“Child’s play? Wal, I don’t know about that altogether,” said Bennie. “For my part, I don’t seem to see how goin’ without sleep’s child’s play, as you call it; but still I’m glad all the same that you look on it in this way; I am railly.”
“O, you needn’t give any thought to us. We’re old stagers. We’ve been shipwrecked and we’ve lived on desert islands. We’ve risked our lives a dozen times in a dozen days. Fellows that have been cast ashore on Anticosti and on Sable Island, can’t be frightened at anything that you can mention.”
“After my life on Ile Haute out there,” said Tom, looking at the dim form of Ile Haute, which was even then being enveloped in the gathering fog, “I think this is mere child’s play.”
“And after my adventures in the woods,” said Phil, “I’m ready for anything.”
“Pat and I,” said Bart, “have known all the bitterness of death, and have felt what it is to be buried alive.”
“An meself,” said Pat, “by the same token, have known what it is to bathe in the leper wather, so I have; an what’s fog to that?”
“Well,” said Arthur, “I’ve had my turn off Anticosti in the boat, Tom and I.”
“And I,” said Bruce, “have had my turn at the Five Islands; so you see you’ve got to do with a lot of fellows that don’t care a rush for fogs and tides, and all that sort of thing.”
“Wal, young fellers,” said Bennie, “I knock under, I cave in. I won’t say anything more. You’re all the right sort, an are ready for anything. So come along; an here goes for Parrsboro’. You’ve got to be up all night; but arter all, you’ve got wraps and rugs, an bread an butter, an pie, an can keep yourselves warm, an can have enough to eat,—’so what’s the odds, as long as you’re happy?’ I ain’t a croaker, I ain’t, but go in for bein cheerful, an if you ain’t goin to knock under, why I ain’t, an so let’s be jolly an move on.”
Saying this, Bennie hoisted his sail once more. The wind was light, but fair, and the only question now was, whether that wind would be strong enough to carry the boat against the tide. As to the tide, that was certainly sufficiently strong, but unfortunately it was unfavorable. The tide had turned, and was running down the Strait of Minas, up which they wished to go. The tide was thus adverse, and in addition to this was the fog.
The fog!
Yes, the fog, the dreaded, the baleful fog, was coming on. Already Ile Haute was concealed from view. Soon the opposite shore would be veiled. Worse than all, the night was coming on. With fog and darkness united, their way would be uncertain indeed.
Fortunately for them, the way was a straight one, and the wind, though not very strong, and though opposed by the tide, was yet fair. This much was in their favor.
And so they spread their sails. And the wind filled the sails, and the boat went on. The tide was against them, but still the boat advanced. Some progress, at last, was made. Hour after hour passed, and still they went on. Bennie seemed to be quite encouraged. At last they came to a wide beach.
“Hurrah!” said Bennie, “we’re here at last. This is the place, lads. We’re at Parrsboro’! Hurrah!”
CHAPTER XXVII.
It had been a most eventful day for all the boys, and when they stepped ashore it was nine o’clock in the evening. They looked around with some curiosity, for they saw no signs of houses just here, though the fog had diminished greatly, and it was not so dark but that they could see the outline of the shore.
“Now, boys,” said Bennie, “here you are. You see that island in front,—well, Parrsboro’ is just behind that, and not more’n half a mile off by land. It’s too far to go round it in the boat; so we’ll leave her here, and I’ll show you the way along the shore.”
With these words, Bennie drew up the boat a little distance, and secured it by putting the anchor out upon the beach. After this he started off, and the boys followed. Bennie walked along the beach, occasionally explaining the different objects around, pointing out Blomidon, Partridge Island, and other places, all familiar enough, and needing only to be mentioned to be recognized by the boys.
At length they came in sight of a number of houses on the side of a hill close by a cove. Lights shone in the windows, and everything had a most inviting appearance.
“Here you air, boys,” said Bennie, “an here I’ll leave you, for you can find your way on easy enough. You’ve only got to foller your noses. I’ve got to go back an drop down with the tide so as to git to Cape Split before the wind goes down. An so I’ll bid you good by.”
The boys made no effort to detain him, for they knew well that the return would be tedious, and had no desire to keep him away from his home any longer than they could help. So they all shook hands with him, thanking him earnestly, and promising, in obedience to his reiterated request, to pay him a visit on their return to school. Bennie now left them and returned to his boat, in which he embarked and set sail for Scott’s Bay. The boys went on. The village was reached in a short time, and they walked to the inn.
On entering the parlor of the inn, they were accosted by the landlord, and the following conversation took place.
“Can you give us accommodation for the night?”
“O, yes.”
“And get us some tea as quick as you can, for we’re starving?”
“You can have it in half an hour.”
“That’s right. We’ve just come over from Scott’s Bay, and have had no end of a tug. We want to take the steamer here to St. John.”
“O, ye’ll be wantin to wait for the steamer.”
“Yes; it’s the only thing for us to do; and I’m precious glad we’ve got such good quarters.”
“O, ay. Parrsboro’s a good place to stop at. There be people that stops here weeks an months, an says as how it’s one of the best places goin. I can put yes on the way to the best streams for salmon an trout in the country; an ye can have a nice boat if ye want to go over to Blomidon; it’s a mighty fine place over there, and folks finds cur’ous minerals; an if ye want deep-sea fishin, why, out there a mile or two in the bay ye can get no end of cod.”
“O, for that matter, we haven’t any idea of sporting. We’re in too much of a hurry. Just get us a tea and bed, and I suppose we’ll have time to get breakfast tomorrow?”
The landlord stared.
“Time? Breakfast?”
“Yes; before the steamer comes, you know.”
“Before the steamer comes?” repeated the landlord, dubiously.
“Yes; I suppose she won’t touch here too early but that we’ll have time for breakfast?”
“Breakfast? When? Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Why, there’s no steamer comes tomorrow.”
“What!”
At that astonishing intelligence, all the boys started up to their feet from the easy lounging attitudes into which they had flung themselves, and surrounding the landlord, stared at him with speechless amazement.
“What’s that?” cried Bruce, at last; “no steamer tomorrow?”
“No; O, dear, no.”
“Why—why—when does she come here?”
“Why, she was here this morning, and won’t be here again till this day week.”
“This morning?”
“Yes; she was here about ten o’clock.”
“This morning!