“This is a queer business, and I don’t like the looks of it,” remarked Ned. “I’d get up a tree and have a squint round, if I wasn’t afraid of being spotted by Miguel or some lynx-eyed swab of his kidney.”
At this moment I caught sight of some thin vapoury smoke drifting slowly over the sandhills at a distance of about a mile on our extreme right, and drew my companions’ attention to it.
We strained our eyes to the utmost, but could detect no human figures.
“’Tis a signal to the craft yonder, or I’m a Dutchman!” exclaimed Ned. “They’re not firing at us, that’s sartin.”
We all turned our eyes upon the boat. Her head was slowly swinging round towards the shore owing to the efforts of the rowers, who had resumed their oars.
“There’s no doubt about it,” said the gunner, angrily, “and I don’t vote we remain passive spectators of it. If we don’t manage to get hold of that boat, by hook or by crook, we may as well throw up the sponge altogether.”
“I’m game for a shindy with the lubbers!” cried Ned; “and I agree with you, Mr. Gunner, that it’s about our only chance of getting off this plaguy island. But we’ll have pretty tidy odds against us, and are middling short of ammunition. Now, if I had a few rounds of ball-cartridge in my pocket, I’d play Old Harry with some of the pirates before they could come to close quarters!”
There was no time to be lost. We had to traverse the sandhills, which would be heavy ground to run over; but it did not appear to be more than half a mile or so to the actual shore.
Ned had resumed his rifle and returned the sword to the gunner. We had taken especial care to keep our pistols dry when wading down the stream, and they appeared to be in good order and ready for use if required.
We carefully noted the direction the boat was heading for, and then set off at our best pace to try to intercept her. It seemed to me a forlorn hope; but still I could not help agreeing with my companions that it would be foolish to throw away such a chance, feeble as it was. Had we chosen to hide away in the jungle instead, we should have been unearthed to a dead certainty sooner or later; and then there would have been a nice kettle of fish to fry. My theory with regard to the invisible persons who had fired the muskets was, that they were members of the party that had been pursuing us through the forest, and that they had reached the sandhills by some short cut, and were anxious to communicate the fact of our escape to the negroes, in order that the latter might keep a look-out for us and bar our escape on that side of the island.