slowness and caution were of little avail. In the deeper water
there was a strong current, which at once caught the boat and bore her
along. Tom struggled bravely against it, but without avail. He thought
for a moment of seeking the shore again, but the fear that the boat
would be ruined deterred him.

There was a little wind blowing from the southwest, and he determined
to trust to the sail. He loosened this, and, sitting down, waited for
further developments.

The wind filled the sail, and the boat's progress was checked somewhat,
yet still she drifted down the bay.

She was drifting down past the north shore of the island. Tom could
see, amid the gloom, the frowning cliffs as he drifted past. The
firelight was lost to view; then he looked for some time upon the dark
form of the island.

At last even that was lost to view.

He was drifting down the bay, and was already below Ile Haute.

XXI.

Scott's Bay and Old Bennie.--His two Theories.--Off to the desert
Island.--Landing.--A Picnic Ground.--Gloom and Despair of the
Explorers.--All over.--Sudden Summons.

It was on Wednesday evening that the Antelope passed from the sunshine
and beauty of Digby Basin out into the fog and darkness of the Bay of
Fundy. The tide was falling, and, though the wind was in their favor,
yet their progress was somewhat slow. But the fact that they were
moving was of itself a consolation. In spite of Captain Corbet's
declared preference for tides and anchors, and professed contempt for
wind and sails, the boys looked upon these last as of chief importance,
and preferred a slow progress with the wind to even a more rapid one by
means of so unsatisfactory a method of travel as drifting.

At about nine on the following morning, the Antelope reached a little
place called Wilmot Landing, where they went on shore and made the
usual inquiries with the usual result. Embarking again, they sailed on
for the remainder of that day, and stopped at one or two places along
the coast.

On the next morning (Friday) they dropped anchor in front of Hall's
Harbor--a little place whose name had become familiar to them during
their memorable excursion to Blomidon. Here they met with the same
discouraging answer to their question.

"Wal," said Captain Corbet, "we don't seem to meet with much success to
speak of--do we?"

"No," said Bart, gloomily.

"I suppose your pa'll be sendin schooners over this here same ground.
'Tain't no us