Books: Lost in the Fog
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James De Mille >> Lost in the Fog
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"It's a very pooty fog," said Captain Corbet, "an I only wonder
that there ain't any wind. If it should come, it'll be all right."
"You intend, then, to go on just the same."
"Jest the same as ef the sky was clear. I will up anchor as the
tide begins to fall, an git a good piece down, so as to dodge Cape
Chegnecto, an there wait for the rising tide, an jest the same as
ef the sun was shinin. But we can't start till eight o'clock this
evenin. Anyhow, you needn't trouble yourselves a mite. You may
all go to sleep, an dream that the silver moon is guidin the
traveller on the briny deep."
The scene now was too monotonous to attract attention, and the boys
once more sought for some mode of passing the time. Nothing
appeared so enticing as their former occupation of fishing, and to
this they again turned their attention. In this employment the
time passed away rapidly until the summons was given for tea.
Around the festive board, which was again prepared by Solomon with
his usual success, they lingered long, and at length, when they
arose, the tide was high. It was now about eight o'clock in the
evening, and Captain Corbet was all ready to start. As the tide
was now beginning to turn, and was on the ebb, the anchor was
raised, and the schooner, yielding to the pressure of the current,
moved away from her anchorage ground. It was still thick, and
darkness also was coming on. Not a thing could be discerned, and
by looking at the water, which moved with the schooner, it did not
seem as though any motion was made.
"That's all your blindness," said the captain, as they mentioned it
to him. "You can't see anything but the water, an as it is movin
with us, it doesn't seem as though we were movin. But we air,
notwithstandin, an pooty quick too. I'll take two hours' drift
before stoppin, so as to make sure. I calc'late about that time to
get to a place whar I can hit the current that'll take me, with the
risin tide, up to old Petticoat Jack."
"By the way, captain," said Phil, "what do you seafaring men
believe about the origin of that name--Petitcodiac? Is it Indian
or French?"
"'Tain't neither," said Captain Corbet, decidedly. "It's good
English; it's 'Petticoat Jack;' an I've hearn tell a hundred times
about its original deryvation. You see, in the old French war,
there was an English spy among the French, that dressed hisself up
as a woman, an was familiarly known, among the British generals an
others that emply'd him, as 'Petticoat Jack.' He did much to
contriboot to the defeat of the French; an arter they were licked,
the first settlers that went up thar called the place, in honor of
their benefacture, 'Petticoat Jack;' an it's bore that name ever
sence. An people that think it's French, or Injine, or Greek, or
Hebrew, or any other outlandish tongue, don't know what they're
talkin about. Now, I KNOW, an I assure you what I've ben a sayin's
the gospel terewth, for I had it of an old seafarin man that's
sailed this bay for more'n forty year, an if he ain't good
authority, then I'd like to know who is--that's all."
At this explanation of the etymology of the disputed term, the boys
were silent, and exchanged glances of admiration.
It was some minutes after eight when they left their anchorage, and
began to drift once more. There was no moon, and the night would
have been dark in any case, but now the fog rendered all things
still more obscure. It had also grown much thicker than it had
been. At first it was composed of light vapors, which surrounded
them on all sides, it is true, but yet did not have that dampness
which might have been expected. It was a light, dry fog, and for
two or three hours the deck, and rigging, and the clothes of those
on board remained quite dry. But now, as the darkness increased,
the fog became denser, and was more surcharged with heavy vapors.
Soon the deck looked as though it had received a shower of rain,
and the clothes of those on board began to be penetrated with the
chill damp.
"It's very dark, captain," said Bruce, at last, as the boys stood
near the stern.
"Dradful dark," said the captain, thoughtfully.
"Have you really a good idea of where we are?"
"An idee? Why, if I had a chart,--which I haven't, cos I've got it
all mapped out in my head,--but if I had one, I could take my
finger an pint the exact spot where we are a driftin this blessed
minute."
"You're going straight down the bay, I suppose."
"Right--yea, I am; I'm goin straight down; but I hope an trust, an
what's more, I believe, I am taking a kine o' cant over nigher the
New Brunswick shore."
"How long will we drift?"
"Wal, for about two hours--darsn't drift longer; an besides, don't
want to."
"Why not?"
"Darsn't. Thar's a place down thar that every vessel on this here
bay steers clear of, an every navigator feels dreadful shy of."
"What place is that?"
"Quaco Ledge," said Captain Corbet, in a solemn tone. "We'll get
as near it as is safe this night, an p'aps a leetle nearer; but,
then, the water's so calm and still, that it won't make any
difference--in fact, it wouldn't matter a great deal if we came up
close to it."
"Quaco Ledge?" said Bruce. "I've heard of that."
"Heard of it? I should rayther hope you had. Who hasn't? It's
the one great, gen'ral, an standin terror of this dangerous and
iron-bound bay. There's no jokin, no nonsense about Quaco Ledge;
mind I tell you."
"Where does it lie?" asked Phil, after a pause.
"Wal, do you know whar Quaco settlement is?"
"Yes."
"Wal, Quaco Ledge is nigh about half way between Quaco settlement
and Ile Haute, bein a'most in the middle of the bay, an in a
terrible dangerous place for coasters, especially in a fog, or in a
snow-storm. Many's the vessel that's gone an never heard of, that
Quaco Ledge could tell all about, if it could speak. You take a
good snowstorm in this Bay of Fundy, an let a schooner get lost in
it, an not know whar she is, an if Quaco Ledge don't bring her up
all standin, then I'm a Injine."
"Is it a large place?"
"Considerably too large for comfort," said the captain. "They've
sounded it, an found the whole shoal about three an a half mile
long, an a half a mile broad. It's all kivered over with water at
high tide, but at half tide it begins to show its nose, an at low
tide you see as pooty a shoal for shipwrecking as you may want;
rayther low with pleasant jagged rocks at the nothe-east side, an
about a hundred yards or so in extent. I've been nigh on to it in
clear weather, but don't want to be within five miles of it in a
fog or in a storm. In a thick night like this, I'll pull up before
I get close."
"You've never met with any accident there, I suppose."
"Me? No, not me. I always calc'late to give Quaco Ledge the
widest kine o' berth. An I hope you'll never know anythin more
about that same place than what I'm tellin you now. The knowlege
which one has about that place, an places ginrally of that kine,
comes better by hearsay than from actool observation."
Time passed on, and they still drifted, and at length ten o'clock
came; but before that time the boys had gone below, and retired for
the night. Shortly after, the rattle of the chains waked them all,
and informed them that the Antelope had anchored once more.
After this they all fell asleep.
IV.
In Clouds and Darkness.--A terrible Warning.--Nearly run down.--A
lively Place.--Bart encounters an old Acquaintance.--Launched into
the Deep.--Through the Country.--The Swift Tide.--The lost Boy.
The boys had not been asleep for more than two hours, when they
were awakened by an uproar on deck, and rousing themselves from
sleep, they heard the rattle of the chains and the crank of the
windlass. As their night attire was singularly simple, and
consisted largely of the dress which they wore by day, being the
same, in fact, with the exception of the hat, it was not long
before they were up on deck, and making inquiries as to the unusual
noise. That the anchor was being hoisted they already knew, but
why it was they did not.
"Wal," said Captain Corbet, "thar's a good sou-wester started up,
an as I had a few winks o' sleep, I jest thought I'd try to push on
up the bay, an get as far as I could. If I'd ben in any other
place than this, I wouldn't hev minded, but I'd hev taken my snooze
out; but I'm too near Quaco Ledge by a good sight, an would rayther
get further off. The sou-wester'll take us up a considerable
distance, an if it holds on till arter the tide turns, I ask no
more."
Soon the anchor was up, and the Antelope spread her sails, and
catching the sou-wester, dashed through the water like a thing of
life.
"We're going along at a great rate, captain," said Bart.
"Beggin your pardon, young sir, we're not doin much. The tide here
runs four knots agin us--dead, an the wind can't take us more'n
six, which leaves a balance to our favor of two knots an hour, an
that is our present rate of progression. You see, at that rate we
won't gain more'n four or five miles before the turn o' tide.
After that, we'll go faster without any wind than we do now with a
wind. O, there's nothin like navigatin the Bay o' Fundy to make a
man feel contempt for the wind. Give me tides an anchors, I say,
an I'll push along."
The wind was blowing fresh, and the sea was rising, yet the fog
seemed thicker than ever. The boys thought that the wind might
blow the fog away, and hinted this to the captain.
His only response was a long and emphatic whistle.
"Whe-e-e-ew! what! Blow the fog away? This wind? Why, this wind
brings the fog. The sou-wester is the one wind that seafarin men
dread in the Bay of Fundy. About the wust kine of a storm is that
thar very identical wind blowin in these here very identical
waters."
Captain Corbet's words were confirmed by the appearance of sea and
sky. Outside was the very blackness of darkness. Nothing whatever
was visible. Sea and sky were alike hidden from view. The waves
were rising, and though they were not yet of any size, still they
made noise enough to suggest the idea of a considerable storm, and
the wind, as it whistled through the rigging, carried in its sound
a menace which would have been altogether wanting in a bright
night. The boys all felt convinced that a storm was rising, and
looked forward to a dismal experience of the pangs of seasickness.
To fight this off now became their chief aim, and with this
intention they all hurried below once more to their beds.
But the water was not rough, the motion of the schooner was gentle,
and though there was much noise above, yet they did not notice any
approach of the dreaded sea-sickness, and so in a short time they
all fell asleep once more.
But they were destined to have further interruptions. The
interruption came this time in a loud cry from Solomon, which waked
them all at once.
"Get up, chil'en! get up! It's all over!"
"What, what!" cried the boys; "what's the matter?" and springing up
in the first moment of alarm, they stood listening.
As they stood, there came to their ears the roaring of the wind
through the rigging, the flapping of the sails, the dashing and
roaring of the waters, in the midst of which there came also a
shrill, penetrating sound, which seemed almost overhead--the sound
of some steam whistle.
"Dar, dar!" cried Solomon, in a tone of deadly fear. "It's a
comin! I knowed it. We're all lost an gone. It's a steamer.
We're all run down an drownded."
Without a word of response, the boys once more clambered on deck.
All was as dark as before, the fog as thick, the scene around as
impenetrable, the wind as strong. From a distance there came over
the water, as they listened, the rapid beat of a steamboat's
paddles, and soon there arose again the long, shrill yell of the
steam whistle. They looked all around, but saw no sign of any
steamer; nor could they tell exactly in which direction the sound
arose. One thought it came from one side, another thought it came
from the opposite quarter, while the others differed from these.
As for Captain Corbet, he said nothing, while the boys were
expressing their opinions loudly and confidently.
At last Bart appealed to Captain Corbet.
"Where is the steamer?"
"Down thar," said the captain, waving his hand over the stern.
"What steamer is it? the revenue steamer?"
"Not her. That revenoo steamer is up to Windsor by this time.
No; this is the St. John steamer coming up the bay, an I ony wish
she'd take us an give us a tow up."
"She seems to be close by."
"She is close by."
"Isn't there some danger that we'll be run down?"
As those words were spoken, another yell, louder, shriller, and
nearer than before, burst upon their ears. It seemed to be close
astern. The beat of the paddles was also near them.
"Pooty close!" said the captain.
"Isn't there some danger that we'll be run down?"
To this question, thus anxiously repeated, the captain answered
slowly,--
"Wal, thar may be, an then again thar mayn't. Ef a man tries to
dodge every possible danger in life, he'll have a precious hard
time of it. Why, men air killed in walkin the streets, or knocked
over by sun-strokes, as well as run down at sea. So what air we to
do? Do? Why, I jest do what I've allus ben a doin; I jest keep
right straight on my own course, and mind my own biz. Ten chances
to one they'll never come nigh us. I've heard steamers howlin
round me like all possessed, but I've never ben run down yet, an I
ain't goin to be at my time o' life. I don't blieve you'll see a
sign o' that thar steamer. You'll only hear her yellin--that's
all."
As he spoke another yell sounded.
"She's a passin us, over thar," said the captain, waving his hand
over the side. "Her whistle'll contenoo fainter till it stops. So
you better go below and take your sleep out."
The boys waited a little longer, and hearing the next whistle
sounding fainter, as Captain Corbet said, they followed his advice,
and were soon asleep, as before.
This time there was no further interruption, and they did not wake
till about eight in the morning, when they were summoned to
breakfast by Solomon.
On reaching the deck and looking around, a cry of joy went forth
from all. The fog was no longer to be seen, no longer did there
extend around them the wall of gloomy gray, shutting out all things
with its misty folds. No longer was the broad bay visible. They
found themselves now in a wide river, whose muddy waters bore them
slowly along. On one side was a shore, close by them, well wooded
in some places, and in others well cultivated, while on the other
side was another shore, equally fertile, extending far along.
"Here we air," cried Captain Corbet. "That wind served us well.
We've had a fust-rate run. I calc'lated we'd be three or four
days, but instead of that we've walked over in twenty-four hours.
Good agin!"
"Will we be able to land at Moncton soon?"
"Wal, no; not till the next tide."
"Why not?"
"Wal, this tide won't last long enough to carry us up thar, an so
we'll have to wait here. This is the best place thar is."
"What place is this?"
"Hillsborough."
"Hillsborough?"
"Yes. Do you see that thar pint?" and Captain Corbet waved his arm
towards a high, well-wooded promontory that jutted out into the
river.
"Yes."
"Wal, I'm goin in behind that, and I'll wait thar till the tide
turns. We'll get up to Moncton some time before evenin."
In a few minutes the Antelope was heading towards the promontory;
and soon she passed it, and advanced towards the shore. On passing
the promontory a sight appeared which at once attracted the whole
attention of the boys.
Immediately in front of them, in the sheltered place which was
formed by the promontory, was a little settlement, and on the bank
of the river was a ship-yard. Here there arose the stately outline
of a large ship. Her lower masts were in, she was decorated with
flags and streamers, and a large crowd was assembled in the yard
around her.
"There's going to be a launch!" cried Bart, to whom a scene like
this was familiar.
"A launch!" cried Bruce. "Hurrah! We'll be able to see it. I've
never seen one in my life. Now's the time."
"Can't we get ashore?" said Arthur.
"Of course," said Phil; "and perhaps they'll let us go on board and
be launched in her."
The very mention of such a thing increased the general excitement.
Captain Corbet was at once appealed to.
"O, thar's lots of time," said he. "Tain't quite high tide yet.
You'll have time to get ashore before she moves. Hullo, Wade!
Whar's that oar?"
The boys were all full of the wildest excitement, in the midst of
which Solomon appeared with the announcement that breakfast was
waiting.
To which Bart replied,--
"O, bother breakfast!"
"I don't want any," said Bruce.
"I have no appetite," said Arthur.
"Nor I," said Pat.
"I want to be on board that ship," said Phil.
"We can easily eat breakfast afterwards," said Tom.
At this manifest neglect of his cooking, poor Solomon looked quite
heart-broken; but Captain Corbet told him that he might bring the
things ashore, and this in some measure assuaged his grief.
It did not take long to get ready. The oar was flung on board the
boat, which had thus far been floating behind the schooner; and
though the boat had a little too much water on board to be
comfortable, yet no complaints were made, and in a few minutes they
were landed.
"How much time have we yet?" asked Bart, "before high tide?"
"O, you've got fifteen or twenty minutes," said Captain Corbet.
"Hurrah, boys! Come along," said Bart; and leading the way, he
went straight to the office.
As he approached it he uttered suddenly a cry of joy.
"What's the matter, Bart?"
Bart said nothing, but hurried forward, and the astonished boys saw
him shaking hands very vigorously with a gentleman who seemed like
the chief man on the place. He was an old acquaintance, evidently.
In a few minutes all was explained. As the boys came up, Bart
introduced them as his friends, and they were all warmly greeted;
after which the gentleman said,--
"Why, what a crowd of you there is! Follow me, now. There's
plenty of room for you, I imagine, in a ship of fifteen hundred
tons; and you've just come in time."
With these words he hurried off, followed by all the boys. He led
the way up an inclined plane which ran up to the bows of the ship,
and on reaching this place they went along a staging, and finally,
coming to a ladder, they clambered up, and found themselves on the
deck of the ship.
"I must leave you now, Bart, my boy," said the gentleman; "you go
to the quarter-deck and take care of yourselves. I must go down
again."
"Who in the world is he, Bart?" asked the boys, as they all stood
on the quarter-deck.
"Was there ever such luck!" cried Bart, joyously. "This is the
ship Sylph, and that is Mr. Watson, and he has built this ship for
my father. Isn't it odd that we should come to this place at this
particular time?"
"Why, it's as good as a play."
"Of course it is. I've known Mr. Watson all my life, and he's one
of the best men I ever met with. He was as glad to see me as I was
to see him."
But now the boys stopped talking, for the scene around them began
to grow exciting. In front of them was the settlement, and in the
yard below was a crowd who had assembled to see the launch. Behind
them was the broad expanse of the Petitcodiac River, beyond which
lay the opposite shore, which went back till it terminated in
wooded hills. Overhead arose the masts, adorned with a hundred
flags and streamers. The deck showed a steep slope from bow to
stern. But the scene around was nothing, compared with the
excitement of suspense, and expectation. In a few minutes the
hammers were to sound. In a few minutes the mighty fabric on which
they were standing would move, and take its plunge into the water.
The suspense made them hold their breath, and wait in perfect
silence.
Around them were a few men, who were talking in a commonplace way.
They were accustomed to launches, and an incident like this was as
nothing in their lives, though to the boys it was sufficient to
make their hearts throb violently, and deprive them of the power of
speech.
A few minutes passed.
"We ought to start soon," said Bart, in a whisper; for there was
something in the scene which made them feel grave and solemn.
The other boys nodded in silence.
A few minutes more passed.
Then there arose a cry.
And then suddenly there came to their excited ears the rattle of a
hundred hammers. Stroke after stroke, in quick succession, was
dealt upon the wedges, which thus raised the vast structure from
her resting-place. For a moment she stood motionless, and then--
Then with a slow motion, at first scarce perceptible, but which
every instant grew quicker, she moved down her ways, and plunged
like lightning into the water. The stern sank deep, then rose, and
then the ship darted through the water across the river. Then
suddenly the anchor was let go, and with the loud, sharp rattle of
chains, rushed to the bed of the river. With a slight jerk the
ship stopped.
The launch was over.
A boat now came from the shore, bringing the builder, Mr. Watson;
and at the same time a steamer appeared, rounding a point up the
river, and approaching them.
"Do you want to go to St. John, Bart?"
"Not just yet, sir," said Bart.
"Because if you do you can go down in the ship. The steamer is
going to take her in tow at once. But if you don't want to go, you
may go ashore in the boat. I'm sorry I can't stay here to show you
the country, my boy; but I have to go down in the ship, and at
once, for we can't lie here in the river, unless we want to be left
high and dry at low tide. So good by. Go to the house. Mrs.
Watson'll make you comfortable as long as you like; and if you want
to take a drive you may consider my horses your own."
With these words he shook hands with all the boys for good by, and
after seeing them safely on board the boat, he waited for the
steamer which was to tow the Sylph down the bay. The boys then
were rowed ashore. By the time they landed, the steamer had
reached the ship, a stout cable was passed on board and secured,
her anchor was weighed, and then, borne on by steam, and by the
tide, too, which had already turned, the Sylph, in tow of the
steamer, passed down the river, and was soon out of sight.
Bart then went to see Mrs. Watson, with all the boys. That lady,
like her husband, was an old acquaintance, and in the true spirit
of hospitality insisted on every one of them taking up their abode
with her for an indefinite period. Finding that they could not do
this, she prepared for them a bounteous breakfast, and then
persuaded them to go off for a drive through the country. This
invitation they eagerly accepted.
Before starting, they encountered Captain Corbet.
"Don't hurry back, boys," said he, "unless you very pertik'l'ry
wish to go up to Moncton by the arternoon tide. Don't mind me. I
got several things to occoopy me here."
"What time could we start up river?"
"Not before four."
"O, we'll be back by that time."
"Wal. Ony don't hurry back unless you like. I got to buy some
ship-bread, an I got to fix some things about the boat. It'll take
some time; so jest do as you like."
Being thus left to their own devices, and feeling quite unlimited
with regard to time, the boys started off in two wagons, and took a
long drive through the country. The time passed quickly, and they
enjoyed themselves so much that they did not get back until dusk.
"It's too late now, boys, to go up," said the captain, as he met
them on their return. "We've got to wait till next tide. It's
nearly high tide now."
"All right, captain; it'll do just as well to go up river to-
night."
"Amen," said the captain.
But now Mrs. Watson insisted on their staying to tea, and so it
happened that it was after nine o'clock before they were ready to
go on board the Antelope. Going down to the shore, they found the
boat ready, with some articles which Captain Corbet had procured.
"I've been fixing the gunwales," said he; "an here's a box of
pilot-bread. We were gettin out of provisions, an I've got in a
supply, an I've bought a bit of an old sail that'll do for a jib.
I'm afeard thar won't be room for all of us. Some of you better
stay ashore, an I'll come back."
"I'll wait," said Bart, taking his seat on a stick of timber.
"An I'll wait, too," said Bruce.
The other boys objected in a friendly way, but Bart and Bruce
insisted on waiting, and so the boat at length started, leaving
them behind.
In a short time it reached the schooner.
Captain Corbet secured the boat's painter to the stem, and threw
the oar on board.
"Now, boys, one of you stay in the boat, an pass up them things to
me--will you?"
"All right," said Tom. "I'll pass them up."
On this Captain Corbet got on board the schooner, followed by
Arthur, and Phil, and Pat. Tom waited in the boat.
"Now," said Captain Corbet, "lift up that thar box of pilot-bread
fust. 'Tain't heavy. We'll get these things out afore we go
ashore for the others."
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