It took them more than half an hour to get clear of the rocks. When once out on the open sea, they began to breathe more freely. They pulled on and on; still, unless they should get the wind, they could not hope to make much progress. The day was advancing. Bill wetted his finger and held it up.
“There’s a breeze,” he cried out; “hoist the sail, Jack.”
The sail filled as Bill sheeted it home, and the raft began to glide more rapidly over the water.
Jack took in the oars, for he wanted to rest, and there was but little use rowing, though it might have helped the raft on slightly.
He could now look about him, and as the two harbours to the east and west opened out, he turned his eyes anxiously towards them.
If they were pursued, it would be from one or the other. He had little fear from that on the west, as there was no one likely to trouble himself about the matter; but there were officials living near the larger harbour, and they might think it their duty to ascertain what the small raft standing off shore under sail could be about.
“I wish that we had got away a couple of hours ago,” said Bill; but he did not remind Jack that it was through his fault they had not done so. He blamed himself, indeed, for having gone to see the Turgots, much as he would have regretted leaving the country without paying them a visit.
The farther the raft got from the shore the more rapidly it glided along, the sea being too smooth in any way to impede its progress.
Bill’s whole attention was taken up in steering, so as to keep the raft right before the wind.
Presently Jack cried out, “There’s a boat coming out of the harbour. She’s just hoisted her sail, and a whacking big sail it is. She’s coming after us. Oh! Bill! what shall we do?”