for there, all along the beach, and close up to the bank, lay an immense quantity of drift-wood, which had been brought here by the tide from all the upper waters of the bay.  It was a most heterogeneous mixture that lay before him—­chips from timber ponds, logs from ship-yards, boards from saw-mills, deals, battens, fence posts, telegraph poles, deal ends, edgings, laths, palings, railway sleepers, treenails, shingles, clapboards, and all the various forms which wood assumes in a country which makes use of it as the chief material of its manufactures.  Along the countless streams that flow into the bay, and along its far-winding shores, and along the borders of all its subsidiary bays, and inlets, and basins, the manufacture of wood is carried on—­in saw-mills, in ship-yards, and in timber ponds; and the currents that move to and fro are always loaded with the fragments that are snatched away from these places, most of which are borne afar out to sea, but many of which are thrown all along the shores for hundreds of miles.  Ile Haute, being directly in the way of some of the swiftest currents, and close by the entrance to a basin which is surrounded by mills and ship-yards, naturally received upon its shores an immense quantity of these scattered and floating fragments.  Such was the sight that now met the eyes of Tom, and presented him with a countless number of fragments of wood adapted to his wants, at the very time when he had worked fruitlessly for two hours at fashioning one for himself.

Looking over the heaps of drift-wood, he found many pieces which suited him; and out of these he chose one which was shaped a little like an oar.  Securing this prize, he walked over to where the sail was, and deposited it there.

Then he ate some biscuit, and, after taking a draught from the cool brook, he rested, and waited, full of hope, for the rising of the tide.

It was now rapidly approaching the boat.  Tom watched it for some time, and felt new happiness as he viewed the roll of every little surf.  There was not much wind, and nothing but a gentle ripple on the water.  All this was in his favor; for, if he wished for anything now, it was a moderate breeze and a light sea.  From time to time he turned his attention to the Straits of Minas, and arranged various plans in his mind.  At one time he resolved to try and reach Pereau; again he thought that he would be content if he could only get to Parrsboro’; and yet again, he came to the wise conclusion that if he got to any settlement at all he would be content.  At another time he half decided to take another course, and try to reach Scott’s Bay, where he felt sure of a warm welcome and a plenteous repast.  Aiming thus at so many different points, it mattered but little to him in what particular direction the tide might sweep him, so long as it carried him up the bay.

The tide now came nearer, and Tom went down to the beach for a few moments.  He paced the distance between the boat and the water.  He noticed a few things lying in the boat.  In the bow was a coil of rope which Captain Corbet had probably obtained when he was ashore at Petitcodiac.  There was also a tin pan, used for baling.