The next moment Mr Trematon, hurrying up the hill as fast as he could, was lost to sight in the fog, while the "Otters" and the "Wolves" remained on the stone quay of Polkerwyck till the sound of his footsteps faded into a silence broken only by the ground-swell upon the wild and rugged coast.
CHAPTER X
THE WRECK
"Keep close in our wake, Simpson," cautioned Atherton, as the two boats cleared the end of the stone quay. "Give way, lads; long easy strokes."
It was an eerie experience to the two boats' crews, rowing in a dense mist that seemed to have a most bewildering effect upon all save Atherton, who, implicitly trusting to the small magnetic needle, knew that it was a matter of impossibility to miss hitting Seal Island somewhere. By having to frequently pull the starboard yoke-line Atherton realised that without the aid of the compass his boat would inevitably have described a wide circle, since the rowers on that side were pulling a stronger stroke than those on the port side.
"Rocks ahead!" shouted Everest, who was perched in the bows of the "Otters" boat.
"Stop pulling: backwater," ordered Atherton, and soon both boats were lying five yards apart and within twice that distance of the lee side of Seal Island.
"We've missed the landing, Atherton," announced Simpson.
"We have," agreed the Leader. "And what is more, I don't know on which side of it we are. One part of the cliff is very much like another. Look here, Simpson, you take your boat to the right, and I'll steer mine to the left: we cannot be very much out. The first one that finds the landing must give a hail."