“That is the north, over there!” said Fritz, pointing with his hand to a point rather to the left of that on which the boat was headed.
Almost at once he was answered by a shout, a shout that all of them uttered together.
“Land! Land!”
The mist had just dispersed, and the coast-line was revealed not more than a mile away.
The boatswain steered straight for it. The foresail was set again and swelled out in the dying breeze.
Half an hour later the boat had grounded on a sandy beach, and was made fast behind a long point of rock, well sheltered from the surf.
CHAPTER V
A BARREN SHORE
The castaways had reached land at last! Not one of them had succumbed to the fatigue and privations of their fortnight’s voyage under such distressing and dangerous conditions, and for that thanks were due to God. Only Captain Gould was suffering terribly from fever. But in spite of his exhaustion, his life did not appear to be in danger, and a few days’ rest might set him up again.
The question rose, what was this land on which they had disembarked?
Whatever it was, it unhappily was not New Switzerland, where, but for the mutiny of Robert Borupt and his crew, the Flag would have arrived within the expected time. What had this unknown shore to offer instead of the comfort and prosperity of Rock Castle?