They well knew that they must run the risk of a northerly wind or a gale. In the first case, though they need not go back, they could make little or no progress; but then there was always the hope of being picked up by an English craft, either a man-of-war or a merchant vessel.
They might, to be sure, be fallen in with by a Frenchman, but in the event of that happening, they intended to beg hard for their liberty.
Should a gale arise, as Jack observed, they would look blue, but they hoped that their raft would even weather that out. That it would come to pieces they had no fear; and they believed that they could cling on to it till the sea should again go down.
They had put on board a sufficient supply of spare rope to lash themselves to the chests.
Jack climbed up for the last time on deck, and handed down the three sweeps, taking a look round to see that nothing was left behind.
“All right,” he said; “we may shove off now, Bill. You are to be captain, and take the helm, and I’ll pull till we get out far enough to find a breeze. It seems to me, by the colour of the sea, that it’s blowing in the offing, and we shall then spin merrily along.”
“All right,” said Bill; “cast off, Jack.”
Jack hauled in the rope which had secured the raft to the wreck, and give a hearty shove against it with his oar, he sent the raft gliding off some way ahead. He then got out the other oar, and standing between the two chests, pulled lustily away.
The raft floated even more lightly than they had expected. They had so well noted all the rocks, that they could easily find their way between them, and there was ample space, especially thereabouts where the brig had been driven in.
Their progress was but slow, though they worked away with all their might; every now and then looking back to ascertain whether they were observed from the shore. No one, however, could be seen on the cliffs above; and people, unless they had discovered the wreck, were not likely at that early hour to come down to the beach.