He called all hands together and addressed them briefly.
“It seems to me,” he said, “boys, that the sandbank on which we lie extends almost directly south far beyond this Sea of Sargasso, in which we have been Crusoes so long. The soundings that I and my young officer here, Mr. Stuart, have taken, appear to confirm me in that idea. Well, deep water would frustrate my plans, so we must trust we shall keep on the bank.
“Luckily,” he continued, “we have a tremendous length of hawser or hawsers on board. Some of these will need splicing. This must be done at once. So away with you, lads, and do this work, and reeve a small anchor to one end of it, attaching the other to the windlass, and then we shall see what we shall see.”
The men worked with such a will, that before noon all was ready.
Then the anchor end of the hawser was loaded into the weed-plough boat, which being well manned, began at once to forge its way through the weeds directly south.
Meanwhile the main anchor was got up.
The hawser was paid out almost to the end. Then Antonio hailed the boat through his speaking-trumpet.
“Let go the hawser anchor.”
For just a moment hope trembled in the balance.
But, oh joy! as the men on board bent on to the winch and turned it round, it was found that the anchor end held fast, and the ship herself began to move slowly seawards.