Lost in the Fog

by James De Mille

"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."

"Why, won't the fog last?"

"I don't car for the fog. Arter we get to Eastport harbure we cease goin down the bay. We then cross over an steal up the other side. Then it's all our own. If the fog lasts, why, the wind'll last too, an we can go up flyin, all sails set; an I'll remuve from my mind, for the time bein, any prejudyce that I have agin wind at sails."

"Do you intend to go ashore at Eastport?"

"Yes, for a short time—jest to make inquiries. It will be a consolation, you know."

"Of course."

"Then I'll up sail, an away we'll go, irrewspective of tides, across the bay."

By midday the captain informed them that they were in Eastport harbor.

"See thar," said he, as he pointed to a headland with a light-house. "That thar is the entrance. They do call this a pootyish place; but as it's this thick, you won't hev much chance to see it. Don't you want to go ashore an walk about?"