“Yes.”
“How?”
“Why—her—her anchor. It’s been down all the time. That thar anchor had ought to catch hold of somethin.”
Ferguson slapped his thighs with both hands with tremendous force.
“You’re right! right are you, old man, for once! For the moment, I had forgotten about the anchor. That saves them. That anchor’s bound to catch; for, after all, I don’t think last night’s storm was bad enough to make her drag. At any rate, it gives them a chance, And now—off we go.” With these words, Ferguson jumped into his boat.
He turned his head once more. “Old man, mark me—? all you’ve got to do is to follow straight after me.”
“But you’ll get away in the night.”
“So I will. Well, then, you head straight nothe-west and by nothe. I’ll pick you up some time tomorrow. We’ll cruise along the shore of Anticosti till we find the ship.”
With these words, Ferguson seized the oars. A dozen strokes brought him alongside of his own schooner. He leaped on board, and the boat was hauled up astern.
In a few moments the Fawn spread her snow-white wings, and headed away “nothe-west and by nothe.”