and held the bucket of cold sea-water over the steam. As the steam 
     
     condensed on the bottom of the bucket it ran down drop by drop into 
     
    
   
   
    
     a saucer and by this primitive still I obtained enough fresh water to 
     
     let Bozo and me get to sleep. 
     
    
   
   
    
     We spent most of the next day (Sunday) looking for a better 
     
     source of fresh water — again without results. 
     
    
   
   
    
     The wind still blowing strong, we were compelled to spend all 
     
     Monday marooned and to get thirstier and thirstier. I thought my 
     
     tongue would turn black and burn up. I was of two minds whether to 
     
     light a fire-signal for help that evening, as per previous arrangement 
     
     with Don MacRae, to have a motor-boat come to our rescue, but 
     
    
   
   
    
     decided to give it one more day in the hope that the gale would die 
     
     down by the morrow. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Late Monday afternoon I took a notion to investigate a 
     
     building, the only one overlooked or rather disregarded as not 
     
     resembling in any way a well-house. Low and behold, inside was an 
     
     open well of excellent pure water and a bucket and strong new rope! 
     
     I later learned that this well was maintained by the Island’s owners 
     
     just in case someone should get stranded! There came back to me the 
     
     well-known scene from “Kidnapped”, or an adaptation of it. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Tuesday morning at daylight the wind had vanished and the tide 
     
     was away out. After a good breakfast and plenty of “Adam’s Ale”, 
     
     1 carried the canoe on my back a half mile or so, then went back and 
     
     got and loaded our supplies. In the perfect quiet of a bright sunny 
     
     morning we could hear the clock in Charlottetown strike eight just 
     
     as Bozo and I pointed the canoe for Point Prim. An hour later a 
     
     breeze started up and soon became quite strong. We were then about 
     
     3 1/2 miles from land in every direction (including straight down or 
     
     so it seemed). I leaned on the paddle and drove Tota for all she was 
     
     worth, soon arriving near shore at a point about 100 yards east of 
     
     Point Prim Wharf. We approached the wharf on which I could see 
     
     a numberof Belfasters working. They refused to believe that I had 
     
     just crossed over from Governor’s Island but maintained that I had 
     
     come along the shore. Why they didn’t notice us sooner I’ll never 
     
     know (they weren’t that busy working), but I suppose that, the canoe 
     
     being low to the water, we were partly hidden by the waves. At any 
     
     rate, I was glad to get close to humans and land again, since half way 
     
     between Governor’s Island and Point Prim could be a bad spot to get 
     
     caught in a storm, and the wind was steadily blowing stronger. 
     
    
   
   
    
     9