“So we will.” “Not work any more this afternoon.” “No; let’s sail up farther--” “Beyond the island?” “Yes; unknown seas, don’t you know. Come on.” Away they ran to the Pinta. The wind lately had blown lightly from the east, and continued all day. These light easterly summer breezes are a delight to those who watch the corn, for they mean fine weather and full wheat-ears. Mark took the tiller, and they sailed southwards through the channel, between New Formosa and Serendib. Not far beyond, Bevis, looking over the side, saw the sunken punt. She was lying in six or seven feet of water, but the white streak on her gunwale could be clearly seen. He told Mark. “I hope the governor won’t get her up yet,” said Mark. “Lucky he’s so busy--” “Why?” “Don’t you see,” said shrewd Mark, “while the punt’s at the bottom nobody can come to our island to see what we’re at.” “Ah!” said Bevis. “What a jolly good thing I was shipwrecked.” As they went southwards they passed several small islands or sandbanks, and every now and then a summer snipe flew up and circled round them, just above the water, returning to the same spot. “Those are the Coral Isles,” said Bevis. “They’re only just above the surface.” “Tornadoes would sweep right over them,” said Mark. “That’s why there are no cocoa-nut trees.” Another sandbank some way on the left they named Grey Crow Island, because a grey or hooded crow rose from it. “Do you see any weeds?” said Mark presently. “You know that’s a sign of land.” “Some,” said Bevis, looking over the side into the ripples. “They are brown and under water; I suppose it’s too deep for them to come to the top.” The light breeze carried them along pleasantly, though slowly. “Swallows,” said Bevis; “I can see some swallows, high up, there. That’s another sign of land.” “Heave the lead,” said Mark. “We’ve forgotten it; how stupid! Mind you remember it next time.” New Formosa was a long way in the rear now. “That’s Pearl Island,” said Mark, pointing to a larger sandbank. “Can’t you see the shells glistening; it’s mother-of-pearl.” “So it is.” The crows had carried the mussels up on the islet, and left the shells strewn about. The inner part reflected the sunlight. If examined closely there are prismatic colours. “There’s that curious wave,” said Mark, standing up and pointing to an undulation of the water on the other side of a small patch of green weeds. The undulation went away from them till they lost sight of it. “What is it?” “There are all sorts of curious things in the tropic seas,” said Bevis. “Some of them are not found out even yet. Nobody can tell what it is.” “Perhaps it’s magic,” said Mark. “Lots of magic goes on in the south,” said Bevis. “I believe we’re very nearly on the equator; just feel how hot the gunwale is,”--the wood was warm from the sunshine--“and the sun goes overhead every day, and it’s so, light at night. We will bring the astrolabe and take an observation--I say!”