This seemed the most plausible explanation of the mysterious affair.
And if the negroes combined to assist their masters—as there was every reason to suppose they would—how terribly the odds against us would be increased, especially if the black fellows were provided with weapons.
These thoughts passed quickly through my mind as we sped across the sandhills. There was a very determined look on the gunner’s face and on Ned’s. They felt, I am sure, that the supreme crisis was at hand, and that in a few moments a decisive blow would be struck which would mean to us victory or death.
“Ha!” said my coxswain in a savage tone, “there’s the whole gang of villains!”
As he spoke I caught sight of a body of men running with great speed across the sandhills, as if in an effort to intercept us. They were then about a quarter of a mile distant, and had evidently just perceived us. As we were both making for the same point on the beach, it was only natural, of course, that we should converge on one another.
A terrible yell arose from the pirate ranks—a yell which rang with vindictive and spiteful malice.
“Ay! shout away, my hearties!” muttered Ned; “it’ll play the doose with yer wind.”
“We’re ahead of ’em!” cried the gunner, breathlessly. “Now for a spurt, lads!—Can you keep up, Mr. Darcy?”
“Rather!” I replied. I was terribly excited, and felt no fatigue or breathlessness. My feet scarcely seemed to touch the ground. It was a race for life, and I knew it.
Hurriedly I glanced at the boat. She was still some distance from the shore, and the rowers did not seem to be exerting themselves in the least.