Lost in the Fog

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."

"All right," said Tom.

He stooped, and took the box of biscuit in his arms.

At that time the tide was running down very fast, and the boat, caught by the tide, was forced out from the schooner with such a pressure that the rope was stiffened out straight.

Tom made one step forward. The next instant he fell down in the bottom of the boat, and those on board of the schooner who were looking at him saw, to their horror, that the boat was sweeping away with the tide, far down the river.