“What’s the good of talking like that?” cried Bigley. “You both can swim it, and you must.”
“Why, I don’t believe you could, Big,” cried Bob in a whimpering tone.
“I do,” said the great fellow doggedly, “and I’m going to try, and so are you two fellows.”
“That we are not,” we cried together.
“Yes, you are, for it’s our only chance, unless they see us from the boat. You’ll have to try, for the water will be up and over here before long, and what will you do then?”
“Drown, I s’pose,” said Bob.
“Nonsense!” cried Bigley, who astonished us by the eager business way he had put on. “Who’s going to stand still and drown, when he can swim to a safe place? Here, let’s try and get ’em to see us aboard the lugger,” he cried. “All together! Let’s wave our caps and handkerchiefs.”
We did all wave our caps and handkerchiefs, together and separately, but the boat went slowly on, as if there was no one in danger, and we turned and looked at each other in despair.
“They must be asleep,” said Bob angrily. “Oh, it’s too bad.”
“No,” said Bigley sadly. “They can’t be asleep, because there’s someone steering, and someone else attending to the sails when they go about. It’s only because they cannot see us. The rocks and cliffs hide us from them.”