Are you sure you've got the right bearings ?" "As near as a man could off a shore with not a blasted pint to take his bearings by." There was a long silence again, broken only by the occasional dip of oars, keeping the invisible boat-head to the sea.
"Take my word for it, lads, it's the last we'll see of that boat again, or of Jack Cranch, or the captain's baby." "It DOES look mighty queer that the painter should slip.

Jack Cranch ain't the man to tie a granny knot." "Silence!" said the invisible leader.

"Listen." A hail, so faint and uncertain that it might have been the long-deferred, far-off echo of their own, came from the sea, abreast of them.
"It's the captain.

He hasn't found anything, or he couldn't be so far north.

Hark!" The hail was repeated again faintly, dreamily.