“Why, if it was only the fog, I wouldn’t mind; but, mind you, there’s the tides. The flood tide ’ll be coming along soon, and then where’ll we go to? We may get twisted up into an eddy, and find ourselves on Cape Split; or we may glide up to Windsor, or get thrown on the rocks, goodness ony knows where. There’s no knowin’ where these tides may take it into their blessed hearts to drift us to. So the long and the short of it is, I move we anchor.”
“But isn’t it a common thing for schooners to drift about here?”
“Not in the Basin of Minas, thank you. No, sir. Not if they can help it. Out in Fundy it’s different. Fundy hain’t got no bottom to anchor on, except near the shores. Fundy ain’t one universal mud bank, nuther. Out in Fundy every skipper cal’lates on driftin’, jest as a sea captain cal’lates on navigatin’ by scientific observation. Driftin’ in Fundy is a science by itself, and vessels make v’y’ges back’ard and for’ard by a new patent driftin’ process. But in here nobody drifts. It’s no go.”
Mr. Long gave a heavy sigh.
“At any rate, let’s drift a little longer. I cling to hope of coming up with the boys.”
“Comin’ up with them! Law bless my heart alive, we’ve comed up with ’em and passed ’em long ago. We’ve got on different tracks somehow. Ef they’d been afloat, they’d never missed hearin’ that everlastin’ trumpet you’ve been a-blowin’ on so like all possessed.”
Now all this time since they had left the anchorage the wind had been blowing strongly. As the darkness increased, Captain Corbet had taken in his foresail. The water grew rougher, the little schooner labored heavily, and pitched, and tossed, and rolled about, while the waves dashed over her bow. Mr. Simmons had retired to his berth with the bodily pangs of seasickness superadded to his mental anxiety. One by one the boys had disappeared below, and for an hour or more none were left on deck but Mr. Long, Captain Corbet, and the mate. A light had been hoisted, and Mr. Long still blew the fog-trumpet.
But he no longer blew it with any hope. Captain Corbet had presented full before him a palpable fact, and that was, that they must be far away from any place where the boat could possibly be. They had sailed on and passed beyond them. They could not have been near the beat at any time. Some other current must have carried it away in another direction. Had it not been so, they must assuredly have heard those shrill yells, and in that ease they would have responded. Either they had been caught in another current, or else that had happened to them on which he dared not think. But then, even so, if they had got into another current, could it avail them? For that boat to drift out into this sea would be sure destruction.
“Captain,” said he, “are there more currents than one about those islands?”
“As many currents as there is hairs on a hoss’s tail.”