Lost in the Fog | Page 8

Ile Haute," said Bart.
"All the same," said Captain Corbet, "ony I believe it was named after the man that diskivered it fust, an his name was Holt."
"But it's a French name," said Tom; "Ile Haute means high island."
"Wal, mebbe he was a Frenchman," said Captain Corbet. "I won't argufy--I dare say he was. There used to be a heap o' Frenchmen about these parts, afore we got red of 'em."
"It's a black, gloomy, dismal, and wretched-looking place," said Tom, after some minutes of silent survey.

II.
First Sight of a Place destined to be better known.--A Fog Mill.-- Navigation without Wind.--Fishing.--Boarding.--Under Arrest.-- Captain Corbet defiant.--The Revenue Officials frowned down.-- Corbet triumphant.

The Antelope had left the wharf at about seven in the morning. It was now one o'clock. For the last two or three hours there had been but little wind, and it was the tide which had carried her along. Drifting on in this way, they had come to within a mile of Ile Haute, and had an opportunity of inspecting the place which Tom had declared to be so gloomy. In truth, Tom's judgment was not undeserved. Ile Haute arose like a solid, unbroken rock out of the deep waters of the Bay of Fundy, its sides precipitous, and scarred by tempest, and shattered by frost. On its summit were trees, at its base lay masses of rock that had fallen. The low tide disclosed here, as at the base of Blomidon, a vast growth of black sea-weed, which covered all that rocky shore. The upper end of the island, which was nearest them, was lower, however, and went down sloping to the shore, forming a place where a landing could easily be effected. From this shore mud flats extended into the water.
"This end looks as though it had been cleared," said Bart.
"I believe it was," said the captain.
"Does anybody live here?"
"No."
"Did any one ever live here?"
"Yes, once, some one tried it, I believe, but gave it up."
"Does it belong to anybody, or is it public property?"
"O, I dare say it belongs to somebody, if you could only get him to claim it."
"I say, captain," said Bruce, "how much longer are we going to drift?"
"O, not much longer. The tide's about on the turn, and we'll have a leetle change."
"What! will we drift back again?"
"O, I shouldn't wonder if we had a leetle wind afore long."
"But if we don't, will we drift back again into the Basin of Minas?"
"O, dear, no. We can anchor hereabouts somewhar."
"You won't anchor by this island,--will you?"
"O, dear, no. We'll have a leetle driftin first." As the captain spoke, he looked earnestly out upon the water.
"Thar she comes," he cried at last, pointing over the water. The boys looked, and saw the surface of the bay all rippled over. They knew the signs of wind, and waited for the result. Soon a faint puff came up the bay, which filled the languid sails, and another puff came up more strongly, and yet another, until at length a moderate breeze was blowing. The tide no longer dragged them on. It was on the turn; and as the vessel caught the wind, it yielded to the impetus, and moved through the water, heading across the bay towards the New Brunswick shore, in such a line as to pass near to that cape which has already been spoken of.
"If the wind holds out," said Captain Corbet, "so as to carry us past Cape d'Or, we can drift up with this tide."
"Where's Cape d'Or?"
"That there," said Captain Corbet, pointing to the long cape which stretched between them and the New Brunswick shore. "An if it goes down, an we can't get by the cape, we'll be able, at any rate, to drop anchor there, an hold on till the next tide."
The returning tide, and the fresh breeze that blew now, bore them onward rapidly, and they soon approached Cape d'Or. They saw that it terminated in a rocky cliff, with rocky edges jutting forth, and that all the country adjoining was wild and rugged. But the wind, having done this much for them, now began to seem tired of favoring them, and once more fell off.
"I don't like this," said Captain Corbet, looking around.
"What?"
"All this here," said he, pointing to the shore.
It was about a mile away, and the schooner, borne along now by the tide, was slowly drifting on to an unpleasant proximity to the rocky shore.
"I guess we've got to anchor," said Captain Corbet; "there's no help for it."
"To anchor?" said Bruce, in a tone of disappointment.
"Yes, anchor; we've got to do it," repeated the captain, in a decided tone. The boys saw that there was no help for it, for the vessel was every moment drawing in closer to the rocks; and though it would not have