nto Quaco."

"Quaco?"

"Yes."

"How far is it from here?"

"Not very fur, 'cordin to my calc'lations. My idee is, that the boat
may have drifted down along here and got ashore. Ef so, he may have
made for Quaco, an its jest possible that we may hear about him."

"Is this the most likely place for a boat to go ashore?"

"Wal, all things considered, a boat is more likely to go ashore on the
New Brunswick side, driftin from Petticoat Jack; but at the same time
'tain't at all certain. Thar's ony a ghost of a chance, mind. I don't
feel over certain about it."

"Will we get to Quaco this tide?"

"Scacely."

"Do you intend to anchor again?"

"Wal, I rayther think I'll hev to do it. But we'd ought to get to
Quaco by noon, I calc'late. I'm a thinkin--Hello! Good gracious!"

The captain's sudden exclamation interrupted his words, and made all
turn to look at the object that had called it forth. One glance showed
an object which might well have elicited even a stronger expression of
amazement and alarm.

Immediately in front of them arose a vast cliff,--black, rocky,
frowning,--that ascended straight up from the deep water, its summit
lost in the thick fog, its base white with the foaming waves that
thundered there. A hoarse roar came up from those breaking waves,
which blended fearfully with the whistle of the wind through the
rigging, and seemed like the warning sound of some dark, drear fate.
The cliff was close by, and the schooner had been steering straight
towards it. So near was it that it seemed as though one could have
easily tossed a biscuit ashore.

But though surprised, Captain Corbet was not in the least confused, and
did not lose his presence of mind for a moment. Putting the helm hard
up, he issued the necessary commands in a cool, quiet manner; the
vessel went round, and in a few moments the danger was passed. Yet so
close were they, that in wearing round it seemed as though one could
almost have jumped from the stern upon the rocky shelves which appeared
in the face of the lofty cliff.

Captain Corbet drew a long breath.

"That's about the nighest scratch I remember ever havin had," was his
remark, as the Antelope went away from the land. "Cur'ous, too; I
don't see how it happened. I lost my reckonin a little. I'm a mile
further down than I calc'lated on bein."

"Do you know that place?" asked Bart.

"Course I know it."

"It's lucky for us we didn't go there at night."

"Y