Jean was prepared; without a
moment's hesitation he cut the anchor-rope: his craft drifted onwards,
leaving the fisherman grumbling at the rottenness of his tackle. He
offered a short prayer of gratitude, and in a few minutes ventured
cautiously to resume his oars. He heard the breaking of the waves, but
seamanship on the unknown and indistinct coast was useless. Two sharp
blows, striking the boat in rapid succession, told him that he had
touched a submerged rock; the strong tide carried him off it, but the
water poured in through a gaping rent. He was now, however, on a sandy
bottom: he sprang out, pulled the boat up as far as possible, and sat
down to wait for light.
The first break of dawn showed him his position: he was facing
northward; he was therefore on the Hanois arm of the bay. Fortune had
indeed been kind to him, for he had drifted into a small cleft sheltered
by precipitous rocks, a place where concealment was fairly possible, as
it was accessible only by land at the lowest tides. He examined his
store of provisions, which was uninjured; storing it among the rocks he
rested till the sun sank.
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