This meant leaving Mark alone, and he looked up so ruefully at the major, that, recollecting his own qualms, the latter objected to the plan.
“No, no, Strong,” he said; “if there is any danger let it come to us, I don’t see any use in going to meet it.”
“As you will,” said the captain quietly. “What we seem to want now is rest and strength. Oh, here is one of the men!”
Bruff and the monkey drew their attention to him by going toward the place where the men were sleeping, Bruff limping, but wagging his bushy tail, and the monkey cantering towards his old friend Billy with plenty of low chattering and sputtering noises.
This awoke Small, who rose and came out of the grove to walk slowly along the sands comparing notes about their injuries, which were fortunately very slight.
“What shall we do, captain?” said Small.
“Take the boat and see if you can recover the sail. You can go with them if you like, Mark.”
Mark turned to go eagerly.
“Can you launch the boat?”
“Ay, ay, sir; it ain’t far,” was the reply; and the three went down to the spot where the gig lay, ran her down into the smooth water, and pushed out, Small thrusting an oar over the stern and giving it the necessary fish-tail motion known as paddling, while Mark and Billy Widgeon looked out for the submerged sail.