“I wish we had left the Antelope,” said Tom, “and gone off by land, as Captain Corbet advised, either to Grand Pré, or anywhere else.” “O, sure an it’ll blow over, so it will,” said Pat. “Not it.”, “Sure an it’s best to be afther lookin on the bright side.” “There isn’t any bright side to the fog that I could ever see,” said Tom. “Well,” said Bart, “we’ll have to do as we’ve done before--grin and bear it.” “But it’s a great deal harder to grin now than it used to be,” said Phil, plaintively; “and I can’t bear it at all.” “O, well, Captain Corbet’ll work his way along. He understands fog, at any rate.” “Well, I don’t altogether think so,” said Bruce. “After losing himself so utterly a few days ago, and fetching up at Sable Island, I rather begin to doubt his power to understand fog.” “O, well, that was in a strange place.” “Well, this is a strange place.” “Not quite. We are getting well on towards the Bay of Fundy.” “Well, we’re not there yet. As yet, we’re in the Atlantic Ocean. Now, Captain Corbet got lost once before in this same place,--the Atlantic Ocean,--and it’s my fixed belief that he’ll do it again.” “O, we know where the coast of Nova Scotia is now, and we’re all right. I’m determined to look on the bright side.” “Well, and I’m determined to be prepared for the worst.” The event showed that this fog did not have a bright side, and that it was wiser, in these circumstances, to be prepared for the worst. That day passed, and the fog still held on. The wind that brought the fog was strong, steady, and sustained, showing neither violence nor irresolution, but blowing in a way that promised to last long after their stock of patience was exhausted. It was a sou’-wester, the wind of fog and storm. After another day had passed, Captain Corbet’s face assumed an expression, the meaning of which was but too well known to all the boys through sad experience. That meaning was, that he was puzzled, that he was uncertain, hesitating, and not decided where to go. And the boys discussed this among themselves, and perceived that once again their good, their venerable, their modest, but, after all, somewhat incapable commander had again lost his way. “Ye see,” said he to Bruce, who mentioned this to him in a mild way,--“ye see thar’s ben so much tackin backard an forard that I kine o; got out o’ the knack of it, an thar’s a kink or two in my cal’lations. Ef we hadn’t got to alius beat up agin this sou’-wester, we’d manage to keep a better course; but, as it is, we ain’t got no course in pa’ticular, wuth mentionin. An then thar’s them tides, an currents, an all that; an what with them, an tackin, an the fog, why, it’s got to be precious hard navigatin.” “But why don’t you keep well in to the Nova Scotia shore?” “Wal, that thar’s the very identical thing I’m a drivin at, an I dar say, if the fog was to lift, you’d see it quite handy over thar.” “But where are we now?”