“I don’t know much ’bout where we be,” replied the sailor; “but wheresomever it is, our best plan are to hug by the coast, an’ keep within sight o’ the water. If we go inard, we’re sure to get lost one way or t’other. By keepin’ south’ard we may come to some thradin’ port av the Portagee.”
“We’d better start at once, then,” suggested the impatient Terence.
“No, Masther Terry,” said the sailor; “not afore night. We mustn’t leave ’eer till it gets dark. We’ll ’ave to thravel betwane two days.”
“What!” simultaneously exclaimed the three midshipmen. “Stay here till night! Impossible!”
“Ay, lads! an’ we must hide, too. Shure as you are livin’ there’ll be somebody afther this sthray kaymal, in a wee while, too, as ye’ll see. If we ventured out durin’ the daylight they’d be shure to see us from the ’ills. It’s sayed, the thievin’ schoundrels always keep watch when there’s been a wreck upon the coast; an’ I’ll be bound this beest belongs to some av them same wreckers.”
“But what shall we do for food?” asked one of the party; “we’ll be famished before nightfall! The camel, having nothing to eat or drink, won’t yield any more milk.”
This interrogative conjecture was probably too near the truth. No one made answer to it. Colin’s eyes were again turned towards the beach. Once more he directed the thoughts of his comrades to the shell-fish.
“Hold your hands, youngsters,” said the sailor. “Lie close ’eer behind the ’ill; an’ I’ll see if there’s any shell-fish that we can make a meal av. Now that the sun’s up, it won’t do to walk down there. I must make a crawl av it.”
So saying, the old salt, after skulking some distance farther down the sand gully, threw himself flat upon his face, and advanced in this attitude like some gigantic lizard crawling across the sand.
The tide was out, but the wet beach, lately covered by the sea, commenced at a short distance from the base of the dunes.