ed. "Cape Chidleigh is the main land of Labrador down to
the south-east of the Button Isles. You couldn't see that, could you,
captain?"

"Saw some high peaks to the south, far down on the horizon. Those are
on Labrador, I presume. Couldn't say whether they are the cape proper
or not. They are in about the direction of the cape as indicated on
the chart."

As the sun rose higher a breeze sprang up, and the sails filled. The
schooner was headed W.N.W. to run under the cape; Bonney being set to
watch sharp for the floating ice.

"Coffee, sar!" cried Palmleaf from the companion-way.

We went down to breakfast and talk over matters with the captain. It
was decided to work up under the cape, and so, hugging the land on the
north side as closely as possible, get into the strait as far as we
could that day. We all felt anxious; for though the sea was now
smooth, sky clear, and the wind fair, yet we knew that it was rather
the exception than the average. The idea of being caught here among
these cliffs and icebergs in a three-days' fog or a north-east gale,
with the whole fury of the Atlantic at our backs, was anything but
encouraging. The advice of the elder navigators, "to seize a favorable
day and get as far up the straits as possible," kept recurring to our
minds. The words had an ominous sound. They were the utterances of
many a sad experience.

"There never could be a better day nor a fairer wind," remarked the
captain.

"Now's our chance; I'm convinced of it," said Kit.

The mainsail, which had been taken in the previous evening, and the
topsail, were both set; and, the breeze freshening, "The Curlew"
rapidly gathered way. Considerable care had to be used, however, to
avoid the broad cakes of ice which were floating out all around us.
Small bits, and pieces as large as a hogshead, we paid no attention
to; let the cut-water knock them aside. But there were plenty of
large, angular, ugly-looking masses, which, if struck would have
endangered the schooner's side. These were sheered off from: so that
our course was made up of a series of curves and windings in and out.
It seemed odd to see so much ice, and feel the deadly chill of the
water, with so hot a sun on deck that the pitch started on the deal
planks. In our companion-way the thermometer rose to eighty-seven
degrees, with icebergs glittering at every point of the compass.

By eight o'clock, A.M., we were abreast the cliffs of Resolution
Island, at a distance of a couple of miles. With our glasses we
examined them attentively. Hoary, gray, and bare, they were, as when
first split out of the earth's flinty crust, and thrust above the
waves. The sun poured a flood of warm light over them; but no green
thing could be discerned. Either there was no soil, or else the bleak
frost-winds effectually checked the outcrop of life. To the south the
Button Islands showed like brown patches on the shimmering waves. The
width of the straits at this point is given on the chart at twelve
leagues,--thirty-six miles. We could see the land on either side.

By eleven, A.M., we were twenty miles inside the outer cape. The
cliffs continued on the north side, and the schooner was headed up
within a mile of them. There were no signs of reefs or sunken ledges,
however; and, on heaving the lead, a hundred fathoms of line were run
out without touching bottom. The cliffs seem thus to form the side of
an immense chasm partially filled by the ocean. Raed estimated their
height above the sea to be near four hundred feet. At the distance of
a mile they appeared to tower and almost impend over us.

Toward noon the wind flawed for half an hour, then dropped altogether.
The current, which was setting out to sea, began to drag us back with
it slowly. There wasn't a breath of air stirring. Blazes! how the sun
poured down! Guard got round in the thin shadow of the mainsail, and
actually lolled among icebergs. There we were stuck. That is one of
the disadvantages of a sailing-vessel: you have to depend on the
wind,--the most capricious thing in the universe. I suppose the
air-current had veered about from north-east to north, so that the
lofty cliffs intercepted them completely.

Dinner was eaten. One o'clock,--two o'clock. We were glad to take
refuge with Guard in the shade of the sails. All around us was a
stillness which passes words, broken loudly by our steps on the hot
deck, and the occasional graze of ice-cakes against the sides. We felt
uneasy enough. This calm was ominous.

"There's mischief brewing!" muttered Kit; "and here we are in the very
jaws of the straits!"

Since the wind dropped, the ice had seemed to thicken ahead. To the
southward, farther out from the shore, where the outward current was
stronger, we could see it driving along in a glittering procession of
white bergs. The wisdom of keeping on the north side of the strait was
apparent from this; though it seemed likely to cost us dear in the
consequent loss of the wind. On many of the larger cakes we could see
dark objects, which the glass disclosed to be seals, sunning.

Presently a dense mass of blue-black clouds loomed suddenly over the
brow of the cliffs.

"A shower!" cried Raed.

"A squall!" exclaimed old Trull.

"All hands take in sail!" shouted the captain.

Our Gloucester lads needed no further awakening. We all bore a hand,
and had the mainsail down on the boom, short order; and, while Wade
and I tried our hand at lashing it with the gaskets, the rest got down
the foresail and the topsail. The jib was not furled, but got ready to
"let go" in case of fierce gusts. Low, heavy peals of thunder began to
rumble behind the cliffs. The dark cloud-mass heaved up, till a misty
line of foamy, driving rain and hail showed over the flinty crags.
Bright flashes gleamed out, followed shortly by heavy, hollow peals.
The naked ledges added vastly, no doubt, to the tone of the
reverberations. The rain-drift broke over the cliffs; but the shower
passed mainly to the north-west. Only some scattered drops, with a few
big straggling pellets of hail, hit on the deck. An eddy of cool air
followed the gust. The jib puffed out on a sudden.

"Up with the foresail!" was the order.

It was at once set; and "The Curlew" started on in the wake of the
shower. The cloud passed across the straits diagonally to the
south-west. We could see it raining heavily on the ice-flecked water a
few miles farther up; and immediately the whole surface began to
steam. We watched it with considerable anxiety.

"It will be a fog, I'm afraid," groaned Raed.

"It's sure to be," said young Hobbs. "I never seed a scud on the
'Banks' but 'ut it was allus follered by a fog."

White-gray, cold-looking clouds began to drift along the sun from the
seaward. A sudden change in the air was felt. Cool, damp gusts swept
down from the crags. The thermometer was falling rapidly. It had stood
at ninety-four degrees just previous to the shower. Kit now reported
it at seventy-three degrees; and, in less than an hour, it had fallen
twenty degrees more. This sudden change was probably due to the
veering of the wind from east round to north. The cold blasts from
"Greenland's icy mountains" speedily dissipated our miniature summer.
There was a general rush for great-coats and thick jackets. Thin lines
of vapor streamed up from the water as the cold gusts swept across it.
The hot sunbeams falling on the sea had doubtless raised the
temperature considerably, despite the ice; and this sudden change in
the air could but raise a great mist. Yet I doubt whether Nature's
wonderful and legitimate processes were ever regarded with greater
disfavor and apprehension.

"The barometer's falling a good deal too," remarked the captain,
coming hastily up the companion-stairs. "Either a rain-storm, or a
