through with the damp night air, pierced to the bone by the cold night wind; drifting on amid a thousand dangers, now swept on by furious tides towards rocky shores, and again drawn back by refluent currents over vast sunken sea-ledges, white with foam.  Thus through all the night they slept, and as they slept the Antelope dashed on through the waters, whose foaming waves, as they tumbled against her sides and over her bows, sent forth sounds that mingled with their dreams, and became intermingled with poor Tom’s mournful cries.

IX.

Awake once more.—­Where are we?—­The giant cliff.—­Out to Sea.—­ Anchoring and Drifting.—­The Harbor.—­The Search.—­No Answer.—­ Where’s Solomon?

Scarce had the streaks of light greeted Captain Corbet’s eyes, and given him the grateful prospect of another day, when the boys awaked and hurried up on deck.  Their first act was to take a hurried look all around.  The same gloomy and dismal prospect appeared—­black water and thick, impenetrable fog.

“Where are we now, Captain?” asked Bruce.

“Wal, a con-siderable distance down the bay.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Wal—­I’ve about made up my mind whar to go.”

“Where?”

“I’m thinkin of puttin into 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.