"Hul-l-o-o-o-o!"
Their faces brightened. Even Sandy broke into a grin.
"We're aboon the land!" he cried out.
"Must be," declared Tom positively.
He looked at the two natives, who had been regarding the proceedings with no more interest than they appeared to display in anything else.
"Row that way," he ordered in a loud, clear voice, pointing off into the fog in the direction from whence the answer to their shouting had come. The natives obeyed without a word. Whether they understood him or not Tom never knew, but they appeared to apprehend his vigorous gesture well enough.
As they rowed along, the boys repeated their practice, and every time the echo came louder and more clearly.
"Wish we'd thought of that before," sighed Jack, "we might be in the harbor by this time."
"Better late than never," Tom assured him cheerily.
Before long they could hear the roar of waves breaking on the coast. The natives apparently heard them, too, and kept the boat out a little. The angry sound of the breaking waters was sufficient warning that no landing could be attempted there.