Four miles away lay Ile Haute, and eight or ten miles beyond this
lay the long line of Nova Scotia. It was now about four o'clock,
and the tide had been rising for three hours, and was flowing up
rapidly, and in a full, strong current. As yet there was no wind,
and the broad surface of the bay was quite smooth and unruffled.
In the distance and far down the bay, where its waters joined the
horizon, there was a kind of haze, that rendered the line of
separation between sea and sky very indistinct. The coast of Nova
Scotia was at once enlarged and obscured. It seemed now elevated
to an unusual height above the sea line, as though it had been
suddenly brought several miles nearer, and yet, instead of being
more distinct, was actually more obscure. Even Ile Haute, though
so near, did not escape. Four miles of distance were not sufficient
to give it that grand indistinctness which was now flung over the
Nova Scotia coast; yet much of the mysterious effect of the haze had
gathered about the island; its lofty cliffs seemed to tower on high
more majestically, and to lean over more frowningly; its fringe of
black sea-weed below seemed blacker, while the general hue of the
island had changed from a reddish color to one of a dull slaty blue.

"I don't like this," said Captain Corbet, looking down the bay and
twisting up his face as he looked.

"Why not?"

Captain Corbet shook his head.

"What's the matter?"