The shore was a little over a league distant, and with a breeze the good ship could readily work off, but in the teeth of a storm, and with the mainmast sprung, there were too many odds against her. The afternoon passed, all eagerly watching for a cap full of air, to bear the vessel into a haven of safety, the Kennebec River. But no ripple stirred the glass-like waters, and to landward a wild and forbidding coast only was seen. The charts were examined closely, but no harbor was noted just there, and all wondered what was to be done, for the sprung mast would never stand to beat out to sea against such a tempest as was rising. At last Captain De Long turned to Cadet Midshipman Clemmons, and asked: “Do you not live somewhere in this vicinity, Mr. Clemmons?” “Some leagues from here, sir.” “And you know of no haven into which we could tow with our boats!” “I have heard of several harbors for fishing boats, sir, but I do not know of them,” replied Scott Clemmons, who would not say: “But Merrill might know.” He did not care to put another feather in the cap of his rival--his rescuer though he had been. “Pardon me, Captain De Long, but Mr. Merrill pointed out to me a while ago with his glass his own home, and he may know,” said Herbert Nazro, who had heard the captain questioning Clemmons. “Ah, yes, he is the very man! Send Mr. Merrill here at once,” said the captain, with considerable eagerness. Mark Merrill reported promptly. “Mr. Merrill, your home is near here, I am told?” “My mother dwells in the large mansion, sir, you see on the cliff yonder, a league and a half away, but it is not our own home, sir.” “Do you know of any harborage in here which we can tow into with our boats, for yonder seems like a good anchorage ground?” “That, sir, is a death trap with a storm from seaward, for the coasters call it Hopeless Haven. Yonder, where you see the cliff, is a harbor, and a safe one, though small, and the entrance is dangerous.” “Do you know these waters well?” “Perfectly, sir,” was the response, and there was no boasting in the reply. “There is depth for this ship in the harbor you refer to?” “Yes, sir.” “And you can pilot her in with the boats ahead, if we can get there before the storm breaks?” “It was there, sir, I took General Peyton’s yacht, the Midshipman, sir, when the Secretary of the Navy and Commodore Lucien were on board.” “Ah, indeed! I have been told of that bold piloting by the commodore himself; and it got you your appointment?” “Yes, sir.” “Then I will order the boats out ahead, and----” “Pardon me, Captain De Long, but as the gale is coming from seaward, I can run in, sir, if you will order topmasts housed and set only lower sails, to save the sprung mainmast,” said Mark modestly. “Mr. Merrill, you are a born sailor, sir, and I give the ship over to you as pilot,” said Captain De Long, with frank acknowledgment of the youth’s skill and nerve. CHAPTER XLV. UNEXPECTED VISITORS.