Wilmot jumped in after them, and they set off. Now while the oars splashed evenly and strongly, he had plenty of time to think, and plenty of time to explain. But of explanation, he only said half-a-dozen words, and sat back at first exhausted.
His soaking, shoeless, and coatless condition, and the signs of extreme exertion which his manner indicated, showed the men, without much telling, that he considered there was urgent need of speed. Besides they knew of the treacherous tide.
"I say, master," said the man, handing him over a rough coat, "you put that on, or you'll have an illness, as sure as sure."
Wilmot roused himself, and asked if they had another pair of oars; and on being told there was, he pulled them out, and set himself to help forward the little craft; so nearer and nearer came the jutting cliff, and lower and lower sank the sun.
The men strained every nerve to push on; and Wilmot, while he aided them, could not help glancing over his shoulder every now and then to see how near they were getting.
At last they reached the cliff, and were under the projecting rocks, and were actually turning the corner. There lay the little bay before them, with the setting sun lighting up every crevice of the steep rocks, and sparkling on the water as it rolled inwards.
But as the boat came well round the point, and Wilmot could scan the length of the cliffs, there was no row of faces to welcome him; nothing on which his eye could rest but a piece of floating muslin; for the waves washed up deep and sullen against the rocks.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
FLOATING OUT TO SEA.