The sails which had been lying idle, began to fill up, and the Flying Fish forged ahead.
Night fell.
When the morning came, Harry was early on deck. He was afraid of Arabs. They are proverbially treacherous.
It was necessary to see what was going on all the time.
Kardofan was by his side as soon as he appeared.
He seldom let himself out of his sight for a moment.
“How far are we from ‘Pilgrim’s Rest’ now?” inquired Harry Girdwood.
“About twenty-five miles,” was the reply. “It is on the right hand side.”
They were steering near the land. Here and there was a glimpse of little villages, of the tall, graceful palm, and luxuriant vegetation.
In the distance, over the expanse of water to the left, they saw long lines of black smoke.