"Do you intend to anchor again?"
"Wal, I rayther think I'll hev to do it. But we'd ought to get to Quaco by noon, I calc'late. I'm a thinkin—Hello! Good gracious!"
The captain's sudden exclamation interrupted his words, and made all turn to look at the object that had called it forth. One glance showed an object which might well have elicited even a stronger expression of amazement and alarm.
Immediately in front of them arose a vast cliff,—black, rocky, frowning,—that ascended straight up from the deep water, its summit lost in the thick fog, its base white with the foaming waves that thundered there. A hoarse roar came up from those breaking waves, which blended fearfully with the whistle of the wind through the rigging, and seemed like the warning sound of some dark, drear fate. The cliff was close by, and the schooner had been steering straight towards it. So near was it that it seemed as though one could have easily tossed a biscuit ashore.
But though surprised, Captain Corbet was not in the least confused, and did not lose his presence of mind for a moment. Putting the helm hard up, he issued the necessary commands in a cool, quiet manner; the vessel went round, and in a few moments the danger was passed. Yet so close were they, that in wearing round it seemed as though one could almost have jumped from the stern upon the rocky shelves which appeared in the face of the lofty cliff.
Captain Corbet drew a long breath.
"That's about the nighest scratch I remember ever havin had," was his remark, as the Antelope went away from the land. "Cur'ous, too; I don't see how it happened. I lost my reckonin a little. I'm a mile further down than I calc'lated on bein."
"Do you know that place?" asked Bart.
"Course I know it."
"It's lucky for us we didn't go there at night."