“What! What do you mean?”
“First signs of it, sir. Listen! you can hear the birds beginning to pipe.”
“Yes; that’s a bird’s whistle,” said Mark. “Then we can’t be so very far from the shore.”
“That’s right, sir, and what I hope is that we’re not very far from the Naughtylass, and that they’ll be at work with the spy-glasses to see where we are.”
“And I’ve got to face the captain,” thought Mark, “and give him an account of our night’s work. How shall I do it? It’s horrible to go back like this.”
As the time glided on, the sounds grew more frequent from the shore, and by degrees there was a lightening around them, and they made out that they were slowly gliding along over the calm sea beneath a thick canopy of mist, some eight or ten feet above their head; and this was gradually growing opalescent, and shot with bright tints, till all beneath was fairly light, and the midshipman looked round for the Nautilus and the schooner.
But there were no signs of either, perhaps because the mist prevented them from seeing fifty yards in any direction.
There was plenty to see, however, inboard, and at the first glance round, before his gaze was concentrated upon his officer, Mark Vandean’s heart sank within him at the sight of the wretched, dilapidated men, whom he had seen on the previous evening looking so smart and active. To a man they were battered, bruised, and bore traces of the terrible struggle through which they had passed. The coxswain lay asleep, and, upon examining him, he seemed cool, and with the hope that he might wake up calm and collected, Mark gave one look at Tom Fillot—who was the most disfigured of all, the blows he had received having caused his face to swell up till he was hardly recognisable—and then devoted his attention to Mr Russell, who lay senseless.
It seemed terrible to have him once more lying helpless in the bottom of the boat, and as the lad gazed at his companion, he began to think it would be wise to study surgery, ready for acting in an emergency like this.
Mark did what he could with Tom Fillot’s help, doubling up a jacket for a pillow, and laying the lieutenant at his ease, before taking advantage of the mist beginning to disappear beneath the powerful rays of the morning sun to try and make out their position.