“O—I didn’t mean it. I—I ony made the remark. Of course I didn’t mean it—it’s ony a leetil outbust of parential affection.”
“Come, make haste!” said Mr. Long, sternly. “There’s no time to lose. We must scour the bay till we find the boys.”
The anchor went up, and up went the sails, and the Antelope once more spread her wings to the blast, and went over the waters.
But where could they go?
That was the question which it was difficult to answer. Where, or in what direction, east, west, north, or south?
Through all that day they sailed about. First, they went down the straits past Blomidon; then, turning back, they stretched away far over to the farthest extremity of the bay. They spoke what vessels they met. They watched every floating object, and it was with a feeling of relief that each one resolved itself into a chip, or a shingle, or a log, and never into a hat or the seat of a boat.
So passed the day.
Searching in such a way, without any clew, it was difficult for them to feel that they were doing anything. While they were searching in the east, the traces of the object, of their search might all be in the west; and while they were examining the north, the boat might be drifting in the south; or, while they were in the Basin of Minas, the boat might be helplessly carried about by the currents of the Bay of Fundy.
One thing there was to comfort them; and that was, the departure of the fogjdhe clear atmosphere, the pleasant breeze, the bright sunshine. Several vessels had been met with, and all had promised to keep a lookout and engage other vessels in the same service. On such a sea, and under such a sky, there could be no danger, if the boat had survived the night.
But had the boat survived the night?