Both fancied that they could see a sail, just as twilight was falling, but neither could be sure that it was not the effect of imagination.

They were already ten miles away, and as the tide had now begun to make along the shore, it was certain that for some time, at least, a ship, however fast she might be, would gain but little upon them, until she had fairly entered the Firth.
There would be no moon and, even should she overtake them, she might well pass them in the dark.
When they lay down, they agreed that they would keep awake in turns; and that, if they made out a ship apparently pursuing them, they would offer the skipper the full value for his boat, and betake themselves to it, and row for shore.
"The greatest danger," Roger said, "would be of their passing us, unseen; and then lying-to near the entrance of the port, and overhauling us as we came in." "That is a danger that we cannot guard against.

Can you swim, Roger ?" "It is years since I have done so," the monk replied, "but I used to do so, in the old days." "There is an empty cask here, by my side," Oswald went on.

"If we are challenged, the best plan would be to lower it down, quietly, into the water; and to hold on by it.

The boat would certainly go some distance, before she had lost her way and brought up; and we should be out of sight of both ships, before they came together." "That is a good idea.