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It was a brilliant day, with a glorious blue sky overhead and a

bracing breeze out of the east. Just beyond Long Island a low

stratum of miasmic gray was the only shred of the usual fog to be

seen on the whole horizon. In the little roadstead the vessels,

black-hulled or white, rode eagerly and gracefully at their

moorings, the bright sun bringing out the red, yellow, green,

blue, and brown of the dories nested amidships.

At seven o'clock the steamer Grande Mignon blew a great blast of

her whistle, cast off her lines, and cleared for St. Andrew's and

St. Stephens. Tooting a long, last salute, she rolled out into

Fundy and out of sight around the point.

For these men breakfast was long past, but there were the myriad

last details that could not be left undone; and it was fully

eight o'clock before the last dory was swung aboard and the last

barrel stowed.