They got down very well to the mouth, but the heavy foam-topped rollers which came tumbling in threatened to prevent them getting into the open sea beyond.
“It must be done,” exclaimed Rhymer. “To-morrow it may be worse, and we shall have a whole fleet of Arab boats coming down upon us.”
Twice, however, he pulled up to the inner roller, and backed the boat off again. For some minutes he stood up watching the seas; at length he exclaimed, “Now, my lads, now or never, give way,” and all hands bending their backs to the oars, pulled on as British seamen are wont to do in cases of emergency. It was a struggle truly for life and death. Had the boat been caught broadside by one of those treacherous undulations, she would have been thrown over and over, and not a man on board could have escaped. Had an oar broken, or the men relaxed in their efforts, no power could have saved them. Three rollers had been passed, there were still two more to be encountered. The fourth advanced with a crest of foam. The boat had almost reached the summit, when the water came rushing over her bows, half-filling her; but the crew persevered, and the wounded men began bailing away with might and main.
“Pull away, pull away, lads!” shouted Rhymer; “there’s only one more, and we shall be clear of them.”
Again the boat rose, the water rushing aft, but the poor fellows seated there, in spite of their hurts, continued to heave it out. The next minute, having forced their way over the last roller, the boat was free. They had still a long pull before them until the boat could obtain a good offing, so that they might make sail and stand to the northward. At length the sails were set. By this time it was perfectly dark, yet, having a compass, a proper course could be kept. As the wind was light, it was not until near morning that they reached the island where they had left their tent and stores. As there was a moon they were able to steer into the bay. On landing they hurried up to where the tent had stood.
“Why, where is it?” exclaimed Rhymer.
They hunted about, neither their tent nor any of their stores could they discover.
“Some fellows have been here and carried them off, no doubt about that,” observed Charley; “but who they are is more than I can say.”
“The rascally crew of a dhow probably,” answered Rhymer. “How the villains must have laughed at us when they saw our boat sailing away.”
A further search in no way cleared up the mystery, and all they could do was to light a fire and cook some provisions, which had fortunately been kept on board the boat. On the return of daylight they found the marks of numerous naked feet on the sand; but whether of blacks or Arabs they were unable to determine, though Charley suspected that they were those of a party of blacks who had come across from the mainland.