Читать книгу The Castaways of the Flag: The Final Adventures of the Swiss Family Robinson онлайн

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Unmistakably there was a lighter line along the horizon in that direction. Sky and sea could be distinguished with more definiteness. It was as if a rent had just been made in the dome of mist and vapour.

“It’s wind!” the boatswain declared.

“Isn’t it only the first beginning of daybreak?” the passenger asked.

“It might be daylight, though it’s very early for it,” John Block replied, “and again it might be a breeze! I felt something of it in my beard just now, and look!—it’s twitching still! I’m aware it’s not a breeze to fill the top-gallant sails, but anyhow it’s more than we’ve had for the last four and twenty hours. Put your hand to your ear, Mr. Fritz, and listen; you’ll hear what I heard.”

“You are right,” said the passenger, leaning over the gunwale; “it is the breeze.”

“And we’re ready for it,” the boatswain replied, “with the foresail block and tackle. We’ve only got to haul the sheet taut to save all the wind which is rising.”

“But where will it take us?”

“Wherever it likes,” the boatswain answered; “all I want it to do is to blow us out of these cursed waters!”