“Wal, p’aps not—­ony thar is people that find this a dreadful cur’ous place.  It’s got, as I said, a pootyish harbure; but that ain’t the grand attraction.  The grand attraction centres in a rock that’s said to be the eastest place in the neighborin republic,—­in short, as they call it, the ‘jumpin-off place.’  You’d better go an see it; ony you needn’t jump off, unless you like.”

Sailing up the harbor, the fog grew light enough for them to see the shore.  The town lay in rather an imposing situation, on the side of a hill, which was crowned by a fort.  A large number of vessels lay about at the wharves and at anchor.  Here they went ashore in a boat, but on making inquiries could gain no information about Tom; nor could they learn anything which gave them the slightest encouragement.

“We’ve got to wait here a while so as to devarsefy the time.  Suppose we go an jump off?” said the captain.

The boys assented to this in a melancholy manner, and the captain led the way through the town, till at last he halted at the extreme east end.

“Here,” said he, “you behold the last extremity of a great an mighty nation, that spreads from the Atlantic to the Pacific, an from the Gulf of Mexiky to the very identical spot that you air now a occypyin of.  It air a celebrated spot, an this here air a memorable momient in your youthful lives, if you did but know it!”

There was nothing very striking about this place, except the fact which Captain Corbet had stated.  Its appearance was not very imposing, yet, on the other hand, it was not without a certain wild beauty.  Before them spread the waters of the bay, with islands half concealed in mist; while immediately in front, a steep, rocky bank went sheer down for some thirty or forty feet to the beach below.

“I suppose,” said the captain, “that bein Pilgrims, it air our dooty to jump; but as it looks a leetle rocky down thar, I think we’d best defer that to another opportoonity.”

Returning to the schooner, they weighed anchor, set sail, and left the harbor.  On leaving it, they did not go back the way they had come, but passed through a narrow and very picturesque channel, which led them by a much shorter route into the bay.  On their left were wooded hills, and on their right a little village on the slope of a hill, upon whose crest stood a church.

Outside the fog lay as thick as ever, and into this they plunged.  Soon the monotonous gray veil of mist closed all around them.  But now their progress was more satisfactory, for they were crossing the bay, and the wind was abeam.

“Are you going straight across to Nova Scotia now?” asked Bart.

“Wal, yes; kine o’ straight across,” was the reply; “ony on our way we’ve got to call at a certain place, an contenoo our investergations.”

“What place is that?”

“It’s the Island of Grand Manan—­a place that I allers feel the greatest respect for.  On that thar island is that celebrated fog mill that I told you of, whar they keep grindin night an day, in southerly weather, so as to keep up the supply of fog for old Fundy.  Whatever we’d do without Grand Manan is more’n I can say.”