By that time the fog had closed in around them, and both the schooner and the shore had been shut out from their view. They were drifting swiftly on, they could not tell where. For a long time they sat watching and waiting--how long they did not know. In seasons of suspense, moments are prolonged to hours; and so it was here. On they went, and still on. Each one well knew all the possibilities of the danger that lay before them. There was a wide and a wild sea, overspread with fog-clouds, where the waves were rising and the night was coming down. Into the midst of all this they were being borne by swift currents. This they all knew, yet not a sound of dismay escaped any one of them. Whatever each one may have felt of fear, he sat in silence and gave no sign. There were stout hearts that beat in those slender, boyish breasts, that awaited, undismayed, the terrors of the deep. Bart was the first to rouse himself. “Boys,” said he, drawing forth a tin pail from under the seat, “we must fight for our lives, and make up our minds to pass the night here. Well have to use this concern, I think.” “Here’s something, too, that may be of use,” said Arthur, drawing out a narrow plank from the bottom of the boat. “Phil, there’s another one; just draw it out.” Phil reached down for it, but Tom Crawford dragged it out first. “I’m stronger than you, Phil,” said he. “If there’s to be any paddling, I’ll do it.” Meanwhile Arthur drew his knife, and began cutting at the plank so as to fashion it into an oar. Tom did the same. Soon they were interrupted by a shout from Bart. “Hurrah, boys! Land! land!” he cried. “Look! look!” and he pointed to the left. True enough, there was the dim outline of black cliffs rising high not far away. Past these they were drifting. In an instant Arthur and Tom put out their planks, and began to use them as paddles, in the Indian fashion, heading the boat toward the shore, and putting forth all their strength. Bart, too, tried to use his dipper for a paddle. The boat drifted on; but the current swept them in nearer and nearer. Some progress was also made by the paddles, rude though they were. Borne on by the tide, the boat every moment drew nearer to the shore; yet every moment it was swiftly drifting by, and it now became a question whether it would be at all possible for them to reach, the land. Already they could see the end of the island, a precipitous cliff, not far away, toward which they were drifting. A few minutes more, and they would be there. The cliff was high. At its base there was a ledge of rocks, which ran down into the water. At this low tide the ledge extended for a long distance, and terminated in a projecting mass, which was covered with an immense growth of sea-weed.. Around this point the current passed, and it was to this that the boat was speeding.