They only knew that they were facing shoreward by the inflow of the tide, but certain that this would prove a tolerably safe guide, they kept boldly on, without fear of straying from the track.
For a while they waded; but, as their progress was both slower and more toilsome, they once more betook themselves to swimming. Whenever they felt fatigued, by either mode of progress, they changed to the other; and partly by wading and partly by swimming, they passed through another mile of the distance that separated them from the shore. The water then became so shallow that swimming was no longer possible; and they waded on, with eyes earnestly piercing the darkness, each moment expecting to see something of the land.
They were soon to be gratified by having this expectation realised. The curving lines that began to glimmer dimly through the obscurity, were the outlines of rounded objects that could not be ocean waves. They were too white for these. They could only be the sand-hills, which they had seen before the going down of the sun. As they were now but knee-deep in the water, and the night was still misty and dark, these objects could be at no great distance and deep water need no longer be dreaded.
The three castaways considered themselves as having reached the shore.
Harry and Terence were about to continue on to the beach, when Colin called to them to come to a stop.
“Why?” inquired Harry.
“What for?” asked Terence.
“Before touching dry land,” suggested the thoughtful Colin, “suppose we decide what has been the fate of poor Old Bill.”
“How can we tell that?” interrogated the other two.
“Stand still a while; we shall soon see whether his head is yet above water.”