“Hullo! I say, Bowler, look there!” exclaimed Braintree suddenly, pointing out to sea. “Wasn’t that a light? Blow your whistle, I say.”
Bowler obeyed, eagerly gazing in the direction indicated by Braintree. There was neither answer nor light.
“I’m certain I saw something!” exclaimed Braintree. “Blow again, old man.”
And once more the whistle sent forth a shrill cry seaward, accompanied by a loud shout from Braintree.
They waited in terrible suspense, but still no answer.
“You must be wrong,” said Bowler.
“No, I’m not; blow once more.”
And again Bowler obeyed.
This time, sure enough, he fancied he saw a glimmer on the water; but it might be only the lights on the mainland appearing through the lifting fog.
For ten minutes they kept up an incessant whistling and shouting, their hopes growing less and less as the time passed. At length, worn out and desperate, they had given it up, and were turning once more to prepare for their swim across. But as they did so the light suddenly reappeared, the time close to the shore.