The speronare flew, rising on the crest of the waves with half her keel clear of the water: the moon was already up, and gave them light enough to perceive that they were not five miles from the coast, which was lined with foam.
"At all events they can't accuse us of running away with the boat," observed Jack; "for she's running away with us." "Yes," replied Gascoigne, dragging at the tiller with all his strength; "she has taken the bit between her teeth." "I wouldn't care if I had a bit between mine," replied Jack; "for I feel devilish hungry again.

What do you say, Ned ?" "With all my heart," replied Gascoigne; "but, do you know, Easy, it may be the last meal we ever make." "Then I vote it's a good one--but why so, Ned ?" "In half an hour, or thereabouts, we shall be on shore." "Well, that's where we want to go." "Yes, but the sea runs high, and the boat may be dashed to pieces on the rocks." "Then we shall be asked no questions about her or the men." "Very true, but a lee shore is no joke; we may be knocked to pieces as well as the boat--even swimming may not help us.

If we could find a cove or sandy beach, we might perhaps manage to get on shore." "Well," replied Jack, "I have not been long at sea, and, of course, cannot know much about these things.

I have been blown off shore, but I never have been blown on.

It may be as you say, but I do not see the great danger--let's run her right up on the beach at once." "That's what I shall try to do," replied Gascoigne, who had been four years at sea, and knew very well what he was about.
Jack handed him a huge piece of bread and sausage.
"Thank ye, I cannot eat." "I can," replied Jack, with his mouth full.