"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 pa.s.sed. 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 pa.s.sed away from the time the Antelope raised anchor until she reached the wharf. In pa.s.sing 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 sh.o.r.e 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 ash.o.r.e 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 inst.i.tuted 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 Sat.u.r.day 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 a.s.sured 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 inst.i.tuted. 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 circ.u.mstances.
As much as possible was done on Sat.u.r.day, 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 anch.o.r.ed 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."