“I’m afraid,” said Tom, “that we’re going to have a turn of luck.”
“O, we’re doing well enough,” said Arthur.
“Yes, but we’ll be sure to come to some headland, and there we’ll stick, for we shan’t be able to round it. This boat can’t stand any sea.”
“Well, we’ll wait till the time comes,” said Arthur, “and not fret till then.”
“It’s lucky for us,” said Tom, “that the wind’s the way it is. If that was a lee shore, we’d be done for.”
“Well, if the wind had been any other way we shouldn’t have started, you know,” said Arthur, “and if it changes we’ll go ashore and haul up—that’s all.”
“We couldn’t find a landing-place just here very easily. I don’t think I ever saw a more rascally place in my life.”
“It’s rather rough, I must confess,” said Arthur, “but we’ll find a better place before long.”
They were within an eighth of a mile from the land. It rose there in high, rocky cliffs, crested, as usual, with stunted trees, and fragments of rock at its base.
“This seems to run on for a long way ahead,” said Tom.