V

      THE MISSING DORY

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      What happened was this: The two natives in the dory were unable to understand English, and of course the three boys knew nothing of the native language. Yet from the hasty instruction of the pilot, Pete, the natives had gathered that “the boss gentleman” — that is to say, Uncle Dick — wanted to go to the revenue-cutter Bennington. Accordingly they concluded that the boys also were bound directly for the cutter, and so instead of heading to the channel which led to the town, they proposed to take a cut-off behind Wood Island, best known to themselves. Thus they rowed on for more than half an hour before any of the boys suspected anything wrong. Rob made signs to them to stop rowing. All the boys looked about them in the fog. They were still in the roll of the open sea, and the dory pitched wildly on the long swell, but, listen intently as they might, they could hear no sound from any quarter.

      “We ought to have stayed with Uncle Dick,” suggested Jesse.

      “That’s right!” admitted Rob. “But the question is, what ought we to do now? They pointed out town that way from the Nora, and I know we’re not going the right direction.”

      To all inquiries and commands the natives did nothing but shake their heads and smile pleasantly. At last they resumed their oars and began to row steadily on their course. The sea now came tumbling in astern in long black rolls, broken now and again by whitecaps. Like a cork the dory swung up and down on the long swells, and all the boys now grew serious, for they had never been in so wild a water as this in all their lives.

      They progressed this way a little while, until Rob bethought himself of the plan employed by the captains when skirting the shore in fog. He put his hands to his mouth and gave a loud, drawn-out shout, and then listened for an echo. Sure enough it came, faint and far off, but unmistakable.

      “We’re running down the coast, or else the channel is wide here,” said Rob, “because the echo is only on one side.”

      From time to time they renewed these tactics, and for mile after mile kept in touch of the shore, on which now and then they could hear the waves breaking wildly. At last Rob set his jaw tight in decision.

      “I tell you what,” said he; “we’re going the wrong way. We ought to have been at the town long before this. I’m for going ashore and waiting till the fog lifts.”

      Both Jesse and John agreed to this, for now they were thoroughly alarmed. Rob made motions to the two native oarsmen that they should head the dory inshore. They, always disposed to be obedient to the white race, agreed and swung the dory shoreward.“Karosha,” said the older of the two men; by which they later learned he meant to say, “All right.”

      The two natives were well used to making a landing through the surf. Arrived off shore, they waited till a big wave came directly at the stern, then with a shout gave way and rode in on its crest, jumping out into the water and pulling the dory high up on what proved to be a shingle beach backed by a high rock wall a hundred yards or so inland.

      All the boys now scrambled out, glad enough to set foot on shore. But they found their surroundings cheerless rather. The soft blanket of the fog shut in, white and fleecy, all about them. Now and again they heard a wandering sea-bird call, but they could see neither the sea nor any part of the shore beyond the rock wall near at hand. They no longer heard the whistle of the Nora lying at anchor at the mouth of the channel.

      Both the natives now pulled out pipes and began to smoke silently. One produced from his pocket an object deeply wrapped in a bundle of rags and hide, which finally proved to be an old brass watch, which he consulted anxiously.

      “Him sleep,” he remarked, shaking the watch and putting it to his ear. By this Rob knew that he meant that the watch had stopped.

      “I knew he could talk,” said John. “Ask him where we can get something to eat. I’m getting awful hungry.”

      “You’re always hungry, John,” said Rob. “The most important thing for us is to find where we are. Here, you!” He addressed the natives. “You can talk English. Which way is town? How far? Why don’t we get there at once?”

      The wrinkled native smiled amiably again, and remarked “By-’n-by”; but that seemed to be the extent of his English, for after that he only shook his head and smiled.

      “This is a fine thing, isn’t it?” said Rob. “I wonder what your uncle Dick will think of us. Anyway, we’ve got our guns and blankets, and there’s a box of crackers and some canned tomatoes under the boat seat.”

      At last the two natives began to jabber together excitedly. They turned and said something to the boys which the latter could not understand, and then, without further ado, made off inland and disappeared in the fog. Some moments elapsed before the boys understood what had happened, and indeed they had no means of knowing the truth, which was that the two natives, who were perfectly friendly, had started across to the Mission House of Wood Island, some two miles or more, in search of something to eat, and possibly in the wish of getting further instructions about these young men they found in their charge.

      “Why don’t they come back?” asked Jesse, in the course of half an hour or so, during which all were growing more anxious than they cared to admit.

      “Who knows how long ‘by-’n-by’ may mean? I’d like to get out of here,” added John.

      “I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Rob, after they had waited for perhaps another half-hour. “These men have left us, and now we’ll leave them in turn. The sea is pretty rough, but this is a good boat and we can run her. We can go back that way, and get to the mouth of the channel, because I noticed which way the wind was blowing. Town must be off to the left, and we can keep track of the shore by the echo. I’m for pulling out right away.”

      “So am I,” assented John. And Jesse, although he looked rather sober at the sight of the white-topped waves, agreed.

      By great good-luck they were able to push the dory out with the receding crest of a big wave, and the first thing they knew they were pitching up and down in the white water. By hard pulling they got the boat offshore, and being there outside the more broken water made fairly good headway, although they found the boat heavy and hard to pull.

      “We can’t make it,” said Rob, at last. “She’s too big for us to pull against the wind, and that’s the way we must go if we go toward town. I’m afraid we’ll have to go ashore again.”

      “Look, look there!” cried John, suddenly.

      They all stopped rowing for a moment and gazed ahead.

      A towering ridge of white, foamy waves arose directly