“What is that?” asked Ned, lifting up his head. “I heard voices and a splash of oars, sir,” he answered; “they were a long way off, and, I fancied, passed to the southward.”
“Silence, then,” said Ned; “we will listen for their reply.”
No answering hail came, and he feared that Stone must have been mistaken; again he listened. “Yes, those were human voices and the dip of oars in the water. We’ll shout together. Rouse yourself, Cox,” he said.
Ben sat up, and, Stone leading, they shouted together at the top of their voices, the young Arab joining them. Again they were silent, but no answer came. “If that is a boat, they surely must have heard us,” observed Ned.
“They may be talking themselves, sir, or the noise of their oars prevented them,” remarked Stone.
“We’ll shout again, then,” said Ned.
Again they shouted, this time louder than before. They waited a few seconds, almost afraid to breathe, and then there came across the water a British cheer, sounding faintly in the distance.
“Hurrah! hurrah! All right, sir!” cried Stone. They shouted several times after this to guide the boat towards them. At length they could see her emerging from the gloom; but no one on board her had apparently seen the canoe, for, from the speed the boat was going and the course she was steering, she was evidently about to pass them.
“Boat ahoy!” shouted Stone. “Here we are, but take care not to run us down.”
The boat’s course was altered; they soon heard a voice, it was that of Charley Meadows, crying out, “There is something floating ahead of us, a raft or a sunken boat.”