Here he found himself in the midst of ten or twelve men, most of them tall and bearded, who were gathered about a ship's boat which they had dragged up high and dry.

One of these men, who from his uniform he judged to be the captain, approached and addressed him in a language that he did not understand, but imagined must be Danish or Norwegian.
Morris shook his head to convey the blankness of his ignorance, whereupon other men addressed him, also in northern tongues.

Then, as he still shook his head, a lad of about nineteen came forward and spoke in broken and barbarous French.
"Naufrage la bas," he said; "bateau a vapeur, naufrage sur les rochers--brouillard.

Nouse echappe." "Tous ?" asked Morris.
The young man shrugged his shoulders as though he were doubtful on the point, then added, pointing to the boat: "Homme beaucoup blesse, pasteur anglais." Morris went to the cutter, and, holding up the lantern, looked down, to find an oldish man with sharp features, dark eyes, and grizzled beard, lying under a tarpaulin in the bottom of the boat.

He was clothed only in a dressing gown and a blood-stained nightshirt, groaning and semi-unconscious.
"Jambe casse, beaucoup mal casse," explained the French scholar.
"Apportez-le vite apres moi," said Morris.