The advice of the young Scotchman was too prudent to be rejected; and all three, once more turning their faces shoreward, continued to advance in that direction.
They only knew that they were facing shoreward by the inflow of the tide, but certain that this would prove a tolerably safe guide, they kept boldly on, without fear of straying from the track.
For a while they waded; but, as their progress was both slower and more toilsome, they once more betook themselves to swimming. Whenever they felt fatigued, by either mode of progress, they changed to the other; and partly by wading and partly by swimming, they passed through another mile of the distance that separated them from the shore. The water then became so shallow that swimming was no longer possible; and they waded on, with eyes earnestly piercing the darkness, each moment expecting to see something of the land.
They were soon to be gratified by having this expectation realised. The curving lines that began to glimmer dimly through the obscurity, were the outlines of rounded objects that could not be ocean waves. They were too white for these. They could only be the sand-hills, which they had seen before the going down of the sun. As they were now but knee-deep in the water, and the night was still misty and dark, these objects could be at no great distance and deep water need no longer be dreaded.
The three castaways considered themselves as having reached the shore.
Harry and Terence were about to continue on to the beach, when Colin called to them to come to a stop.
“Why?” inquired Harry.
“What for?” asked Terence.
“Before touching dry land,” suggested the thoughtful Colin, “suppose we decide what has been the fate of poor Old Bill.”
“How can we tell that?” interrogated the other two.
“Stand still a while; we shall soon see whether his head is yet above water.”
Harry and Terence consented to the proposal of their comrade, but without exactly comprehending its import.
“What do you mean, Colly?” asked the impatient Hibernian.
“To see if the tide’s still rising,” was the explanation given by the Scotch youth.
“And what if it be?” demanded Terence.
“Only, that if it be, we will never more see the old sailor in the land of the living. We may look for his lifeless corpse after it has been washed ashore.”
“Ah! I comprehend you,” said Terence.
“You’re right,” added Harry. “If the tide be still rising, Old Bill is under it by this time. I dare say his body will drift ashore before morning.”
They stood still, all three of them. They watched the water, as it rippled up against their limbs, taking note of its ebbing and flowing. They watched with eyes full of anxious solicitude. They continued this curious vigil for full twenty minutes. They would have patiently prolonged it still further had it been necessary. But it was not. No further observation was required, to convince them that the tidal current was still carried towards the shore; and that the water was yet deepening around them.
The data thus obtained were sufficient to guide them to the solution of the sad problem. During that interval, while they were swimming and wading across the bay, the tide must have been continually on the increase. It must have risen at least a yard. A foot would be sufficient to have submerged the sailor, since he could not swim. There was but one conclusion to which they could come. Their companion must have been drowned.
With heavy hearts they turned their faces towards the shore, thinking more of the sad fate of the sailor than their own future.
Scarce had they proceeded a dozen steps when a shout heard from behind caused them to come to a sudden stop.
“Avast there!” cried a voice that seemed to rise from out of the depths of the sea.
“It’s Bill!” exclaimed all three in the same breath.
“ ’Old on, my hearties, if that’s yerselves that I see!” continued the voice. “Arrah, ’old on there. I’m so tired wadin’, I want a short spell to rest myself. Wait now, and I’ll come to yez as soon as I can take a reef out of my tops’ls.”
The joy caused by this greeting, great as it was, was scarce equal to the surprise it inspired. They who heard it were for some seconds incredulous. The sound of the sailor’s voice, well-known as it was, with something like the figure of a human being dimly seen through the uncertain mist that shadowed the surface of the water, was proof that he still lived; while, but the moment before, there appeared substantial proof that he must have gone to the bottom. Their incredulity even continued till more positive evidence to the contrary came before them, in the shape of the old man-o’-war’s-man himself; who, rapidly splashing through the more shallow water, in a few seconds stood face to face with the three brave boys whom he had so lately urged to abandon him.
“Bill, is it you?” cried all three in a breath.
“Auch! and who else would yez expect it to be? Did yez take me for ould Neptune risin’ hout of the say? Or did yez think I was a mare-maid? Gee mee a grip o’ yer wee fists, ye bonny boys. Ole Bill warn’t born to be drowned!”
“But how did ye come, Bill? The tide’s been rising ever since we left you.”
“Oh!” said Terence, “I see how it is; the bay isn’t so deep after all: you’ve waded all the way.”
“Avast there, master Terry! not half the way, though I’ve waded part of it. There’s wather between here and where you left me deep enough to drown Phil Macool. I didn’t crass the bay by wading at all, at all.”
“How then?”
“I was ferried on a nate little craft, as yez all knows of, the same that carried us safe to the sandspit.”
“The spar?”
“Hexactly as ye say. Just as I was about to gee my last gasp, something struck me on the back o’ the head, making me duck under the wather. What was that but the tops’l yard. Hech! I wasna long in mountin’ on to it. I’ve left it out there afther I feeled my toes trailin’ along the bottom. Now, my bonny babies, that’s how Old Bill’s been able to rejoin ye. Flippers all round once more; and then let’s see what sort o’ a shore we’ve got to make port upon.”
An enthusiastic shake of the hands passed between the old sailor and his youthful companions; after which the faces of all were turned towards the shore, still only dimly distinguishable, and uninviting as seen, but more welcome to the sight than the wilderness of water stretching as if to infinity behind them.
Chapter Nine.
Uncomfortable Quarters.
The waders had still some distance to go before reaching dry land; but, after splashing for about twenty minutes longer, they at length stood upon the shore. As the tide was still flowing in they continued up the beach; so as to place themselves beyond the reach of the water, in the event of its rising still higher.
They had to cross a wide stretch of wet sand before they could find a spot sufficiently elevated to secure them against the further influx of the tide. Having at length, discovered such a spot, they stopped to deliberate on what was best to be done.
They would fain have had a fire to dry their dripping garments; for the night had grown chilly under the influence of the fog.
The