The excitement had kept off all sense of fear, and so far Don had not seemed to realise the peril of their position in swimming through the darkness to land; for even if there had been a canoe coming to their help, the lowering of the boats seemed to have scared its occupants away, and though the sea was perfectly calm, save its soft, swelling pulsation, there were swift currents among the islands and points, which, though easily mastered by canoe or boat with stout rowers, would carry in an imperceptible manner a swimmer far from where he wished to go.
But they swam steadily on for some time longer, Jem being the first to break the silence.
“Say, Mas’ Don,” he whispered, “did you hear oars?”
“No, Jem.”
“I thought I did. I fancy one of the boats put off without a lanthorn. Weren’t there three?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well, you can see two of ’em easy like.”
“Yes, Jem; I can see.”
“Then there’s another cruising about in the dark, so we must be careful.”
There was another interval of steady swimming, during which they seemed to get no nearer to the shore, and at last Jem spoke again.