"Sunk," said one heavy-shouldered mariner.
"Then where be her spars?" inquired a messmate.
"Cut an' run," suggested another.
"Then the devil must have been after her! Ol' Trowley'd run from nothin' else," replied the cook of the Plover.
The captain of the Mary and Joyce scanned the inner harbour and what he could see of the outer bay. Then he turned his brass telescope upon the cliffs and hills and inland woods.
"Maybe the French has towed mun out," he said at last.
No fishing was done that day. The neighbouring bays and coves were searched, and even the "River of Three Fires" was investigated, with a deal of trouble, for several miles up its swift current. That night the skippers of the two vessels decided, over several hot glasses, that Wigwam Harbour was no safe place for honest English sailor men. Next morning found them sailing northward in search of another haven from which to reap the harvest of the great bay.
To Fort Beatrix journeyed all the Beothics from many miles around, for a great trade was going on. Influenced by Maggie Stone's foolish outbreak, Beatrix and Bernard had decided to seek a priest in the port of St. John's on their way to England, and so cross the ocean as man and wife, to the bitter chagrin of Bristol scandal-mongers. Though the idea had not occurred to either of the lovers before the old woman's outcry in the name of suffering propriety, it was none the less to their liking now that they had accepted it.
"And it will please poor Maggie Stone," said the girl.