Just as it was getting near to gloaming a haze spread over the ocean, obscuring everything except the green seas close aboard. Fred did not like this new turn of events. He liked it less when suddenly dark rocks loomed like gigantic black castles over him—over him—on both sides—around him. Swish! Crack! Dash! The yacht had run on shore, and the mast went by the board.
The seas hissed around the wreck—if wreck she was—like snakes, but a big kindly wave at last came sweeping on, and lifted the Water Baby high and dry on the sands.
Fred knew it was high-water just then, so there was no more danger to be apprehended.
Somehow or other the Water Baby lay on an even keel, with the wreck of the mast and the tattered sail astern of her. Frank was certainly frightened. It was a terrible awaking for anyone; but it might have been worse.
"I fell asleep sayin' my players," said Toddie, emerging from the cabin. "And poor Tippetty are both so hungly."
"Do you know where you are, Toddie?" said Fred, taking the child on his knee. There was little else to be done, he thought, but nurse Toddie, and he was so very, very tired.
"Oh yes, of course I do! We is all shipwlecked maliners now."
"Well, Toddie, don't sleep again. Let us get on shore for a run. Perhaps there is a house somewhere near."
A reddish mist appeared seawards, between the giant rocks they had been so fortunate as to escape, and Fred knew the sun had set.
The wind appeared going down with it too, so his spirits rose.