I jumped aboard the sloop, feeling on particularly good terms with myself. As I sped away from Bayport I began to calculate on what the large sloop would net me at a sale. Certainly not less than two hundred and fifty dollars; and this would clear off the bill for repairs at the mill, and leave me a hundred dollars ahead. In my present straitened circumstances this amount would be a perfect windfall.
I tried to steer for the overturned craft, and tow her to a safe place, where I might right her and fix her up.
The wind was as fresh as ever, and I had to steer with care, lest the standing-room should get filled with water from the waves that dashed over the bow. To a person not used to the lake the passage would have been a rough one, but I was accustomed to far worse weather, and did not mind it.
At length I reached the spot where the catastrophe had occurred, and looked around.
The large sloop had disappeared.
CHAPTER III.
BAD NEWS.
For a moment I could not believe the evidence of my own eyes. I had fully expected to find the large sloop in the spot I had left her, held there by the anchor that must have fallen from the deck. But she was gone, and a rapid survey of the surrounding water convinced me that she was nowhere within a quarter of a mile.
This discovery was a dismaying one; yet it did not entirely dishearten me.
The sloop had probably drifted to the lower end of the lake, somewhere near the Ponoco River, which was its outlet. I would no doubt find her beached in the vicinity of the south shore.