back again.  It was some waif that had been drifting about till it was thus cast at his feet.  He thought of taking it for a mast, and making use of the sail.  The idea was an attractive one.  He pulled the sail out, unfolded it, and found it to be the jib of some schooner.  He cut off one end of this, and then with his knife began to make a hole in the seat for his mast.  It was very slow work, but he succeeded at last in doing it, and inserted the pole.  Then he fastened the sail to it.  He was rather ignorant of navigation, but he had a general idea of the science, and thought he would learn by experience.  By cutting off the rope from the edge of the sail he obtained a sheet, and taking off the cover of the biscuit box a second time, he put this aside to use as a rudder.

But now, in what direction ought he to steer?

This was an insoluble problem.  He could tell now by the flow of the current the points of the compass, but could not tell in which direction he ought to go.  The New Brunswick coast he thought was nearest, but he dreaded it.  It seemed perilous and unapproachable.  He did not think much better of the Nova Scotia coast.  He thought rather of Cape d’Or, as a promising place of refuge, or the Petitcodiac.  So, after long deliberation, he decided on steering back again, especially as the wind was blowing directly up the bay.

By the time that he had finished these preparations and deliberations the boat was afloat.  Eagerly Tom pushed it away from the shoal; eagerly, and with trembling hands, he let the sail unfold, and thrust the board into the water astern.  The boat followed the impulse of the wind, and the young sailor saw with delight that his experiment was successful, and before long the dark rocks of Quaco Ledge were lost to view.

Now, where there is a definite object to steer by, or a compass to guide one, and a decent rudder, even an inexperienced hand can manage to come somewhere near the point that he aims at.  But take a boat like Tom’s, and a rude and suddenly extemporized sail, with no other rudder than a bit of board, with no compass, and a surrounding of thick fog, and it would puzzle even an experienced sailor to guide himself aright.  Tom soon suspected that his course was rather a wild one; his board in particular became quite unmanageable, and he was fatigued with trying to hold it in the water.  So he threw it aside, and boldly trusted to his sail alone.

The boat seemed to him to be making very respectable progress.  The wind was fresh, and the sea only moderate.  The little waves beat over the bows, and there was quite a commotion astern.  Tom thought he was doing very well, and heading as near as possible towards the Petitcodiac.  Besides, in his excitement at being thus saved from mere blind drifting, he did not much care where he went, for he felt assured that he was now on the way out of his difficulties.