It was to be many a long day before Frank and Jack were destined to see London again.
All day, following the loss of the Lena, the little boats bobbed up and down on the smooth sea, as they headed eastward as fast as strong British arms could drive them. All day the sun shone brightly, but as night drew on the air became cold and penetrating. The men wrapped themselves up as tightly as they could but even this did not keep out the chill.
Frank and Jack took turns sleeping and in keeping watch. At length the darkness began to give way to light; and, in the cold gray dawn of another day Jack, standing watch in the first boat, made out something in the distance that caused him to utter a loud cry.
Because of the intense darkness they had approached thus close without having gained a glimpse of what Jack now saw.
It was land.
Frank, aroused by Jack's cry, was on his feet in an instant and echoed his friend's cry of joy.
"Where do you suppose we are?" he asked.
"At a rough guess, I should say off the coast of France," was
Jack's reply.
"Good! Then we should be perfectly safe."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that," said Jack. "You never can tell what is going to happen in times like these. However, we will land as soon as possible."