Tom lay back now and slept again.
It must have been near morning when he awoke, feeling almost well.
He was quite covered with a piece of sail, and lay on a bed of soft dry sea-weed.
For a few moments he could remember nothing, and sadly wondered where he was. But memory soon returned. The stars were shining brightly above. By its light he could see the foam of the wavelets that sang dolefully on the beach. He could see, too, the rocks and boulders near the water. As he gazed on these, to his horror and surprise some of them moved away inland slowly with a harsh and rattling noise.
“Surely I am on an island of enchantment,” thought poor Tom, “or I cannot be awake!”
“Ginger Brandy!” he cried as well as he could.
“I’se heah, sah. Tank de Lawd, marster, you hab got your voice once mo’, sah!”
“Brandy, I saw the rocks move slowly away. Was I dreaming?”
“No, sah. Nevah feah, sah. Dem not rocks; dey are to’toises, as big as elerphants. I ride on one to-day all ’long de beach. Dey are puffikly ha’mless, sah. Don’t you be ’larmed. I’se fit ’nuff to look arter you. Sleep, sah, sleep; de sun rise soon.”
As the boy spoke a gush of bird-melody came from a neighbouring bush, so entrancingly sweet but so wondrously strange, that Tom at once placed his head again on his pillow of sea-weed to listen.