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.