The boys couldn’t guess.

“D’ye guv it up?”

They did.

“Wal, the paper said, he druv ashore at Grand Manan; but I’ve my doubts about it.”

The captain paused, looked all around through the fog, and stood for a moment as though listening to some sound.

“I kine o’ thought,” said he, “that I detected the dash of water on the shore.  I rayther think it’s time to bring her round.”

The vessel was brought round on another tack, and the captain resumed his conversation.

“What I was jest sayin,” he continued, “reminds me of a story I onst heard, or read, I forget which (all the same, though), about two boys which went adrift on a raft.  It took place up in Scott’s Bay, I think, at a ship-yard in that thar locality.

“These two unfortunate children, it seems, had made a raft in a playful mude, an embarkin on it they had been amoosin theirselves with paddlin about by pushin it with poles.  At length they came to a pint where poles were useless; the tide got holt of the raft, an the ferrail structoor was speedily swept onward by the foorus current.  Very well.  Time rolled on, an that thar raft rolled on too,—­far over the deep bellew sea,—­beaten by the howlin storm, an acted upon by the remorseless tides.  I leave you to pictoor to yourselves the sorrow of them thar two infant unfortunits, thus severed from their hum an parients, an borne afar, an scarce enough close on to keep ’em from the inclemency of the weather.  So they drifted, an drifted, an de-e-rifted, until at last they druv ashore; an now, whar do you think it was that they druv?”

The boys couldn’t say.

“Guess now.”

The boys declined.

“Try.”

They couldn’t.

“Name some place.”

They couldn’t think of any.

“D’ye guv it up?” asked the captain, excitedly.

They did.

“Well, then,” said he, in a triumphant tone, “they druv ashore on
Brier Island; an ef that thar ain’t pooty tall driftin, then I’m a
Injine.”

To this the boys had no reply to make.

“From all this,” continued the captain, “you must perceive that this here driftin is very much more commoner than you hev ben inclined to bleeve it to be.  You also must see that thar’s every reason for hope.  So up with your gizzards!  Pluck up your sperrits!  Rise and look fortin an the footoor squar in the face.  Squar off at fortin, an hav it out with her on the spot.  I don’t want to hev you go mopin an whinin about this way.  Hello!”

Captain Corbet suddenly interrupted his remarks by an exclamation.  The exclamation was caused by the sudden appearance of a sail immediately to windward.  She was coming up the bay before the wind, and came swiftly through the fog towards them.  In passing on her way, she came astern of the Antelope.

“Schooner, ahoy!” cried Captain Corbet; and some conversation took place, in which they learned that the stranger was the schooner Wave, from St. John, and that she had not seen any signs whatever of any drifting boat.