Chapter 25

There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily, and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds are singing in the distant woods.
WORDSWORTH.

As the light returned, Pathfinder and Cap ascended again to the
roof, with a view to reconnoitre the state of things once more
on the island. This part of the blockhouse had a low battlement
around it, which afforded a considerable protection to those who
stood in its centre; the intention having been to enable marksmen
to lie behind it and to fire over its top. By making proper
use, therefore, of these slight defences, -- slight as to height,
though abundantly ample as far as they went, -- the two look-outs
commanded a pretty good view of the island, its covers excepted,
and of most of the channels that led to the spot.

The gale was still blowing very fresh at south; and there were places
in the river where its surface looked green and angry, though the
wind had hardly sweep enough to raise the water into foam. The
shape of the little island was nearly oval, and its greater length
was from east to west. By keeping in the channels that washed it,
in consequence of their several courses and of the direction of
the gale, it would have been possible for a vessel to range past
the island on either of its principal sides, and always to keep
the wind very nearly abeam. These were the facts first noticed
by Cap, and explained to his companion; for the hopes of both now
rested on the chances of relief sent from Oswego. At this instant,
while they stood gazing anxiously about them, Cap cried out, in
his lusty, hearty manner,

"Sail, ho!"

Pathfinder turned quickly in the direction of his companion's
face; and there, sure enough, was just visible the object of the
old sailor's exclamation. The elevation enabled the two to overlook
the low land of several of the adjacent islands; and the canvas
of a vessel was seen through the bushes that fringed the shore of
one that lay to the southward and westward. The stranger was under
what seamen call low sail; but so great was the power of the wind,
that her white outlines were seen flying past the openings of the
verdure with the velocity of a fast-travelling horse -- resembling
a cloud driving in the heavens.

"That cannot be Jasper," said Pathfinder in disappointment; for be
did not recognize the cutter of his friend in the swift-passing
object. "No, no, the lad is behind the hour; and that is some craft
which the Frenchers have sent to aid their friends, the accursed
Mingos."

"This time you are out in your reckoning, friend Pathfinder, if you
never were before," returned Cap in a manner that had