“Up? They’re not down, either,” said Phil. “Their berths are empty.”
The boys all stared at each other. A suspicion flashed across their minds.
“Sure and if they’re not up nor down, they must be in the boat, and there you have it,” said Pat, dryly. “And it’s meself,” he added, “that ’ud be proud to be with thim this day.”
“The boat? But what for?” asked Phil.
“They must have started off for the ship,” said Tom, who-now understood all.
At this they all looked with eager eyes over the water in the direction of the ship. All thought that they could see a shadowy spot, but it was too indistinct as yet to be resolved into anything. After a few minutes Phil went below, and returned with the glass, through which he looked long and attentively.
“It’s them,” said he at last, passing the glass to Arthur.
Arthur looked, and then Tom, and then Pat, and then Captain Corbet. It grew brighter and brighter every moment, and at length, as Corbet looked, he saw the boat plainly for an instant; but the next moment the glare of the rising sun drove his eyes away. The sun rose and ascended higher, and still they could see the boys rowing with quick strokes very far away, while beyond lay the strange ship.
It was still as low down as ever, “below the horizon,” as Captain Corbet said, but was very much larger and plainer. Every one of them wondered how she could be in reality so far away as twenty miles. None of them spoke, however, but stood with varying feelings, staring in silence after their companions.
Of them all the most affected was Captain Corbet. At the first mention of the fact he had started, and after having assured himself of its truth with his own eyes, he exhibited every mark of the deepest agitation.