"No, sir, I ain't seen 'em for want o' light, but I 've heerd 'em. Stumps is splutterin' behind us like a grampus. If you 'll hold on a bit an' listen you 'll hear him. He 's a bad swimmer, and it 's all he can do to save hisself. If he only knowed he could reach bottom with his long legs, he 'd find it easier. Not quite so tight, Sammy, my boy, and keep off the wind-pipe—so; you 're quite safe, my lad. As for the rest of 'em, sir, they all swim like ducks except Mr. Ebbysneezer Smith, but he 's took charge on by Captin Rik, so you may keep your mind easy. There's a bit o' flat beach hereabouts, an' no sea inside the reef, so we 'll git ashore easy enough—let's be thankful."
Jim Slagg was right. They got ashore without difficulty, and they were thankful—profoundly so—when they had time to think of the danger they had escaped.
After a few minutes' rest and wringing of salt water from their garments, they proceeded inland to search for shelter, and well was it for the ship-wrecked party that the captain of the lost yacht was acquainted with the lie of the land, for it was a rugged shore, with intermingled fields and morasses, and wooded rocky heights, among which it would have been difficult, if not impossible, to thread one's way in the dark without severe damage to the shins. But Jim Slagg led them to a cottage not far from
