The Antelope had left the wharf at about seven in the morning.  It was now one o’clock.  For the last two or three hours there had been but little wind, and it was the tide which had carried her along.  Drifting on in this way, they had come to within a mile of Ile Haute, and had an opportunity of inspecting the place which Tom had declared to be so gloomy.  In truth, Tom’s judgment was not undeserved.  Ile Haute arose like a solid, unbroken rock out of the deep waters of the Bay of Fundy, its sides precipitous, and scarred by tempest, and shattered by frost.  On its summit were trees, at its base lay masses of rock that had fallen.  The low tide disclosed here, as at the base of Blomidon, a vast growth of black sea-weed, which covered all that rocky shore.  The upper end of the island, which was nearest them, was lower, however, and went down sloping to the shore, forming a place where a landing could easily be effected.  From this shore mud flats extended into the water.

“This end looks as though it had been cleared,” said Bart.

“I believe it was,” said the captain.

“Does anybody live here?”

“No.”

“Did any one ever live here?”

“Yes, once, some one tried it, I believe, but gave it up.”

“Does it belong to anybody, or is it public property?”

“O, I dare say it belongs to somebody, if you could only get him to claim it.”

“I say, captain,” said Bruce, “how much longer are we going to drift?”

“O, not much longer.  The tide’s about on the turn, and we’ll have a leetle change.”

“What! will we drift back again?”

“O, I shouldn’t wonder if we had a leetle wind afore long.”

“But if we don’t, will we drift back again into the Basin of Minas?”

“O, dear, no.  We can anchor hereabouts somewhar.”

“You won’t anchor by this island,—­will you?”

“O, dear, no.  We’ll have a leetle driftin first.”  As the captain spoke, he looked earnestly out upon the water.

“Thar she comes,” he cried at last, pointing over the water.  The boys looked, and saw the surface of the bay all rippled over.  They knew the signs of wind, and waited for the result.  Soon a faint puff came up the bay, which filled the languid sails, and another puff came up more strongly, and yet another, until at length a moderate breeze was blowing.  The tide no longer dragged them on.  It was on the turn; and as the vessel caught the wind, it yielded to the impetus, and moved through the water, heading across the bay towards the New Brunswick shore, in such a line as to pass near to that cape which has already been spoken of.

“If the wind holds out,” said Captain Corbet, “so as to carry us past Cape d’Or, we can drift up with this tide.”

“Where’s Cape d’Or?”

“That there,” said Captain Corbet, pointing to the long cape which stretched between them and the New Brunswick shore.  “An if it goes down, an we can’t get by the cape, we’ll be able, at any rate, to drop anchor there, an hold on till the next tide.”