They had left their stockings on the island, and everything else they could take off so as not to have very large bundles on their backs while paddling, and took their pocket-knives out of their trouser’s pockets and left them, knowing things are apt to drop out of the pockets. The Pinta was drawn up as far as she would come on the shore at the harbour, and then fastened with a chain, which they had ready, to a staple and padlocked. Mark had thought of this, so that no one could go rowing round, and he had a piece of string on the key with which he fastened it to a button-hole of his waistcoat that it might not be lost. This done, they got through the hedge, and retraced the way they had come home on the night of the battle, through the meadows, the cornfields, and lastly across the wild waste pasture or common. From there they scrambled through the hedges and the immense bramble thickets, and regained the shore opposite their island. They went down the marshy level to the bank, and along it to the beds of sedges, where, on the verge of the sea, they had hidden the catamarans. There they undressed, and made their clothes and boots into bundles, and slung them over their shoulders with cord. Then they hauled their catamarans down to the water. Volume Two, Chapter XIV. NEW FORMOSA. Splash! “Is it deep?” “Not yet.” Bevis had got his catamaran in and ran out with it some way, as the water was shallow, till it deepened, when he sat astride and paddled. “Come on,” he shouted. Splash! “I’m coming.” Mark ran in with his in the same manner, and sitting astride paddled about ten yards behind. “Weeds,” said Bevis, feeling the long rough stalks like string dragging against his feet. “Where? I can’t see.” “Under water. They will not hurt.” “There goes a flapper,” (a young wild duck). “I hope we shan’t see the magic wave.” “Pooh!” “My bundle is slipping.” “Pull it up again.” “It’s all right now.” “Holloa! Land,” said Bevis, suddenly standing up. He had reached a shallow where the water was no deeper than his knees. “A jack struck. There,” said Mark, as he too stood up, and drew his catamaran along with his hand. Splash! Bevis was off again, paddling in deeper water. Mark was now close behind. “There’s a coot; he’s gone into the sedges.” “Parrots,” said Mark, as two wood-pigeons passed over. “Which is the right channel?” said Bevis, pausing. They had now reached the great mass of weeds which came to the surface, and through which it was impossible to move. There were two channels, one appeared to lead straight to the island, the other wound about to the right. “Which did we come down in the Pinta, when we hid the catamarans?” said Mark. “Stupe, that’s just what I want to know.” “Go straight on,” said Mark; “that looks clearest.”