“For ever!” sais I, trying to cheer her up; “for ever is a most thundering long word. No, not for ever, nor for long either. I expect you and the doctor will come and visit us to Slickville this fall;” and I laid an emphasis on that word “us,” because it referred to what I had told her of Sophy.
“Oh!” said she, “how kind that is!”
“Well,” sais I, “now I will do a kinder thing. Jane and I will go on deck, and leave you and the doctor to bid each other good-bye.” As I reached the door, I turned and said: “Jessie, teach him Gaelic the way Flora taught me—do bhileau boidheach (with your pretty lips).”
As the boat drew alongside, Peter bid me again a most affectionate, if not a most complimentary farewell.
“She has never seen many Yankees herself,” said Peter, “but prayin’ Joe, the horse-stealer—tarn him—and a few New England pedlars, who asked three hundred per shent for their coots, but Mr Slick is a shentleman, every inch of him, and the pest of them she ever saw, and she will pe glad to see her again whenever she comes this way.”
When they were all seated in the boat, Peter played a doleful ditty, which I have no doubt expressed the grief of his heart. But I am sorry to say it was not much appreciated on board of the “Black Hawk.” By the time they reached the shore, the anchor was up, the sails trimmed, and we were fairly out of Ship Harbour.
[CHAPTER XIII.]
A FOGGY NIGHT.
The wind, what there was of it, was off shore; it was a light north-wester, but after we made an offing of about ten miles, it failed us, being evidently nothing but a land breeze, and we were soon becalmed. After tossing about for an hour or two, a light cat’s-paw gave notice that a fresh one was springing up, but it was from the east, and directly ahead.
“We shall make poor work of this,” said the pilot, “and I am afraid it will bring up a fog with it, which is a dangerous thing on this coast, I would advise therefore returning to Ship Harbour,” but the captain said, “Business must be attended to, and as there was nothing more of the kind to be done there, we must only have patience and beat up for Port Liscomb, which is a great resort for fishermen.” I proposed we should take the wind as we found it, and run for Chesencook, a French settlement, a short distance to the westward of us, and effect our object there, which I thought very probable, as no American vessels put in there if they can avoid it. This proposition met the approval of all parties, so we put the “Black Hawk” before the wind, and by sunset were safely and securely anchored. The sails were scarcely furled before the fog set in, or rather rose up, for it seemed not so much to come from the sea as to ascend from it, as steam rises from heated water.
It seemed the work of magic, its appearance was so sudden. A moment before there was a glorious sunset, now we had impenetrable darkness. We were enveloped as it were in a cloud, the more dense perhaps because its progress was arrested by the spruce hills, back of the village, and it had receded upon itself. The little French settlement (for the inhabitants were all descended from the ancient Acadians) was no longer discernible, and heavy drops of water fell from the rigging on the deck. The men put on their “sow-wester” hats and yellow oiled cotton jackets. Their hair looked grey, as if there had been sleet falling. There was a great change in the temperature—the weather appeared to have suddenly retrograded to April, not that it was so cold, but that it was raw and uncomfortable. We shut the companion-door to keep it from descending there, and paced the deck and discoursed upon this disagreeable vapour bath, its cause, its effects on the constitution, and so on.