“Hah!” ejaculated Mr Burne, after they had made a hearty meal, seated upon the warm sands. “I don’t know that I like my biscuit sopped, and there was more salt than I cared for, but really I don’t feel as if I had done so very badly. Another taste of that wine, Preston. Hah! well, we might have been worse off.”
This was the general opinion, for matters looked better now, and a discussion arose as to what they were to do next; whether they were to travel along the coast till they came to some village, or, as Yussuf suggested, try to get the boat baled out and righted, and once more make for Ansina.
Yussuf declared that they were undoubtedly on the western coast of Cyprus, but he could not tell them how far they might have to journey, and it would be terrible work for Lawrence, who was too weak to walk far, so the Muslim’s suggestion was received; and its wisdom was endorsed by the action of the Greeks, who had carried their skipper down to the boat and seated him upon the sands.
“We are three strong men against two now,” Yussuf had said, “for we will not count the wounded master, or the young effendi here. The men shall empty the boat of water, and they shall take us across to the coast.”
“But suppose another storm should come?” said Mr Burne.
“If another storm should come we should meet it like men, effendi,” said the Turk gravely. “That white squall last night saved our lives, for I was mastered.”
“And so was I,” said the professor. “You are right, Yussuf; but we must not let ourselves be surprised again. I had no business to sleep.”
“We should not have been surprised if yon Greek dog had not struck me down when he was pretending to be asleep by the helm. But see, effendi, he is ordering them to try and empty the boat. Let us go down and help.”
The remains of the food were placed in the basket, which was carried down and left in the sun to dry, not far from where the Greek skipper was seated, holding his wounded leg.
The tide there was very slight, but still it was falling, and this helped them in their plans.