Reaching the boat, Rawlins reported their success and with all possible speed the boat was pulled through the winding channels of the swamp in the direction Sam indicated. But it is one thing to take a sight and bearings from a tree top on a hillside and quite another matter to follow those bearings and directions through a mangrove swamp filled with twisting, devious channels. How Sam could manage to keep the general course at all was little short of marvelous, but as the boat turned bend after bend, doubled on its track, found its way blocked and made detours, the Bahaman never missed his general sense of direction, and at last the searching party emerged from the swamp and on the broad expanse of the bay.
Sam glanced about, squinted at the stars and indicated the course to follow. As they rowed swiftly across the bay towards the opposite shores, Rawlins spoke.
“Say!” he exclaimed. “It may not be the boys after all. I’ve been puzzling all along how they could get over there and I’m beginning to think it’s those chaps we’re after and not the boys.”
“Jove! you’re right,” cried Mr. Pauling, “and, good Lord! perhaps they’ve found the boys and taken them prisoners! If the boys used their radio to call us the others may have heard it and located them. What an addle-headed fool I’ve been to take such risks! No wonder we haven’t heard them or got them. Probably they’re helpless—bound and gagged and those devils are chuckling to themselves as they hear our calls and are luring us into a trap.”
“Well, if they’ve touched those kids I’ll say there’ll be some rough-house work when we step into that trap,” declared Rawlins, “and they’ll find they’ve bitten off a darned sight bigger hunk than they can swallow without choking. We’ve got arms, I slipped ’em in the boat, and we’re no crew of tenderfeet. Sam’s some little scrapper and the quartermaster was champion middle-weight of the Atlantic squadron, old Smernoff’s itching for a fight with those whiskered friends of his, and I guess you and Bancroft can take care of yourselves and I’m no quitter myself.”
“Yes, yes, Rawlins,” replied Mr. Pauling, “but you forget that if they have the boys they can protect themselves by threatening harm to Tom and Frank. They can make their own terms and they are ruthless beasts.”
“Well, Mr. Pauling, don’t let’s cross our rivers till we get to ’em,” said the diver. “We don’t know if the boys are prisoners yet. We’ll go easy and find out how the land lays first. Remember we can see their fire and what’s going on a long time before they can spot us. That’s the worst of a fire. The other fellow can see you, but you can’t see the other fellow.”
“Yes, but the great trouble is, if we call for the boys by radio we’ll warn our enemies instead,” Mr. Pauling reminded him.
“If they are prisoners it won’t be any use hollering for them,” replied Rawlins sagely. “I guess the best plan is just to lie low, keep quiet and sneak in. If the boys are alone and it’s their fire we’ll find them just as well without calling and if it’s the ‘reds’ fire and the boys are not there we’ll spring a surprise.”
A few minutes later the boat had gained the shelter of the trees beyond the bay and, still guided by Sam’s almost uncanny instinct or skill, they pushed into the nearest channel among the mangroves. On this side of the bay, however, there was much more open water; the trees were more scattered, and, instead of being made up of innumerable creeks flowing through dense masses of mangroves, the swamp consisted of large lake-like expanses dotted and interrupted by narrow belts and isolated clumps of trees.