But the expression of his countenance changed; for now, from out the shadowed face of the bluff, came that bell-like, boding cry—
“Woe, woe to Acadie the Fair, for the hour of her desolation is at hand!”
Nicole looked awed.
“He knows, that Grûl!” he muttered. “It’s coming quick now, I’ll be bound!”
“Well, so are we, Nicole!” I rejoined cheerfully; “and that’s what most concerns me at this moment.”
I peered eagerly ahead, but could not, in that deluding light, discriminate the mouth of the Kenneticook stream from its low adjacent shores. Presently the waves and pitching lessened. The ebb had ceased, and the near shore slipped by more rapidly. The slack of tide lasted but a few minutes. Then the flood set in—noisily and with a great front of foam, as it does in that river of high tides; and the good boat sped on at a pace that augured accomplishment. In what seemed to me but a few minutes the mouth of the Kenneticook opened, whitely glimmering, before us.
Barely had I descried it when Nicole put the helm up sharp and ran straight in shore.
“What are you doing, man?” I cried, in astonishment. “You’ll have us aground!”
But the words were not more than out of my mouth when I understood. I saw the narrow entrance to a small creek, emptying between high banks.
“Oh!” said I. “I beg your pardon, Nicole; I see you know what you’re about all right!”