They stripped, wrung the water from their clothes, rolled themselves in the hay until they felt a glow of returning warmth, and then put on their clothes again. Scarcely had they done so when the man came in with a large tankard and two hunks of bread.
"Here," he said, "drink this and then be off. We want no strangers hanging round here."
At any other time the boys would have refused hospitality so cheerlessly offered, but they were too weak to resist the temptation. The tankard contained hot-spiced ale, and a sensation of warmth and comfort stole over them as soon as they had drunk its contents and eaten a few mouthfuls of bread. The man stood by them while they ate.
"Are you the only ones saved from the wreck?" he asked.
"I trust that we are not," Geoffrey replied. "The master of the boat tied us to a mast as soon as she struck, and he and the two men with him were going to try to get to shore in the same way."
As soon as they had finished they stood up and handed the tankard to the man.
"I am sorry I must turn you out," he said, as if somewhat ashamed of his want of courtesy. "Any other day it would be different, but to-day I cannot take anyone in."
"I thank you for what you have given us," Geoffrey said. "Can you tell us which is the way to the ferry?"
"Follow the road and it will take you there. About a couple of miles.
You cannot mistake the way."
Feeling greatly strengthened and refreshed the lads again started.