“You’ve rid us of our worst foe, Ned,” I said, “and given us a much better chance of escape.”
“That was in my mind, of course,” said the seaman. “Thinks I to myself, ‘Here’s that blooming dog close astarn of us, and somehow got separated from his mate and his owners. What a chance to put him out of the way on the quiet! Jiggered if I don’t slit his weasand for him.’ Well, I did something more effectual than that, Mr. Darcy; and here we are, with a fair start again, and I hopes as how we’ll stick to it.”
It certainly seemed like a turning-point in our fortunes; for though we even now heard some occasional shouts, they seemed to be at a considerable distance, and we could not detect any baying from the other bloodhound. I do not know whether I mentioned the fact before, but I had been rather sceptical as to this latter animal being upon our trail at all—at any rate during the last half-hour.
We still suffered a great deal of discomfort from our wet clothes and boots, but we ran gamely on, knowing that everything depended on our speed.
At length, without further misadventure, we emerged from the jungle, and found ourselves on a rather extensive expanse of sandhills, beyond which lay the blue sea, still darkened by the dun volcanic clouds which hung in mid-air.
“Is that a boat?” asked Ned, excitedly.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A RACE FOR LIFE.
It was a boat of some kind; there could be no doubt about that. A somewhat large, unwieldy-looking craft she appeared to be, but apparently there were only a couple of oarsmen on board, who were slowly propelling her seawards with a species of long paddle. The ocean was still in a more or less agitated state, which must have been owing to the seismic disturbances to which the island and its surrounding waters had so lately been subjected, for the atmosphere was just as stagnant as it had been all the morning. This motion made the boat bob about in a strange unnatural manner, as if she had a trawl down. She was about half a mile from the shore, as near as we could judge; and besides the two oarsmen there appeared to be a third person occupying the stern-sheets.
“We must try to signal that craft,” said Mr. Triggs, emphatically; “’tis our only chance of escape.”
“But suppose those men on board her are pirates,” said Ned; “we should just be jumping from the frying-pan into the fire.”