These words of Captain Corbet had a very good effect upon the boys.  They had already felt very much cheered by the escape of Solomon, and it seemed to them to be a good omen.  If Solomon had escaped, so also might Tom.  And, as their anxiety on Solomon’s account had all been dispelled by his restoration, so also might they hope that their anxiety about Tom would be dispelled.  True, he had been lost to them for a much longer time, and his absence was certainly surrounded by a more terrible obscurity than any which had been connected with that of Solomon.  Yet this one favorable circumstance served to show them that all might not be so dark as they had feared.  Thus, therefore, they began to be more sanguine, and to hope that when they reached St. John, some tidings of the lost boy might be brought to them.

Solomon’s exertions towards giving them a dinner were on this day crowned with greater success than had been experienced for some days past.  Their exertions had given them an appetite, and they were able to eat heartily for the first time since Tom’s departure.

The rest of the day passed very slowly with them.  They retired early, and slept until midnight.  At that time they waked, and went on deck, when they had the extreme satisfaction of seeing the vessel get under way.  A moderate breeze was blowing, which was favorable, and though the tide was not yet in their favor, yet the wind was sufficient to bear them out into the bay.  Then the boys all went below again, full of hope.  The night passed away quietly, and without any incident whatever.  They all slept soundly, and the dreams that came to them were pleasant rather than otherwise.

Awaking in the morning by daylight, they all hurried up on deck, and encountered there a new disappointment; for all around them they saw again the hated presence of the fog.  The wind also had died away, and the vessel’s sails flapped idly against her masts.

“Where are we now?” asked Bruce, in a despondent tone.

“Wal,” said Captain Corbet, “as nigh as I can reckon, we’re two or three miles outside of St. John harbor.”

“How is the tide?”

“Wal, it’s kine o’ agin us, jest now.”

“There doesn’t seem to be any wind.”

“Not much.”

“Shall we get into St. John to-day?”

“Wal, I kine o’ think we’ll manage it.”

“How soon?”

“Wal, not much afore midday.  You see we’re driftin away jest now.”

“Don’t you intend to anchor till the next rise of tide?”

“O, yes; in about ten minutes we’d ought to be about whar I want to anchor.”

At this disheartening condition of affairs the boys sank once more into a state of gloom.  In about ten minutes, as Captain Corbet said, the schooner was at anchor, and there was nothing to do but to wait.

“We’ll run in at turn o’ tide,” said he.

Breakfast came, and passed.  The meal was eaten in silence.  Then they went on deck again, fretting and chafing at the long delay.  Not much was said, but the boys stood in silence, trying to see through the thick fog.