“Why?”
“Don’t you see,” said shrewd Mark, “while the punt’s at the bottom nobody can come to our island to see what we’re at.”
“Ah!” said Bevis. “What a jolly good thing I was shipwrecked.”
As they went southwards they passed several small islands or sandbanks, and every now and then a summer snipe flew up and circled round them, just above the water, returning to the same spot.
“Those are the Coral Isles,” said Bevis. “They’re only just above the surface.”
“Tornadoes would sweep right over them,” said Mark. “That’s why there are no cocoa-nut trees.”
Another sandbank some way on the left they named Grey Crow Island, because a grey or hooded crow rose from it.
“Do you see any weeds?” said Mark presently. “You know that’s a sign of land.”
“Some,” said Bevis, looking over the side into the ripples. “They are brown and under water; I suppose it’s too deep for them to come to the top.”
The light breeze carried them along pleasantly, though slowly.