an jest the same as ef the sun was shinin. But we can't start till eight o'clock this evenin. Anyhow, you needn't trouble yourselves a mite. You may all go to sleep, an dream that the silver moon is guidin the traveller on the briny deep."

The scene now was too monotonous to attract attention, and the boys once more sought for some mode of passing the time. Nothing appeared so enticing as their former occupation of fishing, and to this they again turned their attention. In this employment the time passed away rapidly until the summons was given for tea. Around the festive board, which was again prepared by Solomon with his usual success, they lingered long, and at length, when they arose, the tide was high. It was now about eight o'clock in the evening, and Captain Corbet was all ready to start. As the tide was now beginning to turn, and was on the ebb, the anchor was raised, and the schooner, yielding to the pressure of the current, moved away from her anchorage ground. It was still thick, and darkness also was coming on. Not a thing could be discerned, and by looking at the water, which moved with the schooner, it did not seem as though any motion was made.

"That's all your blindness," said the captain, as they mentioned it to him. "You can't see anything but the water, an as it is movin with us, it doesn't seem as though we were movin. But we air, notwithstandin, an pooty quick too. I'll take two hours' drift before stoppin, so as to make sure. I calc'late about that time to get to a place whar I can hit the current that'll take me, with the risin tide, up to old Petticoat Jack."

"By the way, captain," said Phil, "what do you seafaring men believe about the origin of that name—Petitcodiac? Is it Indian or French?"

"'Tain't neither," said Captain Corbet, decidedly. "It's good English; it's 'Petticoat Jack;' an I've hearn tell a hundred times about its original deryvation. You see, in the old French war, there was an English spy among the French, that dressed hisself up as a woman, an was familiarly known, among the British generals an others that emply'd him, as 'Petticoat Jack.' He did much to contriboot to the defeat of the French; an arter they were licked, the first settlers that went up thar called the place, in honor of their benefacture, 'Petticoat Jack;' an it's bore that name ever sence. An people that think it's French, or Injine, or Greek, or Hebrew, or any other outlandish tongue, don't know what they're talkin about. Now, I KNOW, an I assure you what I've ben a sayin's the gospel terewth, for I had it of an old seafarin man that's sailed this bay for more'n forty year, an if he ain't good authority, then I'd like to know who is—that's all."

At this explanation of the etymology of the disputed term, the boys were silent, and exchanged glances of admiration.

It was some minutes after eight when they left their anchorage, and began to drift once more. There was no moon, and the night would have been dark in any case, but now the fog rendered all things still more obscure. It had also grown much thicker than it had been. At first it was composed of light vapors, which surrounded them on all sides, it is true, but yet did not have that dampness which might have been expected. It was a light, dry fog, and for two or three hours the deck, and rigging, and the clothes of those on board remained quite dry. But now, as the darkness increased, the fog became denser, and was more surcharged with heavy vapors. Soon the deck looked as though it had received a shower of rain, and the clothes of those on board began to be penetrated with the chill damp.

"It's very dark, captain," said Bruce, at last, as the boys stood near the stern.

"Dradful dark," said the captain, thoughtfully.

"Have you really a good idea of where we are?"

"An idee? Why, if I had a chart,—which I haven't, cos I've got it all mapped out in my head,—but if I had one, I could take my finger an pint the exact spot where we are a driftin this blessed minute."

"You're going straight down the bay, I suppose."

"Right—yea, I am; I'm goin straight down; but I hope an trust, an what's more, I believe, I am taking a kine o' cant over nigher the New Brunswick shore."

"How long will we drift?"

"Wal, for about two hours—darsn't drift longer; an besides, don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Darsn't. Thar's a place down thar that every vessel on this here bay steers clear of, an every navigator feels dreadful shy of."

"What place is that?"

"Quaco Ledge," said Captain Corbet, in a solemn tone. "We'll get as near it as is safe this night, an p'aps a leetle nearer; but, then, the water's so calm and still, that it won't make any difference—in fact, it wouldn't matter a great deal if we came up close to it."

"Quaco Ledge?" said Bruce. "I've heard of that."

"Heard of it? I should rayther hope you had. Who hasn't? It's the one great, gen'ral, an standin terror of this dangerous and iron-bound bay. There's no jokin, no nonsense about Quaco Ledge; mind I tell you."

"Where does it lie?" asked Phil, after a pause.

"Wal, do you know whar Quaco settlement is?"

"Yes."

"Wal, Quaco Ledge is nigh about half way between Quaco settlement and Ile Haute, bein a'most in the middle of the bay, an in a terrible dangerous place for coasters, especially in a fog, or in a snow-storm. Many's the vessel that's gone an never heard of, that Quaco Ledge could tell all about, if it could speak. You take a good snowstorm in this Bay of Fundy, an let a schooner get lost in it, an not know whar she is, an if Quaco Ledge don't bring her up all standin, then I'm a Injine."

"Is it a large place?"

"Considerably too large for comfort," said the captain. "They've sounded it, an found the whole shoal about three an a half mile long, an a half a mile broad. It's all kivered over with water at high tide, but at half tide it begins to show its nose, an at low tide you see as pooty a shoal for shipwrecking as you may want; rayther low with pleasant jagged rocks at the nothe-east side, an about a hundred yards or so in extent. I've been nigh on to it in clear weather, but don't want to be within five miles of it in a fog or in a storm. In a thick night like this, I'll pull up before I get close."

"You've never met with any accident there, I suppose."

"Me? No, not me. I always calc'late to give Quaco Ledge the widest kine o' berth. An I hope you'll never know anythin more about that same place than what I'm tellin you now. The knowlege which one has about that place, an places ginrally of that kine, comes better by hearsay than from actool observation."

Time passed on, and they still drifted, and at length ten o'clock came; but before that time the boys had gone below, and retired for the night. Shortly after, the rattle of the chains waked them all, and informed them that the Antelope had anchored once more.

After this they all fell asleep.