“That’s about it, anyway you take it. But the flood tide’s catching us now, and where it’s takin’ us to’s more’n I know.” “It will take the boat too.” “Yes; of course.” “You spoke of another current.” “Yes, the other current sweeps around farther up, nigh unto the main land, and takes a turn and comes down, till it jines the gen’ral current along with the others.” “So, if they had drifted into that, they would still be behind us.” “Of course.” “Where do you think we are now?” “Can’t tell. Somewhere near Blomidon, though perhaps I’m jest as near Horton Bluff.” “How far would the boat drift till the tide turns?” “Wal, they would have time to drift nearly to Blomidon.” “And when the tide turns, you can’t tell where they’d go?” “No, _sir_--nor nobody else.” “What chance would there be of the boat keeping afloat?” Captain Corbet shook his head. “It’s rough--precious rough. Ef it had been any other boys than them there partic’ler boys, I’d have my doubts. They’d all be swamped, sure as a gun. But them there boys is oncommon lively creeturs. An’ they’ve got a great idea of a rowboat, though they don’t know nothin’ of sailin’. They’d manage to keep afloat as long as anybody I know of. They’d make a precious hard fight of it afore they’d knock under, mind, I tell you. They’re boys that are up to snuff. They mind me of my babby. My babby is the cutest little creetur that ever I see in all my born days. Why, that there infant last week--jest a week ago to-morrow--that there infant--hallo--O--ah--hur--why, I declare--Mr. Long--why, he’s gone, ah’ hasn’t heard about the infant.” It was a fact. Mr. Long had gone, and had lost the story of the infant. A moment afterward the shrill blast of the horn sounded out over the deep. “Captain,” said he, as he came back again, “I won’t object any more to your anchoring. Do as you choose. God alone knows what is best to do. He alone can save those dear boys. I must try to trust them to him.” A few moments after, the vessel was swinging at her anchor in twenty fathoms water.