Meanwhile the two adventurous boys had been going on their expedition. At a hundred yards from the schooner they had stopped, as we have seen, and looked anxiously around in the direction where they supposed the stranger to lie. For some time they could see nothing; but at length, as it grew lighter, they detected her masts through the gloom, and were overjoyed at finding that she was nearer than on the previous day. They had made a mistake, however, as to the right direction, for the ship lay very much more to one side.
“We’ve drifted nearer together during the night,” said Bruce, “and I don’t believe she’s over three miles away.”
Saying this, he changed the boat’s course, and heading for the ship, pulled with all his might.
“I say, Bruce,” said Bart, “you’d better not pull so hard at first; you’ll tire yourself.”
“O, it’s only till we get further from the schooner. I want to get well out of the reach of hearing before the fellows see us. I’ll take it easy after a time.”
Saying this, he pulled on, watching the schooner, and succeeded in getting so far away, that by the time they came on deck he could only distinguish the moving figures. Then he slackened his efforts somewhat.
“There isn’t a bit of prospect of any wind,” said he. “I tell you what it is, my boy: I’d far rather be here this minute than aboard the Antelope.”
“So would I,” said Bart; “but can you imagine the state of mind that the fellows must be in?”
“O, they’ll be glad after the first excitement’s over.”
“I wonder if they saw us.”