“Storm!” hissed Dare-and-Do.
Groping and growling, the three pirates got up to look after their boat, and stumbled out—into as fair and innocent a day as ever dawned off England. The thunderings kept on, but there was not a cloud in the sky. The waves still pounded, but they burst white and glittering into the sunlight.
Catch-and-Kill turned crossly. “The storm’s over,” he said.
But Fear-and-Fly stood where he was, pointing out to sea, and shaking from head to foot. “Sea-serpent!” he gasped.
The others looked. There, a mile or so out at sea, stretched a great monster, motionless and stiff. Was it after all a monster,—the long, high, level wall, hiding the horizon, the great column in the center, towering and towering until it was lost in the sky?
“Sea-serpent!” snorted Catch-and-Kill. “It’s an island, a magic island.”
Dare-and-Do peered, shading his eyes. Across that high column went a bar. “You’re both wrong!” he shouted. “It’s all a ship,—a great ship.”
Now, there was this to be said for Dare-and-Do. There was never a ship made that he was afraid of. No matter what the size, his one idea was always to capture it; and the bigger the better, for him. So, instead of cowering at the sight of the giants’ ship, he rushed back to the cave for his oars and a whole set of dirks and pikes.
“It will make our fortune,” he cried, “—our everlasting fortune!”