Chapter 23: A Change of Tactics
We pushed off without a word, and paddled out of sight of the beach. A voice was approaching, hailing us. “Hail back,” whispered Davies; “pretend we’re a galliot.”
“Ho-a,” I shouted, “where am I?”
“Off Memmert,” came back. “Where are you bound?”
“Delfzyl,” whispered Davies.
“Delf-zyl,” I bawled.
A sentence ending with “anchor” was returned.
“The flood’s tearing east,” whispered Davies; “sit still.”
We he
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