Harry took off his outside shirt, and with one of the raft poles, thus formed a sail.
"A queer piece of canvass, sartinly," said Tom Turk, mournfully; "but as there's a to'gallant sail, we may as well have a topsail, do you see?"
So saying, he took off his shirt, which was also put upon the pole.
The impetus thus given to the raft can be hardly credited.
Away it went, rippling the water, at the rate of about three knots.
It was nearly sundown, when Tom Turk suddenly balancing himself upon his toes, was heard singing out:
"Land, oh!"
"Another delusion," bitterly exclaimed Harry, not even attempting to rise from his position by Mary's side.
"I'm sartin, this time!" exclaimed the old sailor; "fog never looks like them black things thereaway," pointing westward.