“Just see me row—­away,” cried the governor, refusing to stop, but as he was about to say “away,” his oar slipped out of the rowlock, and he finished the sentence, his feet going up into the air and his head going down into the bottom of the boat!

“Caught a crab, governor?” shouted the president.

The boat stopped in the midst of the commotion that followed the governor’s tumble, and when Will started his craft again, he did not appreciate the fact that its bow had shifted its aim.

“Where are we goin’?” inquired Aunt Stanshy.

“Home,” answered Will.  “I’m all right.  A few more strokes must fetch us all right to the wharf,” and he pulled lustily on his oars.

“It is my fear that we are all wrong,” said Aunt Stanshy.  “I know something about this river, and about fogs, and about people rowing round like fools and getting nowhere.”

The members of the club now looked serious, and Will was provoked at Aunt Stanshy’s remark.

“Halloo there!”

This was an unexpected shout from the heart of the fog, and after the shout came a black boat, and in it was a man dressed like a fisherman.  He wore a “sou’wester” and a striped woolen shirt, also big cow-hide boots that came above the knees of his pants.

“Where are we?” asked Will.  “Anywhere near Wherren’s wharf?”

“Where are you?  Wal, it is safe to say in a gin’ral way that you are in the river.”

“I know that, friend,” said Will, “but are we headed for the shore?”

“That depends on the shore you want to find.  It’s my opinion that if you young folks keep on just as your boat is headed, you’ll strike Europe if you have good luck.”

“Pshaw!” exclaimed the apothecary, “we can’t be that much out of the way.”

“Try it and see.”

“Well, just where are we and which way ought we to go to reach Wherren’s wharf?”

“We are now down near Forbes’s Island, and—­”

“Forbes’s Island!” screamed Aunt Stanshy.  “Did you ever!”

“And my compass says if one wants to get up river, he must go in a direction directly opposite to that which you are now taking!”

The apothecary’s face fell several inches, Charlie thought.

“When you are out on the river, you are always safer to have a compass, for fogs may come up and you don’t know where you are.  I’m goin’ up the river and I should be happy to show you where Wherren’s wharf is, for you might as well hunt for a clam inside of an iceberg as to hunt for the wharf down here.”

“Thank you,” said Aunt Stanshy.

“Haven’t I seen you before, marm?”

“I dare say.”

“I was at your place and you gave me a job, sawing wood, this summer.”

“O, is it you, mister?  I see now.”

“The same one.  One good turn deserves another; so let’s go along together.”

All in the club were glad to see the man, excepting Wort.