“Yes; you’re right,” said Oliver. “Then we ought to bear away to the right now?”
“That’s it. Go on.”
Fortunately the ground was open now, and there was nothing to dread but the scattered blocks of coral which it was too dark to see, but Oliver stepped out boldly, chancing a fall over any of these obstacles, and for the next ten minutes or so he made pretty good progress, and felt sure that he was going right, for he every now and then stepped short with his right foot.
“I must be near the brig now,” he said to himself, and after gradually slackening his pace he stopped short and listened, in the hope of hearing some sound on board the vessel, and to his great joy there was a whispering not far away. Reaching out his hand, he touched Panton, and then placing his lips to his companion’s ear he said,—
“Can you hear that?”
“Yes, some one talking.”
“Well, I make it out to be on the brig. What are we to do next?”
“Creep a little nearer, and then wait for morning. If we go too close, the next thing will be a shot in our direction.”
“Hark!”
“What is it?”