Hour followed hour without bringing any sight of the ship’s boat to our hero impatiently pacing the deck, nor did the return of day afford any sign of the captain and his craft. By this time John’s anxiety had reached a painful pitch. With the exception of his small sword and the clothes upon his back everything he possessed had left the ship in the boat, which he began to fear had foundered in the storm that was not yet exhausted. If this were true his plight was a sorry one, indeed. With straining eyes he spent the day gazing across the mile of water that lay between the ship and the little village of St. Valèry. The waves gradually subsided as the day wore on, and when evening approached the sea was running in a long heavy swell. John felt that he could not abide another night of uncertainty and was seriously debating in his mind the chances of safely reaching the shore by swimming, when he perceived a boat putting out from the port. A very angry set of passengers greeted the master as he came over the side of his vessel and they were not altogether appeased by his explanation that the boat had been damaged on the outward trip, and he dared not entrust himself to it for the return until after the water and wind went down. He reassured John by the statement that his friends had gone forward to Amiens to avoid the poor accommodation at St. Valèry, and would there await him. Having made his excuses, the master proceeded to get his passengers ashore as quickly as possible and offered John a seat in the first boat which he was only too glad to accept, for, though his mind was somewhat easier, he felt impatient to rejoin his new patron--and his chest. John’s first thought on landing was to procure a horse to carry him to Amiens, but when he thrust his hand into his pocket he discovered that he had not a single penny--even his purse was with his baggage. He might walk, but Amiens was nearly forty miles distant and it would take him two days to cover the ground on foot. Moreover, he would need food on the way and was already hungry and faint, having in his anxiety of the previous hours neglected to eat. Clearly he must get some money, and the readiest way to do so seemed to lie in selling his cloak, which was a very good one. He disposed of it to the innkeeper at a fair price, ate a hurried supper, and was in the act of arranging for the hire of a horse, when one of his fellow passengers entered the tavern and expressed a desire to speak with him privately.