The captain shook his head slowly and solemnly. “Kine o’ curous, too,” he ejaculated, after a thoughtful pause. “I don’t suppose you have any more idea of where we are than you had yesterday.” “Wal,” said Captain Corbet, “not to say much of an idea; but I’m kine o’ comin round, an mebbe I’ll get the hang of it yet.” “Well, why not head her west? We’ll be sure to come in sight of land then.” Again the captain shook his head. “Wal, I don’t know,” said he, “about that. Thar’s currents, an thar’s eddies; an thar’s the Gulf Stream to be considered. Now, if we’d kep straight on at fust, when we got out o’ Canso, we’d been all right; or even after we left Louisbourg, ef we’d only kep along the coast, in sight--but thar’s the mischief of it. I let her git out o’ sight o’ land that night, an she got kine o’ slewed round, and ’s kep kine o’ cantin round every which way, until at last she’s in this here onfort’nit position. An now I’m all teetotally aderrift!” “O, I shouldn’t think that we can be more than a hundred miles or so south-east of the Nova Scotia coast.” “Wal, I don’t know; seems to me we may jest as well be off Bermudy as anywhars else.” “Bermuda!” exclaimed Bart, in amazement. “You don’t mean that.” “Wal, I don’t see why not. Here we air, after a kerrewsin around a whole fortnight every which way, driven up an down by wind an tide, an canterin along with the Gulf Stream; an whenever, we ventured to hail a passin vessel, only gettin the finger o’ scorn a pinted at us for our pains, an the laughter of frivolous an light-minded men. So what’s to hender us from bein anywhars?” “Well,” said Bart, “don’t you think it would be better to take some one course, and stick to it?” “Ain’t I done it?” said the captain. “Ain’t I done it every day? Every day I took some definite course, and stuck to it; an what’s the result? Young sir, if you seek a answer, look around.” “But something must be done,” said Bart, “or else we’ll find the Antelope becoming a second edition of the Flying Dutchman. A fortnight of this sort of thing’s no joke.” “Who ever said it was?” said Captain Corbet. “An what’s wuss, every passin vessel will pussist in makin it a joke. They think we’re a fishin schooner, bound to the banks; an if we ask a honest question, they won’t do anything but yell out jokes that ain’t got any pint that ever I can see. Wal, this sarves me right, for ever ventrin outside of old Fundy. Put me in old Fundy an I’m all right; out here I ain’t any good, an hadn’t ought ever to dreamt of comin.”