“Why, away up thar,” said the captain, pointing towards the headland at the upper end of the village.

“How long since?”

“Wal, jest arter breakfast.  It must hev ben afore seven.”

“It’s strange that he hasn’t got back.”

“Yes; he’d ought to be back by this time.”

“He can’t get any lobsters now; the tide is too high.”

“That’s a fact.”

They waited half an hour.  The rising tide already touched the Antelope’s keel.

“Solomon ought to be back,” cried Bart, starting up.

“That’s so,” said Captain Corbet.

“I’m afraid something’s happened.  He’s been gone too long.  Two hours were enough.”

The boys all looked at one another with anxious faces.

“If he went up that shore,” said Bart, “he may have got caught by the tide.  It’s a very dangerous place for anybody—­let alone an old man like him.”

“Wal, he did go up thar; he said partic’lar that he wanted to find somethin of a relish, an would hunt up thar.  He said, too, he’d be back by nine.”

“I’m certain something’s happened,” cried Bart, more anxiously than before.  “If he’s gone up there, he’s been caught by the tide.”

Captain Corbet stared, and looked uneasy.

“Wal, I must say, that thar’s not onlikely.  It’s a bad place, a dreadful bad place,—­an him an old man,—­a dreadful bad place.  He’d be down here by this time, ef he was alive.”

“I won’t wait any longer,” cried Bart.  “I must go and see.  Come along, boys.  Don’t let’s leave poor old Solomon in danger.  Depend upon it, he’s caught up there somewhere.”

“Wal, I think you’re right,” said Captain Corbet, “an I’ll go too.  But ef we do go, we’d better go with some preparations.”

“Preparations?  What kind of preparations?”

“O, ony a rope or two,” said Captain Corbet; and taking a coil of rope over his arm, he stepped ashore, and all the boys hurried after him.

“I feel kine o’ safer with a kile o’ rope,—­bein a seafarin man,” he remarked.  “Give a seafarin man a rope, an he’ll go anywhar an do anythin.  He’s like a spider onto a web.”

X.

Tom ashore.—­Storm at Night.—­Up in the Morning.—­The Cliffs and the Beach.—­A startling Discovery.—­A desert Island.—­A desperate Effort.—­Afloat again.

Tom slept soundly for a long time in the spot where he had flung himself.  The sense of security came to the assistance of his wearied limbs, and lulled him into profounder slumbers.  There was nothing here that might rudely awaken him—­no sudden boat shocks, no tossings and heavings of waves, no hoarse, menacing thunders of wrathful surges from rocky shores; nor were there distressing dreams to harass him, or any anxieties carried from his waking hours into the land of slumbers to annoy and to arouse.  From Monday night until this time on Thursday, he had known but little sleep, and much fatigue and sorrow.  Now the fatigue and the sorrow were all forgotten, and the sleep was all his own.  Not a thought had he given to the land which he had reached so strangely.  It was enough for him that he felt the solid ground beneath his feet.