“It’s very strange,” said my father; “we must have left it in one of these places.”
“Perhaps it was behind the other heap, sir,” said Bob eagerly.
“What heap?” said my father.
“That one, sir,” said Bob, pointing towards the west.
“Impossible!” cried my father, and then he stopped and waited, while Bigley, who had, by getting on my back and shoulders, managed to climb up the highest part of the mass which stood like an island out of the stones and sand, shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked all round.
It was so still that the lapping of the evening tide sounded quite loud, and the querulous call of a gull that swept by was quite startling.
“Well,” said my father, “can you see the boat? No no, don’t look out there, my lad, look in here close.”
“She isn’t in here close,” said Bigley quietly.
“She must be, Big,” cried Bob. “Here, let me come.”
“I see her!” cried Bigley just then. “No. Yes. There she is, sir!” he said, pointing to the east. “She’s broke adrift, and is floating yonder half a mile away towards the Gap.”