The moon was sinking in the west and the dawn was brightening in the east, so that the waves were lit up in a peculiar way.

On the side of the moon they glistened as though formed of liquid copper, while on the side facing the east they were of a lovely, pearly, silvery, ever-changing grey.

So beautiful were the tints and lights and shades that Vince remained watching the surface of the sea for some minutes, and then the chill wind suggested that he should go down; when, making a sweep round, he felt as if his breath had been taken away, for there, away to the south, and looming up of huge height and size in the morning mist, was unmistakably the Crag, and they were once more close to home.
Here, then, was the answer to the question they had asked one another-- Where are we sailing to now?
Yes: there was the Crag, with its familiar outline; and his heart beat fast as he felt that if Mike's father were on the look-out with his glass he would be able to see the lugger's sails.
"No, he must be in bed and asleep," thought Vince.

"But I'll fetch Mike up to see.

Why, old Jacques must be taking us home.