“It was the creaking and groaning of the oars in the tholes.”
“No, no, father. It was that deep savage roar heard ever so far off.”
They ceased rowing again and again, but the sound was heard no more, and the captain began to talk rather anxiously to Mr Gregory as the sun grew low in the west, and it became evident that they had a long way yet to row.
“Tired, Mark?” cried the captain.
“No, father,” he replied, laughing; “but if you’ll say hungry, I’ll tell you: Yes, very.”
“Ah, well, I keep hoping that every headland we pass may bring us in sight of the camp! It cannot be very far now.”
“But suppose it isn’t an island,” said Mark; “we might be rowing right away.”
“Come, come,” cried the captain cheerily; “you the son of a navigator, and talking like this. Now, then, which way did we row when we started?”
“North-east,” said Mark.
“And then?”