On the other hand, in spite of the light growing stronger, there was no sign of the brig, and, worse still, everything looked so distorted and hazy, not one familiar object to enable them to judge of their position.
“It’s just like looking through a big magnifying glass,” whispered Oliver, “at the point when everything is upside down and distorted from being out of focus.”
“Perhaps so,” said Drew, “but we’re not looking through a magnifying glass.”
“I wonder that you, a man who is always using a microscope, should talk like that,” replied Oliver. “We are not looking through a glass, certainly, but we are piercing a dull transparent medium, caused by water in the form of mist floating in the air. I don’t want to be conceited, but my idea was quite right.”
“Quite,” said Panton, “only this is not a good time for studying optics. What we want is knowledge that shall bring us to the brig without being shot at by our friends.”
“Hear that, Tommy,” whispered Wriggs. “We’re going to be shot at now in front by Muster Rimmer and the others, while the savages shoots at us behind.”
“Well, if we can’t help it, Billy, what’s the use o’ grumbling?” returned his mate.
“’Cause I’ve got this here ladder. What’s the good of a ladder when you’re being shot at?”
“None as I sees, Billy.”
“’Course not. Now, if it had been a good stout plank, there’d be some sense in it.”