Then he hoped to be able to keep himself alive until he was reasonably sure that the Revenge had hoisted anchor and sailed away, when it was his purpose to make his way back to the spring and wait for some other vessel which would take him away.
With his shoes on he travelled more easily, although not so swiftly, and after an hour of very rough walking he heard a sound which made him stop instantly and listen.

At first he thought it might be the wind in the trees, but soon his practised ear told him that it was the sound of the surf upon the beach.

Without the slightest hesitation, he made his way as quickly as possible towards the sound of the sea.
In less than half an hour he found himself upon a stretch of sand which extended from the forest to the sea, and upon which the waves were throwing themselves in long, crested lines.

With a cry of joy he ran out upon the beach, and with outstretched arms he welcomed the sea as if it had been an old and well-tried friend.
But Dickory's gratitude and joy had nothing to found itself upon.

The sea might far better have been his enemy than his friend, for if he had thought about it, the sandy beach would have been the road by which a portion of the pirate's men would have marched to cut off his flight, or they would have accomplished the same end in boats.
But Dickory thought of no enemy and his heart was cheered.