signs of poor Tom. How could he ever get
ashore in such a place as this, so far out of the line of his
drift; or if he had gone ashore there, how could he have lived till
now? Such were the gloomy and despondent thoughts that filled the
minds of all, as they saw the vessel drawing nearer and still
nearer to those frowning cliffs.
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 Ile Haute. 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 Ile 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 their
destination. As it was low tide, they could not approach very
near, but kept well off the precipitous shores 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.
It was a long pull to the shore, and, when they reached it, the
tide was so low that there remained 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 already 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 advance, 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, full of hope now that some signs of
Tom might be here. At length they reached the place where Tom had
been so long, and here their steps were arrested by the scene
before them.
On the point arose the signal-staff, with its heavy flag hanging
down. The wind was now blowing, but it needed almost a gale to
hold out that cumbrous canvas. Close by were the smouldering
remains of what had been a huge fire, and all around this were
chips and sticks. In the immediate neighborhood were some bark
dishes, in some of which were shrimps and mussels. Clams and
lobsters lay around, with shells of both.
Not far off was a canvas tent, which looked singularly comfortable
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 he been here? He must have been here," cried Bart.
"These are his marks. I dare say he'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 understand. It's ben no pore castaway that's come here--
no pore driftin lad that fell upon these lone and desolate coasts.
No--never did he set foot here. All this is not the work o'
shipwracked people. It's some festive picnickers, engaged in
whilin 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' shellfish that the sea produces. Yonder is a
luxoorious camp. But don't mind what I 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
he said. These remains spoke not of shipwreck, but of pleasure,
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 here
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 dawned for some
time. In the east the fog had lifted, and the sun was shining
brightly.
"I told you thar'd be a change, boys," said the captain.
As he spoke there came a long succession of sharp, shrill blasts
from the fog horn of the Antelope, which started every one, and
made them run to the rising ground to find out the cause.
XXII.
Astounding Discovery.--The whole Party of Explorers overwhelmed.--
Meeting with the Lost.--Captain Corbet improves the Occasion.--
Conclusion.
At the sound from the Antelope they had 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 startled and excited at
hearing it under such peculiar circumstances. Nor was their
excitement lessened by the sight that met their eyes as they
reached the rising ground and looked towards the schooner.
A change had taken place. When they had left, Solomon only had
remained behind. But now there were two figures on the deck. One
was amidships. The schooner was too far away for them to see
distinctly, but this one was undoubtedly Solomon; 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 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 double-shuffle, diversified by wild
leaps in the air, and accompanied by brandishings of his hat and
fresh blasts of the horn. But if Solomon's appearance was somewhat
bewildering, still more so was that of the other one. This one
stood astern. Suddenly as they looked they saw him hoist a flag,
and, wonder of wonders, a black flag,--no other, in short, than the
well-known flag of the "B. O. 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 fall 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. Evidently this boat belonged to the new comer. But
who was he? How had he come there? What was the meaning of those
signals with that peculiar flag, and what could be the reason of
Solomon's joy?
They stood dumb with astonishment, confused, 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 the 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 flag 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. The captain was as
quick as any of them. In his enthusiasm he forgot his rheumatism.
There was a race, and though he was not even with Bruce and Bart,
he kept ahead of Pat, and Arthur, and Phil, and old Wade.
Hurrah!
And hurrah again!
Yes, and hurrah over and over; and many were the hurrahs that burst
from them as they raced over the rocky beach.
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