"Well, I can still chew, but that's the limit. There won't another bit go down," Jack added.
Breakfast over they found that their clothes had dried and they were soon, as Jack put it, clothed in their right minds once more. The three Frenchmen, they soon learned, were trappers and had lived here for years as they were brothers and none had married.
The captain was raving as they came again info the big living room and, at times, Pierre was having his hands full to hold him in the bunk.
"Heem ver' bad, but heem got lots strength an' that bon sign," he said as they approached.
"You think he'll pull through?" Bob asked anxiously.
"No can tell." Pierre shook his head.
"Can we do anything?"
"Non. I geeve him medicine, all we can do."
As they walked slowly around the clump of bushes and looked out over the tumbling water they saw that their conjecture regarding the surf, or rather the lack of it, had been correct. A small cove, the points of which were only a few yards apart, broke the violence of the waves, making the water inside comparatively still.
"It's lucky we hit the opening," Bob said as he watched the rollers come in and break outside the cove.