"Come, Bob, rouse up.

We shall get across all right." Setting the boat's head as nearly as we could guess toward the opposite shore, we began to row; and, though it was winter time, we were not long before we were pretty warm, and Bob Chowne unwillingly took his turn.
But we made poor progress.

Miles take a great deal of getting over with a small boat in the open sea at the best of times.

So rowed as ours was by three weary hungry boys, as may be supposed, we did not make the best of way.
We saw several vessels and tried to signal them, but no one took any notice of us till about midday, when a very large lugger that was beating across from the Devon shore began to bear down upon us, and before long, to our great joy, we were able to make out the figures looking over her bulwarks, one of whom waved something in answer to our frantic tossing up of our caps and holding a jacket on the blade of an oar.
Then we set to work and rowed as hard as we could, making very little progress though, for wind and tide were against us.

But the big lugger came rushing on, and we could see now that there were dark foreign-looking men on her deck.
It did not matter to us, though, what they were, so long as they would take us on board, for we were starving and faint, and had long ago come to the conclusion that we should not be able to row across before dark, half the day being gone, and the night would come down very early seeing the time of year.
Bigley and I were in ecstasies, and even Bob began to look a little more cheerful as the lugger came closer, and then rounded up with her head to the wind, and lay with her dark red sails flapping.
We rowed up to her side, and a man threw us a rope..