“Cut the warps,” cried Bill. “We’ll paddle on till we find the breeze.”
The raft was quickly cast loose, and, getting out the oars, they began to paddle silently down the harbour. They could not avoid making some slight noise, but they hoped that there was no one on the watch to hear it. Very frequently they turned their glances astern to ascertain if they were followed, but they could see nothing moving. There were several vessels lower down the harbour, so they steered a course which would carry them past at some little distance from them.
The raft moved easily over the smooth surface, and they made good way. There was only one vessel more which they had to pass before they reached the harbour’s mouth. They both earnestly hoped that her crew were fast asleep, and that no watch was kept on deck.
They paddled slowly by, and more than half a cable’s length from her, moving their oars as gently as possible, and scarcely daring to breathe. The slightest sound might betray them.
At length they got outside her, and there was nothing now between them and the open channel.
Again Jack could hardly refrain from shouting.
Just then a voice came from the vessel.
Bill looked back. He judged by the distance the vessel was off that the character of the raft could not be discovered. He answered in very good French, “We are going out early this morning, and if we have good luck in fishing, we’ll bring you some for breakfast.”
“Thank you, my friend, thank you,” answered the man on board the vessel.
Bill had been paddling on all the time he was speaking. He was certain that the man did not suspect who he and Jack were, and in a few minutes they lost sight of the vessel altogether.