"What is the matter? Why cannot we go in?"
The pilot, who spoke English very imperfectly, answered, "It is a bar. The water is not enough."
"There is a bar," said the gentleman, "outside the entrance to the harbor, and the water is not deep enough even for these boats to go over. We can see it."
Rollo and the others looked in the direction where the gentleman pointed, and he could see a long, white line formed by the breakers on the bar, extending each way as far as the eye could reach along the shore. Beyond were to be dimly seen the heads of the piers, and a low line of the coast on either hand, with the lighthouse beyond, towering high into the air, and a bright and steady light beaming from the summit of it.
"I hope the tide is not going down," said the gentleman, "for in that case we may have to wait here half the night."
"Is the tide going down, or coming up?" he said, turning again to the pilot.
"It will come up. The tide will come up," answered the pilot.
"What does he say?" asked one of the ladies in a whisper.
"He says that the tide will come up," replied the gentleman. "Whether he means it is coming up now, or that it will come up some time or other, I do not know. We have nothing to do but to remain quiet, and await the result."
The clouds had been for some time growing darker and darker, and now it began to rain. So the gentlemen took out their umbrellas and spread them, and the party huddled together in the bottom of the boat, and sheltered themselves there as well as they could from the wind and rain. They invited Rollo to come under the umbrellas too, but he said that the rain would not hurt his cap, and he preferred to sit where he could look out and see what they would do.