"Around it?"
"Yes"
"Why?"
"Cos thar ain't any poppylation on this side, an we've got to land on t'other."
"Why are there no people on this side?"
"Cos thar ain't no harbures. The cliffs air six hundred feet high, and the hull shore runs straight on for ever so fur without a break, except two triflin coves."
"How is it on the other side?"
"Wal, the east side ain't a bad place. The shore is easier, an thar's harbures an anchorages. Thar's a place they call Whale Cove, whar I'm goin to land, an see if I can hear anythin. The people air ony fishers, an they ain't got much cultivation; but it's mor'en likely that a driftin boat might touch thar somewhar."
The Antelope pursued her course, but it was as much as three hours before she reached her destination. They dropped anchor then, and landed. The boys had already learned not to indulge too readily in hope; but when they made their inquiries, and found the same answer meeting them here which they had received in other places, they could not avoid feeling a fresh pang of disappointment and discouragement.
"Wal, we didn't git much good out of this place," said Captain Corbet. "I'm sorry that we have sech a arrand as ourn. Ef it warn't for that we could spend to-night here, an to-morry I'd take you all to see the fog mill; but, as it is, I rayther think I won't linger here, but perceed on our way."