This intelligence depressed them all.

“Wal, wal,” said the captain, “I didn’t have much hopes; it’s jest as I feared; but, at the same time, I’ll ask further.  An first and foremost I’ll go an see them schooners.”

He then went off with the boys in search of the schooners just mentioned.  These were found without difficulty.  One had come from up the bay, another from St. John, and a third from Eastport.  None of them had encountered anything like a drilling boat.  The one from up the bay afforded them the greatest puzzle.  She must have come down the very night of Tom’s accident.  If he did drift down the bay in his boat, he must have been not very far from the schooner.  In clear weather he could not have escaped notice; but the skipper had seen nothing, and heard nothing.  He had to beat down against the wind, and anchor when the tide was rising; but, though he thus traversed so great an extent of water, nothing whatever attracted his attention.

“This sets me thinkin,” said the captain, “that, perhaps, he mayn’t have drifted down at all.  He may have run ashore up thar.  Thar’s a chance of it, an we must all try to think of that, and cheer up, as long as we can.”

Leaving the schooners, the captain now went through the settlement, and made a few inquiries, with no further result.  Nothing had been heard by any one about any drifting boat, and they were at last compelled to see that in Quaco there was no further hope of gaining any information whatever about Tom.

After this, the captain informed the boys that he was going back to the schooner to sleep.

“I haven’t slep a wink,” said he, “sence we left Grand Pre, and that’s more’n human natur can ginrally stand; so now I’m bound to have my sleep out, an prepare for the next trip.  You boys had better emply yourselves in inspectin this here village.”

“When shall we leave Quaco?”

“Wal, I’ll think that over.  I haven’t yet made up my mind as to what’s best to be done next.  One thing seems certain.  There ain’t no use goin out in this fog, an I’ve half a mind to wait here till to-morrow.”

“To-morrow!”

“Yes,—­an then go down to St. John.”

“But what’ll poor Tom be doing?”

“It’s my firm belief that he’s all right,” said Captain Corbet, confidently.  “At any rate, you’d better walk about now, an I’ll try an git some sleep.”

As there was nothing better to be done, the boys did as he proposed, and wandered about the village.  It was about two miles long, with houses scattered at intervals along the single street of which it was composed, with here, and there a ship-yard.  At one end was a long, projecting ledge, with a light-house; at the other there was a romantic valley, through which a stream ran into the bay.  On the other side of this stream were cliffs of sandstone rocks, in which were deep, cavernous hollows, worn by the waves; beyond this, again, was a long line of a precipitous